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longing-for-rain · 1 day

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Katara and Mutuality in Relationships

There are lots of conflicting opinions about which characters Katara felt attraction towards, which characters she didn’t, and how long she felt that attraction. I see in most cases, people point to quick clips of her faintly blushing or kissing another character on the cheek as evidence, but I think these kind of takes miss the nuance of the purpose attraction serves in a story.

Most importantly, I see these characters treated as if they are actually people capable of making their own decisions. It’s important to remember that these are fictional characters. They don’t make their own choices; the writers make their choices for them for the purpose of telling a story. From that standpoint, it’s more valuable to examine how a character’s story and narrative themes tie into their relationships with other characters. Animators can shove in a kiss or a blush wherever they want, but it’s harder to demonstrate through storytelling how and why two characters might feel attraction towards one another, and how a relationship between them would develop both characters and contribute to the overarching themes of the story.

In other words, when discussing which characters Katara is “attracted” to, I’m discussing which relationships and actions within the narrative build on her established story and arc. Romance is always integrated into a story for a reason, and considering that reason is important.

Unfortunately, ATLA is very much a product of its time in this way. It’s easy to see what romance adds to the arcs of the male characters—but not so much with the female characters. All three canon relationships (kataang, sukka, and maiko) follow this trend to some degree. The primary purpose of the woman in this narrative is to act as a prize for the man for performing some good deed. Once they’re together, she ceases having her own motivations and becomes an extension of the male character she’s dating. This is pretty blatant with Suki—she barely had a personality in that later seasons; she is there to be Sokka’s girlfriend. Similarly, Katara becomes a completely different character—she’s even animated differently—when the narrative pushes her into romantic scenes with Aang. Her character is flattened.

So what is Katara’s arc, and how do the romantic interactions she has throughout the series contribute to this?

Well, that could be a whole other essay itself, but to put it simply, Katara’s arc is one of a young girl devastated by grief at a young age clinging to hope that she has the power to fight and change the world for the better. Which she does as she gains power and confidence throughout the series—culminating in her defeating Azula in the finale.

But the part I want to focus on here is how Katara connects with other characters. She connects with them over shared experiences of grief and loss.

Take Haru, for instance.

Haru: After the attack, they rounded up my father and every other earthbender, and took them away. We haven't seen them since.

Katara: So that's why you hide your earthbending.

Haru: Yeah. Problem is…the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Katara: See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Haru: It’s beautiful.

Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.

Haru: It’s not enough, is it?

Katara: No.

This isn’t just a throwaway moment; it’s an important character moment that leads up to growth and the progression of Katara’s overall story, both in this individual episode and in the whole series.

Katara finds her power in the connections she’s able to make with other characters. It’s a powerful driving force for her that makes her a strong character even before her bending abilities develop. Imprisoned was such an important episode to establish who Katara is and what her power is, and adds so much to her arc.

But there is one line in particular from the above exchange that also stands out: Haru says “it’s not enough, is it?” and Katara agrees. Even this early in the series, we’re establishing the fact that despite her drive and hopeful outlook, Katara feels deeply hurt, she feels a deep sense of loss that she opens up about to other characters in moments like these. But unlike Haru…Katara can’t go rescue her mother. Her mother is dead, and we see her grapple with that grief throughout the series.

Another character she reaches out to like this is Jet.

Jet: Longshot over there? His town got burned down by the Fire Nation. And we found The Duke trying to steal our food. I don't think he ever really had a home.

Katara: What about you?

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Jet: I’m so sorry, Katara.

Another important note about Jet is that there are explicit romantic feelings from Katara in this episode. Again, Katara empathizes with another character through a shared sense of loss. Sadly, in this case, Jet manipulated her feelings and tricked her into helping in his plot to flood the village…but those feelings were undeniably there.

That was the tragedy in this episode, but it also gives the audience so much information about Katara as a character: what motivates her, and what she wants. Katara is established as a character who wants someone who will connect with her and empathize with her over her loss—her greatest sense of trauma. She wants to help others but also receive support in return. The reason why she was smitten with Jet, beyond just initial attraction, is because he gave her a sense of that before Katara realized his true motivations.

A lot of people make the claim that Aang is good for Katara because he also feels a sense of great loss and trauma. And while on paper that’s true…does he really demonstrate that? I just gave two examples of characters Katara connected with this way, and both responded with deep empathy to what she said. Very early on in the show—the third episode—Katara attempts to connect with Aang the same way. How does he respond?

Katara: Aang, before we get to the temple, I want to talk to you about the airbenders.

Aang: What about 'em?

Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.

Aang: Just because no one has seen an airbender, doesn't mean the Fire Nation killed them all. They probably escaped!

Just compare this exchange to Haru and Jet. No effort to empathize, not even a “sorry for your loss” or anything. It’s a stark contrast, and the reason for that is because this narrative entirely centers Aang. Katara’s narrative always seems to be secondary to his when they’re together—which is exactly my point when I say this relationship has a fundamental lack of mutuality. It’s built that way from the beginning of the series. It does not add to Katara’s arc nor establish what about this dynamic would attract her.

And, look, before someone jumps down my throat about this…I’m not saying Aang is a horrible person for this response. I think it’s a sign that he’s immature and has a fundamentally different approach to problems than Katara. Katara is a character who has been forced to take on responsibilities beyond her years due to being a child of a war-torn world. Aang’s approach to problems is avoidance while Katara never had that luxury. It doesn’t mesh well.

This is all in Book 1. I honestly could have gotten on board with Kataang if the series meaningfully addressed these issues…but it didn’t. In fact, they actually got worse in some ways.

Back to Katara’s mother. We’ve established that this is a core part of Katara’s character and like in the scene with Haru, she indicates that this is an unresolved issue that pains her. But then, in Book 3, Katara actually does get a chance to confront this pain.

This would have been a powerful moment. Surely the character who is meant to be her partner, her equal, would have been there for her. Surely he would have understood and supported her, fulfilling her narrative and adding to her story.

But Aang didn’t do that. I won’t go into details because there are a million analyses out there on The Southern Raiders, but Aang’s response to Katara was the opposite of understanding. He got angry with her, insinuated that she was a monster for wanting revenge, and tried to dictate her behavior according to his own moral values. And importantly, from a narrative standpoint, he did not go with Katara. One of the most important events in her arc, and Aang didn’t support her—he actually tried stopping her. He didn’t contribute to her growth and development.

Also noteworthy:

Katara: But I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.

Even at the end of the episode, Aang clearly doesn’t understand at all what Katara is feeling. This line demonstrates it perfectly. He thinks she forgave him when that wasn’t the case at all…but of course, he didn’t even accompany her, so he didn’t see what actually took place. His worldview is fundamentally different from hers, and he’s consistently too rigid in his morality and immature to center Katara’s feelings.

Throughout Katara’s whole arc, her most significant character moments, Aang’s character just doesn’t come through the way Katara’s constantly does for him. Their narrative lacks mutuality. When Katara and Aang are together, she becomes an accessory to him. The ending scene is a perfect demonstration of this.

Now, to address the elephant in the room.

Which character does actually add to Katara’s narrative and support her growth as a character?

Correct! I just talked about how important The Southern Raiders is to Katara’s character and story, how it’s a chance for her to finally address the grief she’s been carrying since Book 1. And who stood by her side throughout this pivotal moment? Right—Zuko did.

You can talk all you want about how he’s a “colonizer” while Aang’s people suffered genocide, but you’re forgetting that “show, don’t tell” is one of the most basic aspects of storytelling. The fact is, despite how it looks on paper, Zuko was the one there for Katara at her critical moments. Zuko empathized with Katara more than Aang ever did—as demonstrated in this episode. Zuko never once brought up his own cultural values. Zuko never once told Katara what to do. Zuko’s position was that Katara should be the one to decide, and that he would support any choice she made. He supported her decision to spare Yon Rha, but he would have also supported her if she decided to kill him. I actually found this episode to be a satisfying reversal to what is typically seen in TV—for once, the female character is centered while her male counterpart takes the backseat and becomes a supporting role to her narrative.

Even before this, Zuko is shown to empathize with Katara.

Zuko: I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common.

I think what gets me about this scene is the fact that he’s still Katara’s enemy, and she was just yelling about how she hates him and his people. But despite that, Zuko still empathizes with Katara. She is fundamentally human to him, and he expresses that to her in a way that allows them to connect. Zuko stands to gain nothing from this. It’s true that Azula entered the picture and twisted things around—but in this moment, Zuko’s compassion is genuine. His instinct was to respond to her grief with empathy, just like she consistently does for other characters.

