#And she looked like a serene Angel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafeyscurtainbangs · 4 days ago

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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪-𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣: 𝔸𝕡𝕣è𝕤 𝕊𝕜𝕚

𝚂𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜𝙱𝙵!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚃𝚠𝚒𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: swearing, drinking, angst, mutual pining, cheating, public sex, sex in a hot tub, multiple positions, fingering, unprotecyed p in v, creampie, spanking, oral (male receiving), backshots, rough oral, pet names, dirty talk

📖 Your twin sister’s boyfriend is so hot… A family trip to Breckenridge leaves plenty of tension between you and Rafe

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

You stare out the château window, watching powdery snow swirl under the deck lights. Breckenridge is serene—stunning this time of year, but it’s almost impossible to enjoy now; your twin sister Sophie is testing you nearly every free moment since you arrived.

You take a sip of spiked cider, letting the warmth rush through you, hoping it will numb the frustration. Sophie was the perfect one—the angel. Or so everyone says so. Your mom and dad dote over her, and they always have, Sophie… So sweet and studious, so thoughtful and kind-

”Shouldn’t you be asleep by now?” Rafe asks from the kitchen as he lifts the sink handle, drawing a glass of water, a teasing edge to his voice, bullying you and your sister in the same comment. You, for going out when your parents hoped you’d be like your sister, winding down for the night. While also knocking your sister for being such a wet blanket, already in bed at 8:30 on a Friday night…

“Mhmm… Probably,” you hum, your breath making the steam from your cup roll over the edge.

“Shouldn’t you?” You ask, making him smile and nod. He brings the glass to his lips, takes a sip, and walks toward the dark hallway.

“Touché,” he mumbles against the rim of his glass. “You goin’ somewhere?”

You look over your shoulder, seeing Rafe standing there in nothing but a pair of black sweats on his muscular body, his hair damp and cut body still dewy from his shower, making your heart flutter.

“Thinkin’ about it,” you smile.

“Who with?” He asks curiously.

“Well, not you two…” You scoff. “Thanks for ditching me.” His lips draw to the side, opening his mouth to speak but you start again. “Think I might meet up with those guys we saw at lunch. They seemed fun.”

“Guys?” He asks, failing miserably at hiding his jealousy.

“Mhmm… They’re still at the resort, so I might meet them up the hill or maybe downtown. We’ll see,” you hum as you gesture to your phone as a new notification rolls in.

He nods, looking down the hallway before looking back at you. “Well, uh… Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you sing as you pull up the text thread, watching from the corner of your eyes as Rafe’s stay on yours until the last moment.

You hear another set of feet pad down the hallway, lighter than your parents. They stop, and you hear the soft, sweet peck of a kiss, making your eyes roll.

Here we go.

Your sister steps into the kitchen, opening the cupboard to grab a glass for herself. She follows in Rafe's footsteps, filling the glass with water, but her gaze is not nearly as kind.

Your eyes shift to her, then back to your phone; your sister saying so much with just a glance. Why do you go out so much? Why are you wearing that? Are you drinking again?

Admittedly, you stalked his social media account… He was fun before he met her. He's the kind of guy who might go out for a drink at 8:30 on a Friday night on vacation without feeling like the whole world will come crashing down around him the next morning.

What did she do to deserve Rafe?

There has always been tension between you… and Rafe just made it worse.

She can see it too—see how he looks at you even though she would never admit it herself…

“Goodnight,” she mumbles as she walks back toward her bedroom. You bite your lip, feeling jealous that she gets to do that, knowing she’ll probably go in there, flick off the lights, and shut her eyes… Maybe they’ll cuddle and chat, but they’re not going to do half of the shit you’d do… The kind of shit that you dream about. The things you know he thinks about, too, and each lingered stare highlights that.

It all started on the Fourth of July, the first time Sophie brought him home. He was taken aback. Of course, he knew you’d look alike, but you don’t think he ever dreamed of how you would differ; you, filling in all the spaces he wished she’d fill. Sophie is all sugar and softness, the model girlfriend and idyllic daughter. But she’s too perfect. Her edges are too smooth. He couldn’t stop stealing glances… It was intoxicating. And impossible to forget.

The downtown area is bustling, filled with people winding down after a long day of skiing. You belly up to the bar at Après Ski, hanging out with the people you told Rafe you’d meet, but your thoughts are still on him.

Even if he were here, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy yourself; you wouldn’t be able to talk to him freely with Sophie there. She would cut you down at every chance, telling stories that would surely embarrass you if she felt even the slightest tension build between you… Maybe it was for the best that he isn't...

You look at your phone, catching the time: 11:37 PM… Pulling up the UBER app, you follow the long list of options and settle on the best: reaching out to your mom to pick you up instead. Well, not her…

A quick text to your mom, a lie about no available UBERs for an hour, and a wicked surcharge. The timing was strategic, too, knowing that when you left for the night, your mom and dad had popped a bottle of red wine—the two of them having a glass or two—And, much like their daughter, a single glass of wine and driving was out of the question. Who would they have to ask? Rafe Cameron…

The rental car rolls to a stop before the bar, and your heart jumps in your chest. You hurry outside, walking down the snow-plowed sidewalk, body shivering from the winter cold.

You open the passenger's side door and slide in; your body instantly hugged in the car's heat and the warmth radiating off him.

“Hey,” you smile, keeping your tone light, not trying to give yourself away completely. “Thanks for comin’. I was-”

"Stranded?" He asks as he lifts his eyebrow, lip quirking in a smirk as he turns on his blinker, blockaded in a sea of UBERs.

“Completely,” you smile, biting back a little laugh. You're caught in your little lie in the first few seconds, but again, maybe it’s for the best.

Instead of calling you out, he just gives a short nod and eases onto the road, heading back towards your place. Silence settles over the two of you, thick with the tension of everything you aren’t saying.

Snow drifts across the dark road, headlights illuminating the space before you as you barrel through the dark Colorado night. Rafe reaches down, turning up the radio slightly. The song swelling in the car, with its sultry beat and lyrics making that pressure even more palpable.

You cross your legs in your sweater dress, letting the skirt ride up the fullness of your thighs. From the corner of your eyes, you watch Rafe’s grip on the steering wheel tighten, knuckles turning white.

He throws his gaze down for a moment, looking at you sitting pretty in your seat before returning to the road ahead. With that, a hot wave of satisfaction rolls over you.

“Uh…” Rafe’s deep utterance rumbles in his throat. “Did you, umm… Did you run into those guys from the hill?” He asks, begging the question he’s wanted to ask since he picked you up.

“Mhmm,” you smile.

You lean over to fiddle with the heater controls, purposely shifting closer. Your bare thigh grazes the center console; Rafe’s eyes linger on your bare skin yet again.

“You weren’t able to sleep?” You ask curiously as you turn slightly to the side, resting your head against the seat, giving him your sole focus. Rafe takes a deep breath and turns to you before snapping his gaze back to the road. You look down at your body, watching the way the v-neck of your dress sits even lower at this angle, your perfect tits pressed together.

“I couldn’t relax,” he responds, his voice tight and hoarse. Rafe looks at you again, double-taking, not even trying to be subtle.

"Well, maybe I can help you relax," you suggest lightly.

His breath catches. He forces his eyes back to the road, clearing his throat. "Wha-What?" He questions through a breathy laugh, wondering if those seven words just left your mouth or if he’s dreaming it.

"You must be tired, Rafe," you say softly. "Long day, and now you're chauffeuring me." You rest your hand on his big bicep, squeezing him. “Thank you, by the way...”

He laughs and shakes his head, picking up on the blatant seduction—every part of his being craving more. You bite your lip and smile.

He likes this game.

As you lay back on the seat again, the song changes, and you roll your body slightly to the music. You sing the next line. Rafe lets out a deep, sexually frustrated laugh as he drums his thumbs on the wheel.

“You are somethin’ else, sweetheart,” he mumbles, his voice taunt. His Adam’s Apple bobs in his throat, jaw clenched tight as he fights himself from looking for the nth time. "Why are you doin’ all this?"

"Doing what?" You ask dumbly as you turn your focus back to him, letting the cozy knit material of your dress tug down your shoulder a bit, highlighting yet another piece of bare skin he’s never seen before.

He gives a low, humorless laugh and scoffs. Rafe has tried to stay focused on the tree-lined drive before, but his self-control is fleeting. He exhales a sharp breath, seconds away from losing it altogether. "You know exactly what you're doing. Don’t you, princess?"

Princess? You tilt your head as he pulls into the dark driveway.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” you breathe.

“No… No, you do,” he responds teasingly.

"Maybe,” you whisper as he shuts off the car.

“You gonna go to bed or what?” He asks chastely, trying to hold on to his last shred of resolve, grasping, trying to derail his own thoughts.

“I might stay up, maybe have a drink, watch a movie maybe,” you mumble as you pull your phone out of your purse, pulling up a text chain between you and one of the guys.

“Who… Uh,” he blurts the second he sees the other guy's name across the top of your screen. “Who are you talkin’ to now?”

You look at him out of the corner of your eye, giving him a knowing glance. “Zach… He wasn’t able to come out tonight. I was just going to see if he wanted to come over and watch a movie or go out in the hot tub or something. Is that okay?” You ask teasingly.

He looks back at the house, fixing his face, and then down to the time on the clock. You watch his reaction closely; more than a flicker of jealousy… Anger too. ”Isn’t it kinda late?” He rasps.

“Alright, Sophie,” you knock.

Rafe's stare hardens on yours. "I mean, you don’t really know him-"

You turn toward him again, looking at him square in the eye. “You’ve never just hooked up with someone, Rafe? Sometimes you can just do somethin’ to have a good time… Why are you actin’ so serious? Don’t you ever just want to fuck?”

“I mean… Of course,” he murmurs, his mind a flurry of thoughts: jealousy, envy, lust.

”But you’re probably right… It’s probably too late.” You watch as his muscles soften, shoulders falling slightly. “I mean, the offer is still there for you…” You smile, letting your words drift off. Rafe’s eyebrows pinch together, wondering if that offer includes just the movie and the hot tub or the hookup, too.

You giggle and roll your eyes, keeping it vague on purpose, just to fuck with him. The two of you know full well you mean all three; Rafe, still unable to acknowledge that, playing dumb to his better judgment.

His lips part, but no words come out. A faint flush creeps across his cheeks. Neither of you speaks for a moment, letting the tension twist tighter.

Rafe lets out a sigh of relief as you slide your phone back into your purse, leaving Zach on read for the moment. He takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his emotions. "We should get inside."

The two of you walk inside the house, stripping yourselves out of your shoes and Rafe out of his puffy coat.

You walk past him, brushing up against him slightly as you move to the coat hook, catching your purse around the knob before tucking your shoes away. “Goodnight, Rafe,” you smile. “Thank you.”

”Of course,” he whispers as he turns his body toward you, making you slow slightly as he hangs up his jacket as well.

He looks down at you, following the contact, moving into it. “Rafe…” You breathe, hearing his breath hitch his name leaves your lips.

“Yeah, baby…”

Baby? Shit… "Are you sure you don't want to stay here for a minute?" You ask as you take yet another step closer.

He licks his lips, his beautiful blue eyes reflective before he hangs his head a little more. “I’m not sure about anything right now,” he mumbles weakly. Rafe turns his cheek, moving closer, the warmth of his breathing hitting your neck, making your body buzz from head to toe. “… But Sophie-”

”We don’t need to talk about her…” You silence him before he can finish his thought.

Rafe inhales as you rest your hand on his chest, feeling his heart bang underneath. You slide your hand higher, hooking it around his neck before your eyes meet again. He gives up control, leaning in the rest of the way, fighting back for a moment, and right when you think he’s about to commit, he buries himself in your neck, pressing his lips against your skin.

The kiss never truly happens, his lips brushing against the soft warmth of your neck. But the contact sends a sudden surge of adrenaline through your veins regardless. Your pulse pounds rapidly, thumping in your head as Rafe jerks back, looking down at you with a mixture of longing and regret, ebbing and flowing between the two.

“I—” he breathes, his voice thick and heavy. “I can’t... not here. Not like this. Alright?” He talks more to himself as he anxiously runs his fingers through his hair, pushing out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” you whisper, stepping around him before he can say anymore, heading toward the living room, Rafe clearly hoping you’d put up more of a fight. It’s empty; everyone’s asleep for the night. You walk to the sliding glass door and hear Rafe’s heavy footsteps along the hardwood floor.

Rafe steps into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water just like he did earlier in the night, waiting for what you’ll do next. You reach for the bottom of your sweater dress, pulling it over your head, leaving yourself in your lace bra and thong.

You hear him fumble some grumbled words past his lips, catching your attention. You turn over your shoulder, watching as his gaze sweeps over you, lingering on the thighs, your hips, your ass.

His eyes land on yours, and he clears his throat, pushing down the lump with a sip of water. You give him a little nod, no more, no less, as you grab the door handle, gliding it open.

You test the water with your toe—slipping into the hot tub, steam curling around you, leaving you sighing in relief. The jets and hot water knead and melt away your tension from the day, though your mind continues to churn.

You replay it all… All of the frustrating moments flashing through your mind: Rafe’s watchful eye on you all day, the bar-night ditching, the car ride, the near-kiss in the hallway, the way his gaze nearly devoured you in the kitchen just moments before.

Your eyes flash open, head cocking slightly as you notice Sophie’s bedroom blinds drawn open. A shadow shifts along the glass—catching Rafe’s movements. You raise your hand, waving at him teasingly, and he falls out of view just like that.

You roll your eyes and shut them again, trying to relax, but it’s useless.

Buzz.

Your phone buzzes on the hot tub’s edge, and the screen lights up with a new notification.

Rafe: hey

You: hey

You: Still can’t sleep?

Rafe: No

You: You should stop staring at your phone, then… Shut your eyes and go to sleep.

Rafe: cmon

You: What?

Rafe: I can’t get you out of my head.

Your wet fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart thumping hard.

You: What are you going to do about it?

You look at the screen, watching the typing bubbles pop up at the bottom, then disappear, only to start again.

Rafe: Nothing I should.

Rafe: But I can’t stop thinkin about you

You: Then stop pretending.

Rafe: its not that simple

You: it shouldnt be that hard

You: What if I told you I think about you too?

Rafe: I’d say I already fuckin knew.

You: Cocky much?

Rafe: Only when I’m right.

You bite your lip, look at the window, and then return to your phone.

Rafe: If shit was different, I’d already be with you.

That single line sent a shiver through you, and for a second, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You draw a deep breath, wondering what you should say next…

You: So make shit different.

You look at your phone, waiting for a message to form, but it doesn’t come. The little clock ticks away, leaving you feeling like you did in the hallway when he dodged your kiss.

Rafe: You’re going to ruin me You know that?

You: You want me to apologize Rafe?

Twenty minutes… You roll your eyes, killing the jets, letting the hot water still. The snow falls around you, melting just above the water, chilling your shoulders as it sprinkles your balmy skin.

Creak.

You look toward the sliding glass door, wide-eyed as you see him. Rafe steps a little closer. The ripples of his cut abs and V-lines cast little shadows on his tight stomach. He doesn’t have a swimsuit; this choice was probably a last-minute decision, leaving his body hugged in his black Calvin Klien briefs.

Your pulse spikes as you take in the details—eyes drawn to the gold chain glinting on his chest with each rapid, nervous breath he takes, his gaze unwavering.

"You changed your mind," you say softly.

"I couldn't.." Rafe exhales shakily. "I tried not to."

Your heart flips as he moves closer to the tub. His gaze travels over your wet skin, pausing your tits to meet the water; the rest of your body lingering just below. His big hands rest on the edge, squeezing tightly, still trying to hold himself back.

"We need to talk,” he mumbles, his voice just above a hush.

"About what?" You whisper as you turn your body toward him, chest to chest, resting your knees on the tub seat as he stands just outside. He groans as his hands fall from your eyes to your lips, down your perfect body dripping with water.

“About us… What’s goin’ on… Your fucking sist-”

”Stop,” you plead, cutting him off before he can finish. “Just don’t…”

His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, body tilting in closer and closer. His fingers thread into your wet hair as chills spread across your body, your breath catching in your chest.

When your mouths meet, everything else falls away. The kiss is hot and desperate. The warmth makes the winter cold around you disappear. Your heart pounds in your chest, keeping time with his. Rafe cups your cheeks in his big hands, pulling you closer as you lead him into the steaming water.

Your lips move in unison, tongues sliding against each other, teasing and rolling as his rough hands squeeze your body. “Fuck,” he moans as the warmth of the water surrounds you both, Rafe pulling you through the water onto his lap as he deepens the kiss. He holds you tightly, hands taking two fistfuls of ass, guiding you to grind on top of him. “You drive me crazy,” he pants between sloppy kisses.

“Mmm…” You moan in his mouth. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” you pant, and he pulls away, leaving you gasping for breath. Your lungs fill with a blend of the heat of the tub and the winter bite. He presses his forehead against yours, hands still on you, coaching you to rock on his stiff bulge.

Rafe doesn't hesitate this time. His mouth crashes onto yours again, hands roaming your curves as the steamy water laps at your back. He looks back at you, half-lidded, lips swollen; desperate for more. “What can’t you stop thinking about?” He asks, making you gasp as he presses his big hand against your pussy. His other arm wraps around your waist, your bra clinging to your skin; it leaves you feeling like nothing’s between you until he unclips it fully. The wet bra floats to the surface and you throw it over the edge as Rafe tugs down his boxers, doing the same.

“This… Being with you, fucking you, being yours, Rafe. I think about it all...”

Rafe’s eyes meet yours—his lust-hazed gaze falling down what he can see of your body. “Me too…” His hands reach where he can’t see, traveling lower and lower until his fingers curl around the band of your thong, tugging it away from your skin.

“Mhmm,” you hum as you rise in the water, stepping closer, your tits eye-level with Rafe’s face as he tugs when down.

He nuzzles into your chest, grabbing your breasts in his big hands before pressing them together, sucking down on your nipples as your hands wrap around his neck, skimming through his hair.

"Fuck, you look beautiful, princess," he sighs.

"So do you, Rafe…”

“What are you gonna let me do to you, baby?” He pants as he pulls you to him again.

You lean into him, lips brushing against his ear, moaning as you feel the friction on his hard cock, nudging against your aching clit with each roll of your hips. “Are you gonna let me suck your cock,” you smile.

"You're gonna choke on that shit, princess. Of course I am,” he hums, quickly clearing his throat as he listens to those filthy words flow so easily from his lips.

“You sure, baby? It’s really cold,” you whisper as you wrap your fingers around his dick, making him groan, tossing his head back, only for you to suck down on his neck.

“Oh, shit-” He huffs excitedly like it’s been a long time, making you smile. “You’d do that shit out here?” He asks as he looks from side to side, darkness all around you, but the rental isn’t remote; lit châteaus poke through the trees on all three sides, on top of the fact that your entire family is asleep just feet away, to one of them his girlfriend; your sister no less.

