#(not even getting into the way she basically forced me to pretend everything was normal when i had my own severe medical stuff)

[practically-an-x-man]

my mom's diverticulitis is flaring up and it's really tough bc on the one hand I obviously empathize with her and i really don't want her to be in pain. but on the other hand she's even more difficult to be around when she's in discomfort because she literally does not stop talking about it

[p0orbaby]

Skeletons

summary: aitana has a secret that you’re reluctant to keep, but you do, because having her in private is better than not having her at all

warnings: angst, closeted relationship

a/n: inspired by this request ! fyi i’m not a massive fan of the ending so if you think it’s bad then your opinion is valid

word count: 4.9k

-

It’s been a long day, another day of tactical meetings and drills, the weight of another training session at Barça hanging heavy on your body. You sit beside Aitana in the lounge of her flat—everything pristine but minimal, almost impersonal, as if she's never spent enough time here to give it a real life. No personal touch to the decor, just basic furniture. A lamp that looks like it was picked because it was there and not because it meant anything. The kind of living space of someone who only ever comes home to sleep, or maybe to avoid something else. You think you know what that something else is, or maybe it’s just a suspicion that’s been gnawing at you for years, a quiet terror lodged deep in the center of you, almost as if it's waiting for something to happen. You’re pretty sure it's always been there.

You notice how she sits too close, legs curled beneath her on the sofa, leaning into you in that way she always does when she’s not really aware of it. Aitana’s always been like that—too close, too warm, her casual touches like a silent scream at the back of your mind—her fingers brushing your arm, her shoulder pressing lightly into yours, her laughter soft and private, like you’re the only one who could ever understand the joke, like she trusts you with something that’s too big for either of you to say out loud. It’s a proximity that drives you insane, but you’ve learned to live with it because there’s never been another option. Not really. Not when every look, every smile, every stupid moment of her being this…close keeps you on a knife's edge between bliss and misery.

She looks at you now with those eyes that you’ve memorised, those soft brown eyes that never stop searching, like she’s always trying to find the right words but can never quite get there. It’s a little terrifying, the way she looks at you sometimes. Like you’re the answer to something she hasn't quite plucked up the courage to ask yet.

“I’m glad you came over,” she says, her voice softer than usual, like she's thinking about something more serious but doesn't want to show it. Her hand is on your arm again, a casual thing, but it’s not casual, not to you. It hasn’t been casual for years.

You nod, biting back whatever sarcastic response you might’ve thrown out, because this—this moment feels like a delicate thread, as if one wrong move could break it. And you don’t want to break it. God, you don’t want to break it.

“Of course, I came over. You needed me, right?” you say, forcing a lightness into your voice that feels false, but you’re so used to this performance. It’s second nature. Being near her and pretending like it’s normal when your heart is pounding loud enough to deafen you.

“Yeah,” she says, but there’s something under that single word, something unsure. She leans back into the sofa cushions, and you feel the shift, the weight of her thigh brushing yours, your heart picking up speed even as you try to ignore it. You look at her, and she’s staring at the floor now, like she’s trying to figure something out but can’t bring herself to say it.

You’ve never been good with silence, not between the two of you, not when it feels like this, charged and dangerous, and you almost say something—anything—to break it, but she beats you to it.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, her voice quiet, her gaze still on the floor. She shifts, her fingers tightening slightly on your arm, and your chest clenches, that familiar wave of something crashing over you. “About…stuff”

The vagueness of it should annoy you, but it doesn’t. Not when her voice sounds like this. Not when her whole body feels tense, like she’s holding something back.

“What kind of stuff?” you ask, keeping your tone casual, keeping the panic buried deep where it belongs. You can’t show it. You can’t let her see how much this is affecting you, how much every word out of her mouth feels like it could unravel you.

She finally looks up at you, and there’s something different in her eyes. Something you haven’t seen before, or maybe you’ve seen it a hundred times but you’ve never let yourself believe it could be real. Her gaze holds yours for a moment, and then she looks away again, biting her bottom lip like she’s nervous.

It’s not a look you see from Aitana often. She’s usually so sure of herself, so confident, even when she’s being quiet, even when she’s being thoughtful. But this—this feels different. She’s fidgeting now, her fingers tapping lightly against her knee, and you can’t help but watch her, trying to figure out what’s going on in her head, trying not to let yourself hope. Because hope is dangerous. Hope is a trap you’ve fallen into too many times, and every time you climb out of it, it feels like it just leaves you more bruised.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” she says, and her voice is so soft now, so fragile. It’s like she’s terrified of what she’s about to say, and that terrifies you because Aitana is never terrified.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “What’s up?” you ask, trying to sound calm, even though your heart is racing and there’s a knot forming in your stomach.

She hesitates for a moment, and then she reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit you’ve seen a thousand times but never thought much about until now, when everything about her feels heightened, like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again.

“I…” She stops, her voice faltering, and then she takes a deep breath, forcing the words out like they’ve been stuck inside her for too long. “I think I might like someone”

Your chest tightens. This is it. The moment you’ve always dreaded. The moment where she tells you about some guy—some random guy she’s fallen for, the guy she’s going to love the way you wish she would love you.

“Oh,” you say, and it comes out flat, empty. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else.

But she doesn’t look at you. Not yet. Her fingers are still tapping against her knee, her eyes still fixed somewhere just past your shoulder.

“It’s… weird,” she continues, her voice wavering, and now she’s biting her lip again, harder this time, and you can see the tension in her jaw. “Because I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this about…a girl”

Your heart stops. You freeze. Every part of you goes still as her words sink in, slow and heavy, like they’re not quite real. Like they can’t be real.

But she’s still talking, her voice shaky, her eyes finally meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, the uncertainty, the fear that she’s saying something wrong, something that’s going to ruin everything. And suddenly you’re not breathing, not thinking, not doing anything except sitting there, staring at her, because what else can you do? What can you say when the thing you’ve wanted for so long is suddenly, inexplicably, in front of you?

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, and now her hand is resting on your arm again, her fingers brushing your skin in a way that feels deliberate, feels like more than just a casual touch.

And you—God, you don’t know what to do either. You don’t know how to breathe, how to think, how to process what’s happening. Because this—this moment—is something you’ve imagined a thousand times in your head, something you’ve dreamed about but never really believed would happen.

But it is happening. Right now. Right in front of you.

You blink, your throat tight, your mind a mess of thoughts that don’t make any sense, and she’s still looking at you, still waiting for you to say something, do something, anything. But you can’t. You can’t because you’re terrified that if you move, if you speak, if you do anything, this moment will shatter and you’ll wake up and it’ll all be gone.

So you sit there, frozen, staring at her, trying to understand how you got here, trying to understand what this means, trying to understand her—Aitana, your best friend, the girl you’ve been in love with for what feels like forever.

And she’s looking at you like she’s scared. Scared of what you’ll say, scared of what you’ll do. But more than that, she looks scared of herself, of what she’s feeling. You can see the uncertainty in her eyes, the way she’s still not sure if this is okay, if she’s okay, if liking you—wanting you—is something she’s allowed to want.

“I’m scared,” she says softly, and it breaks you because Aitana doesn’t get scared. She’s brave. She’s fearless. She’s everything you’ve always wanted to be. And now she’s sitting here, vulnerable and uncertain, and you don’t know how to help her because you’re still trying to figure out how to help yourself.

But then she looks at you again, her eyes searching yours, and something shifts. Something clicks into place. And before you can stop yourself, before you can think about what you’re doing, you reach out and take her hand, your fingers lacing with hers, warm and steady and real.

“I’m here,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. “I’m not going anywhere”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, she smiles, just a little. A small, tentative smile, but it’s enough. It’s everything.

-

It starts slowly, like all dangerous things do. A late-night text that pulls you back to her place after training, her fingertips brushing your hand on the walk back from the gym, a lingering glance that lasts just a second too long when she thinks no one’s paying attention. You both fall into it like gravity’s pulling you, and for a while, it’s enough. Enough to have her behind closed doors, enough to know that, at least in those quiet moments between just the two of you, she’s yours.

But it’s also nothing like what you’d imagined all those years, lying in your own bed staring at the ceiling, wondering what it’d be like to have her next to you for real. It’s not perfect—it can’t be, not when everything has to be hidden. You’re still her best friend in public, the girl she spends all her time with, the girl who knows her better than anyone else. But not the girl she kisses when the cameras aren’t flashing, not the girl she pulls close when no one’s looking.

Those moments belong only to the nights when her guard is down, when her walls crumble and she lets you in, just for a few hours. It’s messy, but you’ve always known it would be. Aitana is nothing if not a contradiction—so sure of herself on the pitch, so certain of what she wants when it comes to football, but with this—with you—she’s hesitant. Insecure, even, and it’s a side of her you’re still learning how to navigate.

It’s late one night after another exhausting match, and she’s already taken her shower, her hair damp against the pillow as you lie beside her. Her apartment smells faintly of eucalyptus from the diffuser she never turns off, and the air between you feels heavy, like it always does after sex. Like there’s something unsaid just hanging there, but neither of you is brave enough to say it.

She’s resting her head on your chest, one arm draped lazily across your stomach, her fingers tracing absent patterns against your skin. And for a moment, everything is perfect. Just her and you, tangled together in her too-big bed, your bodies sore but comfortable in the way that only comes with familiarity. You feel her breath against your neck, steady and soft, and you close your eyes, trying to commit every second of this to memory. These are the moments you live for now.

But then she speaks, her voice low and hesitant, and you know what’s coming before she even says it.

“You know we can’t tell anyone, right?” Her fingers stop moving, and she lifts her head to look at you, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “Not yet”

It’s not the first time she’s said it, and it won’t be the last. You’ve had this conversation before, too many times to count. But each time, it feels like a fresh wound, like she’s cutting into you all over again with that same blunt blade. You want to tell her that it hurts, that it tears you apart every time she introduces you to someone as “just a friend” or dodges questions about her love life in interviews, leaving you wondering what it would feel like to be acknowledged, even just once.

But you don’t say that. You won’t. Because you know she’s scared. Scared of what it means, scared of what people will say, scared of admitting to herself that she’s not the person she thought she was. And you love her too much to push her. So instead, you nod, keeping your voice steady even though your chest feels like it’s caving in.

“Yeah, I know”

She sighs in relief, dropping her head back to your chest, her body relaxing against yours again. And just like that, the conversation is over. She’s yours again—for now, at least.

But there are moments, moments when the secret feels too heavy, too suffocating, and you don’t know how long you can keep carrying it without cracking under the pressure. It happens one day after a game, when the whole team goes out to celebrate a win, and you’re sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and trying to keep your distance. Because that’s what you do now. You keep your distance. You stay just close enough to be there for her, but never close enough to make anyone suspicious.

Aitana’s across the room, talking with a group of teammates, laughing at something Alexia says, and for a second, it’s like she forgets you’re even there. She’s in her element, charming and confident, the version of herself you’ve always admired. And when someone asks her about dating—probably joking, probably not thinking twice about it—you watch her laugh it off, deflecting like she always does.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone,” she says, so casually, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like you don’t exist. Like the nights you’ve spent together, wrapped up in each other, mean nothing.

It hits you harder than it should. Harder than it ever has before. And you know it’s not fair to feel like this—it’s not fair to her, and it’s not fair to you. You knew what this was when you started, knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You drain the rest of your beer, the bitterness burning your throat, and get up to leave before anyone notices. Before she notices. You can’t sit there and watch her laugh and flirt with other people, pretending like she’s not going to go home with you tonight. Pretending like she’s not yours.

When you’re halfway to the door, you feel her hand on your arm, and you stop, turning to face her. She looks up at you, her expression soft, her eyes wide and questioning.

“Where are you going?” she asks, her voice low enough that no one else can hear. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“I’m tired,” you say, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice. “I think I’ll head home”

Aitana frowns, her hand still on your arm, like she’s not ready to let you go yet. Like she can feel the shift, the tension simmering just beneath the surface. “I thought we’d—”

“I know,” you cut her off, not wanting to hear it. Not wanting to hear her try to make this okay when it’s not. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You pull away from her, walking out into the cool night air, your heart pounding in your chest. You need space. You need air. You need time to remember why you’re doing this, why you’re putting yourself through this, why you keep coming back to her even when it hurts.

And later, when you’re lying in your own bed, staring up at the ceiling again, you remind yourself of all the reasons why. The way she looks at you when no one’s watching. The way she holds you close at night, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. The way she whispers your name in the dark, her voice soft and vulnerable in a way it never is around anyone else.

She’s worth it, you tell yourself. She’s worth the pain, the hiding, the pretending. Because you have her. Maybe not in the way you always dreamed, but you have her.

-

It’s an away game in Seville, the kind where the atmosphere is tense but electric, the city vibrating with the weight of the upcoming match. The hotel isn’t much, just another chain where the carpets smell faintly of stale cigarettes and overuse. You’re in one of those rooms that looks exactly the same as all the others, sterile and impersonal—off-white walls, a single window overlooking the car park, a television bolted to the wall like an afterthought. But right now, none of that matters.

Aitana’s there with you, her back pressed against the cheap headboard, her hair a tangled mess around her face. She’s just come out of the shower, skin still damp and smelling like hotel soap, and there’s something reckless in her eyes tonight, something unspoken simmering between you both. There’s always been that quiet, dangerous tension with her, like you’re both walking a line neither of you knows how to stay on.

You hadn’t planned for this. Maybe you never plan for it. It’s just a hunger that’s become second nature, something that overtakes you both when you’re alone together, something neither of you can resist. Her lips had found yours the moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind you, the match tomorrow the last thing on either of your minds. You’re supposed to be resting, supposed to be saving your energy for the game, but there’s always this with her, this fever that takes over when you’re in the same room.

It doesn’t take long before you’re pulling her close, her fingers digging into your back, her breath hot against your neck as you press her against the mattress. The room feels like it’s spinning, like it’s just you and her and nothing else matters. And the noise—God, you can’t help the sounds she makes when you touch her, the way she bites back a moan, then gives up, letting it out like a release of all the tension she’s been holding in. The bed creaks beneath you, too loud in the silence of the hotel, but neither of you care. It’s too late to care.

You lose track of time. You lose track of everything except the feel of her beneath you, the way her body responds to yours, the way she whispers your name like it’s the only word she knows. And for that stretch of time—however long it is—she’s yours, wholly and completely. There’s no team, no match, no world outside this room. It’s just her, and you, and the way she looks at you when she lets her guard down, when she lets herself need you.

But then there’s a knock at the wall, followed by a muffled voice that snaps you both back to reality. You freeze, still half-entangled with her, your breath ragged, your heart pounding.

“Oye! Quiet down in there!” someone yells through the wall. The voice is too familiar—Pina, or maybe Patri—it doesn’t matter who it is. The point is, they’ve heard. The walls are paper-thin, you realise, and you hadn’t exactly been discreet.

You scramble off her, untangling yourself from the sheets, and for a moment, the only sound is your own breathing, loud in the sudden silence. Aitana’s eyes are wide, her face flushed, her bare chest rising and falling rapidly, and you can see the panic starting to creep in. Not panic because they know—no, they don’t know who she is. Panic because they think it’s just another random hookup. Another girl you picked up on a whim.

There’s another knock, louder this time, more insistent. “We get it! You’ve got company,” someone calls, laughing now, their voice tinged with amusement. “Didn’t know you’d have a guest tonight”

You let out a breath, already slipping into the familiar role. The one where you play it off like this is nothing. Like this is just another night, just another girl. You’ve done it so many times before—it’s a routine at this point. The jokes, the teasing, the knowing looks from your teammates when they hear about another one of your so-called conquests. It’s all part of the act, the persona you’ve built to cover for what’s really going on.

You flash a quick smile at Aitana, hoping to reassure her, but the look she gives you is anything but reassured. It’s tight, like she’s barely holding it together. You ignore it for now, your mind racing for the right thing to say.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that,” you call back, trying to keep your voice light, casual, like you’re not lying through your teeth. “I’ll keep it down. Promise”

There’s more laughter from the other side of the wall, some muttered jokes about your reputation, about your ‘lucky night,’ but eventually it quiets down. They’re not going to press you. They never do. You’ve always been able to laugh it off, always been able to make it seem like none of it matters.

But when you turn back to Aitana, you see the way her eyes have gone dark, her face tight with something that looks like pain, like anger. She’s pulling the sheets up around her, suddenly closed off, like she’s trying to build a wall between you both.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice low, tentative. You reach for her, but she pulls away, sitting up straighter, wrapping the sheet tighter around herself.

There’s a heaviness to the air that wasn’t there before, a weight that settles between the two of you. It’s in the way she’s breathing—slow, measured—like she’s thinking too hard, like she’s bracing herself for something. You glance over at her, half-expecting her to meet your gaze with that teasing smile she always gives after moments like this, but her face is turned toward the ceiling, eyes wide and distant, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Aitana?” you say softly, your voice barely cutting through the thick quiet. You can feel the tension in your chest start to coil, tight and uneasy.