And finally, how else does Zuko add to Katara’s arc?

I don’t think there is any more perfect of an example than the finale itself—the culmination of the arcs and development of all characters.

Zuko and Katara fight together. In a heartbeat, Zuko asks Katara to fight by his side against Azula, because he trusts her strength. She’s his equal—both in his mind, and in a narrative sense.

Then, this:

Both of their roles are so critical in this fight. They both save each other. The scene has such raw emotion to it. These characters were together at the conclusion of their respective arcs for a reason.

This is the perfect conclusion to Katara’s arc. She just played a critical role in ending the war that has caused her trauma her whole life. She just demonstrated her mastery of waterbending (another thing she’s dreamed of throughout the series) by defeating the world’s most powerful firebender during Sozin’s Comet. Even though she had help as all characters do, these are victories that belong to her and demonstrate the growth and power of her character. And to top it all off? She was able to save Zuko’s life. She didn’t have to endure the pain of feeling helpless to do anything while someone else died for her; this time, she had an active role, she changed her fate, and she prevailed. Zuko plays an important role in Katara’s story without dominating it. They perfectly represent mutuality. They add to each other’s stories. Their narratives become stronger when they’re together, without one diminishing or sidelining the other.

So, from that standpoint, that’s why I always see the attraction between Zuko and Katara and why I see it lacking between Aang and Katara. Zuko and Katara’s story doesn’t need some cheap little throwaway moments to shine. It’s integral to both characters’ stories. We are shown not told of the way these characters feel about each other. Given everything we know about Katara, her goals, her values, her past loves…absolutely everything points to Zuko being the true subject of her feelings.

Because let’s be honest. The ending I just described is so much more powerful and so much more Katara than seeing her being relegated back to a doe-eyed love interest for Aang to kiss. It hardly even made sense—Katara played no role at all at the culmination of Aang’s arc. She was relegated back to a love interest, rather than the powerful figure we saw fight alongside Zuko.

#zutara #katara #zuko #atla #anti kataang #canon critical #jet #haru #katara deserved better #aang critical #meta #analysis

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luvyeni · 14 hours

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❛CONTROLLINGBF! SUNGCHAN❜ ( headcannons )

warnings? 18+

request: imagine you in a relationship with sungchan, his controlling nature dictates every aspect of your life, from your appearance to your social interactions. despite his intentions to protect and care for you, his constant need for control suffocates your sense of independence, leaving you yearning for freedom and autonomy.

authors note. i hope this is what you meant , i hope you like it🤍

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who isolates you from everyone, never letting you leave home alone or without his premission.

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who basically does everything for you — waking up before you, picking out clothes for you to wear — clothes that he picked out and bought. "i don't really like this." "what do you know baby , you'd wear shorts that look like panties and a shirt that shows off what's mine if i let you — just be a good girl and put this on."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who doesn't makes you tell him everything when you go out , where you're going; how long— and who's gonna be there. "it's only for a few hours." "with them? no baby im sorry remember last time you went out with them, she had you out all night drinking, not this time, tell her you won't be coming."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who has a iron clad grip on your arm when you're out for you so you don't go so far with out. "but— i won't wait for you if you get lost, so no let's go."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who doesn't see why you're so sad all the time, he's gives you a nice life , he takes care of you, buys you things, he doesn't understand what's so important about going outside. "i just want so space and to do things alone for once chan , just once, it's so suffocating being with you sometimes."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who gaslights you when you start talking about going out without him. "it's only a few hours chan and you like this friend." "baby what if you get hurt , you know you can never pay attention that's why i come with you, how about we stay in tonight, please , maybe next week okay?" and just like always you say —"okay."

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who uses sex as form of distraction to keep you from even thinking about going outside, holding you close like you're going run away, thrusting deep into your cervix whispering into your ear. "you're mine, from your head down, this pretty pussy including, it's mine , and i'll kill anyone who says other wise." and you believe him, he hasn't killed anybody, but you wouldn't put it past him.

CONTROLLINGBF!SUNGCHAN who wants to consume your every being , he'll do what ever he needs to do to achieve that.

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #riize x imagine #riize smut #riize x you #riize imagines #riize headcanons #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #sungchan hard hours #sungchan x reader #sungchan fanfic #sungchan imagines #sungchan smut

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taintedbenevolence · 1 day

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Hello 𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐫𝐚 !~

A fellow anon here, I was requesting a silly smut~ Neuvillette and A fem reader indulging in the sweetest thing of …

𝐏𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐘

I think it would be a very very cute thing if.. it went south? :3

PLEASE BEGGING FOR HEIGHT DIFFERENCE AND SIZE KINK

- 𝐕 📍📌

a/n: ah, this is certainly interesting. please, do forgive me for the extremely late delivery, writer's block has been destroying me as of late. I like to think that when reader first brings up the idea of the whole pocky thing, it would be up to her to try to convince Neuvi to try it out. There's just no way he's doing this without being convinced of it. But once he's convinced I'm pretty sure he'll happily do it without complaints, and he might even bring it up another time. But please, spare Neuvi; he's being constantly teased. Poor dragon has to put up with so much affection and teasing! Perhaps some love-making is in order, and maybe, just maybe, it's enough to reciprocate the sweetness he's being offered in turn?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Warnings!

sexual content, sexual insinuations, size kink, dom!neuvillette, implied sub!reader, implied fem!reader, reader is implied to be married with neuvillette, implied height difference, semi-public sex, office sex, monster fucking(?), dragon neuvillette, double penetration, mature content not suitable for minors or audiences below the age of eighteen.

Character Pairing! Neuvillette x Fem! reader Characters Included! Neuvillette Series! Genshin Impact Classification! Smut THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD !!

Ah, you and your antics at it again.

Pocky.

Of all things in the world. Of course you'd try and tempt the Iudex of Fontaine with Pocky.

Had you not learned your lesson, truly? How many times must he reprimand you for interrupting his important work for such mundane and irregular activities you could engage in at a more proper time and space?

A shame, truly; you'd come dressed so beautifully lascivious when you presented yourself to him. It made him frown, thinking of the Melusines guarding his office who saw you walk by in such a suggestive manner. Could you not have spared them and waited for him to come home?

Unacceptable, he thinks to himself. Devilish, he murmurs, as you walked inside.

To interrupt his highly valued work for a treat? .. How unruly.

Alas, he couldn't complain. Not right now, when you felt so good, gasping, squirming and writhing beneath him, whining with your thighs pressed up to your heaving chest as he slowly penetrated you, making sure you absorbed every tiny, tingling sensation, ensuring you were alright as you sobbed.

Perhaps you should be glad the Hydro Dragon had arranged for the walls of his office to be soundproof a few months ago. You'd pity the Melusines if they were to hear the venereal sounds that were to come out of both you and Neuvillette.

The dragon slowly slid himself inside you, the tip of his other member already with a ring of pre-cum as it rubbed your folds messily. The usually stoic, gentle Iudex now had a lack of regards for propriety and neatness, drinking in your soft mewls and desperate moans as you trembled beneath him.

You were so tiny, so very small in comparison to him. It almost made you look pathetic with how big he was. You still remembered it - being pushed down and only feeling the abnormally large bulge of your husband only slightly grinding down on you, only feeling your heartbeat race as he undressed.

You knew by now how he was usually in bed - gentle, sweet, cautious. A soft-hearted, caring partner who put your needs first before his own. Yet most, if not all of that, seemed to be suppressed in this moment, where you found yourself fully exposed, forced to stare as you watched your beloved stretch your walls to accommodate to only just one of his cocks.

And speaking of the other one, you only kept squirming more because it kept rubbing, creating friction against your folds, causing you to quiver. The motion was slow and painful, yet the movement of him entering you also tingled you with brief flicks of pleasure.

Sliding further deeper inside with greater speed, he earned from you a sudden, sharp whine.

"A-ah!.. 't's, too m-much," you gasp consequentially, shuddering, feeling him slightly twitch inside of you. Yet the Iudex only hushes you, caressing your lips with slender fingers as he only slides in deeper, ensuring you've taken all of his length.

"You'll be alright," he reassures, and you can't help but question just how he remains so stone-faced whilst he adjusts to how tight you're squeezing him, your wetness and arousal all too visible to him as he parted you.