“I would,” you smile as you lean in, tits grazing the top of the water, making chills spread across your body. “Or I can just do this?” You whisper against his lips as you continue to stroke.

“Mpfhh—No… No, baby,” he groans. “I need your lips around me. Can't fuckin’ take it.”

Rafe grabs your body fast, swirling you through the water, switching positions, leave you sitting on the bench as he stands before you. You look up at him through your wet lashes as you wrap your hands around his body, nails clawing into his ass, guiding his cock to your lips.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him, Rafe’s long, thick dick resting just above the water, curving slightly up to his rock-hard stomach. Your wrap your hands around the base, pulling to the tip, watching a bead of precum pearl out of his slit. You lean in nice and slow, flicking your tongue up the seam on him, making him bite his lips to stiffen a moan.

Chills flare across his muscular body, you, so caught up in the moment and distracted with the beautiful man before you that you already forgot about the winter winds whipping around you.

“Please, princess,” he groans, the darkness in his eyes letting you know that, for the moment, he’s forgotten as well. All he wants is what you promised and what he said would happen. He wants you to choke on it.

You look up at Rafe’s, tracing his messy tip against your lips, licking them, making him moan; that sound gets swallowed up in a deeper sound as you wrap your lips around his dick fully, bringing him deep in your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Rafe smiles as you start to bob around his length, taking as much of him as you can get. “Can’t believe you’re doin’ this shit,” he smiles devilishly, looking around for anyone else before turning his focus back to you.

Rafe rests his ringed hands on your cheeks, giving you a few shallow thrusts, marveling at your trained gag reflux before pushing you further, making you choke on his cock again and again.

“Goddamn, baby,” he mumbles as he reaches his thumb up, tracing it under your eyes, catching some tears as they fall, bringing it up to his lips before sucking, checking if you were really crying from sucking him off so good. His eyes roll back in his skull, dick throbbing on your tongue as he praises you.

Rafe presses you down; his tip kisses the back of your throat, making you gag again. He releases your head, but you continue to work. "Good fucking god," he moans, chuckling sinfully.

You wrap your fingers around his dick as well, stroking as you suck, making his big muscles tremble. You fuss around his cock, the vibrations making his jaw tighten as he realizes just how much pleasure you’re getting from having his heavy dick in your mouth as well.

“You like the is shit, huh? Fuck, you’re so good—shit, you’re good at this, princess,” he hums.

Your jaw starts to ache as you deep-throat his length; Rafe’s so blissed out by the sight of you, trying his hardest to hold back his pleasure, fighting off his climax for the fear that this shit might never happen again, not wanting to lose this feeling.

“No… Fuck,” he grunts as he tosses his head back to the night sky, taking a grip on the back of your head suddenly. “Gonna… Goddamnit. I’m gonna cum, princess. You don’t have to swallow it. Alright?” Just—Just… Fuckk,” he moans as you pull him out of your mouth fast. Fisting him two times before he’s cumming with a deep groan, painting your face with ropes and ropes of warm cum.

He looks down at you mesmerized, staring at you like you’re his favorite fucking thing in existence as you lift your finger to your cheek, running it through the mess before slipping it through your lips, sucking before releasing your finger with an exaggerated pop, only to do it again.

You sink in the water, going all the way under before coming back out, pawing the hot from your hair as he looks back at you, still stunned and silent.

Rafe stands chest to chest with you, panting as he looks in your eyes. “Do I even need to say it?” He asks as he wraps his big arms around your body, bringing your lips to his. You give him a knowing glance, and he nods and bites his lip. “Best blow job of my fuckin’ life.”

“Yeah?” You ask with a slight tilt, making him nod down at you fast. You wrap your fingers around his pulsing dick, making Rafe hiss and groan as he looks down at you. Waiting for what you’ll say, wanting to go so much further with you.

You wrap your slight hand around his wrist with a smile, guiding him between your legs. “Mmm… Shit. You sure, pretty?” he mumbles.

“Stop asking, Rafe…” You whisper. “We both want the same thing.”

“Yeah?” He asks smugly as he slips his fingers through your folds, swirling over your clit, before moving a little lower. You whimper against Rafe’s lips as he pushes in one finger, then another, curling them inside you, making you throw your arms around his big shoulders.

“Fuck you make some pretty sounds, princess,” he mumbles as he thrusts his fingers into your cunt again and again, each utterance fleeing your lips more desperate than the last “They’re leaving for an early run tomorrow… I’m gonna tell her I’m not feelin’ too good,” he whispers warmly against your neck as his thumb finds your pearl, rubbing on top. “M’gonna have you screamin’. Shit… You gonna be a good girl and get loud for me?” He asks. “You’re a fuckin’ screamer… I can tell.”

“Yes, daddy-”

Sexual tension fills the space around you as he lives in that title for a moment, chuckling darkly as he replays it in his mind again. “What did you just call me?” He hums hot against your skin. “Say that shit again…” He whispers against your neck as he bites down on your skin, making you release a breathy cry for more. The thin band in your belly tightens, threatening to snap with just a little more.

“Daddy…” Your lips lock with his, Rafe swallowing moan after moan from you. Your body trembles from the pleasure coursing through your system and the cold winter chill whipping against your naked body; Rafe’s bare frame is the only thing keeping you warm.

“Let me cum on your cock,” you whisper, and before you can react, he flips you fast, pushing you to clutch the edge of the hot tub as he traces his fat tip through your folds just enough for a little extra slick before slamming inside, making your head fall forward. He doesn’t let you adjust, knowing you were close, wanting to get you off a few times if he had the chance.

You look back over your shoulder, watching Rafe’s gaze trace over your curves as it always does, following the arc of your spine, watching the way the fat of your ass jiggles with each smack of his toned hips. His brows knit tight as he sees your drenched cunt pulling him in, his cock dragging back all shiny and wet with you.

Rafe pushes on your lower back, making you arch even more, hitting that perfect spot, making your muscles quake, hand fastened over your mouth to hold back your cries of bliss. “Fuck, Rafe. I’m cumming,” you whine as you throw yourself back, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Mmm… Just slow down, princess. Shit—Shittt. Not ready to cum yet,” he grumbles. “Pussy’s too good… Fuck.”

His fingers dig into your plush ass, emptying his load deep into your fluttering cunt, but he doesn’t stop. He barely acknowledges it, though the look on his beautiful face is a dead giveaway. He just doesn’t want to stop until you cum again—screaming his name as your pretty pussy bounces on top of him.

Rafe pulls you off his dick with a shuddering breath, the man barely able to form a word, just tugging you where he wants you as his cum drips from your puffy hole. He pushes his lips against yours, kissing you breathlessly, letting his tongue slip between your lips.

“Did you cum?” You ask with a smile.

“One more,” he huffs. “Wanna get you off one more time.”

“Rafe…” You giggle.

“Maybe… Maybe I fuckin’ did. Alright? Told you… Pussy’s too goddamn good. Just use it as lube, baby. C’mon,” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again.

He rests his elbows on the side of the tub, his pulsing dick sticking out of the water. You turn around, poking your back out, hands dragging up your ass.

"Such a fuckin’ tease,” he laughs breathily, letting his hand come down on your ass with a rough crack.

“Yeah, Mr. Comin’ out in the living room to flirt with me… Without a shirt on?” You tease. “And that’s just today.”

“Yeah. Yeah… You got me there,” he sighs as he grips your ass, pulling you apart enough to watch his cum roll out of your slick hole.

He keeps his eyes locked on your pussy, catching his release on his swollen tip before pushing inside again. "Ugh... Fuck," he grunts as you start to bounce.

You move your hands to his knees, working Rafe’s cock a little quicker. Gliding him in and out of your tight pussy. "J-Jesus Christ," he mumbles as you roll your hips in a circle on his tip. Moving lower, you take him completely, all of Rafe, every motherfucking inch, as you grind your ass on his lap.

Rafe’s big arms started to tremble, holding himself up, his hips just out of the water, but he wanted to watch his creamy release work in and out.

He grabs your hip, pulling you even closer, slamming you down on his cock as little whimpers and cries slip your lips, sounds you couldn’t hold back if you tried.

“M’So close,” Rafe, you squeal as you you work yourself quicker, bouncing up and down on his cock, your body slapping against him as the shallow water sloshes around you.

Rafe stands up fast, wrapping his arms around your hip, fingers finding your clit, rubbing quickly, pushing you over the edge. You let out a pathetic cry; Rafe’s hand quickly covers your mouth, silencing you, holding his palm over your lips, muffling your moans as you cum around his big cock.

Rafe tucks himself in your neck, muscles clenching tightly as he empties himself into you again, twitching with the last remnants of his orgasm, breathing heavily into your ear. You look back at him breathlessly as he releases a deep, satisfied sigh, pulling you back into the water.

Rafe presses a kiss against your temple and then another, holding you close as he slumps a little deeper into the hot tub with you held close in his arms.

The two of you lose track of time-kissing, touching, letting the vapor swirl around you. You look up at the sky, watching the snowflakes dance down from the darkness, the winter chill letting you know you can’t stay out here forever.

When you look back at Rafe, his beautiful blue eyes are on yours, filled with anxiety. You cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs across the slight stubble. "We can't go back from this, baby," he rasps. “I don’t want to pretend like this didn’t happen-”

"Then don't,” you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers scratching into his wet hair. “We don’t have to talk about it right now…”

“Tomorrow?” he asks, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that he doesn’t want to push this aside. This isn’t a one-time thing. He wants this just as much as you do, and he’s willing to wade through the drama sooner rather than later.

“It’s going to be a mess…” You whisper.

“Yeah… I’ll be worth it for you,” he assures, his gentle rasp heard just over the steady whooshing of the jets.

“I agree.”

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @littlelamy @kisses4angels @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren @cameronwillow @rafegf-real @alphabetically-deranged @ariana2saucyy @rafestoothbrush

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formylovetodaryldixon · 1 month ago

Text

"My everything." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

A sleepless night after your and Daryl's baby was born.

A/N: Just a cheesy imagine hehe sometimes I like to imagine a soft dad!Daryl. I wrote this imagine for my Tom Holland page, so if you ever find it, you know why. Sorry if you see any grammatical errors. Hope you like it! Thank u.

Marley Rose Dixon was one month old now.

She was born in a warm room full of candles, in a blissful and foggy night in which the world of her mother and father was painted with beautiful colors again after walking in a grey world for so long, announcing her arrival with a loud cry that showed her freedom and her desire to live until the doctor (luckily, there was a few in Alexandria) placed her on your chest for the first time.

Marley was named after Daryl's older brother, and you didn't mind because despite everything, you knew how much he loved his brother. At first, the news wasn't easy for either of you two to take in (the option of abortion was considered at length), but the thought of a baby gave you both the hope that something better and more beautiful could come, too. And boy, it did.

Right there, the moment she was born, her blue eyes — identical to her father's — sparkled with the glow of two small diamonds, treasures hidden behind her long lashes from the first time she opened her eyes and gazed, serenely, at her parents, and the new world around her, a better world you two were trying to build for her.

But from that moment on, she cried, cried and cried from time to time.

At 2:54 am, Alexandria is submerged in a cozy dream far from the fear and death, unlike you, and it seems unreachable for you as you walk through your dark room taking soft steps and soft bounces, holding in your arms a small human being created from a great love and blah, blah, blah, other nonsense things you used to believe before being deprived of such a necessary resource, for your sanity and mental health (you didn't sleep much before her, and Daryl even less, but still), But you chuckle, numb from lack of sleep, tired, but at peace with yourself as her little head lies on your right arm and your left hand gently caresses her back, wrapped comfortably in a white blanket with pictures of little elephants, just like the pillow in the shape of the same animal that Uncle Rick found for her during a run.

You love her, you are crazy about her, even if days became difficult and nights were exhausting, (even with the monumental help Carol and the rest of the family gave you), but all the reward is in being able to hold her in your arms, warm and safe. Daryl calls her his angel, his princess, and at the time, it is an appropriate nickname for someone who cries to make her demands heard.

You chuckle, again.

"Is she tellin’ ya a good joke?" Daryl walks into the room, holding a bottle of warm milk in his hand.

You and Carol taught him how to do it, and now, he is an expert. His brown hair is tousled, but it usually is so no one could tell the difference, eyes tired from lack of sleep, shirtless and in gray loose sweatpants he refused to wear at first.

“15 minutes to make the milk? I was starting to get worried actually." You raise an eyebrow, speaking softly. "Why did you take so long? The milk is in the kitchen, not in another country."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Daryl apologizes as he hands you the bottle, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his daughter stop crying the moment she feels the bottle against her pretty pink lips. "I closed ma eyes and jus' fell asleep for a minute."

You frown, continuing to stroke Marley's back.

"In a chair? On the counter?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl's head falls until he almost hits his chest with his own chin, waking up from his light sleep before looking back at you. It's still funny to you how easy it was for him to go without sleep all those years, but after a month with Marley, Daryl considered killing walkers an easier task.

"What? No. Standin’. Didn't know that was even possible."

You shake your head gently, looking away to your baby who is enjoying a meal at 3 in the morning, resting peacefully, just like a princess, in your arms with eyes closed, body relaxed, arms outstretched to pretend to hold the bottle in your hand.

“Even dad can get a nap; you sleep whenever you feel like it… so, where is mom's nap? I mean, I've slept an hour every night since you were born, the room is a mess like us, and my breasts hurt too much."

Daryl chuckles.

"Can't help ya with that, darling. In fact, I think that's exactly what got us into this mess."

"What?"

"Yer boobs." Daryl babbles, smiling wearily, eyes closed as he falls against the edge of the bed, only to stop holding his own weight when he can no longer bear it. “Yer incredible, amazing boobs. They’re amazing and I love ‘em so much, but they were the temptation that brought us… this beautiful gift."

You shrug your shoulders, agreeing with him.

"They are amazing, and she is beautiful when she doesn't cry.”

"That's when I love ‘er the most." Daryl answers, and a second later, you both chuckle in unison.

“Although, it was kind of your fault for wanting to do it without a condom, you horny bastard.”

Daryl chuckles, and because he wasn't used to doing that before you, that tiny sound is endearing.

“Ya regret it?”

"Never." You say with confidence, because you know that he did not regret the decision either. You laugh quietly, after a while. “But… you know what I was thinking?”

“Um?”

“That this would be a good time to save money so she can go to a good college.” You joke. But Daryl wasn't used to making jokes, so with the help of the moonlight coming through the window, fighting the darkness of the room, he raises himself slightly to look you in the eyes, his brow slightly furrowed. “Jesus, I’m just kidding.”

Daryl chuckles, falling on the bed again, one arm over his eyes.

“Ya think is a good idea if we teach her how to kill walkers when she gets older? Marley could be the new little ass kicker.”

You smile to yourself, because for some reason, your daughter's name on his lips is like sweet honey. And, although you wanted to protect her from that world, the rules had changed, and in order to survive, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself too. Fortunately, it was still too early to think about that.

So, asleep again, you leave Marley in her crib near the bed before returning to it, laying down next to Daryl as he rolls over onto his left side, taking advantage of the time that you still have until the baby wakes up again, just to repeat the cycle you have been living in since Marley was born.

But life still feels good despite the fatigue and the occasional physical pain, because she was everything you never imagined you could have, not in that world, and she, more beautiful than you had ever dreamed of during the wait.

"Thanks, peach." Daryl whispers, so close to you that you can feel his nose against yours, his hand caressing your waist over your shirt, but you're so tired that it takes you a few seconds to gather your strength to respond.

"Why?"

"For our baby, for lovin’ me, for givin’ me a home. Ya two are ma everythin'."

You smiled, sighing.

"You're welcome, love. We are very, very lucky to have you." You say, taking a breath to answer as you look at him: eyes closed, body finally relaxed after having her on his chest most of the day. He is a good dad, the best. "But still, the next turn is yours alone."

Daryl, amused, looks blindly for the warmth of your body to pull you against him, tickling you slightly and that have you both smiling softly despite the absolute exhaustion, a few seconds before you both can fall into a deep sleep, finally.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #dad!daryl dixon

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ceesimz · 3 months ago

Text

Angel

What happens when the team finds out about your relationship? (Autistic reader x Barça Femení)

As always, the other parts of Reverie can be found here. This one gets a bit deep.

One thing you had come to learn about your new team was that they never shied away from gossip. Like most people, they did have their limits, but if it was gossip within the team, especially about any possible relationships, well… they simply couldn't be stopped.

You indulged in it of course, you're only human after all, you just hadn't prepared yourself for the moment that the topic was your love life. And it seemed that the team didn’t really take into account how you would feel about it all.

If there was one thing that would send you into some kind of meltdown, it was people talking about you without you knowing. That was something that had plagued you as a teenager, and as ridiculous as it may seem to others, it was something that still sent you spiralling endlessly. All you wanted was to be liked and to fit in, whenever those things seemed at risk, it had you scurrying back into your shell and headfirst into a deep pit of anxiety.

It had been a matter of weeks since you and Alexia got together, and an even shorter amount of time since you had confessed your love to each other, but living in the content bubble of privacy was everything you needed and more. A part of you loved the thrill of sneaking around, like how you both drive separately to and from training only to end up at the other's apartment afterwards, and how you both hide away in the corners of any cafés you come across.

But the thing is, it seemed the two of you weren't quite as discreet as you thought.

The morning it all came falling down was the same as any other day; you woke up in your bed with Alexia asleep on the other side of you, facing away as the sun shone into the room and lit up the tattoos on her back like an art display. Not long after you looked over at her did a smile appear, and you couldn’t resist shuffling up behind her and wrapping yourself around her body to nestle into her. Your alarm hadn’t gone off yet and the sun wasn’t fully up, meaning there was more than enough time to enjoy each other’s company before the day that faced you began. Mornings were your favourite, and if Alexia thought she was a morning person before you, you had come along and totally trumped her in that. The world was yours in the early hours of the day, it was peaceful and serene without the interruptions of life as the birds sang and the dew covered the grass.

Apparently that particular morning was the calm before the storm.

Alexia drove the pair of you to training, arriving earlier than the rest of the squad and going your separate ways once in the building, Alexia with some media commitments and you with a physio session for a slight knock picked up in the game a few days prior. Nobody else had shown up yet and they wouldn’t for some time, so the possibility that someone might pick up on something was far from your minds.

Apart from the one car parked up outside and the weirdly frequent amount of time spent together and the obvious love in each other’s eyes, there were no signs at all. Zero.

Perhaps you weren’t the only oblivious one in the relationship.

“-there is something going on, Mapi.” Jana smirked as she walked into the building alongside the older defender whilst Ingrid followed behind.

“There is nothing! Don’t ask me.” Mapi put on that classic confused look on her face and paired it with a shrug, desperately holding back a grin that she knew Ingrid would scold her for.