She doesn’t respond right away, and when she finally does, her voice is quieter than you expect, almost tentative, like she’s not sure how to say what’s on her mind. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, still staring up at the ceiling, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the sheet.

You frown, sitting up a little, trying to make sense of what she means. “Do what?”

“Cover for me.” She says it so softly, like it’s a secret, like it’s something she’s ashamed of, but not in the way you’re used to. Not the shame of being found out. This is different, quieter, heavier. “I know why you did it, but… you didn’t have to”

You blink, thrown off for a second. “You mean… when they knocked on the wall?”

She nods, slowly, her eyes finally drifting from the ceiling to meet yours. There’s something in her eyes that makes your heart drop, something that feels like guilt, but not the kind that comes from getting caught. It’s the kind that lingers, the kind that’s been building for a while.

“I know it’s stupid,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper now, her fingers still moving in that absent way across the sheets, like she’s trying to distract herself from what she’s saying. “I know it’s just how it is. But… when you said that, when you acted like it was someone else, it just—it felt wrong”

You can feel your chest tighten, the words sinking in, slow and heavy. You want to tell her that you had to, that it’s how you’ve always handled it, that you were just trying to protect her. But the way she’s looking at you now, her eyes soft but resolute, makes you pause. She’s not angry. She’s not hurt, not the way you thought she might be. She’s just… sad. Sad that you feel like you need to keep pretending, like you need to keep covering for her.

“I didn’t think it’d bother you,” you say, and it sounds like an excuse as soon as it leaves your mouth, even though it’s the truth. You’ve done this so many times before, played it off like it’s nothing. It’s always been your way of protecting her, of protecting what the two of you have.

“I know you didn’t.” She sits up then, pulling her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as she looks at you. Her hair falls over her face, messy and damp, and she brushes it aside absently, not really paying attention to it. “But that’s the thing. You shouldn’t have to. Not anymore”

There’s a beat of silence, the words hanging in the air between you. You sit up straighter, searching her face, trying to understand exactly what she’s saying. You’ve had this conversation before, or at least versions of it. But it’s never felt like this. It’s never felt like it’s this close to something real, something neither of you can take back.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your voice cautious, like you’re afraid to push her too far, to make her retreat behind that wall she’s so good at building.

Aitana lets out a slow breath, her eyes not leaving yours. “I mean… I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of being a secret. And I’m tired of making you cover for me like you’re ashamed of what we have.” Her voice is steady, but there’s a vulnerability in it that catches you off guard, something raw and exposed. “I don’t want to do that to you anymore.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. You’ve always been the one to take the fall, to laugh off the questions, to keep up the charade. You’ve always thought you were doing it for her—because she wasn’t ready, because she needed more time. But now, sitting here, looking at her, you realize that maybe you’ve been doing it for yourself too. Maybe you’ve been hiding just as much as she has, afraid of what it would mean to actually be out there, to actually be seen.

“Aitana…” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice soft but firm.

“I know it won’t be easy,” she says quickly, like she’s already thought this through a thousand times. “I know people will talk, and it’ll be… hard. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to hide us. I don’t want you to pretend like I’m just someone you picked up or some random girl in your bed. I’m more than that. I’ve always been more than that”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a second, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve spent so long keeping this part of you hidden, keeping this relationship in the shadows, that the idea of stepping out into the light feels… terrifying. But at the same time, hearing her say it, hearing her admit that she’s ready—that she wants to be open—it makes something inside you shift, something that feels like hope.

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice quieter now, more careful. You don’t want to push her, don’t want to rush her into something she’s not ready for, even though every part of you is screaming to say yes, to finally stop hiding.

She nods, her eyes steady, her expression soft but sure. “I’m sure.” She reaches out then, her hand finding yours, her fingers threading through yours with a quiet certainty. “I don’t want to hide anymore. Not from them, not from anyone.”

You feel the weight of her words settle over you, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like you can breathe. Like the walls you’ve both built are finally starting to come down.

“I don’t want you to hide either,” you admit, the words coming out easier than you thought they would. And it’s true. You’re tired of pretending too, tired of covering for something that’s real, something that’s yours.

Aitana smiles then, a small, tentative smile, but there’s something bright behind it, something that makes your chest ache in the best possible way. She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours, her breath warm against your lips.

“So… I’ll tell them,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, but filled with a kind of quiet determination that makes you believe her.

“No,” you whisper back, your heart pounding, your hand tightening around hers. “We’ll tell them”

[halsteadlover]

𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Spencer Reid x Stripper!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: it was supposed to be a case like any other, an undercover operation like a thousand others he had done but when Spencer sets his eyes on that dancer for the first time suddenly everything fades into the background.

• Warnings: brief mention of alcohol, homicide case, nudity, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, sex, use of condoms (ALWAYS WRAP IT!!!), cursing, dirty talk, basically Spencer being a ✨man✨, tell me if I missed anything <3

• Word count: 7.6K

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE +18. This was written in 3rd person. I had this idea for a while now but didn’t know how to write it but now here we are you have no idea how much time it took 😭 I promise I’m still working on the requests please don’t hate me I’m just trying the find the motivation to write again. I really hope you like this one please let me know what you think and comment, reblog and like ❤️ Thank you for your kindness and constant support xx

Spencer had never felt as uncomfortable as he did in that moment, surrounded by germs and all kinds of bodily fluids.

He was disgusted and couldn’t wait for this to be over soon so he could get out of there.

Damn you, Derek Morgan.

He cursed his colleague for forcing him to go in that damned place. He was in a strip club, pretending to be a normal customer so he could talk to some of the strippers and the head of the club himself about an investigation. The BAU was in fact following the case of a serial killer who lured his victims and killed them.

Since the victims – who were about four – were all affluent straight males in their thirties and there were no traces of drugs or signs on their bodies that they’d been forced to follow the killer, the team assumed the unsub was a female in her mid-twenties.

After digging into their pasts to study the victimology, the team discovered all four victims committed sexual crimes which however had somehow been attempted to be covered up. So there was no doubt those killings were about some sort of justice.

The unsub would kill them by slicing their throats with a single and precise movement, a cut so deep it was easy to say she was an expert. There was no way the four victims were her first ones, but nothing came up after Garcia searched for other murders with the same modus operandi.

After leaving their bodies on the bed of a hotel room, the unsub would also write a short note on the wall with a deep purple lipstick – a particular color – which wasn’t found on the victims’ bodies, so the team thought she wouldn’t wear it, she was carrying it with her with the sole purpose to write those simple short sentences.

The BAU had interrogated the victims of these aforementioned sexual assaults but all of them had airtight alibis so there was no real suspect. After interrogating the victims’ families and friends, they realized there was a common denominator between those four men: the Sinful Lust.

And that’s how Spencer ended up there.

He didn’t understand why it had to be him who had to be in that place. How could they think it’d be a good idea to have him to deal with strippers and people having sex around him?

Anyone could see from a mile away how uncomfortable he felt sitting there, even people who weren’t profilers. Spencer continued to look around, almost dazed by the club’s strobe lights as he tried to mask his disgust at noticing his surroundings and the intense smell of alcohol.

He never hated Derek so much.

He knew it was just his sadistic way of making him feel uncomfortable, despite the encouragement from the rest of the team though who were sure Spencer would make it.

His palms sweated with every passing second as he rubbed them on his black pants before fixing the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t used to wearing these kinds of clothes, he felt caged, in a body that didn’t belong to him.

Every woman in that place wasted no time winking at him, shooting him languid glances to which he responded with a tight and totally false smile. Some of them approached him and he had to fake interest in them by engaged stupid and languid conversations.

He couldn’t help but think about how Morgan would’ve enjoyed that situation and how he wouldn’t have wasted time making all the women in that damn club fall at his feet.

Spencer really envied him sometimes. He envied how his friend was always so easygoing and extroverted, especially with women, with a joke always ready, how he always knew what to say and when.

Suddenly the club lights dimmed and focused on the stage, stopping his rush of thoughts and indicating the strippers were about to begin the show.

Numerous tables and seats were concentrated near the stage, populated by hungry men who couldn’t wait to feast their eyes and spend their money and Spencer noted with disgust many of them were even married.

Poor wives.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding only to gasp again as some music started and the strippers began to dance. He didn’t recognize the music and the words, preferring classical music; however, his mind wasn’t focused on the bass vibrating through the room but on analyzing the scene.

But it was so damn hard when women danced sensually in front of him half naked. It’s a physiological reaction, he kept repeating to himself, it’s normal, focus Reid, do not deconcentrate.

The dim lights only added more tension to the evocative atmosphere, interrupted every now and then by men standing up and cheering to hand over their money they had probably earned with so much effort.

Spencer moved into his seat, picking up the glass of some type of liquor he didn’t know and pretending to sip before placing it back on the table, wanting with every fiber of his being for the unsub to reveal herself.

But he knew it couldn’t be that simple. If killers had written on their foreheads they were actually killers, he wouldn’t even have a job anymore.

He wondered if she was there.

Who knew if she had already chosen her next victim.

Spencer’s eyes met with one of the three dancers on the stage and a vice gripped his stomach when he realized she was already looking at him.

Her hips continued to move sensually to the rhythm of the music as her fingers played with the buttons of the skimpy top she was wearing and for an instant Spencer thought if he wasn’t mistaken or having a hallucination.

But he wasn’t wrong.

Her eyes were fixed solely on him.

She bit her lip as she winked at Spencer, and he almost melted into that chair like snow in the sun. He tried to keep his expression as casual and neutral as possible but in reality, every single cell in his body was on fire.

She turned her body and walked sensually towards the pole and Spencer’s eyes went hungrily and impertinently down her body, making him feel no less dirty than the rest of the men present.

But he couldn’t control himself as his eyes seemed to have a life on their own and he couldn’t take them off her.

His gaze traced every exposed inch of her skin, focusing on her ass covered by a skimpy short skirt, the mere sight of her making his pants tighten around his crotch. His mind began to wander with fantasy, unable to help but imagine his head buried between her legs.

Spencer shifted in his chair dejectedly, resting his hands on his lap and covering his erection as if someone was there to notice. Nobody would’ve noticed, all eyes were on her and the dancers.

He didn’t even look at the other two women on the stage, his eyes was fixed only on her, her hips, her beautiful and smooth legs, on her body that spun with disarming ease around the dance pole.

He wondered what it’d be like to feel his fingers squeezing her hips as she rode him into oblivion and this image alone almost made him come in his pants.

He was totally mesmerized.

He didn’t know what was happening to him but every cell in his body seemed to have lit up and inflamed, his fingers were trembling with desire to slide them over her sinuous body.

But it was when her eyes met his again that Spencer felt the air sucked out of his lungs. He couldn’t quite make out the color, he was too far away to be able to do that, but just the way she was looking at him made him shift in his seat again and his aching dick erect even more.

He was paralyzed, he didn’t dare move a single muscle. He didn’t know why but he was afraid if he moved everyone would find out who he really was. That she would find out.

His eyes never left hers, a small grin painting her face as she continued to dance sensually. Spencer felt arrogant enough to assume this dance was just for him.

The show eventually ended and the lights dimmed in the club again, although Spencer managed to track the silhouettes of the dancers coming off the stage. His heart jumped into his throat when he noticed a person approaching him and not just any person but her.

Spencer’s eyes followed her every movement although the light was so low he couldn’t really make out her beautiful features. He shifted in his chair again and tried to keep his concentration up when a cloud of her scent hit him square in the face, short-circuiting every single neuron in his brain.

This was the perfect opportunity to gather information regarding the case, but at that moment Spencer seemed to have completely forgotten the reason why he was there.

“Come with me.”

That was all she said and even her voice was so sweet it mesmerized him even more, as if it was a siren’s song luring the poor sailors into her clutches. He stood up without even being asked twice, his mind trying to convince itself it was just to gather the information he needed.

At that moment, however, the only thing controlling his body was the blood rushing to his penis and not the rationality that always distinguished him.

She walked through the club ignoring everything around her while he followed her like a puppy, unaware of what was coming and what she was up to. A small, tiny part of his brain kept screaming to be careful, that she was a stranger probably looking for the money – or worse to kill him. He knew he needed to focus on the case but Spencer was too attracted to her to even listen to those voices.

Nothing like this had ever happened before. He would’ve never thought of following a stranger to who knew where without an ounce of information.

They entered a room and Spencer quickly scanned it, deducing it was her dressing room. His attention, however, immediately returned to that woman. Under those lights, he could finally look at her in all her splendor and the air was sucked from his lungs as his eyes traveled along her body and analyzed her face.

She was breathtaking, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and there wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t itching to touch her.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice broke the silence. Spencer didn’t respond at first, his eyes focused on her cleavage and the way her chest rose and fell. Only when he brought his eyes back to her face and saw the mischievous smirk on her lips he realized she had said something to him and that he must’ve looked like a complete idiot.

“What?”

She chuckled and that simple sound traveled through his body, causing his blood to rush and his penis to harden even more.

What is she doing to me?

She slightly tilted her head, her eyes vibrant as she watched – no, analyzed – Spencer.

His muscles froze as she took two steps toward him, never taking her eyes off him.

He returned her gaze with a courage he had never had and didn’t even know he possessed. Her eyes were bright but there was something particularly intense about them, something he absolutely wanted to discover and he couldn’t even name.

His breathing quickened and he prayed she wouldn’t realize how intense the effect she had on him was. She looked at him with an intensity that made him weak in the knees, with an intensity that no one had ever looked at him with.

She hadn’t torn her eyes away from his for not even a second, and although that confidence further intrigued Spencer, it scared him at the same time. He knew she was trying to get inside him, into his soul and discover his deepest secrets.

“I asked what you’re doing here.”

“You told me to come.”

She licked her lips and Spencer’s eyes flicked to her mouth, causing him to react in a way that resulted in the further restriction of his pants. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets to avoid doing something he’d regret, but damn it was so hard.

This was also the moment he understood the true meaning of the phrase ‘blue balls’.

He was so fucking horny it hurt.

“I’m well aware of that,” she replied with a smirk, probably noticing the way he was staring at her lips. “But don’t act stupid, you don’t look like one. What are you doing here?”

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, using the shred of rationality he had left to think of an answer. But the way she was looking at him, as if she wanted him to take her right then and now, was enough to make him no longer even remember his name.

I’m an FBI agent investigating a murder case and you, like every other dancer here, could be a potential suspect.

He couldn’t say it, but damn it if she kept coming closer to him, he wouldn’t even bother giving her his wallet and bank details.

“What all the men are doing, why don’t you go ask them?”

Well done.

“I’m asking you.” She flicked her hair behind her shoulders with a single but graceful movement of her head, leaving her neck and shoulder exposed. Spencer’s throat bobbed up and down again, his mind filled with images of him sticking his tongue out and licking and tasting her skin, sucking it and leaving marks.

Dammit Reid, get a hold of yourself.

“I’ve been watching you,” she spoke, her tone calm and sensual. “You looked like you were going to vomit when you came in and I know you would’ve never come here of your own free will; so why don’t you tell me the truth pretty boy?”

Fuck yeah keep calling me that.

Why doesn’t it sound so good when Morgan calls me that?

Stop thinking about Morgan.

“There’s a first time for everyone, don’t you think?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

She bit her lower lip, a gesture that made him feral.

Please somebody help me.

It was only then she took her eyes away from his and let them wander slowly along his body.

She studied and analyzed him and with every inch that passed under her eyes Spencer felt his skin catch fire, especially when her gaze focused on the huge bulge in his pants.

The beautiful stranger brought her eyes back to his and Spencer didn’t miss that lustful glint in them and the way her breathing had quickened, indicating she was as affected by him as he was by her.

“What’s your name?”

“David,” Spencer replied, congratulating himself on the way he had managed to control himself and not give away his real name.

“David,” she repeated, slowly, as if wanting to taste what his name felt like on her tongue. She took another step, closing her distance and her scent hit his nostrils. It was a mixture of vanilla, coconut, innocence and sin and he was going crazy.

“I’ll pretend you don’t think I’m that stupid, David,” she winked and Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat for the third time, trying to keep his breathing to a normal pace even though his heart was pounding wildly inside his rib cage.

They continued to look at each other for an almost infinite time, the air more tense and warmer with each passing second. Spencer tried to think of something to say, anything, but the way she looked at him paralyzed him. His eyes roamed and traced the lines of her lips imagining what it’d be like to feel them pressed against his, what it’d be like to feel them wrapped around his dick and just the thought almost made him come in his pants.

I can’t do this anymore.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, her voice so low he almost didn’t hear her. Spencer had the impression she wanted to say anything else, but she had refrained from doing it, like if she had opened her tightly closed lips she would’ve told a terrible secret.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he replied, taking his hand out of his pocket and bringing it closer to her face. His fingers played with a lock of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, it was as if his body was acting on its own and had completely disconnected from his brain. Her breathing quickened at that contact and that time he was the one to smirk. “What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t tell me yours.”