Really, just how needy were you? For archons' sake, you were wet and ready before he had laid a finger on you.

He moves slightly, and he feels your walls tighten around him, causing a slight groan, more akin to a hiss to escape between his lips. Gods, you were so tight. How long has it been since you...-

"S' much," You whine, bringing him out of his thoughts. For crying out loud, he had barely even begun to move, let alone do half the things he had in mind for the evening.

"You'll take it," Neuvillette only huffs in his usual, monotone voice, with a few grunts emitting from him as he slowly begins to thrust, moving in and out, picking up the pace as your moans and cries increase in volume and rapidity, letting him know that you do well enjoy this.

He's pounding in you at a velocity at which you grow to no longer register, wave after wave of pleasure hitting you to the core. Your eyes squeeze shut and open slightly as your lips part, breathy moans leaving your throat.

There is not much sound in the office of the Iudex, save for the nasty noise of wet slapping of skin against skin and a mix of groans and moans. Thrust after thrust, your mind's thoughts slowly become blank, unable to think of anything, exempting how good it felt to be fucked to oblivion by none other than the Hydro Dragon Sovereign.

You could already tell your high was on its way, but as soon as you felt it come, you felt the sudden thrusts come to a stop, and you only slightly blink, gazing at Neuvillette as you see him retract. Yet it's not enough, leaving both of his members still perfectly aligned with your sensitive folds and your hole, leaving you twitching on occasion.

"Neuvi?" you manage to whimper, as you slightly yelp, feeling his large body press onto your smaller frame, his cold gaze firmly fixated onto your flushed body, cold sweat starting to line on your brows, his two members' tips slightly penetrating you.

It earns a soft whine from you, a few tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes, although not out of agony, as your brain is reduced to mush, your heart beating for a night's pleasure with the Iudex of Fontaine.

"Silence, if you would," hearing your whine, the Iudex replies sternly. "You've already interrupted me enough this evening." And you only hear an irritated sigh, before you meet his lustful gaze.

His fingers grasp your chin, slowly tilting it so that you meet his gaze, his glowing, ocean hues staring down at you. "Let me remind you once more, [Name]. What happens when you interrupt my duties as the Iudex of Fontaine?"

A mouthful, for such an intimate moment.

"I'm quite sure you aren't aware of the consequences you enlist yourself to be subject to by doing these things," The Hydro Dragon rumbles as his grip on your chin tightens.

"Or it could well be that you do not care. It seems I'll have to be the one to personally administer your punishment." His eyes narrow as he speaks.

Your eyes only faintly widen at his words, and the Iudex only smiles at that faintly, chuckling softly as his free hand trails up behind your head, slowly running through your hair, before he grips it tightly, almost in a harsh manner, contrasting the sweetness of his words.

"I do hope you know well that this night is still far from its end, ma bien-aimée. We very well have a long way to go before it culminates."

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aperrywilliams · 2 hours

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

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

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

Word Count: 6.8k

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

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

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

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Spencer's POV

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

It is an uncomfortable occasion highlighted by uncomfortable clothes.

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

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

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

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

But me? I wasn't excited at all.

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

Keyword: a little less uncomfortable.

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

But a familiar voice pulls me from my struggle.

"Boy genius! Over here!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wince, remembering the incident in question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm screwed.

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

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

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

How the fuck can he do that?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is she looking at me from head to toe?

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

"I'm Spencer," I wave.

Short and precise.

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

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

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

Oh, Lord. Help me.

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

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

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

Ashley's smile suggests it does.

"It is. Are you having fun?"

No.

"Yes! A lot! Are you?"

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

Is she flirting with me?

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

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

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

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

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

Okay. That sounds very straightforward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. She is choking.

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

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

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

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

A collective 'Uhhh' is heard around us.

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

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

Ironically, I'm speechless now.

What is wrong with talking about oysters?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't even know how I should feel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I look at him in disbelief.

"Shut the fuck up! You did not!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know her. I've seen her before.

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

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

Is the woman who saved Ashley from choking.

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

With that in mind, I approach her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, it's my turn to frown.

"Oh, okay. Uh - Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Spencer," I supply. She hums.

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

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

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

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

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

"(Y/N)," she says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I chuckle at her choice of words.

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

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

"Uh, are you from Quantico?"

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

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

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

"Wow. The one and only BAU."

"You know us?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can I ask you something, Spencer?"

"Sure."

"Why are you here tonight?"

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

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

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

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

She assumes my awe as discomfort.

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

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

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

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

An amused laugh leaves her lips.

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

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

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

I didn't, although the answer is simple.

"My boss made me."

(Y/N) scoff in disbelief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer Reid. Is that you?

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

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

"I won't. I promise."

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

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

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

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

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

We sit on a bench facing each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She chuckles, nodding.

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

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

That's how she met her boyfriend.

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

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

"What happened?"

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

A humorless chuckle escapes her lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She bitterly chuckles.

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

Spencer, do something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you, BAU.

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

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

"Non yet," I grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are welcome."

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

"See you around?"

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

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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writingquestionsanswered · 2 days

Note

Idk if this is a silly question or not, but oh well lol

So I wanted to ask, do you have any tips for describing tattoos? One of my characters has this large tattoo on his upper back and neck of many different flowers and since the tattoo is actually pretty important to him n his family (it's something that him and any heir of the family company gets on their 18th birthday), I do want it to make sure it actually gets mentioned lol

Describing a Fictional Tattoo

1 - Find Inspiration - If you haven't already, look at some real tattoos to find inspiration for this fictional tattoo. Even if you have to mentally combine two or three different tattoos, being able to look at actual images of what you need to describe can be helpful. This is also a place where AI image generators can be a helpful too, just remember that such an image would just be for your own personal reference and not something you would share with readers. If you can afford to, you might even look for an artist taking commissions who can listen to the description of what you're imagining and bring it to life. And as long as you get their permission, that might be something you could actually share with readers.

2 - Learn the Lingo - As with most things, there's specific lingo that goes with tattoos. From artistic techniques (e.g. stippling and gray wash) to location types/styles (e.g. full sleeve, half sleeve, lower back), to artistic style (e.g. blackwork, watercolor, black and gray) knowing the lingo can help you describe the tattoo. You may also want to learn the words associated with the tattoo imagery, like if the tattoo features a bird, flowers, and nautical objects, you would want to know the type of flowers and bird, and what the nautical objects are called.

3 - Get Descriptive with Colors - If the tattoo features colors, get creative with their description. On a dark and scary tattoo, words like "blood red" and "night black" certainly evoke an image. On a pretty, delicate tattoo, words like "blush pink" and "baby blue" evoke lighter imagery.

4 - Consider Emotional Descriptions - Be sure to think about what the character/s think about the tattoo. What does it mean to them? How does it make them feel? What does it make others feel?

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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therantingsage · 2 days

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Misc additional observations/notes relating to the implication analysis post that I either forgot to add or omitted for pacing reasons.

This one's embarrassing to admit, but I literally did not remember this until the post was done and posted:

N being bad at keeping things to himself is literally the first thing we learn about him when he starts talking. "Inclusive reflexes" isn't what teaches Uzi this, it's literally the first thing she finds out about his character, so she has no excuse. There is no plausible deniability she knows her boyfriend can't keep secrets.

((Unrelated to anything but since I'm talking about the pilot like. Why does he fan himself here. Dude you don't even have feelings for her yet bro what's this about. Guy who really likes strong personalities I guess))

N's tiny little smile in Promening when Uzi admits to wanting his help. He's like, critically underappreciated by the people around him before this so Uzi reaching out to him here must be so meaningful to him. He wants to be helpful and she's letting him be.

And Uzi, too, despite being stubborn about it. N being so eager to offer help in the first place isn't something she's used to, either. I'm pretty sure the (correct) general consensus is that this is the episode she falls for him, and honestly all the blushing has very little to do with why I think that's the case.

Because, like...no one really bothered even pretending to get along with her. Like, aside from Thad, but that's for like one scene total before N enters the picture, and Uzi's "how do you know my name, people willingly talk to you" implies to me that they didn't have a lot of, if any, meaningful interactions before that point anyway. And then here comes N, who despite how they'd parted, doesn't even seem upset with her. They both spent their time apart terrified of things being bad between them....but it all just melts away when they reunite and the mutual genuine concern shines through. It's great.

N maybe has fragments of memories of life at the manor, not a lot, but he probably has the vague sense that people used to be nicer to him in general. So it's not as foreign to him. Uzi does not have that luxury so having N be so enthusiastically in her corner definitely touches her heart. And it shows through in how she interacts with him in this episode.