“Everybody can see the way Ale looks at her, and how she looks at Ale. I made a bet with Keira, please.” Jana continued, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, which it was, before turning to Mapi again with a pleading look on her face.

“Jana.” Ingrid warned lightly, more than aware of the conversations that have been had by most of the team but way too concerned with how you'd react to it all. She assumed her teammates would have more sense about doing this about you, but apparently not.

“Come on, Mapi. Just shake your head or something, someone like you can’t keep a secret. And it’ll come out eventually so why not just say it now.” Jana had her arms wrapped around Mapi’s arms, tugging every so often to persuade her.

“María, don't. Jana, there is nothing going on. Let them be.” The Norwegian gave her final warning, quite frankly tired of the topic and annoyed with her teammates' behaviour.

It wasn’t only how Jana was acting now, it was the fact the majority of the team had been speculating for some time already, and though she had witnessed their nosiness before, this time around she was far from happy about it. She wasn’t really one to have so much intrigue in her teammates’ lives, she believed if they wanted to talk about it then they would, so there was no use in indulging in meaningless gossip that really had no benefits for anyone apart from satisfying the curiosity of people that had no business being interested anyway. That, added onto the fact she knew you would probably have some kind of meltdown if you overheard anything, meant she was sick to death of others’ careless actions.

However, by defending you, she had only made it worse.

“Oh, so there is something going on? That’s why Mapi isn’t talking?” Jana’s face lit up and Ingrid was instantly filled with dread from head to toe. Before she could stop the younger girl, she was already darting off to her other friends to share the new information. And that’s where the situation reached its peak.

You were more than fine, living blissfully unaware throughout the morning. Alexia was at your side, training was fun and light that day, and you had woken up feeling especially good that morning. Not much could stop you. The exclusion to that was of course the whole team gossipping about not only you, but Alexia too.

“You’re such a liar! I didn’t cheat, you’re the one that dropped your cards everywhere. My eyes were already looking in that direction, it just so happened to be that that’s where your cards landed.” You argued back at Alexia, stuck in a heated debate about how you had apparently cheated at a game of cards with her family the previous night. The blonde tutted in disagreement and gave you a light shove, suppressing a smile at the laugh you responded with.

“Already at the family game nights, huh?” Patri came up alongside you and smirked as her eyebrows raised, before she was quickly tugged away by Claudia, leaving you confused.

“What did she mean by that?” You turned to Alexia to see if she had any better understanding, only to find what looked like a resigned and slightly panicked expression on her face. “Ale?”

“Nothing, cariño, she is just teasing. Forget about it.” Her arm wrapped around your shoulder briefly as she gave you a quick reassuring hug, but she pulled away too soon to make you feel at ease.

What she wasn’t clueing you in on was the seed of worry that Patri had just planted. Like Ingrid, Alexia also knew how you would react to the team finding out about the relationship before you were ready. To make matters worse, she had no idea what she could do to prevent the secret being revealed because it seemed like the damage had already been done. Sure, she was the captain, but that title means nothing when it comes to her personal life which had already been invaded by the people she thought knew better. There was nothing left to do but watch it all come falling down before her.

Despite the odd teasing remark from Patri, you were still in a fairly great mood. The same couldn’t be said for Ingrid and Alexia who sat at your table for lunch. It wasn’t often that you stayed for lunch, and you couldn’t have chosen a more unfortunate day to stay. Your two favourite people had pensive looks on their faces that stuck for the majority of lunch, putting you a little on edge throughout.

Ultimately, though, secrets had to come to light at some point. You never planned for it to happen in the way it did.

“Does the happy couple want to join us for dinner later?” Marta, of all people, asked with a grin as her hands landed on yours and Alexia’s shoulders as she came to stand behind you both.

“Marta!” Ingrid scolded immediately, but it was too late.

“What? Everybody knows that Ale is wrapped around her finger. Didn’t take long, no?” She smirked down at you, taking no notice of the fact you had completely frozen.

Both Ingrid and Alexia rattled off arguments, trying their best to do damage control, though to no avail. The warning signs of an internalised meltdown were already taking over and shutting down your nervous system – the type of meltdown you knew was coming was sometimes the most exhausting type. Masking on its own took all of your energy, but masking an entire meltdown was a whole different thing.

You weren’t safe here. There were eyes all around, people you weren’t too familiar with, and nothing in this room, in fact in the whole building, could help you regulate yourself. In only a matter of minutes, everything around you turned into a trigger.

Marta’s hand still sat on your shoulder. Your skin crawled with the sensation of at least thirty pairs of eyes on you. With each second that passed by, the noise of the cafeteria grew louder in your ears even though in reality it only quietened when people realised what was happening.

Your hands trembled intensely under the table, you were sure Marta would be able to feel your entire body shaking, and your breathing quickened until hardly any oxygen was getting to your lungs. It was at that point where the intrusive thoughts kicked in.

The cherry on top of the cake in this scenario too is that it wasn’t just about you, it was about Alexia too. So not only were you drowning in anxiety and fear and shame, you couldn’t cope with the guilt that came at the fact you had dragged Alexia into all this.

Was now the time Alexia realised she could be with someone much better than you, now that the relationship was no longer secret? Now that you and all that was wrong with you wasn’t hidden behind apartment walls and cafe doors, would she be too embarrassed by you to stay? What would your teammates think? You hadn’t even been here for a full season yet, and you had already claimed their captain for yourself.

Those were the kinds of things swirling around your mind as the world carried on around you, but they were merely a drop in the ocean and definitely not the worst of them. Some were unimaginable, to the point where if any allistic person were to ask what went through your mind during a meltdown, they would be horrified by the things they would hear. You wouldn’t wish a meltdown of any kind upon your worst enemy.

It was too much to handle. Too many eyes, too many opinions in one room, too many ways to be perceived. The only realistic option was leaving.

The sound of your chair scraping against the floor as you abruptly stood up cut through the tension in the room, bringing everyone to a sudden silence as they watched you leave the room as quickly as possible without it being classed as running away. You had no idea where to go, but your legs were taking you anyway, and at that moment it felt like you were watching yourself in third person. You were in your body, but you weren’t present. Your mind was still back in that cafeteria, thinking and thinking over and over again, stuck in the fear of the fact you had just ruined the life you had built for yourself whilst you fully succumbed to the meltdown clawing its way into your body.

All you wanted to do was go home, to have the measly comfort of falling apart in the four walls of your flat, where you had the safety net of the fact that nobody was around to walk in on you. Instead, you had to settle for a place that still didn’t feel safe and never would.

Somewhere in your subconscious you made the decision to find a spot away from everyone, ending up in a small, empty and unclaimed office. As always, your feet took you straight to the corner of the room furthest from the door, slumping down against the wall and sliding until you were sat on the floor. Your legs came up so that your knees were pressed tightly against your chest, further emphasised by the pressure your arms gave when they wrapped around your legs. It helped, the pressure your own embrace provided, but it was nowhere near enough to calm you down to a point where you could put a stop to everything happening inside of you.

There, in the safest environment you could find, you accepted the impending implosion, and let it wholly consume you. It wasn’t a meltdown filled with anger and frustration, the type that led to a whirlwind of destruction, but one that had your eyes flooding and overflowing with tears that would inevitably lead to a nasty migraine afterwards. But in that moment, there was no after. A meltdown came with the sense that the world was ending, that there wasn’t a life you could lead after it that wasn’t ruled by the intrusive thoughts which ruthlessly ran rampant through your mind becoming a reality. That really would be world-ending.

For some time, you weren’t convinced you were breathing. Your lungs felt so constricted by the heaviness that weighed upon your chest that you weren’t sure you could stay conscious. There was ringing in your ears that deafened you almost, adding to how completely unaware you were of your surroundings. Nausea churned in your stomach, though you weren’t in the state of mind to be able to recognise if that was a result of the anxiety overwhelming you or the constant rocking back and forth you were doing.

In fact, you were so oblivious, you didn’t notice the door swing open, nor did you hear the figure at the door shout down the hallway outside the room to announce you had been found. It was only when gentle hands lifted your head where it rested against your knees that you realised someone was in front of you. And who else would it be than Ingrid.

“Hey, snuppa.” The defender smiled sadly, hating how your face was completely void of emotion apart from the redness to your eyes and the tears still falling continuously down your cheeks.

It was in moments like this where Ingrid realised, no matter how much she tried, she will never fully understand the extent of the struggles you have. As she looked at you, she saw that your face was empty, anyone who didn’t know would think you were just spaced out or something, but Ingrid knew there was a deadly storm kicking off in your mind. A storm whose weapons of choice were the tears streaming from your hauntingly blank eyes, and the sharp flashes of vicious words followed by the darkest clouds of shame and inadequacy. Nobody else would understand the pain of it, and it killed the defender that she couldn’t do a thing about that.

“I’m so sorry that happened in there. They shouldn’t have acted like that, not without coming to you first. They just… weren’t thinking.”

Why didn’t they think about me?

“I should have made a better effort in getting them to stop talking about it.”

You knew? Why didn’t you make a better effort?

“They didn’t mean anything bad by it, it’s just them being clowns, you know what they’re like.”

What if they did mean something bad by it?

“Alexia is worried about you.”

I just want to go home.

“Home.” You whispered, shrinking back into yourself and away from the hands that were still on your cheeks. You hastily brushed away the remaining tears with shaking thumbs, though they were instantly replaced by new ones that didn’t hesitate to fall.

“I can take you home, that’s okay.”

The person that helped you stand then, it wasn’t Ingrid. It was just a body, a face you didn’t recognise in your mid-meltdown daze. There was no longer a functioning world outside the confines of your beaten mind, your senses were completely overwhelmed to the point they no longer worked. An arm was wrapped around your waist as you were led to the car park, but all you could focus on was each step you took. Moving was difficult, so you poured all your remaining energy into making sure your legs could carry you to the car at least.

Whether people watched you on the way to Ingrid’s car or not, you were passed the point of caring. The merciless thoughts weren’t tiring anytime soon but they had exhausted you, beating you down until you were completely mindless. They had prepared you for your team to hate you, so that was old news by the time you were being guided down the halls and no doubt past their curious stares.

All of your belongings were left back in the changing rooms, including your phone and your change of clothes and everything else. Thankfully Ingrid was wise enough to know you didn’t care about any of those things now, all you wanted to do was go home, fall into bed, and never leave again.

That’s exactly what you did. The time walked by before you as you watched the minutes tick by on the digital clock on your bedside table. At some point, Ingrid had peaked her head in to check on you and Mapi had come along to drop off your things whilst an anxious Alexia waited in her car in case you wanted her.

You didn’t.

You couldn’t face her right now, probably not for the rest of the day either. It was easier to be the rejecter rather than the rejected. Too often were you the one going through all the pain that came with rejection, and experiencing it at the hands of Alexia might just end it all for you.

Figuring out where to go from here was something that would have to wait a while. Hours, days, weeks, you weren’t sure. It had been a tough day, the toughest in a while. Your last meltdown had been a destructive one – a performance that you deemed bad in a match you put way too much pressure on yourself for was enough reason to get so wildly angry, you had no choice but to act out. That was in the privacy of your own home though, not in a public setting, at work no less. The repercussions of it all were something you didn’t want to face.

So you stayed in bed. For hours, you didn’t move a muscle. The duvet covered you up to your shoulders and the scent of Alexia lingered on the fabric of the sheets, the most comforting mix of her perfume and the conditioner she used when showering the night before. And by the time the sun set, it felt like your bones had sunk into the mattress, as if you’d found yourself in quicksand or had fallen into concrete. There was no way you could make it out if you tried.

Nothing, apart from being thousands of miles away from the situation you found yourself in, could entice you to move.

—

“Have you heard from her yet?” Alexia asked desperately for perhaps the third time in ten minutes.

“No, Ale.” Mapi sighed from the kitchen area.

Ingrid and Mapi had decided to let Alexia stay with them, knowing that the older girl was probably going crazy as a result of her anxiety. The Norwegian was somewhat familiar with how these things go for you, your alone time to try and regulate was an important step of getting back to being your normal self. However, she also knew that being alone could sometimes make it worse. She was stuck in between those two possibilities, wondering when the right time to step in was. It just didn’t help when Alexia was pacing around the apartment or tapping her foot against the floor as she sat on the couch.

Mapi was making dinner for the three of them, whilst also ensuring there was an extra portion for you if you wanted to eat at any point that evening. They were all worried to some degree, but Alexia’s concern had reached new heights. Last time this happened to you, you were alone for the whole night with no one to comfort you, and that thought made her sick. All she wanted to do was see you at least, then from there she could figure out what to do to help. Yet, she was still inexperienced, so the only thing she trusted herself to do was to listen to Ingrid, the one who had been around for almost eleven years longer than she had. Her patience was wearing thin, however.

“I just want to see her, I-”

“Alexia, listen to me.” Ingrid dropped the laundry she was folding and headed over to where Alexia was. She sat down on the coffee table in front of her captain and sighed just like her girlfriend had done a moment ago. “In her mind, you’re probably the last person she wants to see right now.”

“But why! I don’t g-”

“Listen.” Ingrid said sternly, silencing the blonde. “I know you are worried, scared, whatever. We all are. But we have to put our emotions aside and wait for her. Meltdowns aren’t something that happen to you, they happen to her, so think about that for a second. She needs the time alone to regulate herself again, to allow her body to rest. It might not have looked extreme, but trust me when I say it was. Her own mind was attacking her but because she was in public, she forced it down and hid it. It’s so intense, when that happens, it’s not just a mental thing but a physical thing too. You have to remember that what she experiences is so different to anything we will ever know, so everything from this point on has to be on her terms. Okay?”

No matter what anyone said to her in that moment, Alexia knew she wouldn’t feel at all at ease until she saw you. But Ingrid’s words did help, even if it was only the tiniest bit. It settled her because most of all she trusted you.

Once in the past, you had told her that your meltdowns were something that made you feel so out of control that you’d do anything to regain it back, to have some sense of the world again. Even if that meant extreme measures. That was the young, scared version of you though, you had told her. As an adult now, you were a lot… safer in your recovery methods. And she trusted you, she did, she just couldn’t help but feel sickeningly worried. Nobody could really blame her, it wasn’t a comforting thought to know she was in the same building as you, and yet there wasn’t a thing she could do other than wait it out.

“I… I love her though.” She knew her arguments were futile, but it felt better than sitting there and doing nothing.

“You love her?” Mapi asked in disbelief, followed by a tut from Ingrid.

“I love her. She knows that, right?” The blonde turned to the woman in front of her with a desperate look on her eyes.

“She does. She does, Alexia, and I know for a fact that she does.” Ingrid placed a hand on Alexia’s bouncing knee and squeezed it reassuringly; she understood how her captain was feeling, she’d been in her place plenty of times before.

“I just want to take it all from her so she can feel better, so she knows I love her and I don’t blame her for today.” Alexia mumbled, fidgeting with the drawstring of her training shorts that she still hadn't changed out of.

“I know. It's hard, but these are the times where she needs us by her side the most.” Ingrid stated quietly, hoping Alexia understood the gravity of her words.

“Forever, Ingrid, I will be by her side forever. I swear it.” Her eyes had gone wide and her shoulders had lifted up into a shrug to emphasise her promise. Ingrid didn't doubt her for a second.

As much as she tried to resist, as the evening dragged on, Ingrid’s patience started to wear away. Her concern was beginning to override her adamance to give you the space she thought you needed. She could tell, as she glanced around the quiet room save for the scraping of cutlery against ceramic, that Alexia and Mapi felt the same way.

Alexia hardly moved from her spot in the corner of the sofa, staring out of the window as her leg bounced anxiously. Mapi didn’t know what to do with herself, because even though she wouldn’t really play a major part in helping you come down from the state you were in, bar a few terrible jokes here and there, her world fell off-kilt knowing you were enduring such an awful time. You weren’t as close with her as you were with Alexia and Ingrid, obviously, but she still saw you as such an important figure in her life that nothing was the same without you. She loved your near constant joy, you were quite possibly the happiest person she’d met, and that was a big statement coming from someone like her. Your glee was infectious, and she was certain that everybody felt the same kind of unease when you weren’t yourself.

The silence throughout the apartment that settled after dinner was so discomforting that waiting simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. Almost as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, they all hit their limit. It had been hours since anyone had seen or heard from you and waiting simply wasn’t cutting it anymore. No one was brave enough to say it though. If they all marched up to your apartment, god only knows what reaction you would have. Nobody wanted to be the person that broke your trust.

It was Alexia that decided to take that risk.

“What if I went and checked on her?” She broke the silence and glanced around nervously at the other two, who then looked at each apprehensively. “If she kicks me out, I will leave. But I cannot sit here and do nothing any longer. It’s killing me.”

A few thoughtful moments passed by, before Ingrid groaned quietly and buried her face into her hands. At that, Mapi pursed her lips and answered for her.

“I think there is nothing else we can do but try.” The shorter defender answered diplomatically, nodding as she spoke. “The spare key is on Ingrid’s keys.”

“Ingrid?” Alexia asked. It was important to her that she had Ingrid’s trust as the Norwegian had dealt with this countless times over the past decade.

“Yes. Go. Please be patient with her.” She pleaded in a fearful voice. At that, the Barcelona captain jumped up from her seat and went to leave instantly.

In the weirdest way, it was hard for Ingrid to hand over this responsibility. Other than Mapi, you were the most important person in her life. She had been the person you go to for nearly eleven years – she had seen you at your worst and recently she’d seen you at your best. But with the introduction of Alexia into your life, as overjoyed as she was for you, it came with a strange sense of loss. Rationally she knew you were going nowhere of course, and yet she mostly felt… sad. It felt a little pathetic to her, that she thought of it like that, she just couldn’t help it. Mapi sensed her girlfriend’s feelings and moved to sit by her side immediately to comfort her, meanwhile Alexia couldn’t get out of the door quick enough.

Instead of taking the elevator, Alexia ran straight to the stairs and made her way up to your floor in mere seconds. The keys rattled in her hands as she headed to your apartment, and her hands shook as she tried to find the right key to unlock your door. When she missed the keyhole a couple times, she took a deep breath to calm herself and rolled her shoulders a couple times. In that split second, she knew, had you been there, you would have laughed at the slightly dramatic scene. As odd as that may seem, that little thought calmed her anxiety the tiniest bit, and with a final breath out, she unlocked the door.

Unsurprisingly, the lights were off in the apartment and the curtains were drawn, your way of blocking the world out. There wasn’t a sound, and her footsteps bounced off the walls as she walked through the flat until she reached your bedroom door. She knocked on quietly, trying not to disturb the apparent peace.

“It is just me, Alexia. May I come in, engel?”