“It matters to me. And I did, it’s up to you to believe me or not.”

She cocked one eyebrow up. “Why does it matter?”

“I want to know whose name I’m going to moan when I’ll think of you with my hand around my dick.”

Spencer almost chocked on his own words.

What the fuck?

Again, what the hell is wrong with me?

What was he doing? What was going through his mind? He completely lost his mind but he didn’t care, not when she looked at him like she wanted to tear him apart and burn him right then and there. And the worst thing was that he probably would’ve let her do it without objecting.

He could see the way she was holding back, the way she tried to appear casual but after all it was his job to know what people really felt, what they thought. He knew it from the way her pupils were so dilated they covered almost all the color of his irises, from the way her skin was flushed and the redness on her cheeks, from the light layer of sweat covering her forehead, from her rapid breathing, the stiffness of her muscles, from the way her hands clenched into two fists as if she was leveraging on herself to not let go.

But why?

Spencer wasn’t an expert in that world, but he really thought she’d try in any way to get some money, to seduce him and then leave him broke, but then why did she hold back? Why was she rejecting him? Why did she ask him to come with her if she wasn’t trying to do anything?

In other moments he would’ve investigated more but in that instant everything had taken a step backwards, Spencer didn’t seem to be focused on anything other than putting his hands on that stranger who was hypnotizing and bewitching like no one else ever did. He had never felt anything like this, being consumed by the desire to kiss her, touch her, run his tongue over every inch of her body, he never felt that raw and primordial desire to have someone.

And he wanted her.

Fuck the consequences.

“You don’t really want this,” she whispered and it didn’t take a profiler to figure out that she wasn’t sure of those words either. It was Spencer who closed the distance between the two that time, feeling the heat of her body envelop him and attracting him like a moth to flame, as every part of her skin was screaming to be touched by his fingers. Her words repelled him but the way she looked at him said something else.

“Why did you ask me to come here then?”

Her eyes looked at him with a look that even him couldn’t decipher. She was hiding something, she was battling herself and he wanted to know why.

“You don’t belong in this place.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know…” she whispered as her gaze kept alternating between his eyes and his mouth. He wet them with his tongue, pleased when he saw the way her breath hitched.

“I just couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

Spencer may not be very experienced in the women’s game, but he could see the passionate hunger in her eyes, that glimmer of lust and desire that left him breathless.

“Do you want it?”

“Yes.”

Those two single whispered letters were enough for Spencer to destroy what little shred of control he still possessed. Before he knew it his hands were cupping her face and his lips were pressed to hers in a searing, electrifying kiss.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, he couldn’t even recognize himself at that moment. As her mouth devoured him and her tongue tasted his, he couldn’t let go of the feeling he was watching everything as if he was an outside observer, like he wasn’t the one commanding his actions.

He couldn’t believe what was happening, that he – the man who was terrified of even shaking hands with strangers for fear of germs – was kissing that beautiful, sexy stranger who had invaded his senses ever since she set her feet on that stage. And to be honest he didn’t even care, Spencer was only focused on the world in which she was devouring him.

Their tongues intertwined in a sensual dance as their deep breaths and sighs blended into each other. There was nothing sweet about that kiss, about the way he fisted his hands around her hair, the way she had her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her, the saliva mixing. It was animalistic, raw, sloppy, messy, a kiss so deep they felt their soul being sucked out of their body.

The tension and electricity in the air was clearly palpable as time seemed to stop around them, leaving them engulfed in the fire of passion and making them both forget who and where they were.

While Spencer’s hands roamed along her body, squeezing and groping every inch of her skin he could reach, sucking in and swallowing every sigh that escaped her throat, he no longer thought he was an FBI agent who was there because he had a job to do.

And even his name was forgotten as her fingers began frantically unbuttoning his shirt, her fingertips leaving fiery marks on his skin as they slid down his chest. They both began taking slow steps, their mouths continuing to devour each other and only breaking away when Spencer’s legs touched the sofa in the dressing room. He sat with his legs apart and a very painful erection in his pants, his gaze on fire while his hungry eyes analyzed and looked with meticulous attention at the stranger.

Never more than in that moment was he grateful to his eidetic memory, because he knew he would never forget that divine image in front of his eyes. Her breasts, legs, hips, her waist, everything seemed to scream to be touched and worshiped and Spencer couldn’t wait to do it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered more to himself than to her, his hands resting on his thighs as he continued to let his gaze wander down her body.

She smiled and Spencer almost fainted. And it wasn’t a mischievous grin but a real smile, one of those that weakened the knees and made everything more beautiful and brighter. One of those he’d never forget.

He took her hands and pulled her towards him making her sit on his lap, her legs tightly straddling his thighs. He groaned as his hard dick collided with her core, relieving that feeling of pressure and pain even if for just a few seconds.

Before he could say or do anything she had pressed her lips on his again, starting to sensually move on him, shamelessly grinding herself and unleashing obscene sighs from both of them that sounded like they were coming from a porn.

Spencer’s hands cupped her ass, pressing his fingers so hard into her skin as he followed her movements while her hands instead continued to roam his chest, her nails pressing into his skin until she leaves red marks on it.

“Fuck I want you so bad,” she breathed into his lips and he let out a particularly loud groan when she bit his bottom lip, sucking it. Her lips parted from his, leaving wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, sucking, biting, nibbling at his skin.

Any trace of whatever indecision she felt was gone and he couldn’t control himself anymore. His body seemed to move automatically. Lust and desire had clouded his mind, that sublime mind that had done everything to prevent these moments from happening but that had given into the most primitive of instincts. Sex.

His hands went up to the skimpy top she was wearing, ripping it off without even thinking twice before dropping the broken material on the floor, soon joined by her bra as well. His hands cupped her breasts, teasing and pinching her turgid nipples that so recalled his mouth.

Spencer obeyed that wish, wrapping his lips around one of her breasts sucking it while he continued to grope the other. Her hands threaded through his hair, curling into fists and pulling, causing another groan from Spencer. He didn’t even know he was into this. His hips jerked up, continuing to grind against her for some relief.

“Please…” He let go of her breast, throwing his head back and fearing he’d explode right then and there. He wanted to know that stranger’s name, he desperately wanted to moan it and he equally desperately wanted to tell her his, just so he could hear it screamed by her beautiful mouth as he fucked her. “I’ll come in my pants if you keep doing this.”

She giggled and this was a further shock to Spencer, who thought he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. Her hands fumbled with his belt, undoing the button and pulling down the zip of his pants. He let out a sigh of relief when, after slightly lifting his hips, she lowered his pants along with his precum stained boxers, finally releasing his erection.

“Shit…” he hissed a curse through gritted teeth as her hand wrapped around his dick. It started to move up and down with it and he closed his parted lips as he tried to suppress his moans. His eyes were glued on that stranger’s hand who gave him pleasure, a vision he’d never forget. Her hand was so delicate and perfect, in stark contrast to the sinful and dirty action she was doing.

“Don’t hold back, I want to hear you moan for me, okay?”

Spencer met her gaze and nodded, not trusting his own voice. She lifted herself from his lap and knelt between his spread legs and if Spencer hadn’t already been sitting down, the mere image of her on her knees with her hand wrapped around his dick would’ve made him fall to the ground.

“Is this okay?” She asked and Spencer found himself nodding again, this time with so much enthusiasm that she chuckled.

“Yes please…” he breathed as she continued to masturbate him, alternating fast and slow movements and making him lose his mind even more, if that was even possible. Her thumb drew imaginary circles on his red, wet tip, making him gasp against his will.

He placed a hand on her cheek, her skin hot against his palm, his thumb caressing her lips. His breath hitched in anticipation when she wrapped her lips around his thumb, her eyes never leaving Spencer’s as she sucked on his fingertip. “I’m dying to have this pretty mouth around my dick, do you want to show me what it can do?”

Spencer had no clue where this confidence was coming from, but he was too horny to think about shyness and what to say.

She let go of his thumb and stuck her tongue out before tracing the shaft of his penis with a single, excruciatingly slow lick from the base to his tip. He let out a deep, loud groan, throwing his head back as he felt his silky skin against her tongue. It was an aphrodisiac sensation and if Spencer was to believe in heaven and an afterlife, her mouth would definitely be his.

“Shit just like that,” he moaned as her tongue drew imaginary circles on his tip, sucking and taking away every trace of precum. His soul nearly left his body when she encircled his tip with her lips, sliding his length into her mouth until his dick hit the back of her throat.

She placed a hand on his bare, hairy thighs, dragging her nails across his skin as if to draw his attention to her and Spencer granted her wish, lifting his head and looking down at that sin dressed as an angel who was sucking his dick.

Fucking hell I don’t even believe in angels.

It was immoral, the most unethical thing he could’ve done, something for which he could’ve even be kicked out of the team but Spencer couldn’t care less, not when that mouth was sucking him like her life depended on it and making him feel a pleasure he couldn’t even think was possible to feel.

“You’re so good little angel,” he praised her, placing a hand on her head threading his fingers through her hair and a little spark lit up in her eyes. She definitely had a praise kink. “This mouth will be the death of me.”

She hollowed her cheeks, picking up the pace as her head bobbed up and down and her tongue licked circling his dick. Spencer felt like he was already one step away from exploding in her mouth, but he didn’t want to come, not before being buried deep inside her. “Dammit… Stop, stop, I don’t want to come yet.”

He cupped her face pressing his lips to her swollen, wet ones while simultaneously pulling her on his lap again. He kissed her as if he wanted to suck her soul out of her body, resting his hands on her smooth, bare thighs as his fingers pressed into her skin, teasing her but never touching that magical spot where Spencer couldn’t wait to sink.

“For fuck’s sake touch me,” she hissed impatiently pulling on the young man’s hair, earning a small grin from him.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her neck, inhaling deeply that scent he knew would torment him for the rest of his life, that scent that drugged and marked him in the span of very few seconds. His thumbs kept drawing circles on her inner thighs, dangerously close to her pussy as she squirmed under his touch and Spencer was loving every single shred of the desperation she showed.

She wanted him.

She wanted him desperately.

Spencer never had someone who wanted him so badly, sure he had his experiences with women – albeit very limited ones – but he had never felt anything so deep, animalistic and visceral. He had never had any woman looking at him with that fire in her eyes, as if he was the only man who existed for her, as if he was everything she wanted, as if she could die at any moment if he didn’t give it to her.

But that stranger did.

And damn it felt so good.

“Please, I want it… I want you…” she cried out in an impatient and desperation tone and that was music to his ears. If there was some divine entity Spencer thanked it for making her wear a miniskirt.

His fingers slipped into her panties, moaning to himself as he felt the amount of fluids wetting her pussy. “So wet… You’re going to kill me, you know that right?”

She didn’t answer, she threw her head back while Spencer looked at her with hooded eyes and one of his fingers wasted no time in penetrating her. Her hips moved in rhythm and he trembled with anticipation, imagining her walls squeezing his dick.

“Fuck yes…” she moaned loudly, her hands in Spencer’s hair as he inserted a second finger inside her, watching her reaction and how her body writhed in pleasure.

“You’re so tight little angel, I can’t wait to be buried deep inside this wet pussy,” he murmured with pleasure before taking one of her breasts into his mouth, too temptingly as he sucked and licked it. His other arm went around her hips, holding her in place and keeping her from squirming away. “How many of them did you let fuck you mmh? How many have made you feel this way?” He licked her chest, her collarbone, every inch of skin he could reach before he began torturing her other breast.

“No one…” she breathed, unable to finish her sentence due to her heavy panting and moaning. Her thighs were shaking, her hands gripping his hair. “Nobody… Holy shit…” She trailed off again, her body contorting forward if it wasn’t for Spencer’s arm holding her and he knew his fingers had hit her G-spot.

He actually had no idea what he was doing or how to move but he was an attentive observer. His eyes glued to her studied with careful attention every single breath, the intensity of her moans, the way her muscles trembled, the way her pussy clenched, the way she held him, studying her body and quickly adapting to her reaction.

“Oh God yes, yes, you’re so fucking good keep going…” she cried out and then looked down at him. Her thumb traced his lips and – just as she had done earlier – he wrapped them around her finger, sucking on it as his fingers continued to pump in and out of her. Her walls clenched his wet fingers and if the vision of her coming over them didn’t make him lose his sanity, then he didn’t know what else would.

Spencer left her no room to catch her breath or strength after her orgasm.

“Open.” He ordered, bringing his fingers that until a few moments before were inside her, close to her lips. She didn’t hesitate to lick Spencer’s wet fingers clean, making him dizzy as her eyes watched with adulation and lust at the way his tongue sensually moved her fluids. “Yeah little angel, just like that.”

He was going crazy. He seriously thought his vessels were going to explode from how horny he was.

She let go of his fingers and sloppily kissed him, making him taste her juices on her tongue. “Fuck what are doing to me…” She whispered and something told Spencer she didn’t mean to say those words out loud.

“If you think I’m anywhere near done with you, you’re completely wrong,” he murmured against her lips. “Show me how a good girl you are and sit on me, let me see how this pretty pussy soaks my dick.”

Good job Dr Reid.

I’m really proud of myself.

“And here I thought you were a virgin,” she chuckled before getting up and taking a condom from one of the drawers in her closet, but not before taking off her panties. She settled down by straddling his thighs again before slipping the condom onto his painfully hard dick. She lifted her pelvis and wrapped her hand around Spencer’s dick, letting herself be penetrated until she found herself completely sitting on it. “But I know behind this cute pretty face you’re so dirty, filthy enough to fuck a stripper whose name you don’t even know.”

Spencer clung to every ounce of strength in his body to concentrate on anything other than the warm, wet walls of that stranger’s pussy or he would’ve come instantly.

He had even forgotten how good it felt to have sex after so long and remembered why people were so obsessed with it, why his team pestered him to get laid.

Her pussy engulfed him so perfectly it seemed to have been made just for him.

“You feel so good god…” she breathed out a moan interrupting her sentence as she slowly raised her hips and lowered herself again. Spencer couldn’t control a deep groan as she continued to tease and torture him with that slow motion, rolling her hips on his dick.

Spencer’s fingers found themselves on her ass for the second time, groping and spreading her ass cheeks trying to maintain control but it was so damn hard when all he wanted to do was fuck her brains out of her head.

“F-faster… You’re torturing me…” he panted brokenly, his chest quickly rising and falling as if he was running a marathon.

Instead, she kept going with her slow, destabilizing pace, lifting her hips again and slowly lowering herself on his raging dick, torturing him further as the sounds she let out filled the room. Those alone would’ve been enough to make him fall into the void and never be able to get back to the surface.

“Beg me.”

“Please, please… Make me feel good little angel, make me come,” he obeyed, not caring about sounding pathetic. The smirk that formed on her lips was the manifestation of the most pure form of sin, a sin for which there was no absolution or redemption.

Luckily Spencer didn’t even believe in these things.

But if there was a definition of heaven and hell, if they ever existed, it would’ve been her.

Her and those eyes that looked at him like they wanted to capture what was left of his soul, those eyes that would’ve made Spencer thrown himself off a cliff if she had asked.

Her and those hands that held him and touched him, causing him sensations he didn’t even know the meaning of, and this said something for a person who knew the meaning of every single word written in the dictionary.

Her and her deadly mouth that continued to kiss him until there was no air left in his lungs, her teeth biting him, her tongue licking his skin and sucking his tongue.

Her and those moans and gasps she couldn’t hold back and that Spencer was absorbing one by one, imprinting them in his memory so he could repeat them again and again.

“Look at you, aren’t you a desperate little thing? So hungry for me,” she sensually whispered in his ear and biting his earlobe. Fulfilling Spencer’s wishes, she began to increase her pace, placing her hands on the back of the couch for support.

Nothing resounded except their moans, pants, grunts mixing with each other, the sound of their skin rubbing and flapping and their lips smacking with each kiss with the smell of sex, sin and prohibition filling their nostrils.

Spencer’s eyes were glued on her, on her parted lips and her head thrown back, her eyes half closed, her tits bouncing in rhythm with her thrusts which he didn’t waste time taking into his mouth and sucking them, biting the nipples until they were numb.

She fisted Spencer’s hair again, pulling it and forcing him to tilt his head back to look at her. That gesture made him grunt and aroused him even more than he already was, and his hips twitched against her, giving a particularly deep thrust that made her curse.

“I can see how you’re holding back pretty boy,” she sighed, continuing to ride him but slowing her pace this time causing a pathetic cry to escape his lips. She kept brushing her lips against his without kissing him, with the sole aim of torturing him and driving him crazy. As if she hadn’t already done it. “Don’t hold back, I can see how much you want to ruin me, how much you’re dying to destroy me.”

“Fuck.” He cursed and something snapped inside him.

He thrusted his hips so deep into her she choked out a moan and he was sure she felt it in every corner of her pussy. His long fingers continued to press into the red, heated flesh of her ass holding her still while he jerked his hips forcefully, taking command even though she was still on top of him.