There's lots and lots of little moments in Cabin Fever that I like but this tiny sheepish blush is a funny one. Like he just. Alluded to talking about her. And that flusters her for some reason. We have no idea how much time has actually passed since the last episode but its clear from how little it takes for this reaction to happen that her feelings have grown stronger. She likes him and its cute.

This scene is one I want to talk about in more detail, though. Home establishes that V still has faint lingering feelings for N, so it's not that hard to assume that her behavior here is at least partially motivated by jealousy. She's petty and vindictive and jealous...but most importantly she's perceptive.

Uzi has abandonment issues, which I think is easy enough to understand so I'm not going to elaborate on it. But V figured that out, and makes this threat with the knowledge that Uzi is worried about being abandoned. Uzi fears the idea that she wouldn't be missed if she disappeared, and here comes V, claiming that the one person she cares most about wouldn't care either. Hitting her where it hurts, trying to convince her that her fears are justified and inevitable.

It's likely that this moment contributes to her eventually going feral. That the stress overheats her faster.

She's incredibly vulnerable, when she snaps out of it. Shares that specific fear with N, who reassures her. Because this whole scene is him telling her that no, he wouldn't be able to just get over it if she was gone, because their brief time apart in this single episode was already something that scared him. That she's already become important enough to him that her absence was keenly felt.

It's probably around here, or a bit after this point in the nebulous timeskip between this episode and the next, that N falls for her. Scratch that, his whole speech, as I said in the prior post, just...really feels like some kind of romantic-adjacent confession. But I don't think it WAS explicitly them confessing feelings for each other. N figures out he likes her in this episode I'd like to think, but that speech was the closest he could come to admitting that. Cuz. Y'know. Uzi needs reassurance in other ways right now, no point in muddying the issue.

((and also not news to anybody I'm sure but the song that plays during that scene is LITERALLY called 'Falling...for you??' so. y'know. hindsight is 20/20 this is genuinely the moment he realizes his feelings for her are romantic))

And additional thing I like that I think about a lot, but the way he deliberately choses to switch his hands to claws when he pries her wings open. "I'm a monster, leave me be" she says, to which he replies "Hey, look, I am too, see? It's ok". It's great, he's mirroring, trying to make her feel seen. And by the vulnerability of her next line, it works. They really just, understand each other so damn well.

Home stuff. The fact that the first word that comes to mind to describe him is 'cute' is funny enough, but the fact that she even goes so far as to SAY it out loud before hastily correcting herself. Looking at her bf's baby pictures-coded. Has to keep her image up tho, this version doesn't know her so she can't be too weird or open about it.

But she still wants this version to think she's cool cuz she's a dork who likes him. It's unclear how much of this episode is diegetic when you subtract Uzi, but since these are memories and not proper time travel, we don't know to what extent Uzi's trying to avoid affecting the events. She might not care at all. Did the real N even go down to that basement willingly at any point? I doubt it. But we don't know! And also that's not what I'm making this post to talk about.

Funny Solvercam-Uzi body language on display. Delighted he recognizes her finally, spits out something edgy to play it cool (genuinely my favorite Uzi line of all time), sheepishly looks back at him, and shyly averts her gaze when he thanks her before looking back. Had she her regular face I'm sure she'd be smiling and blushing about it. It's cute as hell. It's very open delight, when you think about it. But still awkwardly teenage. It's easy to see this and have it make a whole lotta sense if they were already dating at this point. Got that meaningful eye contact going on. She likes making him happy so she's proud she succeeded.

Him trying to help steady her when they land. She blushes and slaps his hand away like 'dude I'm fine people are LOOKING at us stoooooop >:('

Her tail chewing on him is fine tho because we don't know if she controls it fully or if it does things subconsciously. And also the others aren't actually looking at them in this shot. Neither of them make the tail stop chewing so at the very least N doesn't mind.

Still flustered easily when he shows her he cares tho. Early-relationship 'hehehe he likes meeee' moment, adorable. Still clearly giddy that someone cares about her.

He's so conflicted after 'Tessa' tells him Uzi needs to die. He loves her, he loves her so so much, but Tessa is his oldest friend. All the memories he has of her paint a picture of someone he's supposed to listen to. Someone he can trust. Someone who wouldn't lie to him. He spends the rest of this episode bracing himself for a goodbye he doesn't want to give and its heartbreaking.

And despite his fear...Uzi still manages to comfort him the best way she knows how. And it gets him to smile! Because that's what the two of them are to each other. He's scared...but she's with him, so its less scary.

They've both caught up to the moment. 'Oh. We're still holding hands while the other two can see oh god'. They're both tight-lipped. She bumps him and they let go, maybe N thinks 'oh, right, yeah, not in public' but then they hold hands again but with intent this time.

And once again, it gets N to smile! And a second later Uzi does too! Awkward little moment of intimacy that must be so refreshing for them because there's so much heavy stuff happening but now they get to be distracted thinking about something lower-stakes.

To me, this bit is an interesting parallel to the Cabin Fever falling scene. He tends to be pretty perceptive about Uzi's worries. He's a good listener. Uzi fears abandonment, he fires back with a promise to stay with her.

But here, the thing Uzi fears is that things are being kept from her. That these two are keeping secrets from her. But instead of assuring her that they'll talk later, like they said they would, he instead chooses to use this moment to put his foot down with 'Tessa'. He just lost V maybe, and he's not willing to lose Uzi too, so he's decided she must be wrong about this being the only solution to the problem.

Up until that very moment, she didn't realize hurting her was on the table. It comes out of nowhere, freaks her out, and confirms her fear that she's not being told something. So she runs.

And the guilt he feels for scaring her off is heartbreaking. Half this episode is limb-chopping, genuinely, so the fact that he chooses this bone-saw to cut himself free instead of the litany of other things he has that he knows are quicker can't be a coincidence. He's punishing himself. And, additionally, probably reminding himself of V, hiding things because he worries the truth will hurt. Which makes the V hologram showing up moments later thematically very appropriate.

Can't add anymore pictures to this so maybe I'll make a part three later lol

#Murder Drones #Nuzi #biscuitbites #md N #md Uzi #Uzi Doorman #These aren't as vital to my point last time but I still think about them

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typical-simplelove · 2 days

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Dress (C. Alcaraz)

Based on Taylor Swift's Dress, with Carlos Alcaraz.

Author's Note: Hehe, here's a Carlos fic. Super indulgent for one of the number one men in my heart. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: None that I can think of!

Word Count: 1k

It was the dress. That’s what was making him go crazy. The dress.

The ballroom was dark, but still, you, in that dress, seemed to glow. The black of your dress seemed to glow in the little light flickers of the room. The dress was tight against your skin in all the right places, and it was low, showing off your skin, in all the right places. He could trace the pattern of open skin on your body up to your face with his eyes, and all he wanted to do was saunter over to you and draw that same pattern with his finger, feeling the goosebumps erupt across your skin as he gently drew small patterns. He wanted to feel the grip you’d hold on his arm as shivers raked your body and his fingertips dusted your skin.

That dress.

That fucking dress.

For months now, Carlos was pretty sure he didn’t think of you as only his friend. He didn’t want to explore those feelings, even his mind, though, because you were his best friend. He didn’t want to lose you, regardless of your status of feelings for him.

Seeing you in that dress, though.

Carlos knows.

He knows that everything he’s been thinking about and feeling for the past few months is the truth. You haven’t been only his best friend in a long time, maybe you never were. As far as Carlos is concerned, you’re the love of his life, and there’s nothing he could possibly do to unlearn that truth or try to get those feelings to fade.

The realization struck him deep in his throat and down in his stomach. A ringing began in his ears, and his hands grew sweaty as his breaths grew shallow.

Carlos has been in love with you, his best friend for who knows how long. For as long as he could remember, you’ve been there, and now, he wants the way you’ve been there to change.

But if you don’t want the same thing from him, well, that would be the biggest loss of his life. But he would recover.

Could he?

He pushes those thoughts to the side, and somehow, he makes his way over to you where you’re talking and networking with Juanki and a couple of the other instructors at the Tennis Academy. He has no conscious recollection of making his way to you. All he remembers is that he was standing next to a friend at some point, left them without saying anything, and made his way towards you.

After all, you are the center of his universe.