Exactly as she expected, she got no response. That was better than getting kicked out, she supposed.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

She opened the door and walked in on a scene that wasn’t so unfamiliar anymore, and she figured she best get used to it anyway if she planned on sticking around. You were on your side, facing away from the door, like you were when Ingrid had been the one to check on you the last time this happened. Even as she padded over to where you lay, she got no reaction. It wasn’t until she cautiously sat on the carpet, her back against the bedside drawers with her head turned towards you, that she confirmed you weren’t asleep.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see you were awake and staring absentmindedly straight ahead, through her even. Last time, she didn’t see this part of you. She only saw the by-product of Ingrid’s support and love. This was something that sent chills through her, not out of fear or intimidation or whatever, but because of the overload of emotions she felt at the sight. Never in her life had she felt such pain for someone else.

“Hi, amor.” She whispered. Truthfully, she had no idea what to do, or where to start. Rather foolishly, she had underestimated the whole thing. “Um… I didn’t want to leave you on your own any longer. I wanted to come check on you.”

Normally, with everything Alexia did in her life, she had the confidence in knowing what she was doing and exactly how she was going to do it. This situation was something entirely different. But, if she was going to learn to do better for you when things like this happened, there was nothing she would rather do in this scenario than try.

“Ingrid told me once that sometimes just sitting with you helps with the thoughts you have, so… I will wait here as long as you want me to. I love you.”

She didn’t want to overwhelm you, but at the same time she couldn’t bear taking her eyes off of you. Just being by your side had eased some of her anxiety. She hoped it did the same for you.

“Today was a bad day, but that’s okay. Bad days are okay. You can come back from them. I remember you telling me that when this happens, it feels like the world is ending. I know I can’t stop your meltdowns but I will always be here to remind you that I love you more than anyone else I have ever met. And that people in your life adore you so much that nothing could change that. You are just you, all the time, and that might be my favourite thing in the world.”

The midfielder found herself rambling, which wasn’t something she did very often at all, but the words flowed continuously. Whether you could hear her or were taking anything she said on board, she didn’t mind.

Fortunately, you could hear her, and you were taking everything she said and holding onto it for dear life. With each word she spoke, you felt yourself coming back more and more. Those voices had been shut out by Alexia’s tentative rambling. The tears that you knew would drop any second were the first sign of you becoming somewhat lucid again.

“I am not angry or upset with you. Today wasn’t your fault. Not the outing, not the teasing, not the meltdown. You were just a passenger in it all, yet you got the worst of it. You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“No.” Your voice was hoarse and hardly there when you spoke, and even though it was a short single syllable you uttered, it still cracked with emotion.

Alexia almost flinched at that, having not expected it at all.

“Hm?” She hummed, shuffling a little closer to the bed if that was at all possible.

“No sorrys.” You murmured. Alexia frowned, and she itched to reach out and stroke through your hair or cup your cheek or do anything to comfort you.

“Okay.” She nodded, unsure of what else to do. To scratch that itch from a moment ago, she brought her legs up and crossed her arms over her knees, a few fingertips of one hand outstretched to rest on the edge of the bed. “I… I don’t want you to feel guilty. I think, in the end, maybe it was only a matter of time before everyone found out about us. They shouldn’t have acted so nonchalantly about it, but I also don’t think we hid it too well.”

“You don’t have to be here.” You completely ignored what she had said, too focused on your shame instead. Shame that stemmed from the events back at the cafeteria, at not only having a meltdown which brought those feelings on anyway, but having one in front of your whole club. This one felt so much more complex than any others you’d had in a while.

Alexia’s resolve broke then – one of her hands cautiously reached under the duvet to find the hand of yours that wasn’t resting underneath your head. She found it, balled up tightly against your chest, and with both of her hands now, she unclenched it and covered it, gently bringing it to her mouth so she could press repetitive, soft kisses against your skin.

“I don't have to but I want to. I need to, for myself, because you are my girlfriend and I need to make sure you are okay. I love you no matter how you feel, and even if me being here doesn't make you feel much better, I'm just glad I’m here.”

Something about that struck a nerve. Before you knew it, those brewing tears made themselves known as they fell steadily. Alexia dropped your hand, which caused a brief moment of panic for you, until she rose to her knees and her hands landed delicately on your face instead. Her lips brushed against every tear that fell, kissing each one before leaning her forehead against yours.

“I love you. I don’t want you to ever doubt that.” She whispered, because some part of her knew that it was her portrayal of her adoration that had finally cracked you.

It was exactly that. No matter how many times it was said, there was just some embedded insecurity within you that couldn’t accept it when you didn’t love yourself like this. Perhaps it would stay with you for life, but that didn’t seem so horrifying if Alexia reacted like this everytime the worst part of yourself was so clearly on show.

“You do make me feel better.” You manage to choke out in the midst of your sobs.

Alexia couldn’t bear the feeling of not having you in her arms whilst you were crying so heavily, so she moved away only for a second before you felt the bed dip behind you. Then, she was gently urging you to roll over, which you did immediately. Her arms engulfed you entirely, and the pressure from her hug was so much more comforting than that of yours earlier in that heartless office.

She let you get it all out, even if it did take a while, but even when your sobs had subsided, she didn’t move a muscle. For that, you were grateful. Being wrapped up and held tightly by her, your face buried in her chest, was so much better than laying on your own with nothing but the intrusions in your mind.

And when your thoughts cleared, you gained an ounce of clarity again. Neither of you spoke, but there had been enough emotions in the day that there wasn’t any need for them. There was just one thing that you had realised, the brightest silver lining: Alexia loved you. Truly and wholeheartedly, even if you didn’t understand it. Sure, she had said it in the past and shown it in various ways, though none of those occasions could ever live up to this one.

This one was her accepting the worst part of yourself. This was her sticking by you when you knew it was the hardest time to stay. This was it.

Having your relationship exposed might have seemed like the end of the world at the time, and though that thought hadn’t completely left yet, it had given way for two much better realistions. Firstly, Alexia loved you. And secondly, apparently you can’t mask love.

“It really was quite obvious, wasn’t it?” You would grimace the next morning when the pair of you ate breakfast in bed together. Your girlfriend, the woman that loved you, turned to you with an equally pinched face and you stared at each other for a few moments, until you broke out into laughter about it all.

That was the thing with Alexia – she made it all brighter and so, so much easier.

—

because what else do autistic people struggle with than the opinions of others 🫠 writing about a meltdown is hardddd so this took a lot for me to write, it's more than just writing anxiety when it comes to posting this one. it's depicting the part of myself i hate most. it's an unexplainable, awful awful experience but anyway i hope my words did it justice, i'm not sure about it but i hope you liked the story regardless 🫶🏼🧡

#fcb femení x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso community #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #mapi leon #fcb femeni #barcelona femeni #woso fic

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ar-ghilas-vir-banal · 23 days ago

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I’m just a feral mess over here at work and if I don’t do something about it, I’m going to combust. So bear with me.

Just the entire kiss. The entire freaking kiss.

I saw someone else’s take that this is NOT the moment for kisses. Absolutely correct. Solas is in shock. Look at him. Bleeding, exhausted, even the way he moves. There are injuries under his clothes that make yiu wonder how wise bonding the Veil to his life force is. Man’s got blight crap, blood, probably a little vomit in his mouth. He probably stinks of sweat and rot. He looks like Lavellan could push him over with a gentle shove.

It’s not, however, about having a hot and steamy make out sesh right now. It’s about assurance and a promise. Lavellan’s promise. And very much so, this isn’t Solas kissing her. It’s her kissing him.

But before even that.

“You don’t have to go alone.”

The way he responds. He wants her to go too so badly. Please. Please don’t let me be alone in that place. But… “where I’m going is terrible.” Saying it, we can see tears flood his eyes but they don’t fall. He doesn’t allow himself to crumble again, not before her. He stopped her once. He won’t again. But absolutely there is a warning. This will be no lovely dream for them. This existence will be hard. And that’s… if she doesn’t change her mind. If she doesn’t finally shriek “YOU’RE A MONSTER GET AWAY” and sent him to his own personal to rot alone for eternity.

Lavellan just gazes at him serenely. Kindly. Lovingly. She achieved what she had so fiercely hoped to achieve. He’s Solas again. Her Solas. The kiss isn’t “I want to yank you through there and do stuff”, it’s “you are the one who I love and I don’t care where it is that I love you. It’s home if you’re there.”

And he doesn’t so much kiss her back and allow himself to be kissed. He tries a little. But then he just. Lets it happen. It’s like he’s leaning down to brush his lips to those of an angel. And the smile he gives her. It’s pained. Weary. But in her there is the sunrise. It’s going to be okay.

Somehow.

He has Hope again. The bright spirit of Hope refuses to abandon him. And he will not abandon her this time. Never again.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #arsulahn lavellan #solas dragon age #solas x lavellan #solas x female lavellan

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moonstruckme · 3 months ago

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hihi mae!! in honor of the season, could i request reader convincing bodygaurd!james to carve pumpkins together. and it’s basically just him on the brink of cardiac arrest bc reader is using the biggest butcher knife possible, like an absolute menace, and he’s 100% convinced she’s gonna saw her fingers off lol. thx for considering ♡

Thank you lovely!!

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 814 words

James has half a mind to find you a plastic knife and let you make do with that. It might take you a while longer, yeah, but at least he wouldn’t have to feel every muscle in his body tense each time you stab the knife you’ve picked through your pumpkin.

“I thought you were doing a cat,” he says, watching you push another piece out from what will be your pumpkin’s mouth.

“I am.”

“Why does it have fangs?”

“It just felt like it should.” You shrug. “Sort of spookier that way, right? Maybe it’s a vampire cat.”

“And here I thought it was going to be cute.”

You smile at him. “No, Jamie. That’s yours.”

With all his attention on making sure you don’t slash yourself, James has made pitifully little progress on his own pumpkin. He’s only managed to cut out the nose, but when he’s done it’s going to be a classic, smiling jack-o-lantern, except with hearts for eyes. You’d beamed and called it fitting when James told you his plan. He’s been ruminating over what you could have meant by that ever since.

For his own project he’s using a small paring knife, mostly because he’d hoped you’d follow his example (what wishful thinking that was) but also because James doesn’t tend to do well with precision and he didn’t see a big knife helping matters. You, however, have selected what may be the largest knife he’s ever seen. He can’t comprehend what a beast that size would even be necessary for in a kitchen, much less for carving a pumpkin. Your unskilled grip on the handle makes the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“I think we ought to find you a different tool,” he tries again.

“James, you worry too much.” You roll your eyes, hardly looking as you shove your knife through the flesh of your pumpkin. He flinches. “This one is working fine.”

“Right, I just feel like—” You do it again. James worries he’s developing an eye twitch. “—like possibly I’m not doing my job by letting you handle a weapon like that.”

“It’s not a weapon, it’s a kitchen knife.”

Again, not a clue what in the kitchen could require a knife that large.

“I think its capacity for injury is the same regardless, angel. Let me have it, please? That way I can keep working here and you can keep all of your fingers.”

“You need to chill out,” you say, unnervingly serene for someone who seems to James on the precipice of life-changing injury. “This knife is the perfect size for how big I want my eyes to be. If I have to saw using another one, they won’t look as clean.”

“Is that really worth risking your hand for?”

“Yes. I want the triangles to look nice when I stick them onto the top as its ears.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With toothpicks.”

Right. A more moderate risk of injury, for sure, but James is now too high-strung to imagine anything other than disastrous outcomes between you and sharp objects. He imagines you skewering one of your lovely fingertips on a toothpick, the surprised look on your face when it happens. His own heart bursting straight out of his chest from overexertion.

“Maybe I could do that part for you,” James suggests weakly.

“Shit.” You’re looking into your hollow pumpkin. “The eye won’t come out.”

“Let me try.”

“No, I’ve got it.”

Before he can stop you, you’re sticking your knife inside your pumpkin. It comes spearing out the other side a moment later, the triangle of one eye impaled on its tip. James chokes on a gasp as you stop it within inches of your abdomen.

“There,” you say satisfiedly.

James makes a strangled sound. “No,” he says, seizing your wrist and carefully removing the knife from your hand. “No, I can’t do it. We’re swapping.”

“What?” You look at him with wide, wounded eyes. It’s adorable, compelling even, but James won’t allow himself to budge. “But your knife is so lame.”

James guffaws. He feels half delirious. This is it, he thinks. His love for you has finally driven him insane.

“It’s not lame.”

You pout. “It’s tiny.”

“Sweetheart.” James sets the knife down to hold your face in both hands. You go still with surprise. “If you stab yourself with your giant knife, I won’t be around to get fired. I’ll die of heartbreak. Do you understand?”

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re softening. “You really like my hands that much?”

“I like all of you. In tact. You’re perfect as you are.”

“Fine, whatever.” You pull your face from his grasp, picking up the smaller knife. “I know you secretly just wanted to be the one with the bigger knife, though.”

“Yeah, you’ve caught me. Can’t get anything past you.”

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celestialxgarden · 2 months ago

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What aspect of the divine feminine do you embody? · ──── ·𖥸· ──── ·

Masterlist

Shakti is the feminine principle that underlies and sustains all of existence. It is the powerful creative and dynamic energy responsible for the creation of the universe. All women are a vessel of this feminine essence.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿

Pile 1

You embody the energy of Yuki Onna also known as the ‘Snow Princess’. Yuki Onna is a type of spirit belonging to Japanese folklore. They are described as being very beautiful and serene, but also being capable of evoking immense terror.

You are someone who is very calm and composed. You have an incredible amount of patience. You appear very still and serene. I feel like you are the type of person that can plan ahead and quietly wait for a long time till the moment is right to act. And when that moment comes you quickly advance to achieve your goal.

I also get the vibe that you are very smart and witty. You can be quiet strategic and analytical in the way that you think.

Yuki Onna are described as having otherworldly beauty while their bodies are cold like snow. This can indicate that while you are able to captivate people with your beautiful appearance, you don’t want to let them in. You might appear to be cold or distant. I get the feeling that you are a little bit distrustful of people or at the very least cautious of others. I don’t think that you believe that every person has bad intentions, but you’d rather be on the safe side. You don’t want to give them a chance to hurt you. I also get the impression that you really know how to stand up for yourself and stand your ground. You can really shut somebody down and let them know that you are not to be messed with. I think this surprises people sometimes because you look so calm and quiet, they’re shocked when you stick up for yourself. I feel like you have the ability to be very cruel with your words if you feel the need to.

It is said that Yuki Onna are the personification of winter. Winter can be very beautiful with its icy, serene and snowy landscape, but also very scary and dangerous with its destructive blizzards and strong colds.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•··············∘•···············•∘ʚ♡ɞ∘•················•∘

Pile 2

You embody the energy of Green Tara.

Green Tara is a female Buddha. She is the embodiment of compassion and wisdom. She is known as a savior who hears the cries of the beings in this world and wants to save them from danger.

Just like Tara you have a very kind and gentle energy. You are very caring and always willing to help someone. Your vibe is very angelic and sweet. It almost seems to be to pure for this world. It’s very easy for you to connect with the emotions of others. You feel deep compassion for the world and all the beings in it. It wouldn’t surprise me if you were vegan or vegetarian. It really doesn’t sit well with you to cause harm to another being in any way. I also feel like your energy is very inspiring to others. Your presence is like a beacon of hope. I feel like you attract a lot of people that are hurt in a way. Being around you really eases their pain and gives them hope. Your energy is very healing.

Another meaning for the name Tara is “to rescue “ this really fits with your desire of wanting to save people.

I also get the impression that you are very protective of the people you care about and that people often come to you for advice. You are able to offer a lot of wisdom and guidance in that regard. Tara is also said to mean “Star” so this shows how you possess the ability to guide others like a star.

∘•··············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•··············•∘ ∘•············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•··············•∘

Pile 3

You embody the energy of the Virgin Mary. The christian goddess of heaven and the mother of Christ. She stands at the right hand of God as heaven's exalted Queen.

Your energy is very pure. You come across as very holy and divine. I get the idea that you prefer to be on your own. You don’t really like to mingle with the world too much. This makes your energy really pure because it is not being affected by outside influences. You have a very intuitive and mystical side to you. You like being in deep meditation and to explore the workings of your mind. I feel like you have a strong connection with the divine very naturally. You are very in sync with the universe. You could have some kind of psychic abilities like clairvoyance that make you incredibly receptive towards messages from the spiritual world.

I also feel like you have a lot of inner control and balance. It seems that you have a good amount of self mastery and that you continue to strive to be better. Some would describe you as being a virtuous person. You always try to do what is right.

There’s this feeling of contentment or fullness within yourself that makes it so you don’t have to rely on others. And if you where to be in a state of crisis, you would prefer to pray or meditate on it instead of asking others for help.

Mary is noted for her humility and obedience to the message of God. This has made her an example for many christians.

I feel like in this same way you try to stay true to your path and not be swayed to behave or act in a way that is not true to you. No matter how difficult it may get.

Thank you for reading🤍

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #divination #pick a pile #pac reading #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card #shakti #divine feminine #goddess #divine female #divinity

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mydearzero · 1 year ago

Text

Livid | mean!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Annoying Spencer, just to see him get mad, was one of your favourite ways to pass time at the BAU. Emily had warned you not too push him too far. You hadn't realised how right she was until Spencer decides he's had enough and takes you down to the basement.

Contents: DUB-CON, NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, mean!Spencer, no aftercare,, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, co-workers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie (is it even a mydearzero original if there's no coming inside?), spanking, dacryphilia, impact play, choking, spit, degradation, humiliation, semi-public sex, punishment, name calling, sir kink, filming and taking pictures without permission, orgasm denial, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

5K words

this one's a doozy folks. buckle up. it's pure porn - nik

You weren't doing it on purpose at first. It just so happened that you occasionally did things that got under Spencer's skin. You gradually realized which actions ticked him off and started doing them more and more. You just enjoyed seeing him annoyed, huffing and puffing, yet never saying anything. His patience seemed neverending.

Emily had warned you not to push him too far. According to her, when Spencer snapped, he exploded.

Yeah, right.

Her discouragement only egged you on. You'd hardly ever seen the genius even get mad. Spencer got irritated at best. He was an angel, really.

So you continued pushing, taking every possible chance to get on his last nerve. It had turned from enjoying seeing him annoyed to wanting to see him furious. You'd seen Spencer snarl at a snobby police officer once. Hell, you'd even seen him snap at an UnSub. But you'd never seen him absolutely livid.

It took you a while to figure out why you wanted to see him get mad.

You thought back to that case, the one that had him yelling at the UnSub. You couldn't even remember the details of the case. All you could think about was Spencer's hands gripping the table as he leaned across it, getting close and personal with the UnSub.

You cared about the veins straining against the surface of his skin, the bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. The only lasting memory you had of the case was the tone of his voice and what it did to your body.

A part of you wanted to be on the other side of that table, and it scared you how that part was growing exponentially, especially after Emily's warning.

You didn't want to admit it, not even to yourself. But the sole reason you continued messing with Spencer was the age-old 'teasing your crush to get their attention' stint, and you hadn't even realized it.