His dick kept pushing in and out of her, engulfed by her pussy as it tightened around him. Spencer knew how fundamental the importance of using protection was, especially with strangers, but he wished he didn’t wear that damn condom so much, so he could feel every wet corner of her around his dick.

“Oh fuck yes… Just like that,” she loudly moaned and he was sure that by now everyone had heard what was going on in that dressing room but had chosen to ignore it.

Spencer didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. He needed to come but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want this to end.

That’s why he made her get up off him, earning a confused expression before flipping her onto that couch and laying on top of her. He opened her legs and positioned himself between them. He left her no room to say anything as he aligned his dick with her entrance, penetrating her in one motion.

Her legs encircled his hips, her heels pressed against his skin as he fucked her on that couch like his life depended on it, with hard, deep thrusts that made her eyes water.

He had completely lost control.

His hand went around her throat, a gesture that happened spontaneously and that Spencer didn’t even realize until he saw the smirk and expression of pure ecstasy on her face.

How long has he been into choking?

That damn woman would be his downfall.

“Is this what you wanted?” he groaned, his fingers tightening sideways around her throat, being careful not to press on her windpipe. Some strands of hair fell in front of his eyes but she removed them, almost making him faint at that sweet gesture, in stark contrast to the animalistic way in which they were fucking.

“I knew there was a little devil inside you pretty boy, God you’re so fucking sexy,” she gasped, biting hit lower lips and making him increase his pace. “Yes, yes, yes I’m going to come… Keep going fuck yeah…”

His thrusts were deep, messy and although he tried to keep himself from coming, wanting to prolong that feeling of ecstasy as long as possible, it was impossible as her pussy kept clenching around him, moaning “I’m coming�� in his ear so sexily it made him come. Spencer exploded and with one last thrust he let himself go into a mind-blowing orgasm that made his body tremble and his eyes blind for a few moments as he poured all his sperm inside the condom.

There were a few moments of silence, broken only by the panting and deep breathing of the two as they caught their breath.

After the ecstasy of the orgasm, Spencer stood up, noticing out of the corner of his eye that she too was trying to get up but her still shaking legs prevented her from doing so. He tried to hold back a smirk, giving her a hand and helping her to get on her feet before earning a feeble “Thank you.”

What the fuck did I just do?

I just had sex with a stripper who could be a potential witness/suspect while undercover.

I’m so screwed.

He realized the enormous mistake he had just made, not even imagining the consequences. He thanked no one in particular for not having worn the microphone or, holy shit, that would’ve been difficult to explain.

Spencer didn’t say a word and he was grateful that she didn’t either, too dazed and groggy to be able to face a conversation.

They both cleaned up in silence and after throwing the condom in the bin, Spencer tried to tidy himself up, tucking his shirt into his pants after buttoning it.

His profiler nature, however, couldn’t help but notice the way how her demeanor completely changed, going from that sexy vicious woman to a silent shy one. She hadn’t so much as glanced at him, he noticed how her shoulders were tense while she moved frantically as if she was trying to vanish from that dressing room as quickly as possible.

She was nervous.

But why?

“You still haven’t answered my initial question, you know?” Spencer broke the awkward silence, before he could stop his tongue.

Damn it Reid why do you want to complicate things so badly?

She turned her head towards him, looking at him with a confused expression trying to make up her mind.

But then a small smile spread across her features before she closed her backpack and placed it on her shoulder. “No one’s been lucky enough to get in here,” she replied, effectively giving the answer Spencer was looking for and for some strange and absurd reason he believed her. “Or unlucky, depending on your point of view.”

Before he could answer she gave him one last glance and left the dressing room. He was supposed to be relieved, there would be no question he couldn’t answer – especially after she realized David wasn’t his real name – but for some reason he couldn’t let go that sinking feeling in his stomach.

He was good at analyzing other people’s emotions, every facet and change of expression, but he wasn’t as good with himself.

He was tempted to follow her, at least to know her name, to find out who the woman who had fried his brain was, but before going out he noticed a small object near the door, probably fallen from her backpack before she went out.

He knelt to pick it up from the ground, but his blood froze in his veins and his heart stopped beating for a millisecond when he realized what the object was.

It was a purple lipstick.

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[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: can you do one where she has an abusive ex boyfriend that they are aware of and he comes into the diner or something and spots her and messes with her but he basically just ends up threatening her and a few days later they are at the bar and he’s there and hurts her or something. you can figure it out from there, im sure it will be great. thank uuuu:))))

Dean and Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader

A/N: I hope this is exactly what you were looking for! Please let me know if you like this or not so I know what I can work on in my next writings! Everyone’s feedback is much appreciated like so so greatly appreciated. Requests are still open. You can literally flood my inbox with them, I don’t mind and I don’t mind writing things that I’ve already written! Thank you all!!!

Warning: Abuse

It was supposed to be just another quiet stop for the Winchesters. I was looking forward to something as mundane as a diner meal. A warm meal, some decent coffee, a few minutes without the looming threat of monsters or supernatural forces. It almost felt like normal.

I had slipped out of the car first, craving the smell of greasy diner food, and found a corner booth with a good view of the door. Sam and Dean followed shortly after, sitting across from me, and for a moment, I let myself relax. I could almost forget the weight of the world. I could almost pretend that we were just a normal family, sitting together for a meal. The low murmur of the conversation around me felt almost comforting. It was nice to feel like a normal person, if only for a brief moment.

The waitress brought over the coffee pot, filling my cup with a polite smile. I offered a small smile back, grateful for the normalcy.

But then, the door to the diner opened, and with it, a chill seemed to creep into the room.

I glanced up, my blood running cold as my gaze locked onto the figure that had just walked in. He wasn’t a monster, at least not in the traditional sense. He was human—far too human—and that was the problem.

Mike.

His eyes scanned the diner, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as they landed on me. My heart slammed into my chest as a sickening wave of panic swept over me. My hands suddenly felt clammy, my palms slick against the tabletop. I tried to breathe, but it felt like the air had thickened, suffocating me.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked, his voice laced with concern as he noticed my sudden stiffening.

Before I could answer, it was too late. Mike was already on his way over, his footsteps deliberately slow and deliberate, the sound of his boots clacking loudly against the tiled floor. His presence seemed to dominate the room, and the air felt suddenly too small, too tight.

I tried to keep my voice steady as I muttered under my breath, barely audible. “He can’t be here…”

Sam, not understanding the source of my fear yet, gave me a questioning look. “Who?”

But I couldn’t answer. I was already frozen, the world around me turning into a blur. My heart was pounding too loudly in my ears. I had only seen him once since I ran away from everything—since I left him behind. And now, here he was, standing right in front of me.

He didn’t even acknowledge Sam or Dean as he leaned in, his eyes gleaming with that same arrogance I remembered so well.

“Well, well,” Mike’s voice was low, laced with mockery. “If it isn’t the little runaway.” He leaned a little closer, his eyes glinting with something dark, something predatory. “Thought you could just leave, didn’t you? Thought you could just run away from me.”

My stomach dropped. Every muscle in my body tensed, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get away. I had to leave—but I was trapped. Trapped in that sickening gaze, in the memories that rushed back all at once.

Dean’s voice was sharp, the protective edge in his tone clear. “Who the hell are you?”

Mike looked over at him, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. “You don’t need to worry about me, tough guy,” he sneered, his gaze flicking back to me. “I’m just an old friend of hers.” He said the word with a twisted emphasis, almost like it was a taunt. “Funny, though. Guess some people can’t escape their past, huh?”

Sam’s hand moved instinctively to his gun under the table, his brow furrowing as he studied Mike. But Mike wasn’t finished. Not yet.

“You know,” Mike continued, leaning closer to me, his voice dropping to a sickening whisper that only I could hear, “you’ll always be pathetic and weak. And them?” He gestured to Sam and Dean, who were watching him now, their expressions darkening. “They are just waiting for you to run away like I was waiting. Nobody wants you. You’re useless.”

I recoiled at the words, my breath catching in my throat. I had to force myself to speak, to fight through the panic that was clawing at my chest. “Stop, Mike. Just—just stop.”

That was all it took.

Sam’s hand flew to his gun, his posture shifting into one of full alert. Dean’s eyes were cold, murderous, as he slid out of the booth, taking a protective step forward.

“Mike?” Dean’s voice was low, filled with the kind of rage that only came from protecting family. “You’ve got about three seconds to walk out of here, or I swear to God, I’ll put you in the ground where you stand.”

But Mike didn’t move. Instead, he looked at me, his grin widening into something more cruel, more malicious. “Awww what the little pathetic baby can’t protect herself, huh?” His eyes flicked to Sam and Dean. “You’re just so useless in every aspect there ever was, huh?”

I was trembling now, the panic overwhelming me. “You don’t get to talk to me like that, Mike,” I forced through clenched teeth. My voice wavered, but there was a sharpness to it I hadn’t known I had until now. “You don’t control me anymore.”

The shift in the air was palpable. Sam had his hand on the gun now, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping it. Dean’s jaw was tight, his whole body tense with barely contained fury.

“You need to leave, Mike,” Dean growled, his voice like gravel. “You’re fucking done.”

Mike’s eyes flicked between Sam and Dean, his grin faltering slightly, but his posture didn’t change.

“You’re just the same screwed up girl from before.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That was the line that broke you. The same girl. The girl he had torn apart for so many years. The girl who had thought she was worthless because of him.

The words stung in a way that you hadn’t expected. And that fear, that same suffocating dread from your past, began to creep in. You felt your knees weaken.

Dean’s voice was a low growl. “Back the hell off right now or I’ll beat the shit out of you right here.” His posture was threatening, and you saw the way his hands were ready at his sides.

Mike smirked, taking a final look at you. “You can hide behind these two all you want, but you’ll always be that same scared little girl. I’ll show you soon. I’ll remind them of who I really am. I’ll remind you.” Dean yanked him by his shirt and held him in a tight grip. I stepped back instinctively, my mind reeling as his words cut through me, dredging up memories I had worked so hard to forget. Mike had been my first love—my first mistake—and he had torn me apart. I’d run from him years ago, thinking I could leave it behind, but now here he was, reopening every scar, every bruise.

But this time was different.

Sam’s voice cut through the tension, sharp as a blade, his hand reaching for his gun, his voice unwavering. “I think you should leave before this becomes a bigger problem than you’re willing to deal with.”

Mike finally hesitated. His grin had completely faltered, his eyes flicking nervously to Sam’s hand on his gun and to Dean’s grip on him. But then he straightened, pulling himself together with a sneer.

“Fine,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “But don’t think you’re done with me. None of you are.”

With that, Dean practically pushed him towards the diner’s exit. He stumbled towards the exit, his boots pounding on the tile as the door slammed shut behind him.

The tension in the room didn't dissipate until the door clicked shut, and the bell chimed again. Sam and Dean both stood in protective stances, eyes still locked on the door as if he might turn back at any moment. leaving us all tense and shaken.

Finally, Dean turned to you, his face softening slightly as he crossed back to your side. “You okay?” He asked gently. His voice was quiet, calming, but I could still hear the edge of anger beneath it, the protective instinct roaring through him. Sam turned to me, his eyes also softening with worry. You nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. The terror still gripped you. You were safe for now, but that didn’t undo what Mike had done to you in the past. The words still echoed in your head, the cruelty of his tone burning through your thoughts.

“Sweetheart…” Sam trailed off with so much softness in his voice. His eyes were so gentle as he looked down at you, trying to read your body language.

I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the cold, nauseating feeling his presence had left behind. I nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just... just a little nervous now.”

Dean’s eyes were still hard, but he was quick to reassure me. “He will never, ever touch you again. I promise you that, kid.”

Sam gently touched my shoulder, “we have your back. Always.”

And for the first time in years, I allowed myself to believe that I was no longer his.

The peace didn’t last for long though. It was supposed to be an uneventful stop—a break before we hit the road and got out of this God forsaken town. I needed a moment, a chance to breathe. Dean and Sam had been talking about a hunt tomorrow, so they disappeared into the back of the bar, probably discussing plans, leaving me behind for a drink and some quiet.

The low hum of the jukebox, the clink of glasses, and the murmur of casual conversations had a calming effect on me. I slid into a corner booth, tucked away, hoping for a rare moment of peace.

But peace is fleeting.

A shadow crossed the door, and my heart dropped into my stomach. The familiar figure of Mike, tall, broad-shouldered, with that smug, unrepentant grin, entered the bar.

Time seemed to stop. I didn’t want him here. I didn’t want to face him again. Not after everything.

I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest, but my hands trembled as I gripped my glass. I couldn’t look away from him, not when he started scanning the room with a slow, deliberate gaze. And then, his eyes met mine.

A twisted grin spread across his face, and I could feel the chill crawl up my spine. He recognized me.

"Well, well... Look who it is." His voice carried, and a sharp sense of dread flooded my chest. "I didn’t think you’d be hiding out in a place like this, of all places. And alone of all things."

I froze, my throat tightening. I wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I forced my gaze downward, trying to ignore him. I didn’t want to make a scene, but everything in my body screamed for me to run.

Then, he was there. Standing at the edge of the booth, his face too close, too familiar.

"I told you, didn’t I?" Mike’s voice lowered to a sickening whisper. "You think you could just run away from me?"

I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t. His words dug into me, each one like a knife, twisting memories I’d buried deep.

Mike’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a grip so tight it sent a wave of panic through me. His fingers dug into my skin, and I winced in pain. I tried to pull back, but he was stronger. His fingers tightened, and suddenly I heard a sickening pop, like something snapping in my wrist. My breath caught in my throat, a strangled cry barely escaping as the pain surged through my arm, radiating through my entire body.

"Stop..." I whimpered, barely able to speak.

"Please..."

A sick, triumphant smile stretched across his face as he looked down at me, watching my agony with amusement.

“Does that hurt, sweetheart?” he sneered, his voice cruel and mocking. “I told you, you’ll always be mine. You can’t run from me. You’ll always be weak.”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think.

"You'll always be mine. You'll always be that scared little girl. You think they can protect you now?" He laughed bitterly. "You're still weak. You always were." The pain was unbearable. The past came rushing back in waves—memories I had worked so hard to bury.

"Please... just leave me alone," I whispered, my voice small, helpless. But the more I begged, the harder he squeezed and every nerve in my body screamed.

When he finally released me, I flinched away, holding my arm close to my chest, trying not to show how much it hurt. He stepped back, his laugh echoing in my ears like a haunting reminder of the past.

Tears stung my eyes, but I couldn’t look at him anymore. I needed to leave. I needed to be away from him.

I pushed myself up from the booth, my legs shaky as I stumbled, pain shooting through my wrist. I had to get to Sam and Dean. They were my safe place.

I spotted them near the back, talking casually, and I made my way over to them. But as soon as they saw my face, both of them stopped. They were confused, worried—something wasn’t right.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asked, his voice laced with concern.

But I couldn’t answer. I was shaking, my breath quickening as panic filled my chest. The pain in my wrist was unbearable, but more than that, it was the fear that had me paralyzed.

I whimpered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Can we go? Please. I… I’m sorry.”

Dean furrowed his brow, clearly not understanding what was going on. Sam turned to me, his face softening with worry, but I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t bring myself to say what had just happened. The words stuck in my throat.

“What’s going on?” Sam said gently, stepping forward as he tried to look me over.

But I didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t know how to tell them that Mike—he—was here, that he’d hurt me again. The old fear wrapped around my chest, suffocating me, making it impossible to form the words.

I just wanted to go.

I looked down, clutching my wrist to my chest, desperately trying to stop the shaking. The pain in my arm was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the terror I felt in my gut. I just needed to get out.

“Please…” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I just want to go. Please.”

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What happened?" he demanded, his tone sharper now, full of suspicion. "What the hell's going on?"

I took a step back, wanting to run. I was shaking, terrified of what might happen if I opened my mouth.

"Please..." My voice cracked, but I barely got the words out. "I just... I just want to leave. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause a scene.”

That’s when they noticed.

Sam’s eyes darted down to my wrist, where I was holding it against my chest, as if trying to protect it from the world. His face shifted from concern to something darker.

“Did someone hurt you?” Sam’s voice was sharp, full of the protective edge that only came out when someone threatened his family. But when Sam reached for my wrist, I shrieked in pain, the sharp agony from my arm surging through me like fire. My breath caught in my throat, and I staggered back, clutching my wrist tighter against my chest.

"Whoa, hey! What's wrong?" Sam's eyes widened, his hand immediately withdrawing as if he'd been burned.

Dean's head snapped toward us, his face now set in stone, eyes filled with fury. "What the hell happened to you?"

I was shaking now, too terrified to speak. The pain was throbbing, but the fear was worse-Mike's words playing over and over in my mind, his grip still seared into my memory.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I repeated, my voice shaking. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"What the hell happened?" Dean growled, his voice now a low, dangerous growl, the protective instinct flooding him. He stood up, scanning the room. "Who did this to you?"