When he finally made it to your side, out of instinct, his arm went around your waist, his hand resting on your hipbone, brushing small circles with his thumb. He always did that, but now, as he did it, he hoped you could tell just how important it was for you to know exactly what he was thinking. In doing these movements, he was trying to infuse into your body all his feelings for you. Was it working? Were you coming to the same realization?

Knowing you, though, you either already knew you loved him, or you knew you weren’t going to love him this way ever. You always were smarter than him.

Carlos is hoping that you already knew you loved him and were just waiting for him to catch up. That’s what happened a lot. You often knew things and had to wait for Carlos to catch up; that’s why he loved you. You never pushed or persuaded. You let him figure things out on his own.

“Hey,” you say, a small smile on your face as you look up at him, leaning into his body. Carlos gives you a small smile, all his nerves going haywire. With one smile and look from you, all the warmth and blood rush to his face. You noticed, of course, you did. You always seemed to notice these things.

He thought he would be more uneasy about having this realization, but loving you and realizing he loves you is actually the easiest thing for him to do. Loving you is as easy as breathing. It’s no surprise that he fell in love with you. It’s not a surprise how long it took him to realize it, though.

“Are you okay?” You scrunch your eyebrows, noticing Carlos’ sudden flushed face.

He nods, barely convincing.

“Excuse us,” you say, pulling Carlos away from the group towards the cool balcony. Once there, you ask, “Is everything okay?”

“The dress,” is all he’s able to spit out.

“My dress?” you question, suddenly patting down your stomach and hips, trying to feel for any inconsistencies or insecurities.

Seeing your response, Carlos internally curses himself out. “You look very nice in your dress.”

“But then why is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he replies, in an attempt to reassure.

“You’re acting weird, though.”

“I just learned something, that’s all.”

“Yeah? What did you learn?” you ask, excited for Carlos.

“It’s okay,” he replies, shaking his head. “It’s not something we need to talk about right now.”

You nod your head. You weren’t going to push Carlos to talk to you about something he didn’t want to talk about. Sliding your hand into his, you squeeze it, and your other hand rubs up and down his arm, attempting to comfort him, hoping to alleviate any issues he’s dealing with.

Well, shit, now he feels guilty even though he knows you’re not trying to make him guilty.

“I, uh, I love you as more than a friend,” Carlos finally gets out. “And I don’t think you want me as anything else other than a friend, so I’m trying to work through that. Your dress just put everything into perspective.”

“Who said I only wanted you as a friend?” you asked, a creeping smile on your face.

“What?”

“I don’t want you as a best friend.”

“You don’t?”

“Never have,” you reply, putting both hands into Carlos’.

“Oh,” he replies, giving you a soft smile.

“Yeah, oh.”

When you and Carlos re-enter the gala a few moments later, hand in hand, goofy smiles on your faces, that’s when everyone realizes that you both figured out what they had known about for years now.

Yeah, sure, okay, best friends.

#claudia writes #carlos alcaraz #carlos alcaraz x reader #carlos alcaraz imagine #tennis fic #tennis writing #op: 2024

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aurae-rori · 16 hours

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AVENTURINE TRAILER ANALYSIS - THE GOLDEN TOUCH

SPOILERS FOR 2.1 CONTENT & AVENTURINE’S TRAILER!

TW FOR VERY VAGUE SUICIDE MENTIONS.

Hey girlies, hold still. On another note, hello again! I will be going through visual analysis, symbolism, and talking about how this trailer ties multiple aspects of Aventurine’s character together. Some of the things covered here I will be covering in my full analysis of Aventurine himself, so feel free to give that a shot.

My disclaimer! Although I have been researching psychology personally for about six years, I am NOT a professional. (Yet. When I do, Tumblr Will Know.) Any conclusions I come to are because of my own deductions, personal interpretations, analysis, and logic. You are free to disagree with what I say!

I also do NOT know card numbers and symbols – what they mean and symbolize and all that jazz. Sorry guys. :(

Now, let’s get into it.

First of all, let’s fucking go, let this man ENJOY himself (well. A little. This trailer is not as happy silly as it seems, just like the character himself.) He gets to have a silly boogie woogie! Look at you go!! (He is not boogie woogie-ing.)

Second of all, time for game theories.

The first scene is really pretty. It’s a coin falling down, toppling against a few stray objects before we flash to the next panel, the ground, as it rolls to the feet of a young boy. Gently, he reaches down, before picking it up, and then, in true Aventurine fashion, proceeds to flip the coin in his hand. However, this gesture actually holds more meaning than I originally thought it did. The coin that Aventurine has seems to transcend his definition of ‘time’ – his inherent ‘value’, or his ‘roots’, never changing. It also shows his connection to his younger self – how he’s still holding onto that child, still connecting to that child, and showing that this child is still a part of him, even if it’s only his past self.

I believe that the coin that he always has flipping around actually represents Aventurine himself – it represents his ‘value’ as a gambling chip. In Aventurine’s eyes, interpersonal relationships are just like that – they are gambles, where people take advantage of one another and backstab each other. However, it also represents how little he seems to care for his own life – he tosses the coin around, does tricks with it, and is overly flamboyant – just like how he presents himself to the outside world. This single gambling chip is actually the presentation of how Aventurine sees himself and presents himself to everyone else, as well as encompasses his worldview – bet himself, going ‘all in’ with his own worth, or doing nothing. That worth has been with him his entire life – the worth of being a child blessed by a God from his home, being blessed with good fortune.

Also, sick ass transition. Love that shit.

Pay attention to the next scene – there’s a brief moment where it shows him walking through a hallway… through the lens of a camera. This could definitely be alluding to the idea of always being watched – I mean, he’s the last of his own race, of course there’s going to be eyes on him. People are going to be asking questions - how is he still alive? Why is he with the IPC? Can he be trusted, considering his race was known for scheming and plotting?

And then, he tosses open the door in a grand display – a grand display of his fake persona. He opens the room to a whole bunch of robots, who are all gambling, and they stare at him in surprise. That’s Aventurine – flamboyant, showy, confident. He holds a captive audience and all of the others move to the side as he strides towards the slots machine – and as predicted, due to his good luck, he gets three in a row. However, what I think is important to note is that he slides his coin into the machine – and remember what I said about the coin representing his worth? This is what I mean by he bets himself. He is just another gambling chip that he will use to achieve victory no matter what. He is another pawn on the table who has made his way this far, and it’s all or nothing – his whole worth, or not worth the gamble at all.

Also, at 0:42, we see a briefcase open up to reveal a gem – definitely a callback to the 2.1 trailblaze quest with his moment with Ratio. Damn, gay people.

Then, after that, he slides many chips towards the table – and interestingly enough, they’re all copies of his one singular chip. This, your honour, is what we call a ‘bluff’. Pretending to be more than you are in order to appear more confident so that your enemies will fear you. Pretty good strategy, honestly.

Also, cool editing with the machines falling into the Void of Cards. Maybe symbolism for how people fall into his persona easily and fall for his schemes?

Epic ahh pose, 0:54. Love that for you, my silly homosexual lad.

Also, him in the elevator going to the top at around 1:02? That means more than you think it does. Probably most likely a representation of how he had to crawl his way from the bottom to the top, and yet, now, it’s showing that he is at the top now. He takes an elevator instead of having to climb – he’s gotten higher, he’s gotten more status. His ‘all or nothing’ mentality pays off.

And then, he’s set into an arena. Representation of life, honestly. His whole life is a stage, a play, something to be watched. He’s here to put on a good show. He’s being watched, which is a callback to my note about the camera at the start.

Then, the horrors are set loose. He does his gambling stuff with the cup in his hand while he dodges the monsters. That’s him, alright – taking gambles in dangerous situations, relying on his luck, smiling through what should be terrifying.

“The wager will be life and death,” but oh, that’s your usual wager, Aventurine. We all know how you have self-destructive tendencies.

1:42. Hand behind his back. Oh lord, we all died. We all know what the hand behind his back means. We all know how much emotional damage that caused.

1:46. The dice cracks. Just like his cornerstone, eh? Just like his façade, right…? :)

And then, everything is drowned in gold coins. Yay!

And then, he’s standing on a ledge. Possibly a callback to how he said that he had “tested death” in the dreamscape. What better way to test it than jumping?

And then his enemies are drowning in coins. Probably a metaphor for his win against them.