You shouldn't have been having all these deep thoughts and desires while sitting at your desk on a random Tuesday afternoon. Yet here you were.

You tried to read the lines on the page in front of you repeatedly but to no avail. Your face sunk into your hands as you groaned inwardly. You had to stop this juvenile behaviour at this second. He was going to catch on. You were certain somebody already must've done the math.

It shouldn't have surprised you when Spencer did finally burst. It wasn't like you did anything out of the usual. He wasn't even being tormented by a gruelling case. He'd just had enough.

"God! You think you're so cute, don't you?" Spencer exclaimed, slamming the mouse you'd taped over on the table. The silence from before and after his outburst differed immensely. It was calm and serene before it turned tense and awkward.

You slowly turned to look at his desk, not meeting his eye. If you had, you would've seen the way his pupils dilated at your meek behaviour. The way he had to regain his composure.

Your heart rate skyrocketed, feeling caught. You knew reading minds wasn't a thing, but profiling sure was one of the things closest to it in this world. Spencer couldn't have known what you were thinking only seconds prior to him finding your latest childish attempt to invoke his anger. But it felt like he knew.

Spencer scoffed as you chewed on your bottom lip, suddenly not feeling so funny anymore. "You don't have anything to say for yourself?"

You gaped as you made eye contact with an overly amused Derek. He was enjoying this show to its fullest extent. "Don't look at me, kid. We warned you." He shrugged.

You turned your eyes back to a still-aggravated Spencer. He pushed himself away from his desk and got out of his chair. He brushed his hands over his jacket, still sending daggers your way.

Your gaze followed him hesitantly as he stalked over to your desk. You scrambled to arrange things as if your messy workspace would only annoy him more.

"Get up." He demanded. You raised your eyebrows in question. Was he serious?

"Ooh, someone's in trouble," Emily teased in a sing-songy tone. Not helping, Prentiss.

"You're messing with me, right? Because of all the stupid pranks?" You asked sceptically. Your voice was wavering and uncertain.

"No, I'm being dead serious. Get up. Follow me." Spencer made an upwards motion with his fingers as he loomed over your seated figure.

You slowly pushed your chair out and sent questioning glances to JJ, who only shrugged. Your legs were unsteady as you stood. Spencer was your coworker, your friend. So why was your heart beating in your throat as if you were about to be sent to the fifth circle of Dante's Inferno?

Spencer didn't say another word as his long legs stalked out of the bullpen, uncaring that you were struggling to keep up. You nearly tripped over your feet several times before reaching the elevator. You stood beside a seething Spencer, who turned to push the 'B' button.

The basement? What business did he, or you, for that matter, have in the basement? Nobody ever- Right. Nevermind.

Nobody ever set foot in the basement.

You twiddled with your fingers in anticipation, hearing Spencer breathe in an unnatural pattern. The floors passed by quickly, and before you knew it, you were met with the sight of the metal doors sliding open into darkness.

Spencer flicked the light switch. Harsh, industrial, white light filled the dusty room. It was smaller than you expected. The rows of file cabinets made it look smaller than it really was. A desk was situated in the middle, seemingly abandoned.

You shuddered a breath as you stepped into the room, feeling exposed even when you knew nobody could see or hear you down here. Your shoes seemed outrageously interesting, your eyes never leaving them as you awaited Spencer with bated breath.

"Look at me." His words filled the silence. The room had an eerie lack of echo, his voice sounding closer than it actually was.

You slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze. He appeared taller like this, especially when you were already feeling small, hunching in on yourself.

"I'm going to give you one chance to apologize for your downright appaling behaviour." Spencer crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk. You felt as if you were being scolded by a teacher for throwing a crayon at another student.

"Why the condescending tone, Reid? We're all coworkers here." You questioned defensively, mirroring his stance by crossing your arms.

"That doesn't sound like an apology to me, but I'll bite. We are definitely coworkers. But you know as well as I that you changed that dynamic when you decided to start acting like a spoilt little girl begging for my attention." His composure didn't change as he spoke the incriminating words.

You didn't know what you expected coming down here with him, but this certainly wasn't it. You felt something simmer at his words, something you didn't want to acknowledge. You searched his face for any emotion, but only found a look that said "Well?"

When he noticed you weren't going to answer, he laughed. It wasn't a hearty chuckle. There was an underlying tone of sarcasm and ridicule to it.

"You've been at this for months, and now you're not even going to attempt to say sorry? I expected a shitty excuse, sure, but an apology nonetheless." Spencer scoffed.

You knew he was holding back. You could see it in the way he turned his head and closed his eyes before facing you again. You damned your profiling skills for giving you a foresight of what he had in store for you. You'd seen nothing of his wrath yet.

You knew he was getting frustrated at your silence, but you couldn't find the words. Nothing you could say could make this any better for you. You ran all the possible outcomes in your head, but every thought was more incriminating than the previous one.

"Fine." He clapped his hands together, stepping away from the desk. He motioned towards it, signalling you to take timid steps towards the piece of furniture. You looked at him questioningly.

His eyebrows raised. The words "You know what to do" went unspoken.

You swallowed as your mouth went dry. You looked at the desk, before looking at Spencer again. He didn't have to say anything. He wanted you to do it yourself. You closed your eyes as you leaned your palms against the unkept wood. You slowly brought your elbows down, leaning on them uncertainly. If this wasn't his intention, you'd just embarrassed yourself into the next century.

You heard him breathe deeply as he walked behind you. You jerked as his hand ran up your back until it reached between your shoulder blades. He pushed hard enough to press your chest flush with the desk, turning your head to lie it on the surface. His hand stayed there as the other was placed on your hip.

Spencer let out a content sigh. "Better."

He stepped away, leaving a cold feeling behind. You didn't dare move, already mortified at your predicament. You tried to breathe as quietly as possible as if any noise you made could set him off. You tried to hear what he was doing, unable to see him clearly in your peripheral.

Your head raised off the desk at lightning speed when you heard the unmistakable sound of a phone camera shutter.

"Did I say you could move?" Spencer asked. You shook your head, quickly placing it back on the desk. For a second, you wondered why you were even listening to him. He had no authority over you. But it felt exhilarating to give it to him.

"You speak when I ask you a question. No shaking your head, understood?" His voice came from in front of the desk. How hadn't you noticed him walking around it?

"Yes, sir," You squeaked, doing as he asked. Sir? Really?

"Good girl."

The words flipped a switch inside you. You licked your lips and closed your eyes, seemingly having to wait an eternity for him to take the next step. You heard the distinct sound of his belt unbuckling. You found yourself crossing your legs at the implication. Surely he wasn't going to whip you?

You thought you were going to get scolded for the action, but Spencer ignored it. He reached for your wrists, lying awkwardly beside your head. You didn't dare make eye contact.

You were confused at his next action until you saw the hole near the back of the desk, meant for cables. He threaded the belt through it before bringing your wrists to it and tying them together. The positioning was awkward at best, but you were starting to feel like that's what he wanted, to embarrass you.

You gave the makeshift handcuffs an experimental tug. They didn't budge, of course. Panic simmered in your chest, a claustrophobic feeling settling at the thought that you were stuck. There was nowhere for you to go, nowhere for you to run from Spencer's revenge.

He ran a hand through your hair, softly shushing you like you were a child. His hand slowly slid down your back. Your breath stuttered at his deliberate pace. He was taking his sweet time.

"Shhh... You're fine." He whispered, putting a foot between yours and kicking them open. You grunted at the action just as he was hooking his fingers into your bottoms and taking your underwear clean off with them. He lifted one of your feet, only bothering to untangle one foot and leaving your clothes pooled at your other ankle.

His fingers trailed up the inside of your leg. The tips of his fingers finally found the spot where you needed them most, but Spencer didn't do much besides feel you up.

"You're so fucking wet it's pathetic." He mumbled as he wiped his fingers on your thigh.

"You can pretend that you're tough and grown up all you want, but this is what you are. A pathetic little whore begging for my attention." Spencer walked around the desk and grabbed your chin harshly. The look in his eyes could only be described as animalistic. The ghost of a smirk danced on his lips.

You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you. But he did no such thing.

"Open your mouth." He demanded, squishing your cheeks between his pointer finger and thumb. You obeyed, but it wasn't good enough for him.

"You can do better than that, c'mon." He urged, putting his thumb in your mouth and pushing your head back. He removed his hand and observed you lying there with your mouth open. He seemed pleased at the sight, humming in approval.

His hand made its way back to your chin, turning your face upwards, craning your neck uncomfortably. You hadn't registered what he'd done until you felt a warm glob hit your tongue. Had he just spit in your mouth? You looked at him aghast.

"Wipe that shocked look off your face and swallow it if you know what's good for you." He patted your cheek mockingly. You closed your mouth and swallowed his spit, not trying to think too much about the fact that known germaphobe Spencer Reid had just spit. in. your. fucking. mouth.

"That's what I thought." He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head. You thought he was going to take it off, maybe leaving it on your arms, seeing as they were currently tied to the desk, but he did no such thing. He brought the hem over your eyes, effectively blindfolding you with your shirt.

You couldn't imagine what you must've looked like. Legs spread, bottoms haphazardly pulled down, shirt over your eyes, hands tied, pussy dripping. Your heart sank as you heard Spencer take another picture.

"You look so good like this, exactly how you're supposed to be," Spencer spoke with a misconstrued sense of pride.

You flinched and yelped when he abruptly struck your behind with a flat hand. You'd expected this was coming, that he was going to punish you, but you hadn't heard him approach. He rubbed his hand over the sore spot he'd just hit.

"You're going to count them for me, and you're going to apologize after every single one. You better mean it because if I feel you're being insincere, you're only gonna get more until I believe you." Spencer set the rules, resting his left hand on your hip. You waited for him to begin, but another strike didn't come.

"This is the time where you say 'Yes, sir' like you did earlier. I must admit, I didn't expect that one. But I like it, so we're keeping it," he mocked.

"-Yes, sir," you stammered. Another hum of approval met your ears as he repositioned himself for the optimal angle.

He didn't hold back as the second slap hit your butt. It stung more than you'd expected, a burning sensation spreading fast.

"Two. I'm sorry, Spencer." You apologized, putting as much sincerity behind the words as you could muster.

"No, that was one. The first one was just a warning. And you don't deserve to call me Spencer right now. You'll need to earn that privilege back. You'll learn to respect me soon enough. Now, start over."

His hand came back down once more.

"One! I'm sorry, sir," you hissed at the pain.

"What are you sorry for, princess?" Spencer asked as he delivered another smack.

"Two! I'm sorry for disrespecting you!" You no longer had the energy to keep your head up, giving up the attempt to look at him and resting it back on the desk.

"And?" He questioned. Another strike.

"Three! I'm sorry for embarrassing you and pulling stupid pranks." You admitted.

"I don't buy it," Spencer contemplated.

"Please, sir! I'm sorry. I'm genuinely sorry for being so childish." You apologized. A strike harder than the previous ones landed on your behind.

"You don't speak out of turn, do you understand?" Spencer gripped your hair and pulled your head up to spit the words straight into your ear. You nodded wildly, as much as his grip on your hair through the shirt would allow.

"Yes, yes, I understand." You said. Spencer let go of your hair. You only had milliseconds to respond, preventing your head from hitting the wood. He returned to his previous position, not wasting any time before landing several strikes to your ass.

This continued for a while, him smacking, you counting and begging for his forgiveness. Your legs were shaking by the time he reached the twentieth hit.

"Twenty... I really am sorry, sir. I shouldn't have pushed you." You sighed, feeling Spencer rub circles over the impacted flesh.

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked.

"Yes, I won't do it again. I'm sorry." You didn't remember how many times the words 'I'm' and 'sorry' had rolled off your tongue that afternoon, but it must've been dozens.

"Good. Now, for good measure, one last time." There was an underlying tone to the threat you couldn't place. You didn't have to wonder long, the last strike landing directly on your pussy.

"Shit! Oh my god," you cursed, attempting to shut your legs. Spencer's feet kept them from moving. He'd anticipated the reaction. You were glad for the echoless chamber, the humiliatingly wet sound only reverberating slightly.

"Now I can really be sure you'll remember." You could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this too much. But then again, hadn't you been the exact same? Gaining joy from inconveniencing him? You sighed at the realization you couldn't judge him for getting off on this. The last smack certainly hadn't been a dry one.

"Now..." Spencer trailed off. He removed the shirt from your eyes, pushing it further over your head. He pushed the fabric into your mouth as a makeshift gag.

"Don't you make any noise, okay? I mean, not like anybody will hear you down here." He chuckled. You turned your head and your eyes widened as you saw him walk towards the elevator. He pushed the call button and turned back to catch one last glimpse at you. He snapped a quick picture of your reddened ass cheeks before stepping into the elevator.

You yelled his name through the gag, nothing but gurgling, obstructed pleas meeting his ears. He wasn't leaving, right? He wouldn't. He couldn't. He was just testing you.

You were left with the sound of your own pants and racing heart. You tugged at your binds once more. What if he left? Went home? Surely it was past the regular office hours by now.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the idea of being left here like this overnight. What if nobody came down here? What if somebody did come down here and saw you like this? You were conflicted.

After 10 minutes of silent contemplation and several escape attempts, the metallic creaking of the elevator coming down sounded through the basement. You clenched your eyes shut, begging the universe it was Spencer and nobody else.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard the familiar sound of Spencer's shoes hitting the linoleum floor. You watched as he sipped his newly acquired coffee, not acknowledging you, only looking at his phone. After presumably sending a couple of texts, he shut it off and put it away on top of one of the cabinets nearby.

He smiled at the sight of the fresh tears rolling down your face. "Tell me, have you ever heard of Dacryphilia?" He asked as he crouched down to your level and wiped a few stray tears from your chin. He removed the gag from your mouth.

You shook your head before correcting yourself. "No, sir."

"It's a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing," Spencer explained. Leave it up to Spencer to dive into an explanation at a moment like this.

"I never thought I was someone who could be turned on by that. But seeing you like this, I can definitely see the appeal." His words were quiet, but so was the room.

"You look so pretty when you cry for me." He praised, running a hand through your hair. It was a surprisingly sweet sentiment, given the circumstances. He got up from his crouched position before you. You looked up at him. The domineering gaze he gave back told you all you needed to know.

"Thank you, sir," you whispered, hoping it was the correct response.

"See? It's not that hard to be respectful. But I'm not done with you yet."

Your breathing picked up as you remembered your predicament. Spencer didn't waste any time, pushing his pants down. His cock was long and thick.

You thought he was going to make you suck it. He pushed it in your mouth harshly, not giving you any room to breathe. He held you there, choking on his cock by the back of your head for a few more seconds before pulling it out and slapping it on your cheek. He smiled wickedly before tucking it back in his pants. It had only been a taste, literally.

He saw your confused look, but ignored it, opting to walk back around the desk. He wasted no time, pushing two fingers inside your mortifyingly wet hole. He curled them exactly right, and you clenched your fist and eyes to stop your legs from giving out.

Just as you'd started moving your hips along with his hand, he pulled away. "Stay still. Or you don't get anything."

You willed your entire body to remain frozen as he resumed his activities. He brought his other hand to your clit, rubbing at the exact speed and pressure to make your knees buckle. You had to put all your weight on your upper body to stop moving.

"God, will you shut up?" Spencer groaned. You hadn't even noticed you were making any noise, the moans and whines falling from your lips sounding foreign.

You bit your lip to keep them from escaping, but it was hard when Spencer was unrelenting. You felt yourself coming close, soft, high-pitched whines escaping your throat no matter how hard you tried to contain them.

Your toes curled, and your muscles tightened, but Spencer pulled away. More tears welled up in your eyes at the immensely unsatisfying sensation. You wanted to beg him to please continue and let you finish. But he'd told you to shut up, and you really weren't looking to prolong your punishment.

You heard your own pathetic sobs, drowning out the sound of him undoing his pants again. Your chest heaved as you tried to stay silent. Sweat dripped down your face, mixing with the tears.

It was bizarre how quiet he stayed. He was usually so talkative. But the implication that you didn't deserve him speaking to you unless it was an order was clear.

"This is all you're good for. A hole for me to fuck. And don't you dare forget it." Spencer lined himself up and didn't offer any more preparation before sliding inside.

"You're just a deplorable, woeful, pitifully sad little girl." Spencer spat as his grip on your hair returned. His other hand snuck around your neck, gripping tightly. He used the grip on your hair and neck as leverage to set a brutal pace, calling you every synonym for pathetic available.

"You think you're so important? Good enough to be pulling shit like this? You need to learn your. fucking. place." Every word was punctuated by a harsh thrust. "You're expendable at best."

You didn't dare speak, the only thing leaving you was quiet sobs, whines and moans. Your breathing was strained against the hold he had on your neck.

You were embarrassed to feel the knot in your stomach tightening worryingly fast. Spencer was treating you like a whore, and you were getting off on it, faster than anything else ever had before.

Spencer felt you tighten around him and quickly pulled out and stepped away. You felt the cold breeze on your empty hole. More tears spilt as you heard the sound of a video recording starting.

Spencer zoomed in on your desperate, fluttering pussy, before pushing back inside, keeping the camera focused on his cock entering in and out.

You tried to hide your face when he turned the camera to it, but his hand yanked on your hair, making you face the camera.

"Say: 'I'm Spencer's little slut. His own personal hole to use whenever he pleases because I'm a cockwhore hungry for attention.'" Spencer demanded.

"Please, sir. Don't make me say it on camera," you begged. You'd say it, just to get it over with, but the current footage he had was already incriminating enough.

"No, you're going to fucking listen to me for once. Say it." The pace of his hips never let up, your figure moving crudely in and out of the shot.

"I-I'm Spencer's... Please," you began. Spencer's speed inside you increased, interrupting your train of thought. He delivered a harsh smack against your still sore ass, urging you to continue.

"I'm Spencer's... little slut. His own personal... hole... to use whenever he pleases." You inhaled sharply before continuing. "Because I'm a... cockwhore... hungry for attention." You stuttered over the words, forcing them out.

Spencer seemed satisfied, putting his phone away. His hand returned to your throat, cutting off the airflow as he fucked you harshly. Every thrust of his hips sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The wood was digging into your hips, sure to be beaten and bruised by tonight. Your weight was no longer being held up by your legs, Spencer's presence behind you being the only thing that kept you from collapsing.

You were tight with desperation, every muscle wanting that sweet release he was depriving you of.

Spencer grunted unintelligible curses against you as he pistoned inside. His thick cock felt like it was splitting you open with every thrust, no matter how wet you'd gotten.

"Gonna cum inside you, and there's nothing you can do about it," Spencer mumbled as he sped up. How it was even possible, was beyond you.

"Please, sir. Please let me cum." You whined. If he denied you one more time, you weren't sure if you could take it.