I couldn't make myself say it. I couldn't say Mike's name. I couldn't admit that he was here, that he'd found me again and that I had let him hurt me.

Sam looked at me, his face full of worry. "You're not okay. You're hurt," he said, but I was too terrified to look him in the eye. "Let me see your wrist."

But I recoiled again, clutching my arm tighter against my chest, almost as if I could will the pain to stop. The world around me felt like it was closing in.

"Please, can we just go?" | begged, my voice so small, so broken. "I don't want to stay here. I'm—I'm sorry… please don’t make me stay here."

Sam's eyes softened, his brow furrowing in concern. "It's okay," he said, his voice soothing.

"We're going to get you out of here. But I need to know what happened."

"I-I can't," I whimpered, barely able to get the words out. "Please... can we go? I—I don’t want to be here anymore…please"

Dean's eyes narrowed when he noticed something-something in my expression, something in the way I was trembling. He followed my line of sight to the bar.

And then he saw him.

Mike.

His eyes narrowing when he saw him standing near the bar, still watching us with that same twisted smile.

“Son of a bitch. I’ll fucking kill him.” Dean’s voice was low and furious.

Dean's face went stone cold, his jaw tightening in fury. "You stay here," he snapped at Sam before striding toward the bar, his eyes fixed on Mike.

"This ends tonight." He growled.

Sam's attention immediately turned back to me, his eyes full of compassion but also deep concern.

"We're leaving, okay?" He whispered, his hand gently rubbing my back. "You're gonna be fine.

I've got you."

Sam grabbed me gently, trying to steady me as I swayed on my feet. "Hey, it’s okay. Let’s get you to the car, alright?" He guided me toward the door, his hand steady on my back, trying to shield me from anything else that might set me off.

I was shaking so hard now that I could barely walk. Every step felt like my whole body was falling apart. Sam helped me out into the parking lot, his arm around me for support, but my head was spinning.

“I’m right here, okay? You’re safe,” Sam murmured, guiding me to the Impala. He opened the door, helping me inside and then taking a seat beside me, his arm around my shoulders.

I still couldn’t stop shaking. The pain in my wrist throbbed, but it was the fear, the memories Mike brought with him, that really tore me apart. I curled into myself, pressing my face into my knees, trying to block out the world.

“Sam,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of the terror still coursing through me. “I—I can’t take it.” I could feel the tremors in my body, my hands trembling violently as the memories of Mike’s cruel grip and mocking smile surged back, unrelenting.

“Shh, sweetheart,” Sam whispered, his voice a low, soothing balm against my panic. He pulled me into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around me like a shield, his warmth grounding me. “He won’t hurt you again. I promise. We won’t let him.”

But the images of Mike—the way he’d grinned as he hurt me—flashed in my mind like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. His mocking laugh. His fingers digging into my wrist, squeezing until I thought it might break.

“Sam,” I whimpered again, my voice breaking under the strain of the terror that still gripped me.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m right here,” he said, his words steady but filled with an emotion I couldn’t place. I could feel him, tense and alert, but trying so hard to stay calm for me. He rubbed my back, his hand a steadying pressure, as if to remind me that I wasn’t alone in this.

“No… Sam. He—he—” I choked, unable to finish the sentence, unable to find the words that could make sense of what Mike had done to me.

“You’re okay, bug,” Sam whispered urgently, his voice soft yet insistent. “You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore. I’ve got you.”

I could barely breathe. Every time I tried to inhale, the memory of his grip tightened around my chest. “He… he was mocking me,” I finally managed to get out, my voice trembling. “He wouldn’t let me go… and—he was holding my wrist so tight… so tight, Sam. I tried… I tried to pull away, but it hurt so much.” My voice cracked as the memory hit me with a wave of nausea. “I heard it pop. I—I heard it pop, Sam… and it hurt so bad… and he just smiled. He—he watched me cry out in pain, and he just… he just grinned.”

I couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked my body, the memories ripping me apart all over again. “He—he said, ‘Does that hurt, sweetheart?’ With…with a sick smile… mocking me, Sam. Mocking me.” My breath caught, and the words felt like they were tearing me apart as I said them aloud. “He was enjoying me suffering.”

Tears slipped down my face as the weight of it all threatened to drown me. “I—I was so scared. I couldn’t get away… I couldn’t escape him.”

Sam’s breath caught in his throat. The tension in the air thickened as Sam's eyes softened with every word you spoke, his heart breaking for you. He was furious, sick to his stomach at the thought of what you’d just endured. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, but his hands were gentle as he held me, pulling me closer to him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t let go of me, didn’t loosen his grip. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, as though he could somehow shield you from the world’s cruelty. He ran his hand gently over your hair, the soothing motion an attempt to calm you, even as his own anger simmered beneath the surface. His chest ached for you, and he could barely comprehend the reality of what you’d been through. His usually calm demeanor was shattered by the raw vulnerability in your voice, by the pain that was still evident in your body language.

"You’re safe now," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “He can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let him.”

You clung to him, your sobs shaking your whole frame. The words, the images of what Mike had done to you, kept replaying in your mind, and you couldn’t escape the fear that still gripped you. “I—I couldn’t get away,” you gasped between sobs, your breath hitching in your chest. “I tried, Sam. I tried so hard, but he—he wouldn’t let me go.”

Sam’s grip on you tightened as he inhaled deeply, the pit of his stomach sinking at the sound of your broken voice. “He hurt you... he hurt you, and you couldn’t get away,” he said, more to himself than to you, the words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him, fury at the way Mike had tormented you, at the way he’d tried to take control of your life again. The protective instinct in Sam had always been strong, but now it was on fire. He wanted to destroy Mike, to make sure he could never hurt you again.

“You’re so strong, you know that? So strong.” Sam whispered softly, trying to soothe you, even as the guilt gnawed at him. He wasn’t there when you needed him the most. He wasn’t there when you were so scared and alone, and it tore him apart. “You got out and he will never get near you again.”

You nodded against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “I just want to go home, Sam,” you whispered, your voice small, barely audible.

“I know, I know.” Sam’s voice broke slightly, and he pulled you even closer, the act of comfort nearly suffocating but necessary. “We’re going home, I promise. You’re safe.”

Sam gently cupped your face in his hands, pulling your head back so he could look into your eyes. His gaze was unwavering, filled with compassion and a fierce protectiveness that only grew stronger. "Listen to me, okay?" he said, his voice firm but still so full of love. “You’re safe. I’m here, and Dean’s taking care of it. You’ll never be alone again, okay? Not for a second. We’re going to take care of you.”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face, but there was a sense of relief. In Sam’s arms, you felt like you were finally breathing again, the suffocating fear slowly easing just a little. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be okay.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” you whispered again, feeling the guilt start to creep in. “I didn’t want to—"

“Hey,” Sam interrupted gently, his voice firm yet gentle, “You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong. You hear me?”

You blinked up at him, still trembling, but a small flicker of hope began to emerge. “I just…I just want to forget it all.”

“I know you do,” Sam said softly.

Just then, the driver’s door of the Impala swung open with a force that rattled the frame, and Dean stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury. The sight of you, still trembling, tears streaking down your face, seemed to momentarily soften the storm inside him, but the determined, protective look in his eyes was unmistakable. His jaw clenched tight, his fist white-knuckling the steering wheel, as he slammed the door behind him with a sharp thud.

“I took care of it,” Dean’s voice was low, gritty, strained with barely contained rage. His words held the weight of someone who’d just been to hell and back. “There’s a good chance he won’t even remember you when he wakes up.”

Sam’s eyes flicked to Dean’s knuckles, bloodied and raw, and the air in the car grew thick with the unspoken history of everything that had just transpired. “Holy shit, Dean,” Sam muttered, his voice a mixture of concern and disbelief.

Dean met Sam’s gaze, his expression cold and hard, a line of fury still drawn across his face. “I’m done letting him think he can still keep dragging her through hell. He got what was coming to him,” Dean growled, the last words leaving his mouth like a threat, but also as a promise to you.

Sam nodded, the corners of his lips curling slightly, the relief in his eyes undeniable. “Good.” His voice softened as he turned to you, the weight of the situation settling into his chest. “We’ve got your back. Always.”

Dean’s eyes flicked toward you for a brief moment, his face hardening again, but there was something softer in his gaze now—something tender, protective. He turned his attention to the rearview mirror, his posture tense, as though the rage still burned deep in his chest, refusing to fully dissipate. "He’s never getting near you again, kid," Dean said, his voice gravelly, but with a deadly certainty that made it clear he would move mountains to keep you safe.

And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it. You believed they’d keep their promise. Mike wouldn’t touch you again. Not ever. The weight of that truth settled in your heart, the fear that had clung to you for so long slowly beginning to unravel. It was over. You were free. And with your brothers by your side, you finally felt like you could breathe again.

[highonmarvel]

Hello! It's not 2024 yet,but it will be in one more day so Happy New Year in Advance! May I please request a dark!reader with a soft!dark Bucky? Not a dark or fully dark Bucky but soft dark one like the Bucky you wrote in your recent story called 'Himalayan Salt'. Your dark Bucky really scares me as they are truly dark and cruel,and stay true to the dark fics genre. But for this request,may I request that he won't do any hitting or physical abuse towards the reader? Because I find that I really liked your 'Himalayan Salt' soft!dark!Bucky.

My request is dark!reader is obsessed with Bucky and stalks him,snaps his pictures to keep to herself,steal his stuffs to keep as souveniers,basically everything a yandere would do. But she has no clue that Bucky is also obsessed with her,probably more than she is of him and that he knows everything that she's doing to him when she thought he wasn't looking or didn't notice. He even finds it amusing and think of her as an adorable amateur stalker. She doesn't talk to him and never introduces herself to him (which Bucky wishes she would do) because she thinks someone as handsome as Bucky wouldn't even spare someone like her a glance so she resorts to watching him and fantasizing about him from afar.

Reader got herself in his apartment (that he didn't have proper security or proper locks for on purpose so she can enter easily and his apartment,not hers,because she wouldn't be able to get him back to her place as easily) to hide and wait until he gets back. He has tiny cameras in his apartment that connects to his phone that let him know that Reader is in his apartment and is about to kidnap him. He get home ASAP,acts normal and unaware and purposely stands near to a spot that he knows reader is hiding at and turns his back to her to let her knock him out. She knocked him out and tied him up/restraints him on his bed. He woke up some time later to reader explaining her plan to keep him and reader forces herself on him. Which he pretends not to like at first so he can let her have her moment and let her think she has the upper hand here. But then he started laughing and giggling which confuses and creeps reader out before he broke out of his restraints easily and flipped her over,pinning her on his bed and revealing that he's knew all along and he's far more obsessed with her as he thinks about her everyday,enjoying the little game they play that's she's unaware of and have his way with her in the end. His turn.

I know you said to expect physical abuse or hitting in your fics as they are dark fics but I want to request that Bucky doesn't hit or physically abuse reader in any way in this one,if I can. And vice versa with reader never hitting or physically abuse Bucky except to knock him out as I find her chloroforming an enchanced super soldier unrealistic. Just the non con or dub con committed towards Reader by Bucky in the end. So I guess it's a soft!dark!reader x soft!dark!Bucky request.

Sorry for this long & shitty request and sorry if this isn't really in your lane. I just needed to get this off my chest before I forgot about the idea completely. And I just wanted to try my luck. It's also okay if you don't want to do it,I understand ❤ I'll be treating myself to your other works and upcoming stories in the future. Take care of yourself,hope you're doing well,stay safe and have a blessed New Year ❤❤❤ Thank you for just reading through my terrible request alone and sorry to put you through this lol. Thanks again ❤ Much love! 💞

i’m gonna be honest with you, i wasn’t really into this. the idea sounds cool but i’m not really into dark!reader, though i see where you’re coming from, and i get that my fics are really fucking dark, but someone has to do it. but this was so well thought out and you were so kind at the end i had to do it for ya. and i had fun! it was outside my comfort zone, that’s why it took so long (among other things.) you had a lot here so i apologise if it doesn’t come out as you wanted, but i tried my best, and i did change it just a little bit. here it is:

Amateur Hour

Bucky Barnes: A glimpse generates an obsession, though maybe it’s not as one-sided as you think.

content warnings here!

Sort of subdued all your life, you’ve never had the courage to come right out and say you liked someone, and that led you to observation more than conversation, watching people you admire closely, but nothing more, until you see him.

It’s a fairly overcast day, the sun just peaking out enough so as to not make the air cold. You sit peacefully on a park bench, reading a novel without the threat of rain tempting fear of getting your book wet. You hear someone coming down the path, obviously, because this is a public park, and you don’t know why you look up, but you do, and the wind is knocked right out of your chest.

You’ve never seen a man as beautiful as him, brown hair and mysterious steel blue eyes with a perfectly sculpted jawline and just enough stubble so as to make your heart rate pick up. You don’t realise you’re staring after him until he turns and gives you a quick friendly smile, pink lips upturning for a moment before he continues, but enough to make you develop an obsession of sorts.

You’re used to watching people you admire, and that’s as far as it goes, but this… this is different. He has to have been sculpted by God Himself, strong arms and broad shoulders you all but want to be wrapped in. You could never speak to a man like that, but you could never let him escape in the streets and never see him again, you’re already haunted by the image of him having only briefly met his eyes, you know you’ll go insane if you don’t know him, and so a less insane option is to… watch.

Very casually, you shut your book and stand, stretching before strolling in his direction, keeping your footsteps small enough so that you can follow without him getting suspicious as to why you don’t overtake him. You take in the tress around you, nature you usually appreciate, but you can’t really observe any beauty anymore without knowing they will never compare to the man in front of you. It’ll never be enough now.

And you don’t know it, but Bucky smirks to himself as he hears your gentle footsteps behind him.

You turn out as he does, and usually you would be more vigilant to pickpockets and busy people speed walking on the pavements of New York, but there’s nothing in the world that can take your focus off of the back of his head. You’re sure you must have bumped into a few people, but you can’t recall it, mumbling an apology every once in a while until you stop them completely, trying to keep as silent as possible. You follow him for a bit, though you’re not sure how long; every concept you’ve ever known—time and space—are nothing compared to him. You’re desperate for him to look at you again, you almost want to out yourself right then and there and force his lips onto yours, but you know that’s dumb, yet still it takes you a lot more self control that you ever thought you needed to keep your cool.

You reach a block of apartment buildings and slow down slightly—with less people around, you don’t want to look suspicious. When he turns to one, you turn to the one across the street, watching in the reflection of the glass door entrance as he lets himself into a building. So that’s where he lives. You jot down the address in your notes app and take a picture of the place, just in case, ducking behind a car to see if one of the windows will open revealing him. You frown when after a few minutes, there’s no movement, and so you head around the back, where the flat is facing an empty lot rather than a long road. And you see him, standing by his window, the breeze perfectly combing through his hair.

So you’re the quiet type, you note, seeing as he’d rather his place face no one than everyone. You can’t help yourself from taking another picture, and just before he disappears from your sight. Once he’s gone, you press your back against the wall and grip your phone with both hands to take in that beautiful sight forever. You can’t fight it anymore, you have to know him.

***

Bucky chuckles to himself as he steps back. He knew you were in the park, he came specifically for a walk to see you, but he wasn’t really expecting you to have such an immediate and visceral reaction to the sight of him. Bucky’s no stranger to flirty glances, but he saw that glint in your eyes, and he knows it; it’s the same one he had when he saw you. When he heard you get up behind him, he hoped it was because you were going to introduce yourself (not that he needed your name, but that seemed like an easier way to go about it) but when the sound of your footsteps didn’t speed up or die down, he knew you were following him. Bucky’s obsession with your started when you’d sweetly bought a cake in a cute bakery, and you just screamed innocence to him right off the bat. Now, well, maybe you’re not so innocent in your own eyes, but, if anything, you’re a little naïve to him, and he finds it adorable.

***

The next day you head back over and sit in your car for a little bit, waiting for him to come out, but you get an opportunity just as good. The mailman comes around with probably some junk mail, and you hop out your car, pretending you were entering your own building. When he opens the door, you stop him.

“I’m just going in, don’t worry, I can take it from you,” you say with a friendly smiles. He thanks you for helping him on his long route as he hands you a few letters and magazines: junk. You wave him goodbye as you step in and the door falls shut behind you.

“Do you live here?” a voice asks, and you startle as you turn to security seated behind a desk.

“No! I’m just volunteering a little on the mail route,” you smile at him, innocently, and raising the pitch of your voice to appear sweeter, “And I’m sorry, I just need a little help getting it into the right boxes.

“Well, I can do it for you,” he offers, but you shake your head.

To avoid suspicion you offer, “Well, there’s five floors, you can do floors one and two and I’ll do three and up.” You counted that the man you’re obsessed with lives on the fourth floor.

He agrees and you get to work putting mail where he tells you each person and their door number.