And then, here is where things get interesting at the two minute mark. He tosses his coin down, again, like at the beginning of the trailer. Kakvasha flipped the coin up, trying to get higher, and then, Aventurine tosses the coin down, keeping his connection with his younger self. It falls down to the ground, and Kakavasha picks it up with awe in his eyes. He’s still keeping in mind his younger self, still keeping him with him, even to this day. Holding onto his past like a lifeline.

Aventurine’s trailer… while it does seem on the surface that you’re having fun, you’re really not, when everything is a show and a gamble, right?

Alright, thanks for reading, everyone! :)

#aventurine #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail aventurine #analysis #media analysis #character analysis #let me cook #aurae analyzes

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ravengards-rogue · 1 day

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i lose control (when you're not next to me.)

javier escuella x reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader (gendered language + wearing dresses etc), established relationship, religious imagery (maybe sacrilege)takes place in ch.4 of rdr2, submissive!reader, soft dom!javier, some spanish petnames (mi amor mi vida, and hermosa i think), pillowing humping, penetration, very lovesick sex lol, veryy established dynamic, praise kink, written like. sooo explicitly for @nanamimizz, 18+

✧ wc : 5.2k (after editing mind you)

✧ a/n : this is fucking nuts LMAOO. i wrote this like. no bullshit in a day. i don't know how that happened. mentioned in the tags that this is for my beloved best friend but i think it's still okay to post. im losing it a little. i have hw due in an hour

✧ synopsis : javier can't help but feel some ways about the way you miss him. so dreadfully obedient. so apparently needy. how could he not adore you?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

There’s something a little pathetic in the way you pine after Javier that makes him a worse man than he is.

He’s good to you though. Always. Down to his bones, the core of him. The soul of him. It’s hard to be anything but good to you.

In all of his life, across lovers, men and women - he doesn’t think he’s met a single soul who simply likes him as much as you do. Who preens so pretty with so little, who doesn’t need much at all. Never met a woman who tucks and folds herself into corners just to be polite. Never thought he’d find it so fascinating, either - but you prove him wrong often.

It’s testament to Javier’s adoration that he can’t help but notice you anyway. That even when your featherlight footsteps and darling voice fall off and get caught on the wind and blown away - Javier will still manage to find you. Even with all of your attempts to make yourself small and unrecognizable, his sharp brown eyes will still catch on the linen of your skirts and the threaded gold of your cross necklace. Javier’s own body betrays him in his love for you, in his wanting.

Even though he’s not interested in pretending he doesn’t love you, his eyes and mouth and hands would look and call and search. They’d never give him the opportunity to be anything but in love.

It’s important that he makes that known. He’s only ever interested in being a good man to you. Holding you and kissing you and worshiping you until you’re melty between his fingers. Javier loves loving the resistance out of you and you always make it so easy for him.

He’s a good lover by nature and by practice. Passionate and maybe a little conceited, it’s not his first brush with romantics. He can only hope it’ll be his last.

Even so, he’s never been liked the way you like him.

You like Javier in a way you seem embarrassed by when you remember. It causes you to act in ways out of character on the surface, emboldened. Maybe just needy. Enough to bask in his praise and affection once a little liquor has touched your mouth. You like Javier in a way that makes you lovesick and puppylike, all honeyed gazes and pouty lips. He’s never met somebody who likes him the way you do, without grandstanding. Just pure, puppy love. Almost innocent if you don’t look too long.

Almost being what matters most.

Javier knows the way you were raised, after all. Knows the intimate ways in which you fold yourself and tuck your wants between the pages of your diary and slip your requests under your tongue. It’s hard for you to want for anything too much because you’ve been told your whole life that wanting at all is a sin. Wanting may even get you killed. A good woman should want nothing but salvation. Anything more than that is indulgence and there’s nothing good about that. It translates in the way you carry yourself. You’ll stop and fumble and shy away before even fixing your lips to ask, like you’re planning on being rejected or told no.

A good girl like you being told no so often, it’s made you all sacrifice and empty prayers. Javier often feels grief about your lives before each other but nothing makes it so evident as that. A good woman, a beautiful and kind and soft one like you should never hear the words no without the best of reasons. That’s what Javier believes for all of his lovers, but you’re special.

And that makes it worse.

For you he’d do anything. No price he wouldn’t pay, no place he wouldn’t go, nothing that’s too far out of his reach. He thinks maybe he’s so eager to give it to you because he knows you don’t have it in you to take it yourself. You won’t whine greedily even if Javier tells you too, so Javier’s giving is only a partial virtue. It’s mostly pride, after all. It hurts his ego a little when you refuse to bask in the love he so enthusiastically wants to drown you in.

Despite his complaints though, it’s a part of you that makes him so weak to you. That you want with such desperation but don’t allow yourself to take - so it makes you pliant and willing and terribly, adorably pathetic. You’re so weak for Javier. Just for him, you always say. Always with a hand in his, or wrapped around his bicep. All yours, Javi. Always his.

That’s the thing. Javier wants to give everything in the world to you. He wants to be good to you, and he so often is. But you do things sometimes, all collapsed under the weight of your own desire that drive him insane. Make him act in ways he normally wouldn’t dream of doing. Depraved and filthy and unromantic in all senses of the word.

It’s really not very polite for Javier to stand and watch you at his door - humping his pillow with weeps and huffs. It’s not kind to embarrass you. He’s a good man, and a good man would cover you with his coat and maybe smile about how much you care for him.

But there’s just something about the look on your face when you do it, something about the tear stains in your lashes and the way your cheek is pressed in his jacket. Something about that needy, incessant little ache in your voice as you call and call and call for him. As if you’re hoping you’ll answer despite him not being there.

Javier is a good man to you. Maybe he could be better. Maybe he’s not good enough.

He stands in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a soft, gentle grin. There’s no question he’s behaving a worse man than he is. Than he ought to be.

He’s quiet as he shuts the door, balancing his weight to remain noiseless.

Javier doesn’t particularly like being all the way out in Saint Denis nor is he fond of intel missions. The city is loud, the people unfriendly - though he likes the music and art. He prefers staying in camp if he can help it, but this big bank heist has everyone busy. He’s at least thankful that it’s given him an excuse to be with you. Your knowledge of herbs and poisons and the like have been helpful to gathering information. Been a lot of slipping things in drinks and making people forget. The sort of dirty work he’s accustomed too, while also getting a chance to be with you in a place with four walls and a bath. A dream for the future, maybe.

It’s been nice, but he’s been out now for two days - out in the streets gathering information about Bronte’s people. A bunch of lowlifes just like them, but with their hands in the pocket of the city. He’s only been gone for two days, so there’s no reason you should miss him this much. And yet he hears it anyway. And it pleases him, truthfully.

He takes off his coat as he listens to you at the doorway. Shrugs the middle-weight material of his sheen suit jacket over his shoulders and lays it on a chair, takes off his wingtip-gaiter shoes, undoes the yellow puff tie from around his neck. Nothing but a white linen dress shirt and the dark black slacks he’s been wearing for days now, some parts covered in bloodstains he only barely managed to wash out in the river not long ago.

He’s thankful he took a bath before getting in now, listening to you moan. His hands being clean feel like a blessing - just his luck.

He manages to remain quiet as he steps into the main room - a single bed in the center. Javier finds you there in a heap as he rests his body along the wall of the entrance to his right. He crosses his arms over his chest as he takes a minute to take in the scenery, admiring the soft lowlights and the way they cast shadow on your body.

The wooden bed frame creaks slightly as you rut your hips. You’re out of it, Javier can tell, since you’ve yet to sense the fact he’s come in. The paintings along the back wall click against soft red walls themselves, over and over in an arrhythmic tic. Javier tries not to laugh. Gives himself a minute to admire the moment for what it is, the vulnerable desperation of your lust. He has to get over the disbelief, too. Over the fact your face is buried in the open part of his bluecoat and that you’ve got a hotel pillow(his hotel pillow) between your legs. One that you’re humping so frantically he can’t help but feel sorry for you.

You’re making a mess.

You are a mess. The way the white chemise falls over your back and hips, and the lack of finesse in your gestures. If Javier had to bet money on it - he’d bet money on the fact you probably didn’t start this way. He figures you nested with his coat and pillow to go to sleep and then worked yourself into something senseless and desperate. And he’d figure if he didn’t show up, you wouldn’t cum at all. You’d go to bed all frustrated and tired and just wait for him like always.

Any man would be pleased by it, he thinks. And a good one would never embarrass you about it. Javier tries his best. Weighs his options, but the words slip from his mouth before he can think to stop them.