"What makes you think you fucking deserve to cum? You're an annoying, good-for-nothing brat who's getting what was coming for her." He moaned against the shell of your ear. The sound ignited something new inside you. You needed to hear it again.

"Please, Spencer. Please," you begged, more tears threatening to spill after you'd assumed you were all out.

"What, you're gonna fucking cry? Like a fucking baby? Don't fucking do things if you're gonna fucking cry over the consequences, you fucking slut. And it's sir to you, you whore." You'd never heard Spencer this vulgar. And you could've never imagined what it would do to you.

"You know what they call this, crybaby?" Spencer asked, tightening the grip on your throat, cutting off most if not all of the airflow. You shook your head aggressively.

"Karma." He spoke, thrusting harshly to get the message across. The combination of the lack of air and his ruthless thrusts was brutal. You could feel yourself trembling, trying to keep yourself together.

Spencer pushed his cock sharply one last time, twitching and releasing his spend inside you with a loud groan. He released your throat and pulled out. You fell forward, chest heaving with dry sobs. He hadn't let you come. You cried frustrated tears as Spencer took more photos, as expected.

You felt the warm come drip from your pussy as Spencer took close-ups. A tense silence overtook the room as he made himself decent before paying you any attention.

"Garcia still owed me a favour, so she disabled the elevator from coming down here unless you enter a code," Spencer explained as he untied you. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, even if the ordeal was already over. The fact that there had been no real threat settled the uneasy feeling, even if only a little. It was the only consolation he offered. Spencer redid his belt as if it hadn't just been used as handcuffs while he fucked you like you were his property to discard.

You rubbed your wrists, seeing the red wells carved in them from your relentless tugging. How were you going to explain this when you came in tomorrow?

Spencer didn't seem to care, simply grabbing his stuff and waiting for the elevator. You looked around for your underwear, only to see a small piece of fabric sticking out of his pocket. You sighed and put your bottoms back on without the underwear, cringing at the wet, sticky fluid still between your legs. Your top was still wet with saliva and tears.

You got in the elevator with him without saying a word. You'd expected to at least talk to him about it, but as soon as you reached ground level, Spencer was gone.

Your eyes welled up and cheeks heated when you realized you were going to have to walk through the lobby and go home alone, all without any underwear and while still dripping his cum.

Spencer had gotten what he wanted. You were mortified. And you sure as hell weren't going to pull any more pranks anytime soon.

Not while at the office, anyways.

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robin374 · 11 months ago

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𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖆 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖜𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖉 𝖉𝖗𝖔𝖕 𝖆 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Alastor x reader, romatic

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: I think we all agree that Alastor would say this phrase. Maybe I got too carried away, sorry if it's too long. Unedited

Carmilla waited for all the overlords to arrive and take their respective seats. Her silver eyes serenely observed the situation, while she prepared her probable monologue in her mind. A war would be one of the worst options to choose. They had already lost many souls since the last extermination, and losing even more would serve no purpose, except to amuse the angels. All the powerful demons sat down and Carmilla waited a few seconds for the various conversations between them to end, seeing that she got nothing waiting she coughed to get the attention of her companions. "I have gathered you here today to discuss this year's brutal extermination..." She began to explain, her eyes full of determination with a subtle light of hatred, which was directed towards the cruel exterminators up there.

Suddenly, the door opened with a loud bang and two shadows appeared; one taller than the other. The little fashionista Velvette, a member of the Vees, appeared first with a superior smile on her face. With her back stretched and chin held high, she pulled the metal chain around her hand, causing the other shadow to walk involuntarily. However, the big difference between the two demons was that one of them was walking with her head down, as if she had been defeated and humiliated in front of all Hell, as if she was going to be sacrificed. Carmilla scowled at Velvette which diverted the attention of the other overlords and they looked towards the fashionista. Y/N didn't look up, she had already felt too ridiculed on the way there to feel even more so under the gaze of the other overlords. Especially under his gaze, under that smile that conveyed no feelings at all.

"Speaking of the exterminators..." Velvette's distinctive accent echoed through the room, no overlord daring to speak. Anyone could cut the tension in that room with a butter knife. Y/N didn't even flinch at the confident sound of the voice, she was now as vulnerable as a puppy just abandoned on a highway. A few thumps accompanied the fashionista's small laugh, thumps that sounded too soft to be a blow from a fist but too hard to be a single piece of flesh. A golden drop landed on Y/N's slipper, she swallowed dryly, feeling closer and closer to the permanent presence of eternal death. Ironic, isn't it? A dead girl being afraid to die. She didn't hear the next sentences of the argument between the two overlords, she was too focused on the pain of the silver chains around her wrists behind her back. Never in eternity had she thought that being in hell she would burn, let's just say those holy chains silenced those thoughts for her.

Velvette needed only a single tug on the chain to smash Y/N's face into the long table in the living room. Her hand pressed her face against the hard material, it looked like she wanted to put her face through the table. Y/N's gaze jumped from overlord to overlord, she knew full well that none of them would help her. "She was the one who killed that flying rat." Velvette began. "If those...Things can die, we're in a whole different situation." She paused for a moment, "we could start a war..." She turned to look at Y/N, her gaze as callous as her actions. "Not without killing this bitch first, it wouldn't suit us well for a girl as normal as you to get all the fame, what would my fans say?" His voice became a bit sharper, clearly seeking more attention than he already had.

Y/N looked away, her eyes fell on a spot between the ceiling and the window of the room, she didn't want to see how the overlords looked at her as if she was a mere bug, which they had no intention of keeping alive. She noticed her vision blurring, she knew these would be her last moments, as Velvette kept her word whenever it would do her good. "Who's for killing her and dropping her body in the nearest trash? Right where she deserves." The room was filled with murmurs and different conversations, some agreed with the fashionista, while others did not. Y/N had stopped listening long ago, she had accepted her permanent death since Velvette found her near the angel's body. She hadn't done it, she was just being more noisy than she normally was, not everyone gets the chance to see a dead exterminator, no? It was just bad luck, she wasn't the culprit, "It wasn't me..." She whispered in an attempt to get someone to listen to her, but these were overlords we're talking about, they wouldn't hesitate to kill someone. That's how ambitious they could be to have more power in their hands.

The sound of radio static came on, which was getting closer and closer. The pressure on Y/N's head disappeared in less than a second, and for a moment she thought she had finally been killed and her thoughts were slowly leaving her head as she completely lost consciousness. However, one hand helped her up, and even with her hands still tied she met those red eyes she loved to stare into so often in the hotel. With the other hand, Alastor pushed Velvette away from her, "I'll take care of it."

The last thing to go. That demon Y/N thought she loved was going to betray her as soon as she left the building. She felt his hand brush against her back as he silently guided her through the halls of the building until he was outside. Once there he began to walk towards a particular direction. Y/N stopped in her tracks, confused. Maybe what she was about to say would be a big mistake, maybe she shouldn't say anything to stay alive, though curiosity killed the cat, right?

"You're not going to kill me? Kill me and then drop me in the middle of the street?" She watched as the Radio Demon's back tensed, and so did his ears. As much as she didn't see his face, she knew that smile twisted into an irritated one. He turned around slowly, and that annoyed smile softened the moment their eyes connected. He laughed softly and moved closer to the girl, his free hand coming to her cheek. "Only a fool would drop a girl like you." He smiled. That sentence made Y/N ironically feel like she was in heaven, a strange warmth rose to her cheeks. She heard the laughter of the overlord who was now offering his arm to walk beside him, "Alastor, my hands are chained." Y/N began, "I can't hold your arm."

#hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

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darktrashsoulbear · 1 month ago

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Cold Nights, Cosy Hearts

Modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend!reader

Based on this request made by Hannah @gwaynesprincess

Summary: After an unexpected interruption to their cosy night in, Aemond and reader try to find a way to somehow salvage the night and spend some quality time together.

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Taglist

Warnings: Smut, minors do not interact

Word Count: 3350

Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)

The sound of his ringtone interrupted Aemond’s reading of Arnold J. Tonybee’s ‘A Study of History’. With a grin he looked down at his phone hoping it was his angel. The grin soon soured as he declined the call, eyes rolling to the back of his skull - Aegon. Averting his attention back to his book he continued, the serene silence making for the perfect autumn, late afternoon atmosphere to catch up on his reading as he waits for his angel to come home.

Aemond learnt from a young age that his elder brother had a penchant for ruining perfect moments, he was a fool to think this time was an exception. He hastened to the front of the flat not wanting the neighbours to believe there was an attempted break in occurring at the sheer volume of the banging at the door. Swinging open the door sporting a glare that could freeze the sun, Aemond grasped the arm of the nuisance and dragged him inside before quickly slamming it shut again.

Said nuisance, unphased by his anger, jumped onto the sofa in order to lay down - ignorant to his shoes rubbing all over the fabric. Momentarily unsure of how to react to the scene before him, Aemond stilled before snapping back to reality and ripping Aegon’s legs off of the sofa, almost throwing him to the floor.

“Oi, what was that for!”

“Get out Aegon!” Aemond snapped not bothering to dignify his question with a response

“Must I remind you that it was YOU who just yanked me through the door, weirdo!” Aegon fired back, his amusement clear

“Why are you here?” The younger demanded

“I had no other choice with you dodging my calls!” Aegon continued, “what if it was urgent?”

“Is it?” he questioned, defeatedly leaning against the wall adjacent to the sofa

The hesitation that followed told Aemond all he needed to know as he, once again, began ushering his brother out, telling him he’s busy. Stubbornly Aegon refused clinging onto the backrest of the sofa as though his life depended and at this point, it very well could have. As the brother’s struggled they found themselves on the floor, forgetting the actual task at hand and just exchanging brotherly blows trying to get the advantage.

The scene you walked in on was one you wouldn’t forget. On the carpet before you was Aemond half kneeling on the floor with Aegon wrapped around the one not touching the floor, like a koala - seemingly in a struggle as you watched one of Aemond’s hands go from trying to pry him off to his hair and yank. At this you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore as, body curling in as the sound of your cackles rang out.

This caused Aemond to lose focus, letting go of Aegon’s strands, as his head snapped back towards you. Just as he opened his mouth and went to say something, Aegon used his distraction to his advantage and rose up, arms still wrapped around Aemond’s leg using it to shove him onto his back and triumphantly sat on both his legs, pinning them down and casually waving at her.

“If you boys are busy then I can text Helaena, see if she wants to meet up or something,” you suggested, half genuinely wanting to give them space and half desperately not wanting to be forced to babysit the two brothers.

“That would be grea…” Aegon began but was cut off by Aemond yet again burying a hand in his hair in order to free himself.

“No!” he interjected, “we promised we’d spend the evening with each other, I’ve got the movies rented and menus ready to order a takeaway. Just give me a sec to get rid of him and we can start baby.”

Aegon finally freeing himself again began “I may have a thing for hair pulling but certainly not with you little brother, with your girlfriend on the other hand…” he trailed off, shooting you a wink, “and now there’s no way you’re getting rid of me, movies and a takeaway? Count me in!” he moved back over to sit in the middle of the sofa tapping the spots on either side of him with his hands.

Aemond chose to ignore him entirely and walked over to his angel, grasping your hands and telling you to go “relax, get into something comfortable and decide what we should watch first” while he dealt with the 5”9’ problem in the flat. However, before you could even take a step in the direction of their bedroom, you were interrupted by a loud declaration from the man on the sofa.

“I do agree you should get changed doll, but into something to go out in. The three of us are going to go meet some people at the pub, maybe go out after”

Judging by the vein protruding from the side of her boyfriend’s neck, you knew now was the time to step in. Nodding to Aegon, you grasped Aemond’s hand, interlocked your fingers and led him to their bedroom, ensuring the door was locked behind them. You guided him to take a seat on the bed as she stood before him, bringing his head against her stomach, running one hand through his hair and the other massaging circles between his shoulder blades.

After a few minutes of silence, Aemond mumbled something about how Aegon must have a compulsion of ruining everything. His angel only softly chuckled as you continued soothing him.

“Would it be so bad if we indulged him and just went along?” You began before he moved his head away and looked up as if you’d sprouted another head, taking a seat next to him you quickly added on, “Let’s say we do go, what would really happen? We have a drink or two with him, then he gets distracted by a pretty girl and leaves us alone, we have a couple of drinks and chat, then we come back here and watch movies and get a takeaway like we planned.”

After a moment of thought, the corner of Aemond’s lips quirked up and he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in to press a few kisses on the top of her head. “A fine plan, my angel, a fine plan indeed.”

Preening at the praise you added “and besides we could use this as an excuse to get out of future plans we want no part of, ‘what do you mean we never go out with you Aegon? Do you not remember last time when we cancelled our date night just to join you, only for you to ditch us for a girl?’ We’d have a solid argument baby.”

At this Aemond let out a genuine laugh, pulling you up to her feet before wrapping his arms around your waist. He pressed a kiss to your lips, trailing his hands further down, copping a feel before letting her go to allow the two of them to get ready for the night.

One would think that after acquiescing to his wishes, Aegon would become more manageable. That would incorrect, instead he was bounding down the street as free as a child half his age. Aemond and his angel trailed behind him, huddling closer together for warmth. His left and your right were in the pockets of your own coats while the others were intertwined and shoved into Aemond’s other pocket.

Reaching the too lively pub, Aemond tugged you inside, eyes frantically scanning the place for an available seat. Aegon, of course, made a beeline for the bar and was frantically waving back at them to join him. Smirking, his angel pulled him over towards him and he reluctantly trailed behind.

“See guys, isn’t this so fun? Seriously Aem I don’t know how you managed to bag a girl like her, what with the giant stick permanently lodged up your -” Aegon was cut off by you sliding close to the rogue.

“Don’t look now Aegon but that girl over there, on the other side of the bar, she’s staring at you. Like really really into it,” and Aegon of course immediately whipped around, eyes zeroing in on the girl whose eyes were flicking over with mild interest - but he didn’t need to know that.

“Well then, my lady, weirdo, I’d best not deprive her of the best night of her life for much longer! I’ll catch you guys in a second, just stay close.” Aegon instructed, walking backwards towards the girl in the hot pink dress.

With that the couple were left alone and Aemond’s relief was evident. As Aemond got the attention of one of the bar staff, you turned to find somewhere a lot more discreet to sit. Spotting somewhere in the back you grabbed the drinks as he paid and the two of you made your way over to a small table near the back.

Taking a seat on the small stools you set the drinks down and Aemond turned to you giving you a small smile and retaking your hand, palm up, tracing the lines on it. Abruptly looking up a final time his eyes darted back over the where Aegon was, relieved to see he was still by the markedly more interested looking girl.

Turning back to your eyes he felt an overwhelming sense of adoration flow through him, reaching out he tucked a rogue strand of your hair behind your ear as you bit your lip looking up at him with a gaze that made him dearly regret ever entertaining the idea of leaving their bedroom.

Just as he cupped your face with one hand, the other tugging your chin up and closer, and began leaning in, he heard a dull thud on the opposite side of their table top. Looking across you saw a man at least in his early 40s, wearing a worn suit slump into the stool opposite you - eagerly grabbing and downing half his pint of Guinness.

Slowly he lifted his gaze to the two of you and looked at you as though you were the inconveniences. Which apparently was the final straw for Aemond as he gave him the deepest scowl you’d ever seen. This caused one of the most amusing exchanges of words you’d ever seen your boyfriend involved in…

“Don’t know why you’re giving me that look boy, you don't own the table you know,” the man began.

“Look mate, I meant no harm, me and my girl were just wanting-” Aemond began feeling less than civil.

“Oh boy you couldn’t harm a fly even if you did mean it,” the man scoffed, flicking his hand dismissively.

You could see the way Aemond’s hand tightened into a fist and his jaw clenched. Knowing you had to do something to de-escalate the situation you opened your mouth to address him.

“Don’t you even think about putting your two-pence missy, this is between me and the lad,” the balding man interjected.

At this your eyes widened, eyebrows slightly lifted momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of the man that came and sat at your table. Aemond angled his head towards you, his gaze sending a clear message ‘just say the word and I’ll deal with it’. But before he was given the chance your pint of Stella Artois somehow made its way all over the man’s front.

At his shocked gasp, you and Aemond looked at each other and the message was clear. Run. Darting out of the pub, hand in hand, Aemond leading the way. The seven o’clock evening chill in the night was biting compared to the heat in the pub and caused you to shiver as you realised you left your coat inside near the bar.

Realising this Aemond offered to go back and fetch it but not wanting to risk getting barred from the pub, you shook your head reassuring him that you’d be fine for the walk home. Turning to begin the walk, another shiver coursed through you as you attempted to huddle further into your knitted dress, thankful you had the forethought to wear plain black leggings instead of tights.

Observing, Aemond tugged on your wrist causing you to swivel back as he draped his own coat around your shoulder, helping you slide you arms in. You tried to refuse, insisting he kept it for himself, but vehemently denied you stating that Targaryen’s have warmer blood - thanks to their royal lineage from centuries ago, blood of the dragon apparently.

Finally acquiescing, you gave him a peck on the lips grasping his left hand to shove into the coat pocket until he yet again stopped you. Looking up at him confused, he moved you so that you were now standing on his right - away from the pavement. He then allowed his right hand to find home in the coat’s pocket, the other sliding into the pocket of his jeans.

Seeing your eyes roll at his actions, he simply gave you a smirk “you always claim that chivalry is dead in modern society angel, I’m simply proving otherwise”.

Turning the corner, relief filled you as you spotted your flat building meaning you’d soon be out of the cold. As much as Aemond liked to pretend he was unaffected you could tell the cold was getting to him. Still clasping his hand in the coat pocket you leaned against his side providing as much as you could without bruising his ego. As he looked down at you, you could see the shift in gaze, darkening at you wearing his clothes.

He abruptly stopped and walked you back until your back hit the brick wall behind you, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, the other sliding down to the small of your back pushing you against him. As he leaned his forehead against your own, your hands trailed up - one hand resting against his chest, the other coming up to curl around the back of his neck. Your legs slightly opened allowing his thigh to slot in between your own.

Just as he leans down to finally lock your lips in what was sure to be a passion infused breathtaking kiss, a shocked gasp interrupted him. An incredibly deep and agitated groan escaped Aemond, was having a brief uninterrupted moment with the love of his life really so much to ask for?

Slowly pulling away from each other, detangling your limbs you looked over at where the sound came from. It was Billy, the little boy from a few doors that had an affinity for sneaking out while his parents were distracted. Walking over you crouched down before him, “Hey Billy, are you alone sweetheart?”

He hesitated before slightly nodding his head “…yeah”.

“Are your mum and dad upstairs?”, prompting another small nod of his head.

“Well then I guess Aemond and I should take you back up to them, right Aemond?” You said over your shoulder.

Aemond, in return gave a deadpan look - to which you responded with your own - but eventually nodded wrapping an arm around you, pulling you inside as Billy’s little hand grasped your own.