*

“James B Barnes?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. You had done a few on his floor and asked a little about each, but most of them were either women or people living together, and you knew he had to live alone, he seems really reserved and to himself, likes the quiet.

“James? I don’t know a James…” you frown as he furrows his brows in thought, but suddenly he snaps his fingers and smiles, “Ah, Barnes! That’s Bucky, 4D, really keeps to himself.”

Bucky. But you have to make sure it’s the right person.

“I see,” you say as you gently place letters in a box on the fourth row marked with the letter D, “You don’t know much about him?”

“Nah, only that he’s really into gloves, never see him without ‘em, even in scorching hot weather.”

The man you saw yesterday was wearing gloves, even though it wasn’t really cold. That has to be him.

It takes a while to fill up the rest as you try to keep friendly conversation going to not appear suspicious. When you’re finally done, he goes back to scribble something down on a piece of paper.

“You know, he says as he finishes it off, “If you’re going to be coming down this way for a while, you should have the building code, make it easier for you,” he hands you the piece of paper with a smile.

“Thank you!” you say, a little too eagerly as you read the code: 8496, “I’m often busy with work so I’m not sure how many days I can be here,” you sulk, “But I’ll try come in every once in a while, count on it.”

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, apartment 4D, you’re getting somewhere.

You’ve started to notice that you’ve been so distracted lately you’ve been misplacing items; a t-shirt you thought was in your cupboard would end up on the floor, a few of your bras seem to have disappeared, and you can’t find random notes you’ve written and placed throughout the house. But it’s fine, once you have him you can deal with all that: none of that is as important as Bucky.

*

You’ve always been a bit of a loner, but the next two weeks you spend talking to no one, not even responding to work emails as you stalk Bucky. You’ve managed to sneak in a few times (he doesn’t lock his door) and grab some of his stuff—you even wear his t-shirts sometimes, absolutely intoxicated by his scent—snap a few pictures for memories. Following him around, you find that you were right: he is more of a loner; he hardly talks to anyone, he’s got two friends, Sam and Steve, who he sees maybe once a week for drinks, but that’s it.

On a Friday night, you snap: you have to have him.

***

Bucky is in the middle of taking a sip of beer, watching Sam and Steve laugh at his deadpan joke, when he gets a notification on his phone. It’s a specific sound he has just for the cameras in his house, tells the guys it’s security, and they get it, they think Bucky is a little paranoid from his past, but if anything, his past makes him more comfortable to being exposed to attack, he knows he can take them, and no one with half a brain cell would try a serious-looking well-built man.

He manages to excuse himself for the night, but not without a little protest from Steve and Sam. To get out of explaining himself, he places money on the table for the men to get another round on him, and they cheer as he exits the bar.

Outside in the dark, he opens the app and turns his phone landscape to swipe through the multiple cameras set up in his house to get to the one where you are. Of course you’re in his bedroom; he’s noticed you’ve been stealing some of his clothes, once even a pair of his boxers, and so he moved your stuff to a better hiding spot. From watching you, it didn’t even seem like you noticed your things going missing, that or you didn’t care, but he knew you weren’t as attentive as you thought. Once he literally followed you in his car just to see how far he could go and you didn’t pay it any mind, walking through your neighbourhood as normal—though, granted, you did have your earphones in.

Excitement ripples down Bucky’s spine and he can’t help but smile at the screen as he notices you ducking behind his bed. Really? Behind his bed? Not even in the closet? He bites his lip to prevent himself from laughing, but not in a malicious way, in an adoring way, that you really are committed to this, but not as committed as he is. He’s seen the chloroform, baseball bat and ropes you bought, you’ve been planning it for a little, but nothing could prepare you for him.

He has to stop himself from full on sprinting down the road to get back home. He does to want to show up sweaty and panting, so he tries with all his might to make it casual stroll. He makes sure to slam the front door behind him so you know he’s here, and he sighs loudly as he shrugs off his jacket before tossing it onto the couch. Maybe it’ll spook you too much if he went straight to his bedroom, so he goes to the bathroom first to freshen up a bit, give you time to really think this through, maybe you’ll change your mind. Not that he’ll change his.

His bedroom door is closed, which he finds a little cute because he knows he left it slightly ajar, but you didn’t really take that into consideration. When he enters, he turns to close the door behind him, giving you time to sneak up and hit him over the head with a bat.

He falls, pretends he’s been knocked out, as if a bat could take him out; he’s been punched through walls and barely flinched before getting back up to fight. It takes a lot in him to stop himself from smiling as he feels you lift him from under his armpits and drag him onto the bed. It takes a bit, but once he’s lying down, you puff out a breath and wipe your brows; that was a bit of a workout for you, but for him… how easy it would be to manhandle you.

He hears you shuffling and feels harsh rope chafe against his skin as you wrap a piece around his ankle, not nearly tight enough, and he thinks it’s because you don’t want to hurt him, which is sweet. You’re just so sweet.

Once you’ve ‘secured’ his ankles and wrists, he waits a few moments before he pretends to stir, coming to consciousness. He puts on a confused and scared look as he notices you at the edge of the bed, as if he hasn’t been dreaming about this for the longest time. As soon as your eyes meet his, he can hear the near whisper, swoon-like sigh you give. Bucky has never considered himself too attractive, doesn’t pay much mind when someone is attracted to him, neither gives him an ego boost or knocks him down a notch, but you, the way you’re so affected by his presence has his heart rate picking up.

“You’re just so beautiful,” you breathe, “Bucky.”

Bucky tightens his fists to prevent himself groaning at the sound of his name falling from your lips, and he’s struggling even more now to restrain himself, wanting to fuck you so hard that’s all you can say, just broken sobs of his name as you come over and over, legs trembling around his waist…

“I’m sorry,” you apologise as you stand.

The corner of his lip twitches, and he can tell you’ve noticed, but that scared face he’s putting on for your benefit quickly takes over his expression as you climb over him. He wants to beg you to stop, maybe give you a little more time to feel in control, but it’s been a while now, and he can’t help the chuckle that slips past his smiling lips.

You look up from his crotch to see him full-on laughing now, not necessarily deranged, but laughing like you’ve told him a genuinely funny joke. You sit back on him carefully as you watch this odd behaviour, that really unsettles you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologies, still with a smile on his face as he shakes his head, “It’s just… come on, now. You’re adorable, but what is this, amateur hour?”

You don’t really have time to take in his giggly response to being ostensibly held captive before he easily pulls himself free of the restraints. You gasp and grab hold of his waist as he grabs hold of your hips, easily pinning you underneath him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Trying to contain his amusement, he drops his head to hide his smile, but can’t hide it away again when he looks back down at you.

“Two weeks?” he breaths over you, his tone not mocking, but near incredulous, “Try two months, sweetheart. I’ve seen your internal conflict, knowing what you were doing is wrong but not being able to stop, huh?”

He raises an eyebrow with his question and you gulp and look down from his eyes to through his legs.

“Where do you think all your shit’s being going? Things don’t just disappear, touches aren’t always just dreams. And listen,” he brings a hand up from your waist to gently tap your cheek, signalling for you to look back at him, and you do, “I’ve enjoyed playing this little game with you, but I’ve been waiting too long for this now to let you have all the fun.”

You gasp as he ducks his head to press a gentle yet possessing kiss to your neck, grasping onto his hair to keep his mouth against your pulse. He smiles against you, and you take a deep breath in as you turn your head to allow him more space, gently tugging him downwards as you listen to his soft kisses and feel the loving stroke of his fingers on your inner thigh. His gentleness soon turns a little more rushed, like he’s desperate; he lets out a choked groan as he grinds his tightening jeans against your thigh, which you return with a moan of your own, pulling his head from your neck which he at first tries to fight, so lost in the taste of your skin, the quickening rise and fall of your chest against his, your sighs of his name, but he reluctantly pulls away, only to be immediately pulled down to your face as you crash your lips against his. He can tell you’re eager by the way you shift your thighs every once in a while, but he knows there’s fear in the trembling fingers that hold him against you.

Once his tongue slides into your mouth, you know it’s over, unable to stop yourself from draping your arm over his neck so he’s as close to you as possible.

“Bucky…” you moan against his mouth, rolling your hips against him.

“Fuck,” he rasps.

You desperately claw at the waistband of his jeans, and he smiles as he pulls away and sits up to take in your flushed cheeks; he’s hardly touched you and you’re already pleading, “Please, please, please.” He’s sure by now the only words you can get out are ‘fuck,’ ‘please,’ or ‘Bucky,’ and he can’t quite decide which is his favourite one… Definitely his name.

“It’s coming, sweetheart,” he says as he undoes his belt, “Hold on.”

It’s no task for him to pull off your pants as you arch your hips, and he really can’t help but smirk to himself as he notices the dark patch on your underwear when he slides it off next.

He props himself up as he slowly pushes into you, grunting at how good you feel. You moan and Bucky rewards the sweet sound by hiking up your thigh to hit you deeper. You cry out as he bottoms inside you, digging your nails into his back and squeezing your eyes shut, cunt tightening around him, too.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines as he pulls back and pushes into you again. Your hands move to grasp onto his shoulders, and if you’re pushing him off, he doesn’t notice it, letting out a whimper when he hits your spot again, your fingers grasping onto him for dear life.

He tried to keep slow, but he hurries a little, fucking addicted to feeling you, so lost he’s letting pathetic noises fall from his lips as he pushes into you each time, making sure to give praises of, “Fuck, that’s good, you’re so good, fuck,” between harsh breaths, and you can reply with nothing but whines and moans under him.

When he feels your legs begin to tremble, he pulls the one over his waist further back, hitting you even deeper, causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head, and this time he feels your nails break into his skin.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” is all you can get out as he hovers over you.

“You gonna come, sweetheart? You can do that, fuck, please, please come for me.”

If the feeling of his cock wasn’t enough to drive you over the edge, his pleads and whines do it; you let out a broken sob of his name as you clench down on him, orgasm ripping through you better than in all your fantasies.

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, that’s good, ‘m gonna come in you now, okay?”

And it doesn’t take long, a few more thrusts and he releases himself inside of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting out a long groan of your name. When his breathing has slowed slightly, he raises himself to look down at you, and he doesn’t think he could deny himself another round, whether you want it or not.

✪

[taglist; @cjand10, @pr30087, fill out this form if you’d like to be added!]

[mari-lair]

It wouldn't make sense for Aoi to have her memories, much less fake her engagement with Teru, because we see Aoi at the start of the world reset and she is acting as if everything is normal, with no worries at all.

While Nene was confused and consumed by a sense that "something isn't right" and Teru was punching Akane in the student council, begging for answer, Aoi's only goal was enjoying the festival with Nene, which would be an extremely weird reaction to suddenly having her numb hand working again and being in a whole new world.

Plus, Aoi already knew Nene would be the star of their class play, something we and Nene, who are only familiar with the old timeline, had no way of knowing was the case.

So Aoi's memories and priorities do not match ours or our protagonist's right now.

The final thing that make me sure the engagement isn't some grand elaborate plan is that Aoi explains to Nene of all people that Kou is "Teru-Kun's brother" acting as if she is more familiar with Kou than Nene and using first names when there is no one to put on a show for.

Teru was as confused as Nene, everything Akane had explained the readers had been news for him too. He was scrapping for answers, even the most basic ones about the situation.

He is still prodding for more information. He does not have the upper hand here.

Even in the very wild possibility that Teru found Aoi first while searching for Nene and both awakened her memories and convinced her to have a marriage plan, it still wouldn't make sense? Cause Aoi had called Kou "Teru-kun's brother" from the very start.

Aoi also brought her mom into this marriage.

She never mentions her mom in the original timeline, so her mom will only visit the festival in this new world (once more, she is living in a different reality from the one we know.)

She is not the old Aoi, she acts way too different: determined to ignore Akane, clingier with Nene, and openly showing her anger/displeasure with Teru.

So I can't see her 'pretending' to be amnesiac. Or Teru pretending to be confused.

This feels genuine:

Teru only becomes smug when he notices the news has a giant effect on Akane, before that, he was just plain confused.

Which brings me to the second part of the ask.

"do you think this is the plot way to force Akane to join forces" and I don't think so. At least, not yet? It's hard to say with the minimal information we were given on the situation.

On the broad strokes Nene, Teru, and Akane are already on the same team the three don't like this reality. They don't want to be here. They miss their old world.

These two panels are after the 'Aoi engagement with Teru' reveal but this has been his mental state from the start. There are a lot of gags about the engagement and I do adore how pathetic Akane is in it, but he doesn't suddenly hate this new world because Aoi can't be with him.

He had hated it from the start.

The way he never includes himself when talking about how this timeline could be 'better for some people' is telling enough.

I have no doubt Aoi's engagement is one hell of a motivator but he had explicitly told us "I didn't have a choice on this, the only choice I had was to stay a clock keeper and hold on to any power I can" from the start.

But you may be asking if this is a plot device for him to have a proper team up with Teru and Nene, a true join forces and become a unit case! Not just a 'similar goal' type of deal.

Which... I find it unlikely.

Aoi's getting a big involvement will make Akane worried, will make him want to protect her, but I just can't see him asking for help, he trusts Teru to keep her safe, so no need to be glued to her side, and he is the kind of idiot who tries to do everything himself, even when his situation is unfair.

(Aoi still doesn't know he made a contract with the keepers to save her life, and he had kept his double life secret from his classmates for years, not letting it slow down his class rep duties, for example.)

So I can picture him hunting Tsukasa alone (and not mentioning to anyone, because that his duty as a clock keeper and of course he wouldn't shove it on someone else, especially when everyone is so angry with him for ruining their present.) but maybe the plot make his hunt cross paths with Nene storyline (which we know will involve hanako) or the wedding somehow (Akanes and Minamotos have history that involves sacrifices and their marriage begs the question of "what changed? why are they united in this timeline?") AND THEN a proper team up happen?? Honestly i have no idea.

It's too early for me to have a clear idea of what Aidairo intends to explore with Teru and Aoi's engagement but my hope is that it serves to flesh out Aoi and Teru's character and their home situation.

(Honestly, I just want Teru and Aoi to have a proper talk. It's a crime that the best teru and aoi conversation we have is from a spin-off. )

[shieldofiron]

Saf...

I know it's been done, probably a million times, but...

harringrove roommates AU, idiots in love, and everyone ELSE can see it but they're both absolutely oblivious until an outside throws the word boyfriend at them forcing them to reevaluate.

and go, would it be so bad? everything would remain the same, only there would be kissing now and other stuff.

and then maybe they would decide to pretend they still have no idea to see how long it would take Max and their friends to notice...

that was my 2.20am thoughts.

going to bed now

ily

LOL also yet again, your one thought is like a whooooole enchilada longfic, my friend. And I have so many of those cooking. But I was inspired to write a little snippet of this. Consider it a slice of their weird little life.

---

"I think I'm going to go on a porn fast."

There's no reason for Robin to give him that look. They talk about everything. He helped her check herself when she had an ingrown hair that she thought was an STD, for God's sake.

"What?" Steve frowned.

"A porn fast." She looked absolutely disgusted. He was talking about less porn, what was her problem.

"Yeah. Like 30 days, no porn," Steve shook his head, "I just feel like I'm doing it too much, you know. I'm gonna get carpal tunnel."

"Are you going to move out?" She smirked.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"What it means, Dingus-"

She paused when Billy waltzed in and pulled out one earbud, tiny shorts hiked up so high they were basically underwear, glistening from his workout.

"Have you seen my water cup?" Billy's chest was heaving, a drip of sweat sliding down the center of his chest towards his happy trail.

"You mean your basic white girl cup?" Steve rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever, Pretty Boy. It's huge and it stays cold as fuck," Billy leaned in to where Steve sat at their tiny breakfast nook, and smirked, "I've seen you steal a sip."

"As if," Steve scoffed, "Robin he's obsessed with one of those huge Stanley cups."

"That is a basic bitch move," Robin shrugged, "He's got you Billy."

"Yeah he does," Billy licked along his lower lip, "You've seen it. C'mon, baby, tell me."

Steve sighed, "I washed it, because you never do. It's over there."

Billy snuck in close for a kiss on the cheek, and heat washed over Steve's body, probably from Billy standing so damn close after lifting. He was like a furnace, and Steve had fallen asleep with him enough on the couch to know.

"Thanks, Pretty Boy."

Steve watched Billy pop in his air bud, and assemble and fill his cup for a moment, shaking his booty to whatever his dumb workout mix was, only to be brought out of it when Robin pinched him.

"Don't know how you're gonna do a porn fast with your fucking boyfriend doing a playgirl shoot all around your apartment."

Steve's mouth fell open, "He's my roommate."

"Yeah. And you stare at him and jack off all the time because you feel sooo normal about that."

Steve kicked her weakly under the table, not even able to speak. He wasn't that way about Billy. Couldn't be. That was his roommate.

Later that night after Robin had gone home, he was curled up on the couch next to Billy's furnace of a body.