Pure elation in his words wrapped up in a smug delight. “Aye, hermosa - you’re gonna ruin my things you know?”

Your reaction is what he expects. You jump out of your skin first, sitting straight up. Javier bites back a laugh as you do, big wide eyes like a deer caught in the scope of a rifle. You look around the room, worried you’re imagining him. Once you’ve come back to reality enough to realize he’s real and tangible - all the neediness washes right back into your expression.

“Javier,” You sniffle and god. Javier hopes the heavens are more merciful to him than he is to you. “Javi,”

“I’m home,” He voices in a partial tease, walking towards you. He can tell you want to run to him. To crawl into his arms and lap and collapse there forever, but the dull throbbing between your legs is stopping you. “I would ask if you missed me but, somehow I get the feeling you did.”

You let out a soft, sniffly whine as Javier sits in the bed next to you. He turns his body to face you a little better but keeps distance. You turn your face towards him. Javier cups your cheek in his palm, eyes tracing your features. Your lips are bruised like you’ve been biting on them to keep the noise down and your eyes are wet with tears, red stained in the waterline. His thumb brushes along the thin skin of your lower lip, clicking his teeth at you.

“Look at you,” He reprimands, his voice tender as he leans in to give you a little relief. You kiss Javier too eagerly, impatient and lacking your usual timidness. It’s how he knows how far you’ve fallen. How simple and easy your reactions are. “You’re going to hurt yourself pushing so desperately,” He laughs again, a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Does it feel good, at least?”

“It’s better when you do it,” You admit, falling forward. Javier doesn’t let you drop, but he doesn’t comfort you right away either. He laughs and lets a hand rest on your lower back, relishing in your reaction. You shiver, sensitive and overstimulated with so little at all.

“I know,” He coos with as much faux-sympathy as he can manage. “Couldn’t wait for me a little longer? I’m hurt.”

“Nooo,” You draw the words out, pitiful and upset “I’m sorry. I missed you,”

“It’s okay,” Javier says, knowing he wasn’t mad in the first place. Not even a little. “Ahh, what should I do with you now, do you think?”

It’s hard not to laugh at the immediate noise of disapproval. He’s sure you’d be able to ask him for what you want if he coaxed you into it. One whispered word of tell me what you want, and you’d be begging for his cock with ease. Filthy words from such a pretty mouth, he likes the idea.

But he’s feeling… something. Something on the border of sadistic and loving that has him instead thinking.

Pretending to think.

“Maybe you should keep going, hm? You’ll think clearer once you’ve let it out, don’t you think?”

“I can’t,” You bemoan, pleading with him. “I’m trying but it’s—it’s not enough, Javier, please.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, man. What am I gonna do with you? Should I help you, mi amor?”

You nod your head rapidly. As if he’d ever leave you out to dry when you look all pretty helpless. He doesn’t mention it to you. “Please,”

“Yeah? I’ll help you then.” He offers, taking your hand and guiding you to his lap with his legs stretched out. He sits you over his thighs, glancing back at his jacket and pillow, brows raised when he sees how sticky they both are. Your habit of drooling and your cunt soaking his pillow case, he laughs just a little seeing the state of them. You must notice because you hit his shoulders weakly. “So needy,”

“Javier.”

“Alright, alright,” He laughs again, kissing your cheek as he brings you to him. You frown but comply with his handling of you, strong hands pulling you over his thigh. He sits you down until your bare cunt is pressed against the clothed muscle. It dawns on you what he’s doing as he’s doing it, a noisy little whimper sounding as Javier pulls you close. Close enough to wrap your arms around his neck. He puts a hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to bury his face into the space of his shoulder. He can feel the relief in you when you do, slumping into him a second time today. “You have to move on your own, you know? I won’t help you.”

“You’re being awful,” You say with no real malice or bite.

“I’m a little hurt, that’s all. And I’m helping you aren’t I? Is that not what you want?”

You groan against the skin of his neck. “I want your…ngh,”

He hums against you, decides to be merciful since he’s teased you plenty and he’s going to tease you more.

“Wanna feel me right here, don’t you?” He puts a hand between your bodies, pressing the back of his hand into your stomach. “I know, I know. But I want you to cum like this first.”

“Can’t do it by myself,” You sniffle. Don’t even try to push back, so obedient and willing. Javier hums sympathetically.

“I’m here right? I’ll help you, mi vida. I’m not that mean, am I?”

You shake your head no. He most definitely is, but maybe he can keep that a secret from you a little longer.

“Here,” He says. Javier pulls your chemise up until it’s pooling at your waist. Strong, tan hands hold at your hips, squeezing the soft skin with a warm sigh. You keen immediately. He pushes his thigh up just slightly to give you the right kind of friction. Hiccuping in his lap, he sets a pace for you to grind yourself on him. A slower back and forth. When you get too wet, too needy - you get sloppy. Sometimes he can give it to you hard and fast but you’re sensitive. Sensitive to the point it’s easy to make you hurt, make yourself hurt if you’re too clumsy.

You’re always chasing pleasure but you don’t know anything about build-up. For a girl who tends to keep to herself and is always so meticulous - there’s something about seeing you get so sloppy that turns Javier on. When you’re wet and can’t think straight “Not too fast, okay? You’re sensitive, need it slow at first to make it feel good if it’s like this. Did you forget?”

You nod, then moan hotly against his throat. Javier shivers at the way your tune changes. He can feel you breathe in his scent and relax as he guides your hips. He eventually stops touching you. Lets you take control of the pace just like he shows you. You manage to pace yourself despite how much you want to cum. Javier can feel how pent up you are. The fabric of his slacks going sticky, tacky from cum and arousal.

You smell nice and soft, like baby powder and something floral.

Javier’s been hard since he got in the door, but it’s starting to fog his mind up. Feeling your tits press against his chest, feeling your skin against his. Soft and pliant and beautiful. He kisses against your shoulders as you slowly start to build your orgasm up again. Not that it’s hard.

You pull away from him, briefly - and your face makes his dick twitch. You’re always pretty but you’re especially pretty like this. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth, eyes lidded and barely blinking.

“Javi,” Your words are slurred. Javier laughs but doesn’t clean you up. “Kiss me,”

“Sure,” He replies, though he’s all too happy to do it. Javier kisses you with tongue. He knows it’s what you want. Your hands curl up at his chest as he brings his own to cup your head and pull you to him. His tongue in your mouth is invasive but precise, knowing all the ways you want him to nip and kiss and suck on your mouth. You whine in complete pleasure, drunk from the sensation and he’s hardly touched you at all.

He thinks of how he’ll fuck you as he kisses you. He’ll touch you more than he is now and you’ll fuck like lovesick rabbits until sunrise. It’s less something Javier decides and more something he knows. Like once he opens the door to pleasing you like this, it’ll be tough on him to close it again.

“Javi,” You keep calling his name. It might be the only word you remember. Always seems to be when you get like this. “It feels so good. Feels so good when you touch me,”

Javier kisses against your bare shoulder and neck, teeth scraping soft against your clavicles. “Mm. You’re doing well. A very good girl today,”

You shudder at the praise, all the hairs on your neck raising from the drop of it. Javier laughs. You whine his name again but he doesn’t reply. He can feel you more than he can see you. Your body is twitching against his thigh and your muscles are tight where you hug against him. Javier calms you.

“Gonna cum soon, huh?”

You nod over and over, but can barely keep your head up to do it. And he laughs, full of fondness and affection as he peppers your face with kisses. He doesn’t have it in him suddenly, to tease you about it any more. He encourages you instead, hand on your hips to give you more friction as you start to grow erratic in your breathing. You pant hard against his ear, like you’re chasing something. Little bunny rabbit, he thinks. Your voice is little more than a croak.

“Oh,” You moan, loud and helpless and needy as you cling to him. Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt as you cry out his name one more time. A prayer, maybe. Or a curse. Something in between. “Javier, oh,”

“Shhh, that’s it. Just like that. Good girl. You’re so good to me.”

You weep into his neck as you cum, your whole body tightening before breaking out into aroused shakes. You’ve completely lost it in front of him. On the brink of insanity with nothing but pleasure filling your empty-head. You hump against him thoughtlessly as you ride out your high, then finally lean against him when you’ve managed to reach the end of it. You don’t move. Javier can feel how big the wet patch of his pants has grown and tries not to laugh.