Walking over towards the lifts Aemond went inside and pressed the up button. That’s when you noticed the out of service sign and couldn’t help but chuckle at how the universe seemed to be plotting against him tonight.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself he ushered you and Billy up the stairs before following after, which proved to take a lot longer than initially thought due to Billy’s much smaller legs climbing up to the fourth floor. Finally arriving you quickly stepped across the hallway walking past your door to the flat three doors down and rang the doorbell.

It was safe to say Billy’s mother had quite the shock when she pulled it open to be met with her son, the friendly neighbour and her sometimes friendly boyfriend standing before her. Recovering quickly she immediately began chastising Billy for wandering off again and profusely thanking the two of you for returning him safely. Reassuring her that it was no trouble at all, you allowed Aemond to drag you away back up the hallway and into your own flat.

Closing the door behind him, he turned to you the same predatory glint in his eye returning as he eyed you up and down, drinking you in.

As you pushed Aemond up against the door to your bedroom, he removed his coat from around you, throwing it to the floor all while kissing each other as though your lives depended on it. Parting from him you turned the doorknob behind him, pulling him behind you with a finger curled around one of the belt loops on his trousers.

Moving him to sit on the bed, you pulled his sweater off along with the top he was wearing underneath. You then guided him to stand and instructed him to take off his trousers and pants as you removed your own dress and leggings. As he returned to full height, stark naked he gazed into your eyes, waiting.

Parting your legs before you, you slightly tilted your head down and that’s all the prompting he needed as he gracefully fell to his knees before you. Hooking your left leg over his shoulder, he began kissing up your leg - starting at your calf- licking and sucking as he went.

When he finally reached the apex of your thighs your body fell back against the mattress as he licked as though it was his final meal, nose rubbing against your clit, tongue dipping inside your core. Moans and whimpers escaped your lips as you pleaded - unsure of what for but he seemed to understand as he drove you closer and closer to your release.

Finally with his whisper of “let go for me, my love” you tipped over the edge, thighs shaking and back arched, fisting the sheets.

Climbing up the bed, Aemond’s hand stoked your hair bringing you down from your high. Flipping over onto your stomach, you brought your hand down to wrap around him before sitting up to straddle his thighs, pushing him back to lean against the headboard. Reaching back to unclip your bra, you threw it in the direction he’d discarded your panties.

Re-taking his length in your hand, you guided him to meet your entrance, sinking down you both let out pleasured groans. As he reached up towards your breasts, you took both hands in yours and pinned them by his sides - intertwining your fingers as you moved up and down. Leaning over to kiss him again, you allowed him to move from your lips, down your neck and chest until they wrapped around one of your nipples - alternating between the two between chants of your name.

Switching so your hips were now rotating in circles and grinding against him to make him brush against your g-spot. Releasing his hands you allowed him to touch you all over. Moving your hand to circle his throat you felt his heart beating erratically as the other hand moved to brace yourself against his hard chest as you leaned forward which allowed him to piston his hips up, chasing both of your releases.

When he felt you squeezing him tighter than before he moved a hand down to your clit, driving you to your release as he chased his own. Staring into each other's eyes you fell apart together while you collapsed against his chest. Arms wrapping around you, he rolled you to your side, pressing a kiss to your lips as he left to grab a rag to clean the both of you up.

Returning, he pulled you against his chest as you both felt the built up exhaustion from your day overcoming you. Before allowing sleep to whisk you away, you once again made eye contact, gazes expressing nothing but the pure depth of love you hold for each other. Regardless of how the day didn’t go to plan, in the end you had each other and that’s all that mattered.

#modern aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #darktrashsoulbear writes #cold nights cosy hearts

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incognit0slut · 6 months ago

Text

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

This isn’t a love story. This isn’t a fairytale. This is about a woman bent on setting the world on fire and the FBI agent assigned to her case, drawn to the very flame she ignites.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub!Reader

Warnings: (18+) Typical CM violence, mentions of sexual assault and trauma, implied sex, fire/arson, and this is basically angst with no happy ending

A/n: For once, I am writing outside my comfort zone. This is heavily based on John Mayer’s song with the same title, Female Rage, and Megan Kane (she did nothing wrong!). Constructive criticism is welcome since I rarely write angst, but please be nice, it's my birthday🥺 (yes my birthday appreciation post is heartbreaking)

You wanted the world to burn.

You wanted to watch the ashes drift through the air. You wanted to smell the acid scent of smoke. You wanted to feel the heat envelop you, to wrap your body like a suffocating blanket. Because simply sitting in silence wasn’t enough for the rage that consumed you, the smoldering anger that craved the sound of the world cracking and crumbling under the force of your wrath.

You craved the chaos, but the man lying defeated before you was enough for now. His eyes, wide with horror, stared up at you—the look of a man who knew these were his final moments. He pleaded, his voice cracking in desperation, his hands bound tightly behind his back as you stood there, unfazed.

Please.

I have a family. Think of my children.

Just let me go—I'll disappear, you'll never have to see me again.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? How a man could beg for mercy, could invoke the sanctity of family only when facing his own end. How a man could think that running away could solve everything, believing that his disappearance would erase the past and the suffering he caused.

No, that was a choice you didn’t have. The luxury of forgetting, of escaping the shadows that clung to your every step. Not only was his pleading in vain, it was insulting, as if the depth of his misdeeds could be washed away by mere absence. You wanted him gone. You wanted him dead.

So you gave him a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. Your expression was serene, almost angelic, but it belied the reality of your intentions as your heels echoed through the empty warehouse, a jug of gasoline in hand.

He screamed. Your smile widened. It was useless—no other soul was near enough to hear his cries, too far away to save him. His desperation filled the empty space once again as you poured the gasoline around him, drenching him in its sharp, pungent scent.

Then you took a step back, your hand reaching for the lighter in your pocket. There was a moment of hesitation as you watched him struggle. Could you really do this? Could you cross this final line?

But then the memories surged forward, vivid and painful. He was one of them, one of the people who had taken advantage of your innocence when you were young and naive, who had shattered your trust and left you to pick up the pieces alone, leaving scars that never truly healed.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

Your fingers tightened around the lighter. What a foolish man, who was he to think that a forced apology could undo the damage? With a steady hand, you flicked the lighter, the flame springing to life. His apologies continued, increasingly frantic, but they were nothing more than the desperate noise of a man who had run out of options, out of time.

You threw the lighter. The small flame sailed through the air, landing amidst the gasoline-soaked ground with a burst of fire. The flame caught instantly, erupting into a roaring blaze that engulfed him in a matter of seconds, drowning out his piercing scream.

You continued to watch his body burn, and perhaps for the very first time in your life, you felt a terrifying peace.

~*~

“This is the third body in a week,” Derek mentioned, stepping into the old factory as he slipped his sunglasses on top of his head, scanning the scene before him. It was disturbing. The stench of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

Spencer looked up from where he was crouched near what was left of the victim. “It’s getting more deliberate,” he observed. “The Unsub is trying to send a message.”

Derek moved closer, carefully stepping over a piece of evidence marked by the forensic team. “What are you thinking?”

He slowly stood up, his eyes assessing the place. There were actually a lot of things on his mind, and one of them being how this third victim seemed more calculated, more precise than the others. It was a stark contrast to the first victim, whose remains were found in a haphazard, chaotic state in that old warehouse.

But this one… everything was meticulously arranged, from the positioning of the body to the burn patterns that radiated outwards in a controlled manner. The Unsub was trying to perfect their methods in a short amount of time, and as much as Spencer hated to admit it, it was almost impressive.

“They want attention,” Spencer finally said, breaking the silence as he mulled over the crime scene. “They’re not just doing this for the sake of it; they’re communicating. Whatever message they’re trying to send, it’s getting closer with each victim.”

“You think they’re trying to tell us something?”

“No, I don’t think it’s aimed at us.” Spencer bit his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing in thought. “They’re trying to make a statement.”

“Like a public declaration?”

“Could be,” Spencer acknowledged, stepping back to view the scene from a different angle. “Or it could be a form of protest or revenge.”

“Burning people for revenge,” Derek mused, crossing his arms. “Now that’s a hell of a way to get a point across.”

“It’s deeply symbolic. Fire consumes everything, leaving nothing but ash. It’s final.” He looked up, his eyes meeting Derek’s. “Whoever is doing this is not just angry, they’re trying to erase their victims from existence.”

“Well, they’re doing a pretty good job at it, we haven’t identified any of them yet.”

Spencer frowned, his gaze dropping back to the scene in front of him. Identifying the first two victims had been nearly impossible due to the extent of the burns. The flames had consumed everything, leaving behind little more than brittle bones and ash. Dental records and DNA tests had been their only hope, and even those couldn’t identify the victims.

He continued to study the body, looking for anything that could help them. The burns were severe, almost total, but then something caught his eye. A faint mark, barely visible under the scorched skin. He leaned in closer, squinting to make out the details. There, peeking out from the blackened flesh on the victim’s forearm, partially obscured by the burns, was a small tattoo.

“I think we might have something,” he said, pointing to the mark.

Derek leaned in, his eyes widening slightly. “That looks like a tattoo.”

“You think we can get this to the lab?”

“We can,” Derek replied as he took out his phone and took a quick photo of it. “But we also have Garcia.”

Spencer watched as Derek quickly navigated through his contacts, his fingers moving with practiced ease. He tapped the screen, putting the phone close to his ear. It didn’t take long for the call to connect, and almost immediately, a familiar voice filled the brief silence through the speaker.

“I knew you couldn’t go a day without me,” Penelope’s unmistakable cheerful voice greeted him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this delightful interruption?”

Derek couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. “Garcia, we need your magic on a photo. There’s a partial tattoo on our latest victim, and we need to know if it matches anyone in the system.”

“Send it over and I’ll sprinkle some of my digital pixie dust on it.”

Derek attached the photo to a message and sent it directly to her. “It’s on its way.”

“Got it,” Penelope replied, her fingers already flying across her keyboard on the other end. “Okay, this might take a while, but I do have more information on our first victim, or I guess you can say, I have all the information that you need.”

“Our first John Doe is identified?”

“Rick Sullivan,” she confirmed. “He was reported missing a week ago by his wife. Turns out he has a bit of a past—multiple arrests for minor offenses, but nothing that would usually make him a target for this kind of violence.”

Spencer leaned closer to Derek’s phone. “Does he have any known associates or enemies that stand out?”

“Not on record,” Penelope said, her voice slightly muffled as she sifted through more files. “But listen to this, his bank transactions show some pretty hefty sums being spent regularly. Guess where most of it is going?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

"To an exclusive strip club on the east side of town called The Velvet Curtain,” she revealed. “Seems our Mr. Sullivan was quite the regular spender there.”

Derek smiled, shaking his head slightly. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Not nearly enough,” she replied with a playful lilt in her voice. “Keep the compliments coming and maybe I’ll dig up even more dirt for you.”

“We’ll need all the dirt we can get. Thanks, Garcia.”

“Always a pleasure, gentlemen. I’ll keep you updated if I find anything else,” she said before ending the call.

Derek turned to Spencer as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Ready to see some strippers, Pretty Boy?”

Spencer glanced back at the charred remains. He’d seen too many bodies, too much senseless violence. There was nothing left that could shake him—not even the neon lights and dark corners of a strip club, or even the thought of being in a room surrounded by half-naked women. He could handle that. He could definitely handle that.

With a slight nod aimed at Derek, he followed him out of the building.

~*~

“Scarlett!” A voice rang through the dressing room. “You’re up in five!”

You swiped the red lipstick across your lips one last time, perfecting the bold arch that had become your signature look as your eyes swept over your reflection, eying the thin straps of your costume. The fabric was a deep, seductive red, almost the color of freshly drawn blood, and barely covered your skin. The material was sheer and see-through, leaving little to the imagination, something you preferred. Because the more skin you showed, the more you felt in control.

This was your armor, the persona you donned to hide the secrets buried beneath your glamorous exterior. As Scarlett, you were a siren. Untouchable. You had power and control, something your life outside these walls lacked.

“Scarlett!”

“I’m coming!” You snapped, capping the lipstick and placing it back in your makeup bag. You stood up, smoothing down your outfit, and made your way to the stage entrance.

The stage coordinator eyed you up and down. “No props for today?”

You shook your head, giving a confident smile. “Not today. I can manage without them.”

He nodded approvingly, moving to the side. “Alright, it's your cue."

You brushed past him and headed down the dimly lit corridor leading to the stage, the familiar rush of adrenaline surging through you. Taking one last deep breath, you finally stepped into the glow of the spotlight. The crowd's attention shifted to you, and you felt the power you had grown accustomed to, the control you desperately craved. The music pulsed through the air as you sauntered toward the pole at center stage.

You started to move.

Your fingers around the cold metal, and your body naturally found the beat as you began to dance seductively, letting the red fabric of your costume shimmer under the lights. A flirtatious smile played on your lips as you glanced around the room, locking eyes with a few patrons who watched. You slid down the pole, bending your knees and arching your back gracefully, biting back a smile as you heard the cheers and whistles from the crowd.

You took in the familiar faces and the usual gazes of admiration and desire, from the sleazy grins of regulars to the guilty looks of married men stealing away from home. But then, two men caught your attention, standing out starkly against the backdrop of the usual patrons.

One of them exuded confidence, his gaze steady and assessing as he watched your performance. The other, however, seemed out of place, his eyes darting around the room awkwardly. At first, he appeared uneasy, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and avoiding direct eye contact. But as you moved, dancing with the pole and letting your body sway to the rhythm, his gaze gradually settled on you.

You had never seen him before. He was unexpectedly handsome, with soft curls that danced along the edges of his face and soft features that made him beautiful, almost angelic. But there was something more about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to blend in with the shadows, making him nearly invisible among the brasher, more excited crowd. His presence was so out of place and yet so focused on you that it spurred you on.

With a teasing smile, you tugged at the thin strap of your top, playing with it as you danced. His eyes followed the movement, his breath catching slightly as you slowly slid the strap down your shoulder. The fabric slipped further, revealing more of your skin as you twirled around the pole.

You then arched your back and bent low, the thin strap finally gave way, allowing your top to slide down your body, exposing your perky breasts to the crowd. His eyes widened slightly, but he couldn't look away. Neither could you. For a moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a silent exchange as the cheers and applause became a distant hum in the background.

You could see the conflict in his eyes—part fascination, part restraint—and it only made you bolder. You slipped the last piece of fabric down your legs, and with each sway of your hips, you drew him deeper into your world, determined to leave a mark on his memory.

~*~

“Just talked to the club owner,” Derek mentioned as he walked over to where Spencer stood, hiding in the corner of the room. “He gave us permission to question the dancers.”

Spencer nodded, but didn’t say anything. Derek raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… fine.”

Derek gave him a knowing look. “Your first time being at a place like this?”

Spencer’s gaze lingered on the stage. That would be a good excuse for why he was acting this way, but it wasn’t the truth. He grew up in Las Vegas, after all. Even though he rarely found himself in these types of scenes, he knew what went behind the walls. He was aware of what happened inside clubs, the performers, and the whole spectrum of human behavior. But he had never seen someone so… mesmerizing.

His mind was still processing the way you moved, the way you commanded the room with such effortless confidence. The way you shamelessly captivated everyone’s attention, including his.

No, it wasn’t the setting that threw him off—it was you.

“Reid?”

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here,” he managed, snapping back to the present. “So the dancers?”

Derek nodded, sensing Spencer’s momentary distraction but choosing not to comment.

“Yeah, we need to start talking to them. With these many dancers, I think it’s better we split up.” His eyes scanned the room. “You take the bar out here, and I’ll handle the lounge area. If any of them seem to know more or are hesitant to talk in front of others, we can bring them aside for a more private conversation.”

“Got it,” Spencer agreed. He straightened his tie and took a deep breath as he made his way directly to the bar, nodding politely to the bartender before turning to address the group of dancers gathered nearby.

“Excuse me, uh, hi there,” he greeted, showing them his badge. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. I’d appreciate it if I could ask you a few questions.”

The dancers exchanged glances as Spencer cleared his throat, trying to appear composed. One of them, a tall woman with striking pink hair, stepped forward. “What do you need to know, Handsome?”

Spencer felt a flush creep up his neck, momentarily flustered by the directness. “Have any of you noticed anything unusual or seen anyone acting suspiciously in the past few weeks?”

The pink-haired woman looked him up and down, taking in his crisp suit and tie with a playful smile. “Well, the only unusual thing I’ve seen lately is a handsome FBI agent in a place like this.”

Her comment drew a few chuckles from the group, and Spencer felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him. He usually could handle a bit of teasing—he’d even interviewed sex workers who blatantly flirted with him before—but being surrounded by half-naked women, one of whom was actually topless, was making him feel distinctly out of place. His usual confidence was slipping away, replaced by a deep, uncomfortable blush.

Before he could respond, another dancer, this one with blue hair, joined in the teasing. “Aww, look at him blushing. Aren’t you just adorable?”

Spencer cleared his throat, trying to refocus. “I, uh, appreciate your… observations. But really, any information about unusual behavior could be very helpful.”

One of them, with a mischievous glint in her eye, leaned closer and asked in a flirty tone, “Would you like to find a private room for questioning, Doctor?”

His eyes widened. “W-What? No, no, I—”

“Ladies.”

Spencer turned around, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw you standing close to him, your sweet fragrance enveloping him. His heartbeat quickened, and he found it hard not to stare. You had changed from your performance attire into something slightly less revealing but no less captivating that Spencer had to remind himself to blink.

“Stop teasing the poor guy,” you said, addressing the dancers with a slight smirk.

“We were just being nice,” one of them protested, feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, let’s give him some space.”

The rest of the dancers giggled, picking up their drinks and retreating to another part of the club. You watched them leave before turning back to Spencer and gracefully took a seat on a stool where one of them had been.

“So,” you began, crossing one leg over the other, and Spencer made a conscious effort not to focus on how the fabric rode up your thighs. “I can’t help but overhear you’re with the FBI. I’m Scarlett.”

He stared at your outstretched hand but made no effort to take it. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ah,” you said, retracting your hand and placing it on your lap. “You’re that type of guy.”

“What do you mean?”

You tilted your head slightly, a wry smile playing on your lips. “You know, the type who might think less of this kind of job, of people who work in places like this."

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not that. I grew up in Las Vegas, places like this don't surprise me. It's just that—l don't do handshakes. Personal preference, not a judgment."

You raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Well, studies show that handshakes transfer a significant amount of pathogens. It’s actually safer to kiss someone than to shake their hand.”

An amused smile played on your lips. “Is that your way of trying to kiss me, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and a flush crept up his neck. “Uh, no, that’s not what I meant at all,” he stammered. “I just meant, scientifically speaking, it’s… safer.”

“Of course.” You chuckled, leaning back slightly. “So what brings the FBI here?”

Spencer cleared his throat. “We’re here to gather information about one of your customers.”