"Have you even had a sip of water all day?" Billy asked, eyeing Steve's diet coke.

"Yes, I have," He hadn't, "chill, you water obsessed freak."

Billy shoved the clear straw of his enormous silver cup in Steve's face, "Drink."

There shouldn't be something stirring in his stomach when Billy said shit like that. There shouldn't be...

"Good Boy," Billy said in a low laughing voice.

Billy wasn't his boyfriend. Nor was he porn.

But God help him, Steve was realizing he wanted him to be a little of both.

[toxictoad]

The Geometry Anomaly twins from Route 5!

I was mostly joking when I said it was just the parent trap. The only real similarity is that they're twins that both go with one parent respectively.

Slightly more in-depth explanation of this Route under the cut :D

(Also @acerobot suggested that Juno have a princess scepter and that was such a good idea that it's what prompted me to draw this lol)

Nicknaming this route the division AU because I think I'm clever.

After the Breakup™️ Bill takes Juno with him to the Nightmare Realm. Ford keeps Quentin and is holding him when he gets portal-ed.

Canon progresses otherwise as normal, with the twins and their weird aging making them teenagers by the time Weirdmaggedon happens.

This Route gives me an AWESOME opportunity to contrast Bill and Ford's "parenting" styles.

Juno grows up getting basically everything she wants whenever she wants, as long as she also does what Bill tells her to. It's basically golden handcuffs as a parenting style. She's his little princess! His darling daughter who can do absolutely nothing wrong! Unless she tells him no. Juno grows up being told that Ford (and by extension Quentin) betrayed them, and that they need to use force to make them a "real family" again. She feeds on approval and outside validation, and cannot take genuine criticism at all. To Bill she's just an extension of himself, and so any deviation she makes is treated just as harshly as he would treat himself for it.

Quentin grows up being dragged across the multiverse with Ford, and while he's an objectively much better parent than Bill, he isn't... great. Quentin grows up less being parented and more being ordered around. He needs to listen to what his father tells him because they're trying to survive. He's just an addition to Ford's single-minded quest to defeat Bill and take Juno back. Chin up, soldier. We don't have time to be afraid when there's work to be done. He loves his son, but also he subscribes to the method of Emotional Repression™️. So Quentin doesn't value his emotions, and is even more stoic than he is in the other routes. He's convinced that if he just does everything right then people will love him, and nothing bad will happen (Of course he's wrong about this).

The thing about this route is that it's the only one where the twins aren't together, so they can't temper each other the way they usually would. Juno can't speak up for Quentin when he's being quiet, and Quentin can't calm down Juno when she's mad. They're both alone with one parent who is doing their best (Debatably, in Bill's case) and they feel like they're missing something without their twin. Juno can kind of check in on Ford and Quentin, but she's explicitly forbidden from contact with them. Quentin only knows about his sister from what Ford can tell him- which isn't much, considering that he hasn't seen her since she was less than a year old- and news about Bill and the Henchmaniacs, which obviously doesn't spark much optimism.

When Weirdmaggedon finally happens they end up on opposite sides. Quentin doesn't get captured with Ford, so Bill sends Juno to hunt him down.

They definitely fight, and Quentin wins, and tries to sway his sister over to their side. Now, I don't think this would go too well, but I do think that she would go along with it at first.

Cue a faux-redemption arc where Juno pretends to be a good person, and then actually becomes a good person. And then during the showdown in the Fearamid... there is a choice to be made. And she either has to save the rest of her family... or side with the demon who raised her.

And she chooses her family.

[tjodity]

Loose Transfem C!Tommy thoughts:

@maigetheplatypus57

transcript below cut:

I think Tommy would be fine still going by Tommy and it's easier to remember but she would get so so much gender euphoria from being called Clementine I think when she's younger she doesn't feel any attachment to being a guy and really really wants to look like the girls she hangs out with but doesn't have any context for those feelings and just assumes it's kinda normal and tries to make a joke out of it. Hence "Manly man ulimate man tommyinnit" and "I love women" being running bits. She really idolizes Schlatt just from commercials and interviews and stuff she sees as this guy who seems to just. nail being a man so flawlessly. When Tubbo transitions she's like wow that's so cool I wish I could do that. Anyways. but that's kind of the first even incling that she'd like to be a girl but she doesn't think about it again for a while. Then everything with Manberg happens and she gets to see Schlatt and realizes 'oh this guy is so fucked up. oh this guy was an insecure wreck who ended up destroying everything around him and himself while pretending so hard that he was fine. huh' and the feeling that something is wrong with how she's going about things gets a bit stronger. But she keeps putting it off because of everything happening. BUT THEN WE GOT EXILE. nothing can force you to think about your own identity like being kicked out by your best friend and completely isolated on an island for a few weeks and grappling with suicidal ideation. At this point she's kinda like fuck I don't wanna be me but is having a hard time sorting out what's gender and what's depression and what's escapism. I think her habit of trying to ignore it and overcorrect flares up really badly when she's living with Techno. Cuts her hair short and tries to put on this very cold, violent exterior-

because she's just very scared and feels completely betrayed and alone and deeply uncomfortable in her own skin. Post Disc Finale she spends a lot of time trying to grapple with herself. She finds some of Niki's old clothes that she abandoned somewhere and tries them on in private and gets really freaked out by the fact that she likes wearing them and puts them away. She's not really on speaking terms with Eret and Tubbo at this point she's friends with but he's not always very approachable. Ironically I think the first time he voices any of her thoughts about gender is when she's trapped in prison because Dream won't tell anyone and she doesn't really care about what he thinks of her. And cDream is. a very bad person. But he's also not transphobic, and he also cares about Tommy in his own horrible fucked up way, and he can kind of relate just based on wanting to be someone else and weeks spent in different performances and disliking parts of how he looks. He comes across as dismissive but also tells Tommy that she can just be a girl if she wants, and that she's stupid for stressing out over something like gender. Then a few days later he beats her to death but yknow. I think the first person she'd properly like. come out to would be Sam Nook. Basically saying like hey could you act like i was a girl for a little while pleaseplease please and Sam Nook's just like Okay ^_^ I think she might come out to like. Ranboo next. She doesn't know him suuper well but she just finds them easy to talk to and it ends up slipping out

It would take her a whiiiile to tell Tubbo because she has a hard time talking to him and doesn't want to mess with anything that could upset their friendship but after they start making an effort to hang out more and Tommy starts living in Snowchester she would try to mention it very very casually just when they're doing chores one day. Then Tubbo is hit with like several years of memories of Tommy being arguably very clockable as an egg and him just. not realizing and he has a crisis about not noticing something like that. But when he calms down he becomes #1 Tommy girl supporter. He calls her pretty and cute and Miss and Ma'am and drags her out to go shopping so that they can get dresses and makeup and things for her. Tubbo vaguely remembers how to do makeup and Ranboo wants to learn with Tommy so they have a fun time with that. I think Tommy would love love love wearing dresses and doing her makeup and stuff but would not give any fucks about being traditionally pretty or presentable. She'd run around with very cute dresses wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts below it with very assymetrical makeup having the time of her life

also she'd grow her hair out and loooove braiding it. Her transition also comes with a lot of relief because for a loong time she's enjoyed things that are traditionally feminine (sewing, domestic chores and upkeep, etc) but wasn't letting herself enjoy them and just letting go is so nice.

I also think with cTubbo #1 Tommy being a girl supporter and also Tommy living in Snowchester with him and Ranboo and them being so close Tubbo would absolutely accidentally call Tommy his wife at some point in conversation. And then there's a beat and then he's like ohmygod im so sorry i didnt mean to say that and Tommy's just like no I'm that from now on. Husband<3 and Tubbo's just completely dumbfounded

[strawbewrysuffie]

Can I request Nekomiya Mata? Shortened to just Nekomata by herself. You can watch some videos of her, but essentially, she talks in a weird baby voice and puts 'nya~' at the end of her sentences. She says this is "just how cat thirens talk (nya)," but it's not. We see other cat thirens in the game, and they don't talk like that. She also stops doing it past the Cunning Hares storyline? But she still does it in her character selection vocieline. She's also animated in a pretty flexible way that is unique to her in zzz's already rubber wobbling animation.

Her current affiliations are Belle/Wise aka Phaethon, aka the protagonists you play as and the Cunning Hares aka Gentle house aka her friends who adopted her. She looks up to Nicole a whole lot, she and Anby have a bit of a rivalry, and everyone likes Billy Kid.

She briefly runs away for a bit. Because she messed up in a mission, I think, but her entire team comes looking for her to tell her that they're really not mad and they messed up missions too and they would never actually be or were upset at her for something like that.

Some pics of my baby :3

Tell me if you need more things!

LITTLE!NEKOMIYA HEADCANONS!!

I have more then enough info hehe!! I tried to make it longer then normal cause ur my friend :3

[🐾] her team mainly looks after her, she claims she doesn't need help or support when in littlespace but that's obviously a lie! :3

[🍬] she whines whenever she doesn't get her way, she can be shut up easily tho, just give her teether and she will stay silent for 5 hours straight!! (◍•ᴗ•◍)

[🐾] her teether is actually those catnip toys! Because she's a nekogirl and I'm pretty sure their basically the same thing

[🍬] i feel like her little age would be fluid, but her main age she regresses to is 3 to 6.

[🐾] she probably has some sensory issues especially in little space, she refuses to eat anything other then her safe foods!!

[🍬] she used to bite on EVERYTHING!! 1!! 1! Before she got her teether, her team was worried that she was going to hurt or even break her teeth from how rough she was being, so they ended up getting her one.

[🐾] I feel like she would probably have a queen of hearts phase after watching alice in the wonderland and pretend to be her, but in her version, she's a 'evil princess' and forces billy to pick her up and hold her up in the air.

"MAWAHAHAHA!! Hehe, you will all... BE BEHEADED!!" After they don't agree to everything she says.

[🍬] if there's a cat plushie, she has it, no matter how big, how small, how expensive, how cheap, she has it.

[🐾] she has problems expressing her emotions while in littespace, and her team struggled to figure out what she wants, but they soon figured out they can tell from how her tail is moving:3

[🍬] ankle biter, that's all I'm going to say.

[🐾] always asks to play at the weirdest of times, she will stand there watching her team sleep at 4:23am and ask "can we pretty please play Barbies:3?"

[🍬] she has broken so many beds because she kept jumping on them, her team debated on getting a trampoline for her because they were tired of having so many beds broken because of her.

Uhmm hopefully this is good!! I tried my best!!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Your thoughts/response to this?

https://www.tumblr.com/andromeda3116/86439828788/what-would-you-have-done-differently-with-mai-if

*cracks knuckles*

"Mai only turned against Azula for Zuko"

Way to prove you don't know shit about the character. Like, even the line "I love Zuko more than I fear you" already shows Mai's problem with Azula isn't all about her boyfriend. It is not healthy or normal to be afraid of your friend.

And Mai HAD been rebelling against any authority figure she didn't like/respect LONG before she started dating Zuko. In "Return To Omashu" we see her being annoyed at the life her parents expect her to have, and then gladly, willingly joining Azula - but before it she said "Please say you're here to kill me." Sure, it's a joke that Azula appreciates, but still demonstrates Mai is aware that her friend is very dangerous and that while Azula is her friend, the princess is not. She also goes out of her way to ask what the hell Ty Lee is doing there since the circus was "her calling", and as a response she gets "Azula called a little louder", once again confirming to Mai that if she, for whatever reason, had decided to stay in Omashu, it would mean trouble with Azula.

We then have "The Drill" in which Mai openly refuses to obey Azula during a military mission that could mean early victory for their nation in a war that has lasted a whole century. She even said "She can shoot all the lightning she wants at me." THAT'S how little fucks Mai gives about putting herself in danger just to prove NOBODY can force her into anything she doesn't want to do.

We also have Mai side-eyeing Azula in "The Headband" when she interrupts her date with Zuko and basically orders her to leave, instead of waiting for their date to be over or just kindly say "Mai, I need to speak with Zuko in private. It's really important, can you give us a moment?" Just zero respect, which obviously bothers her. And let's not forget her yelling at all three of her friends to leave her the fuck alone in "The Beach" - the same episode in which she broke up with Zuko because he started crossing the line.

The Boiling Rock is just the inevitable pay-off to what had been set up since Mai's character was introduced to the audience. She has to pick between her dysfunctional friendship/subservient dynamic with Azula, or save the flawed but still loving boyfriend she loved and that actually corrected some of his bad behavior after their first break up. The choice is OBVIOUS. It's not "Friendship VS Romance" or "What I want VS What my boyfriend wants", it's not even "Selfish love VS Selfless love" because Mai turns on Azula BOTH for her sake and Zuko's.

On Mai not speaking out in defense of Ty Lee

You can't help someone that doesn't want to be helped. Ty Lee had tried to say no to Azula exactly once, and it led to threats of physical violence or even death. Naturally that scares her into keeping quiet - Ty Lee's seeimgly blind support and obedience to Azula was directly shown as a parallel to Mai's acts of rebellion. Once again, even in the first scene of the three of them together, when Mai demonstrates concern for Ty Lee, she basically gets a kind, cheery, bubbly "Sorry, forbidden topic! Talk about something else and pretend everything is fine!"

It's not unlike that Mai believed that, if she tried to defend her friend, all she'd accomplish is have both Azula and Ty Lee herself turn on her. It isn't until Ty Lee has to choose between the two of them in the Boiling Rock that Mai realizes there were still lines her friend would never allow Azula to cross.

"He didn't even consider taking her along when he left the Fire Nation! She could have helped a lot!"

In Zuko's own words as to Sokka as to why he left Mai behind "I couldn't drag her into this." Zuko and the Gaang were not friends, and he literally offered to be Aang's teacher and prisoner. He also knew he'd be hunted down both for his treason to the Fire Lord and because of the people he was no associating with.

He knew Mai could handle almost anything (hell, when she says to a guard that she doesn't need protection, he smiles proudly and AGREES). But that doesn't mean he'd be totally okay with asking her to throw her whole life away for him and potentially be imprisoned or killed if shit went wrong.

And once again, let's get back to the "You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped." Mai CLEARLY didn't have a problem with imperialism and war - again, she joined Azula willingly, and both her and Ty Lee had a lot of fun being the Gaang's worst nightmare during "The Chase." She even argues with Zuko that he is not saving his country, he's betraying it.

Mai changing sides just because she trusted Zuko, even against everything she had been taught to believe her whole life, was not at all something Zuko saw coming - hell, MAI didn't see it coming - of course he did not think that she'd agree to leave him.

On Mai and Ty Lee not escaping the Boiling Rock on their own

Can't believe I have to point out that since that was the main point of that place, but THE BOILING ROCK IS NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE TO ESCAPE. The Gaang were literally the first to accomplish that, barely. It's not that surreal that Mai and Ty Lee either couldn't do it, or felt they had to wait a little longer to even try since all eyes would be on them since they were the newest prisoners AND one of them was related to the Warden which could make him decide to facilitate their escape somehow.

"Zuko didn't even try to rescue her!"

He was teaching the Avatar firebending. His life-changing field trips with his new friends were not vacations, they were missions. They were VERY close to the day his father was gonna burn the Earth Kingdom down. Aang, their only hope. fucking disappeared during the big day due to spirit shenanigans beyond his control. Zuko then also had to fight his own sister in an Agni Kai and nearly died.

Needless to say, he was a little busy.

"Zuko doesn't even remember she exists when she's not around!"

Oh the irony of a ZUTARA shipper saying that. Literally the only time Zuko remembered Katara was because of water from the spiritual oasis that could have possibly brought Aang back to life - aka it had nothing to do with her as a person because, at that point, even after the Ba Sing Se thing, Zuko saw her as nothing more than another obstacle/enemy on his way to regain his honor.

Meanwhile, in "Zuko Alone", when he has not seen her for at least three whole years, he remembers the prank Azula and Ty Lee pulled on him and Mai as kids because of her crush on him. In Ember Island he is going nuts with jealousy (not healthy at all, but still, proof that he WANTS to be with her). On the day of the eclipse he leaves behind a letter explaining himself to her and even says "I'm sorry, Mai" even though there's no one around to hear him because he just never wanted to leave or hurt her. And on the first part of the Boiling Rock episode he is gushing about how much he loves her - we know they're about to be reunited, but he doesn't.

If that is indifference, I can't even imagine what love looks like.

About the letter and "Mai just taking him back after it"

Definitively not a nice way to be broken up with, but totally understanble given the context. And even with that, Mai still calls him out for it, says she's "saving the jerk who dumped me", and in the finale she brings it up AGAIN as they are reconciliating. Typical Mai stuff: forgiving and understanding, but never taking shit from anyone.