You’re only barely coherent when you’ve finally pulled away. Your pupils are blown out and your face is flushed, sweat making your hair stick to your skin in the places it’s not tucked away. Javier laughs at the state you’re in, brushing his thumb along your cheek just beneath your eyes.

“Are you with me still, do you think?”

You nod, seemingly exhausted. He laughs again and kisses your temple.

“Want you,” You say, despite your state. His eyes widen again at how soon after you’re asking him. He was planning on taking his time, but that plan might just be out of the race. He’s not above you begging him so sweetly. “Please, Javi. Need you, need you so bad.”

You sound like you’re about to cry. He speaks in soft murmurs. “I thought you’d be too tired to keep going right away.”

“No,” You mumble and shake your head. “Please. Please, want you so bad.”

“You’re exhausted, mi vida.”��

“Please,”

He chuckles. “Okay. Okay, don’t cry. Whatever you want, remember. Unbutton my shirt for me, mi amor.”

You sniffle, your hands shaking as you fulfill his request. You’re exceptional at listening. Javier smiles at you, your eyes meeting as you do. You flush and pout, only barely managing to maintain his gaze without looking away. You unbutton his shirt dutifully. He puts a hand on your arm and rubs it soothingly. “You must’ve missed me a lot, huh.”

You nod. “It’s bad, you know? Two days shouldn’t feel so long. It didn’t use too.”

“Just means we love each other,” Javier assures, a safe place for you to express your neediness. “That’s nothing bad,”

You nod, pressing your forehead to his. “That’s true,”

“See? And it’s nice you know. Having someone miss me. Wait for me. Makes me want to come home instead of, I don’t know.” He feels his throat tighten at the sincerity but pushes through anyway “Dying for the cause. Or even just because.”

It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day and god. Might be the only thing that’s ever mattered. Above all forms of love prior and past. Above revolution. Above god. Just you. You smile, happy and elated and keep unbuttoning his shirt with a coquettish-ness to you. Comfortable and safe.

You help Javier out of his shirt, and wait for his approval to go after his pants. Undoing the buttons, you free his cock from the confines with a soft gasp. Javier laughs at the reaction, cat-like grin on his features.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“It’s so big,” You say, your hand wrapping around it briefly. Javier swears, head against the headboard.

“Careful,” He warns, laughing thickly. “I’m pretty pent up too,”

“Want it inside me,” You say so easily it startles him. You blink up at him through your lashes, too pretty for your own good. “Please?”

“Should open you up a little.”

“Want it to hurt,” You reply instantly. Javier feels his breath hitch.

“Oh, fuck.” He breathes, trying to keep himself from cumming in your hands. “We’ll go slow.”

You nod quickly, not wanting to wait any longer. Javier curses himself for not being more polite.

He guides your arms around his neck, his own arm around your waist as he lays you down on your back. You look up at him, surprised by his handling of you but not upset by it all. You mumble something he doesn’t catch, but it sounds pleased.

Javier finds that he’s fond of missionary. He didn’t think he was the type, but there’s something about seeing you laid on your back that he likes. Likes being able to look at you and be close to you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you curl into him. He lays you down gently on his spine, laughing at the way your legs wrap around his waist the second you’re comfortable. His hands go up under your knees but don’t push you too far. You spread your legs for him naturally, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and leftover stupid want. He looks down at you and smiles.

“One more, okay? Just the one.”

“I can’t,” You whine “Too sensitive. Just want you to cum on me,”

“Are you doubting me?” He challenges, only partially. Your eyes widen and he chuckles. “Of course you can. One more,”

You whimper, suddenly realizing you had no choice in the first place. But you nod, relenting to him like you so often do. Javier kisses you. It means more things that he’s comfortable telling. Means thank you, and that he’s sorry, that he loves you. He kisses you one more time after that, and smiles at how happy you seem because of it.

Finally, when Javier lays you down on the sheets beneath you - it feels like finding religion all over again. The loose material of your chemise has given up on covering you, exposing the soft mound of your chest and hardened nipples. He can see your neck and shoulders and everything else above and below. You’re so beautiful his cock twitches again, hard.

He sits back up on his knees and takes a deep breath as he lays his cock against your puffy folds. You breathe soft, an aching sound from the back of your throat as you pull your skirt up to give him better access. He laughs gently at that, examining how nearly seven inches measures up to you and feels a little dizzy in the process of it. He’s done this with you so many times now, practically trained your body to take him without too much trouble. A welcome change from when you could barely fit the tip, too inexperienced to do it but even more determined.

Even still some part of him worries about it. It’s not enough to stop him though, not nearly. His cock twitches against hard, wanting for you. He looks down at you and sees you stare up, admiring his figure. He laughs.

“Like the view?”

You nod. “Mm. Uh-huh.”

“I’m glad,” He replies, then adds “Deep breath,”

So you take a deep breath, and Javier pushes the tip of his cock into you with a loud grunt. You’re so soft. Wet, and pliant and soft around the swollen head of his cock, he can’t help but shudder with relief and desire. Can’t help but grit his teeth and grip onto your hips to steady himself.

You breathe like the air has been punched out of your lungs, saying his name dreamily. “Oh, Javi,”

He swears under his breath, something incoherent as he pushes the tip push into you evenly. It’s not easy. The resistance is there, but you don’t whine in pain right way - so it means it’s not too hard on you. Perhaps loosened by the previous orgasm, or simply so needy that it doesn’t bug you. Still, Javier makes sure to keep himself tight. He rocks, back and forth, ignoring the agony of that sensation to keep him from thrusting up into your soft, welcoming cunt. If he listened to what he wanted, he can’t be confident it wouldn’t make you ache. He already knows you will with this much.

It takes a few minutes, and some whimpering from you before he finally manages to bottom out.

You feel good. God, you feel good.

He can’t imagine heaven, but he thinks being inside of you might be close enough. There’s certainly all the makings of religion when he makes love to you. You, a soft and loving deity, and him - a man laden with sin who longs to be saved. It makes sense to compare you that way. And it feels just as euphoric as the always described, being wrapped in you. Being part of your completion. What's religion without worshippers, anyway?

Javier groans as he bottoms out inside of. When he manages to peel his eyes open and look at you, you’re debauched. He’s debased you this completely and he doesn’t know if you can even tell. He laughs, leaning down to kiss your neck and run pecks against your jaw.

“Feel good?”

“Feels so good,” You moan, then hold him tighter. “I love you. Love you Javier,”

“Me too, mi amor. Para siempre. ” He hums, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Can I move?”

“Please,”

“Touch yourself for me,” He tells you patiently. “Make yourself feel good.”

You nod, dazed - a hand between your bodies as Javier sets a pace to fuck you. He knows you in and out. At least well enough to know exactly the ways to make you feel good. Only a few thrusts for him to find the perfect pace, perfect rhythm, perfect spot. You make a noise like a songbird, deep in the back of your throat and Javier can feel you pulse around him in pleasure.

You stay like that, with him. Javier fucks you to his hearts content in deep, long thrusts - angled against the softest parts of you and wanting to make you feel good. He whispers sweet nothings as your nails dig into the muscle of his back. You feel good for him. You are good for him, wet and perfect. It takes all of his strength to fuck you consistently, the bed rocking underneath you both as he gives it to you hard.

“I’m close,” You whimper, not seeming to believe yourself despite. “I’m so close, oh god, Javier.”

“That’s it,” He whispers, chuckling against your skin “One more. Just one more and I’ll give it to you.”

It’s the promise of his cum that drives you over the edge. You gasp and groan, shuddering as Javier pounds you through your second orgasms. He groans as he feels your pussy spasm and tighten around him, practically begging him to put it inside. He’s nearly lost his sense enough to do it, unhelped by the way your sweet voice begs him for it. He practically has to pry himself away from you, out of you to keep himself from cumming inside as deep as he can possibly go.

He manages, barely, to stave off his own orgasm. Long enough pull himself out of you with a broken gasp and cum outside of you. Making a mess of your stomach and your soft, swollen cunt with his seed. He paints you in thick ropes of whites as he swears loud in the process, euphoria rumbling through him uninterrupted.

“Fuck,” He moans, finally getting to the end of it. A little embarrassed by how much of a mess he’s made right along with you. “You do something crazy to me, you know that?”

You stare at him, bleary eyed and giggly despite your exhaustion. “I know. Me too. I missed you,”

He laughs, and can’t find the words to say anything but the same back. Of course Javier is a worse man when you’re around.

Any man loved this much is bound to be a little ruined.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

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