About them only seeing each other again in the finale

THAT was a plot convenience - but it does not apply solely to Maiko. Sokka goes to free his dad, but doesn't remember Suki has ALSO been taken prisoner, and then very next episode Hakoda left him and Katara for really convulted reasons and somehow they didn't go after him. Zuko also didn't think to tell Iroh he was gonna take him out of prison so they could go join the Avatar on the day of the eclipse, and didn't try to go looking for him until the last episode. There's also the random "Katara is confused about her feelings for Aang" plot that is introduced in "Ember Islands Players" and goes nowhere.

It's the typical "forced drama that can only be resolved when the writers feel it'd be epic enough" stuff. We have to take it with a grain of salt.

"Ty Lee joining the Kyoshi Warriors makes no sense, and Mai hated the Fire Nation nobility so she shouldn't have ended up with Zuko"

Ty Lee not wanting to be part of a matched set, then finding true happiness by joining a group and learning that she can still be an individual is the classic "ironic ending" Avatar likes - see Zuko and Aang becoming friends when they started out as mortal enemies. The only problem was the lack of development taking us from point A to point B, but the idea itself was fine.

As for Mai "hating" nobility... WHAT? She didn't like being told what to do, sure, but she never resented the perks that came with being in the "elite" - she and Zuko spend half of "Nightmares and Daydreams" bossing people around while making out on her couch, and she even suggested doing that again as a way to cheer him up when he was sad.

And even if she DID hate everything Fire Nation nobility USED to be about - the whole point of Zuko becoming Fire Lord is that he will change everything. How is Mai supporting him, regardless of their romantic relationship, in anyway a contradiction? It makes perfect thematic sense!

Conclusion

Zutarians, please stop talking about things you clearly don't understand to pretend your OTP is the only thing that would ever make any logical sense.

[aita-blorbos]

this happened a while ago, but it was recently brought up again and i feel a bit bad about it.

AITA for lying to everyone about who i am?

so i (F ??? i’m the older daughter of the god of lunares and the late goddess and well- time in our home works differently, but in your terms i was already a young adult at the time)) was very worried about the humans, because their world was going to end. my and my younger sister took very different approaches to this, but we both wanted to do something to try and stop the world ending.

so we both came down to their world. i ended up arriving in a place called castelle and i transformed into a butterfly to not stand out as much among the humans and other earthlings there. i accidentally immediately got myself into trouble with two humans because i didn’t (and to an extent still don’t…) really understand the social norms on reveria.

luckily i was saved by another human, who we’ll call MC now! some stuff happened and basically MC (X and about early twenties? maybe late teens at the time? i never actually got around to asking) and i became the bestest of friends. we did everything together! we lived together and explored the other countries around castelle where i had ended up initially. we were basically inseparable. however, they still had never seen my true form and only knew me as a clueless talking butterfly… i had appeared to them and the king of castelle and some other people as my true form once at this point technically, but i didn’t reveal that that was me! i just pretended to be someone else. i felt really guilty about hiding that, but i mean- i had really dug myself into a hole there. i was planning to eventually tell them all who i was, but unfortunately that happened way earlier than i wanted it to happen.

basically, we were in this village in the elderwood (a magical forest that used to be forbidden for humans to enter) and a friend (F and i would guess mid to late teens? i’m not good at estimating human ages…) of MC and i had to be saved and my sister was also there (she also started out as a butterfly just with darker colors, but she had already revealed herself (kinda) at that point- and basically that situation forced me to reveal myself as well. luckily we were able to save our friend, but then everyone was shocked that i had lied about who i was.

the worst part is that they all found out that MC & i’s landlord(F around 40 i would guess?) had already known! and i didnt even know that she knew!!!i had appeared to her in my normal form fairly often, but i didn’t expect her to connect the dots that the talking butterfly and the girl who talks to the moon at night on her roof (i was a bit homesick…) are the same person!!!

and they did all say they understood or forgave me, and we were able to keep working together to save the world and i even ended up staying on earth (or reveria as the inhabitants call it), but every once in a while it gets brought up again that i lied to everyone all the time when i first arrived… and idk, i guess i just still feel kinda guilty? especially since i now permanently live here on reveria with MC… so, AITA?

[unohanabbygirl]

I wonder how much money Viserys spent on couples therapy to get back with Aemma Because I swear if I died and the last thing I feel is my husband restricting me whils somebodys is cutting me open by his order and I'm begging for him to stop

And then I reincarnate, at best I would avoid him like the plague and at worst I would try to kill him.

And I'm not even talking about the history I will read when I reincarnate, he got married 6 months after I died to a girl who is old enough to be my daughter, he named my daughter heir, just because, and painted a HUGE TARGET at her back and as a bonus, he pretended that nothing was happening while the court was acting like two hooligans rivals team.

Trust me when I say that man damn near drove himself into debt trying to win her back.

Their relationship is so complex, layers upon layers that I could go on explaining for the longest. Her last moments were nothing but pain and terror. Unaware of her fate until it was too late. Murdered in one of the most gruesome ways at her husband’s order only for her son to die a short while after her.

Being born again to find out that Viserys kept on making horrible decision after decision leading to the deaths of her daughter AND grandchildren. Naming Rhaenyra heir only because she was his last resort but not solidifying her claim or abdicating while he still had the chance. Forcing her to marry Laenor and being blind to their grandchildren’s treatment at the greens hands.

Gosh, don’t even get me started on her reaction upon finding out how awfully 3/5 of her grandsons died, not to mention baby Visenya.

Aemma learned everything she could about the dance because if her daughter had to live through it then the least she could do is know everything she could about the war. I imagine her falling into a depression as she learns how Rhaenyra basically descended into instability during her short time as queen. Thinking Daemon cheated on her, holding onto her last surviving child as the small folk riot while still holding feasts just to feel a semblance of normality.

Whenever she hears someone talk shit abt “the bitch queen” during history lessons at school she has to hold herself back from screaming because they don’t understand 😭

She promises to all the gods that if Viserys has been brought back as well then she’s gonna beat his ass black and blue.

In conclusion, Aemma made Viserys WORK for years before she even took him seriously. Still lets him know she’ll leave and take half of everything if he ever acts up.

[nekobami]

Sometimes I take more than enough to post something... Anyway, Allicia.

She's basically a birdwoman mixed between two slightly different tribes of bird people, which is why her wings are slightly different. Its like a genetic thing yknow? They're bigger than they should and sometimes she can't fold her wings behind her back like Birdperson normally do to get them "round" like that. I like to think she also have some huge claws on her feet but I couldn't draw it

I ended up writing too much stuff here, sorry

I don't know exactly why but I wanted her to look like an angel in some points of the design, I mean, I really don't know, it just sounded like a good idea

For now I still don't know how to say precisely how she ended up working for the federation, like... How do they hire? I can't say for sure, but it shouldn't be too enigmatic, right? Like, it must be like an army I guess

What I know is that Allicia's parents were a couple of criminal scammers, they did some deceiving maneuvers to make a living from stealing and everything. They took relatively good care of Allicia, as despite being criminals and taking advantage of the system in various civilizations, they were not obligated to be bad parents.

They didn't do much to break the law and were always traveling, which made their journey longer. But they just couldn't make it forever. For a time, while Allicia was very young, they paused these activities for a while and settled in a city on a reasonably developed planet, On the same planet where Allicia lives by today

I believe she has a trauma, something related to a deep fear of losing her own wings, but I haven't had very good ideas yet to define that. I think this came about gradually as she had to oppress other species in her work, and she began to feel fear and empathy.

I like to think that she managed to live a normal life, until the federation took over the planet where she lives and she was forced to enlist in the federation army. Speaking of which, I guess this is how they employ people who aren't naturally mean.

Therefore, at work she always acts a bit apathetic, putting her feelings aside to avoid suffering any more from it

I also can't explain how exactly she interacts with Tammy, but what I do know is that It's like she keeps praising Tammy every now and then to keep her satisfied and away from her. Even so, Tammy distrusts her.

She also constantly neglects her work as much as she can without attracting too much attention. Like, when they send her somewhere alone, she comes home, changes her clothes and goes somewhere else. Then, she goes back and pretends nothing happened. Or she just walks around w the uniform anyway.

She neglects her job so much that when she took on the role of "checking agent" she began disguising the Ricks and tampering with the system to prevent them from being found, I believe this 'checking system' came about after the federation lost some very dumb wars because they didn't send someone there before to check how things were going. They were also wasting a lot of time and being tricked and distracted multiple times. Like, A LOT of times. And, since Allicia... like... flies, they thought she was a good candidate for this. And, like, she's always talking in that robotic way that make she looks like she' just can't do anything without receiving orders. But, like, she don't really care at all

She goes on a Rick and says: "now I'll make some questions and you'll lie to me. Say the most convenient things that come into your head and, most importantly, make sure you'll be CLEARLY DENYING ALL THE ACCUSATIONS IN THESE QUESTIONS, K?"

I like to imagine that she interacted with several Ricks in this thing of messing w her own job. Sometimes, she just goes to dinner at the house of some random family of some random Rick she helped and stays there, usually when that Rick isn't home. I guess because she's bad at cooking or she's just too tired and likes to be in a familiar place.

[nsk96]

Rant:

So I got "sick" last night, and by sick, I mean I drank water that my dad likely tampered with. We were doing a family movie night and I got up to use the bathroom. My mom decided to get up to use the other bathroom. Again...she forgot that we are supposed to take turns when we have beverages out so we can watch each other's stuff.

By the time I went to bed, my tongue, the roof of my mouth, and the back of my throat felt a numbness and I felt weak and tired today with random body pains. Last night when I told her, she tried to scold me about leaving my drink out. I told her then, that it was her that left it because she got up after me. Of course she didn't agree because all she could remember in the moment was that when she got out of her bathroom, I was still in the main bathroom so she thought I got up after her.

It was this morning that my mom said she replayed the situation in her mind and realized what I said to be true. She apologized and her excuse was that she hasn't been feeling well.

I told her "it's okay". What irks me is that I had a way out. I had the opportunity to get an apartment on loan money. Out of danger. But she convinced me to stay, despite knowing the danger she was asking me to stay in. Her reasoning was that we can protect ourselves and each other from said danger.

When I forget to do something pertaining to protecting ourselves, she gets mad at me and yells at me, even if I forgot out of feeling unwell. But if she forgets? I have to pretend everything is okay or coddle her feelings. That's why I said "it's okay" when it really isn't. I was surprised that the second time she apologized when I got out to the hallway and I said "it's okay" and she said "It's not" and was really apologetic.

What I really want to say is "you're right, it's not okay. You forced this living situation on me and let me get hurt. If you're not healthy enough to look after me like you said you would, then I shouldn't be living here." I just started APPE rotations last week, I have enough on my plate to have to be this paranoid at home. A couple years ago, I could at least have trusted her, but now I realized I can't. She doesn't have my back because she literally can't anymore.

I laugh every time my mom tells me she wants me to get married and have kids (she doesn't seem to care whether they're my own or adopted, I'm not completely sure). What I want to ask is "if I have children, who's going to take care of you?" Because she made it clear she doesn't want to be sent to a care facility, and doesn't want a stranger coming into her home to take care of her. So...basically my older brother gets to live out his life and as the youngest child, it's my job to take care of our mom.

I don't want kids, at least I don't think so. Maybe it's because I don't feel safe or maybe I'm awakening to the reality of what it may be like to be caretaker to kids, a husband, and a parent. My mom is a shell of who she once was after raising two kids and an abusive husband. And the way she just normalizes it kills any desire I once had for a married life.

She would say things like, "I stayed with your father because I wanted you to grow up with both your parents and to have a normal childhood." Like, I hate to break it to you, mom, but a child will normalize whatever environment you raise them in. I grew up thinking it was normal for parents to punish their kids the same way we were...myth busted when I started attending a school in another neighborhood. I grew up thinking it was normal for parents to be in a screaming match with each other and be down each other's throats. I grew up thinking it was normal to be chasing after other's approval and that other people's approval mattered more than liking myself. I grew up thinking the silent treatment was normal.

I grew up thinking it was okay to hit other people when they did things I didn't like. I grew up thinking it was okay and "just good fun" to tease other people for things like their voice (I'm sorry, Denton), body shape, mannerisms, and other characteristics. Not realizing as a kid, I was unintentionally somewhat of a bully to a few of my friends. I grew up thinking it's okay to give people weird nicknames (although there are some environments where this is fine). I grew up thinking it was normal for my mom to ask us to keep our bedroom door locked at night. I grew up thinking it was normal for my dad to threaten to drive us into oncoming traffic (my mom's brother said "it's an empty threat"🙄). I grew up thinking I was at fault for getting SA'd at 5 years old and that it didn't count as SA because I was never taught what consent actually is. I actually didn't learn "coercion" meant lack of consent until I was like 24. Man...the things I let boys and men get away with until then.

So yeah, mom...my childhood was far from normal. There was only so much she could do to protect us then. And right now, how much is she really protecting me? Much of my protection in recent years was done by myself. Her presence just means he won't take it too far while she's around. I still can't fall asleep out in the open when he's home and my mom is not around. If I'm sleepy, and she's not around, I need to be locked behind my bedroom door (which I also barricade and hang noise-makers on, because I suspect he may have a key).

I guess I can't depend on her anymore for having my back with these situations specifically. So, no more movie nights. I don't like watching movies with them anyways. My dad always gotta predict out loud what's gonna happen next and point out actors he recognizes, while every 10 minutes my mom has to ask what is going on in the movie. Can't enjoy any movie with them my whole life. Probably why I don't remember half the movies I've seen 😫 I'll have to spend my time off in my room I guess and hope I survive long enough to see graduation.

[medicinemane]

Well, I'm getting to do therapy, ultra mega super fucking extreme edition for my mom today

She's having a fucking breakdown cause GOP cost cutting means medicaid is being a bitch and being like if you're on medicare you no longer qualify for medicaid unless you can work and then and only then will we let you do a buy in

It's bullshit, it sucks, it's a stupid and broken system and someone being on disability should count as any work, but she's having one of the most extreme fucking breakdowns of all time over it

Like we're talking going on about how it's all her fault that the cats died who were living in the trailer cause of how toxic she let that place become, or that she's an utterly selfish person... and I'm sat here having to find ways to spin shit because she puts me in a position where in order to get her functional... what? I say "yeah, pretty much"?

Then she's like "I apologize for anything I've ever done to you", not accepted and never will be. You're doing shit to me right this fucking second with this

There's no atonement and that's kind of tough shit, and maybe if you wanted atonement don't make me parent you right now

I'm having to talk her down from being suicidal, cause I'm fucking Machiavellian with shit and I need that disability check to keep coming in

She's crying and just having the biggest breakdown she's probably had since one of my worst memories which I'm actively working to suppress cause I can't deal with it right now. She's fucking going over the various ghost shit and apologizing for it, and it's like I don't fucking care, stop fucking trying to pure and make yourself the horror that made everything awful... you're pretending to take responsibility, but what you're really doing is demanding I absolve you of everything

You know, the shit she's saying and the shit I was saying yesterday aren't that different. We both think we're hugely worthless pieces of shit who are totally unlovable (and my grandma is probably to blame for both mindsets)

Difference is that for as much as I downplayed it and said it didn't even count as cleaning, I was fucking moving like 10 boxes around to try and get things in a state where I can figure out how to clean shit, where as she's a totally nonfunctional mess

Like as much as everyone seems to want to bitch about when I'm... literally just trying to share how not ok I'm doing as best I fucking can, even when I'm at my lowest I'm still trying to work on shit

...also, one thing that's different between her and me is I've never been emotionally incestuous with my kid to the point where the very concept of family makes them sick, made them be my parent, and am now forcing them to be my therapist despite the fact the emotionally engaging with them is one of the single most destructive things I can do

I don't know... I'm real shit today, I'm gonna have to be in the car for like 4 but really more like 6 hours with her cause of the way she drives, cause I've got to go see family today and it's gotta be today cause that's when my uncle's around

I'm basically... fucking animating myself, like I'm in that state where you're not letting yourself fall apart cause you gotta hold it together cause you don't have a choice (oh, and I haven't fucking slept cause right when I was gonna go to bed I got summoned to come play therapist)

I'm shit right now, and I was already in a bad way... and in fact I'm doing so badly that I can't even maintain my normal fucking facades and politeness... nope, turns out that's not true and in fact my facades run deeper than I do and I 100% am still not gonna say certain things

But yeah, it's a shit day, one of the worst in a while cause it's probably the worst my mom's been in like... two decades... so that's fucking great huh?

Bonus, this bullshit with medicaid has cut her therapy sessions

If anyone gets to be pissed at them it's me, and I fucking am pissed, they can go fuck themselves, and everyone who votes to cute medicaid can know that I personally dislike them immensely

Unlike my mom though I'm not a literal fucking 12 year old (not even kidding, her problem is she's emotionally still like 12 or 14, she's literally fucking stunted there). Unlike her... I fucking function even when I'm doing bad

But serious, I was awful yesterday, just absolutely one of my low points. Only reason maybe I seem better today is basically the emotional equivalent of adrenaline

I'd be falling apart right now except for the part where I never actually fall apart or have breakdowns