“Who?”

“Do you know anyone by the name Rick Sullivan?”

“Know him? He practically lives at the end of the bar some nights.” Your eyes swept over the empty seat where Rick usually occupied. “Although he hasn’t come here in a while, his wife probably decided to put her foot down."

“Do you remember anything unusual about his behavior or if he mentioned anything out of the ordinary recently?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged. “He was always pretty quiet. But now that you mention it, a few weeks ago, he seemed more on edge than usual. Kept looking over his shoulder like he was expecting someone.”

“Did he ever talk to anyone in particular, or did anyone strange approach him?”

You shook your head. “Not that I noticed. But then again, it gets pretty busy here. Hard to keep track of every interaction.”

Spencer nodded at the information. “Is there anyone who seemed particularly close with him here?”

“I don’t think so. He’s friendly with some of the regulars, but no one stood out. He mostly keeps to himself unless he’s buying drinks for the dancers.” You watched him, noticing the way his brow furrowed slightly in thought and you couldn’t help but ask, “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but don’t you have to write all this down?”

Spencer glanced at you, a small smile forming on his lips. "I have a good memory. I'll remember everything you've told me."

"Really? Do you have a photographic memory or something?"

"Eidetic, actually.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s impressive. So basically you’ll remember anything?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, I can recall detailed images and information with high precision.”

“Alright, I want you to remember this then,” you said, leaning in slightly. You recited a series of numbers, your voice smooth and confident.

He looked genuinely confused. “What’s that?”

“My number.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Oh.”

“There’s a rule against sharing personal information while working here,” you explained, leaning in a bit closer, “But you can save it under Y/N. That’s my real name.”

Spencer found himself momentarily mesmerized by your proximity, the scent of your perfume, and the intensity of your gaze. He blinked, trying to maintain his composure.

“Y/N,” he repeated softly, as if committing it to memory.

You smiled. “Exactly. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t,” he assured you as you slipped off the stool and the space between you momentarily vanished. For a brief, unexpected second, your body lightly pressed against his. The contact was fleeting but there was an unspoken tension that seemed to pause the noise around you.

The closeness brought a rush of warmth, and your eyes locked with his. “Do you like jazz music, Dr. Reid?”

He frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Um, I don’t really listen to music.”

“Well, that’s a pity,” you replied with a playful smile. “There’s a great spot not too far from here. They have live bands on the weekends.”

“What… what are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to ask you out on a date.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he processed your words. “Oh,” he stammered, clearly taken aback by your boldness. He hesitated, his mind racing to catch up with the situation. “I, uh, I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Because you’re an FBI agent and I’m a stripper?”

He swallowed, looking a bit flustered. “It’s not that. It’s just… there are boundaries, and I’m supposed to remain professional.”

“Ah, I see. But if you decide to change your mind…” You moved closer, reaching out to fix his crooked tie, your fingers brushing lightly against the fabric. “I’ll be at the Blue Moon on Saturday around 9 p.m., sitting at the bar in a red dress with a drink in my hand.”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly as he tensed but didn’t pull away, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“I hope you do, Dr. Reid.” You took a step back, your hand lingering for a moment before you let go of his tie. “You know where to find me.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there as he watched you blend into the crowd, conflicted and unexpectedly aroused.

~*~

You weren’t sure what you were trying to do. Asking an FBI agent out on a date went against every rule you had set for yourself. You were supposed to keep your distance, to remain anonymous and untouchable. It was safer that way, for both you and your secrets. Yet, here you were, sipping your drink as you waited for a man who represented everything you should be avoiding.

A part of you questioned your sanity. What was it about him that made you break your own rules? It was reckless, foolish even. Getting involved with someone like Spencer Reid could only complicate things.

But there was something about him. Maybe it was the curiosity in his eyes, the way he seemed both out of place and perfectly composed at the same time. Or perhaps it was the way he treated you with a respect and sincerity that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever it was, it had been enough to make you take this risk.

But now, as you sat by the bar alone an hour later, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had all been a mistake. The minutes had ticked by slowly, and you tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that maybe you had misjudged him. Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, and maybe that was for the best.

Just as you were about to give up and leave, the door to your side opened. You turned, not daring to hope, and there he was—looking slightly disheveled and out of breath, but undeniably there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a small, relieved smile crossed his face.

“Hi,” he said, a bit breathless. “I’m sorry I’m late, I got held up at work and I didn’t want to come empty handed, so…”

Your eyes drifted towards the simple bouquet of white lilies in his hand. “Are those for me?”

Spencer nodded, extending the flowers towards you. “Yes, they are,” he replied. “I didn’t know what you’d like, and I thought lilies are a safe choice because they’re elegant and not too overwhelming, but then I started thinking maybe roses would have been better, but then roses can be a bit too—”

You cut him off with a warm smile, gently taking the bouquet from him. “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

He let out a small sigh of relief. “I’m glad you like them.”

You placed the lilies on the bar and gestured to the seat beside you. “Come here, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

“It felt like it,” he admitted, taking the seat right next to you. “I really didn’t want to be late.”

“You’re here now, that’s what matters.” You slightly leaned back and studied him. “I’m actually surprised you changed your mind.”

Spencer glanced at you. “I… I guess I realized I didn’t want to miss the chance to get to know you.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “What do you want to know about me?”

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, actually. He wanted to know your story, why you chose your job, and who you were beneath this confident exterior. But that was all too much for a first date. Glancing around the room, he decided to start with something simpler and said, “Start with how you know this place.”

You smiled, looking around the familiar setting. “I found it a few years ago. I was walking aimlessly down the road one night after work and stumbled this place. It’s become my little escape since then.”

“I can see why." His eyes drifted towards the band playing live music and the few patrons mesmerized by the soft tune. "It’s definitely got a charm to it.”

You leaned in slightly. “Do you have any secret escapes?”

He looked back at you. “Not really. My escapes aren’t quite as charming. Mostly books and chess. They're not exactly thrilling.”

“Books and chess?” you asked, tapping your finger on the bar. “You really are a nerd.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a man of knowledge,” he replied with a shy yet proud smile.

“Well, intelligence is attractive, and not only that, it’s also very sexy." You laughed when you noticed him slightly squirming. “Do you have any other hidden talents I should know about?”

He tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “I’m actually pretty good at magic tricks. It’s something I picked up as a kid.”

“Now that’s a talent I didn’t expect,” you observed, your eyes lighting up. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I’d be happy to,” he replied enthusiastically. “What about you? What’s your hidden talent?”

You grinned. “I can make a pretty mean lasagna. And I’m good at dancing, but you might have already guessed that.”

Spencer suddenly felt the warmth spreading along his face as he remembered your performance on stage the other day. His mind flashed back to the way you moved with such confidence, the undeniable sex appeal you exuded effortlessly, and he could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Yeah, I, uh, definitely noticed,” he admitted.

“I hope that means you were impressed.”

Spencer nodded, still a bit flustered but managing a smile. “Very impressed.”

“Why, thank you,” you noted, leaning closer to him. “How about you? Do you dance, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at the question. “I’m not nearly as skilled as you are,” he confessed. “My dance moves are more… theoretical. More of an exercise in coordination than something you’d want to see in action.”

The image of this authority figure awkwardly dancing in his suit made you smile.

“Now this I need to see.” Sliding off the stool, you extended your hand towards him. “Dance with me.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely,” you replied. “Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

You waited, half-expecting him to decline considering he didn’t even want to shake your hand the last time you saw him. But then, to your surprise, he took a deep breath and placed his hand in yours.

You couldn’t help but smile as he stood up and let you lead him to a small open space near the bar, slipping in between other couples swaying to the music as the band played a lively, upbeat tune.

“Okay, put your hand here,” you instructed, guiding his hand to rest lightly on your waist. You took his other hand in yours and began to sway gently to the rhythm, leading him in a basic two-step.

Spencer tried to follow, his movements slightly awkward at first. “I’m not sure I’m doing this right.”

“You’re doing fine,” you reassured him, smiling up at him. “Just trust your instinct.”

“My instinct is to find the nearest exit door.”

“No escaping tonight. You’re stuck with me,” you teased, your other hand holding onto his shoulder. “Besides, I think you’re doing pretty well for someone who claims to be bad at dancing.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his confidence growing slightly. “You think so?”

“Yep,” you replied, giving him a grin. “In fact, I’d say you’re almost a natural.”

“Almost?” he echoed, a teasing note in his voice. “What do I need to do to earn the proper title?”

“Maybe a spin?” You suggested, already positioning yourself lightly. With an encouraging nod, you prompted him, and he took the cue, lifting his arm and carefully guiding you into a smooth spin under his hold. You twirled gracefully and came back into his arms, beaming up at him.

“How was that?” He asked.

“Pretty impressive.”

He smiled, and a warmth spread through you, a sense of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was wrong, you knew that. You knew you were stepping into dangerous territory, blurring lines that should remain clear. But at that moment, all those concerns seemed distant and unimportant, especially when the music suddenly turned slower.

The soft, sultry notes of a saxophone filled the air as you moved closer to him, gently grabbing his hands before guiding them to rest behind your back.

“Now this,” you began, moving your arms around his neck. “Is how you dance to a slow song.”

Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft expression that made his whole features light up. He pulled you gently against his chest. “I think I prefer this type of dance better.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt. “Me too.”

You felt a hand press gently on your lower back, drawing you even closer as you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. He smelled of fresh soap and something sweet, like vanilla or honey—a combination that you could easily find yourself getting addicted to.

The thought surprised you. For someone who loathed men, who had built a life around a cold, calculated revenge against them, you found Spencer oddly comforting. It was unsettling how natural it felt to be this close to him, how safe he made you feel.

You could almost laugh at the irony. Here you were, a woman fueled by a desire for vengeance, finding solace in the arms of a man. It was reckless. Dangerous. You needed to keep your head in the game. Allowing yourself to get distracted, to feel these warm, tender emotions, was a risk you couldn’t afford.

But as you pressed your face closer to the crook of his neck, it became increasingly difficult to push him away. You knew you had to be cautious. You knew you needed to keep your head clear, your focus sharp, and you promised yourself that you would.

But not now. Not when his touch made you feel something you hadn’t felt in years. For now, you allowed yourself to surrender to the moment, to the warmth of his embrace, to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, and to the fleeting sense of peace that felt so foreign yet so desperately needed.

~*~

Spencer wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. He found himself awkwardly moving close to you, then pulling back, reaching out as if to take your hand, then stopping himself. The hesitation gnawed at him, torn between wanting to hold your hand and maintaining a respectful distance.

Was it too soon? Was there a rule about holding hands on the first date?

He mentally sifted through his limited experiences, trying to recall any useful advice or guidelines. But all he could think about was how natural it had felt to dance with you, to be close to you. He glanced over, catching the soft glow of the streetlights across your face. You looked serene, content, and he wished he could just follow his instincts without second-guessing every move.

“What?” You asked without looking at him. “Why are you staring at me?

He quickly directed his gaze away from you. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You turned to him with a small, amused smile. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I was just curious.”

He hesitated as you both continued to walk, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps blending with the quiet night. Finally, he decided to be honest. “I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment. I guess I’m not very good with this sort of thing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I wanted to hold your hand,” he blurted, his face flushing slightly. “But I wasn’t sure if it was too soon. I didn’t want to seem too forward or make you uncomfortable. I’m sure there’s a whole rule to this that I don’t know about, and I’ve been overthinking it the entire walk.”

You chuckled softly. “Spencer, you don’t need to worry so much.”

He took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… can I hold your hand?”

“Of course, you can,” you replied. “I’d really like that.”

His face lit up as he reached out, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. You laughed at his boyish smile. “So this is why you’ve been silent this whole time?”

“I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“And here I thought you didn’t want to talk to me because you didn’t enjoy my company.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, not at all! I was just worried about doing something wrong.”

“I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong tonight.”

He looked at you, relief washing over his face. “Really?”

“Well, except for making me wait for a whole hour.”

He winced at your words. “Sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Don’t worry. The flowers were worth the wait,” you said, holding up the bouquet in your other hand. “And besides, I enjoyed dancing with you, I had a great time talking to you, and now you’re walking me home, which is definitely a bonus point.”

“So you’re keeping scores?” He asked, finding this conversation amusing. “What’s my score now?”

You pretended to think, a smile playing on your lips. “Well, punctuality could use some work, but excellent choice in flowers, charming dance skills, and chivalrous escort service? I’d say you’re doing quite well. Maybe an eight out of ten?”

“An eight? What happened to the last two points?”

“You need to earn them.”

“How?”

You slowed your pace, pulling him to a stop under a streetlight.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed. He hesitated for a moment, then complied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shut his eyes.

“Okay. Now what?”

You stood on your toes, trying to match his height, and leaned in close. Then, with a quick flutter of excitement, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

His eyes widened in surprise. “I—uh, what—”

You just laughed, a light and carefree sound that cut through the night. “You just gained another point, Dr. Reid.”

Before he knew it, you turned and dashed away, your laughter trailing behind you playfully. He couldn't help but smile at the sound, and, almost without thinking, he started chasing after you.

Spencer wasn't sure why he was running, or even why this felt like the most natural thing to do, but he didn't care. Your laughter was infectious, and when he finally caught up, wrapping his arms around your waist, he couldn't stop laughing.

"Got you," he said, grinning as he met your gaze.

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, taking in the way you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. There was a certain glow about you, a warmth that seemed to radiate across your face. His gaze then drifted down to your lips, slightly parted and still bearing the sweetest smile he had ever seen, and he felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest.

He liked seeing you like this. You always looked so confident and poised, but now you seemed... happy. There was a lightness in your eyes that he hadn't seen before, and like a moth to a flame, he wanted to bask in your warmth.

Without thinking, he slowly closed the gap between you, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again. The world seemed to hold its breath as he leaned in, and then, gently, he kissed you.

Your lips were so soft.

He had imagined they would be, but not like this—not as delicate, not as perfectly in sync with his. The sensation was more than he had ever expected, more than he had allowed himself to hope for. His tongue gently traced your bottom lip, and the soft moan that escaped you urged him even further.

He pulled you closer, and you parted your lips to invite him in. The moment his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he was lost in the rush of flavors and sensations. Your tongues danced together, exploring, tasting, savoring every second while everything around him started to blur into shadows and muffled sounds.

He was so engrossed, so utterly consumed by the taste of you, that he completely forgot he was standing in the middle of a bustling sidewalk. It wasn't until he heard the distinct sound of a throat being cleared that reality snapped back into focus. Pulling slightly away, he turned his head towards the sound and met the stern gaze of an older woman passing by.

“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling incredibly flustered. The woman simply huffed and continued on her way, shaking her head.

You giggled as you reached up to wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth. “I thought you weren’t good with this sort of thing.”

“I’m not,” he assured you, his thumb gently brushing your sides. “This is... definitely a first for me.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you don’t usually make out with girls on busy sidewalks?”

The laugh he let out sounded almost ludicrous, as if the image of him kissing girls in public seemed completely out of character, out of place—until now, to his surprise.

“Nope, can’t say that I do.”

You smiled and tugged on his arm. “Come on.”

You walked together, and Spencer took your hand again. His grip tightened slightly, almost unconsciously, as if he wanted to imprint the way your hand felt into his memory. He was acutely aware of the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers fit perfectly with his. And this sense of wanting to hold onto you grew even stronger when you finally arrived at your building.

“This is me,” you said softly, turning to face him.

He looked down at your intertwined hands. “This is you.”

There was a brief, tense silence before you softly called out his name. He met your gaze, and dear god, how could he let go when you looked at him like that? He was mesmerized by the way your eyes sparkled under the light, the soft curve of your smile, the gentle confidence in your stance.

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you going to ask how you can earn your last point?”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your question, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Alright,” he said. “How can I earn my last point?”

Then he saw it, the same glint in your eyes that he had noticed when you were dancing on stage. It was a look filled with flirtation, exuding sex appeal and confidence. The way your eyes sparkled under the ambient light, the subtle but assured smile playing on your lips, all pointed to someone who knew exactly what they were doing and enjoyed the game just as much as the outcome.

“Well,” you started. “How about you come upstairs and we can figure it out together?”

Spencer’s heart raced at your words. He might not have had much experience when it came to dating, but he knew the look on your face all too well because he was sure he had the same expression. His eyes fell to your lips.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Because you’re trying to remain professional?” You asked, recalling his exact words the other night. “Spencer, I think you’ve long forgotten about that the moment you agreed to spend the evening with me.”

He felt a rush of warmth at your words, realizing just how right you were. The boundaries he usually upheld seemed irrelevant now, replaced by the desire to be closer to you. He sighed, the tension easing slightly as he admitted, “I guess you’re right.”

You stepped closer, your smile seductive. “So, how about we stop worrying about what’s appropriate and just enjoy ourselves?”

He was going to regret this.

“What do you have in mind?”

He was really going to regret this.

“I think you already know what I have in mind.”

Oh, screw it. If regret was the price he had to bear, then he was willing to pay it.

~*~

The crowd pulsed when you stepped out into the main area, heels clicking sharply against the floor. You took in the scene before you, passing sleazy men, some slipping tips to a dancer on stage, others getting lap dances in the dimly lit corners. A group of men in sharp suits whistled when they spotted you, and you winked at them, flipping your hair back with a playful gesture before continuing on.

You could feel heavy stares watching your every move, but despite being in a room full of men, there was only one man you had your eyes on.

You spotted him by the bar with a drink in his hand, and despite your meticulous planning to bring him back here to observe him, the sight of the man who ripped off your dreams as a naive sixteen-year-old girl never failed to ignite a burning rage within you. You wondered whether his memory was as vivid as yours, if he remembered the disgusting things he had done. But there was never any sign of recognition in his eyes, just as there hadn’t been in the eyes of the three before him.

They all thought you were just a woman trying to make ends meet, working every night in this dark place by taking your clothes off on stage. To them, you were just another pretty face, another body to gawk at. They believed you were just another girl trapped in the cycle of survival, oblivious to the deadly game you were playing.

You had crafted this persona carefully, every move, every word designed to lure them in, to make them feel comfortable, even powerful. They had no idea that you held their fate in your hands. You made them think they were taking advantage of a desperate woman, but in reality, they were the ones being manipulated, guided like pawns towards their inevitable downfall.

And tonight, it was his turn. The last of the men who had tainted your innocence.

You slipped into the empty stool beside him, a coy smile playing on your lips. “I thought I saw a familiar face.”

He turned towards you, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied, your voice a soft purr. The words were easy, almost natural.

“You’ve been quite the distraction for me,” he admitted. “Couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You laughed lightly. “Good, because I aim to please.”

“And you’re very pleasing to look at,” he agreed, his eyes tracing the curve of your smile. “You have a way of captivating an audience.”

“Well, it’s nice to know I have such a dedicated fan.” You leaned loser so your shoulders brushed. “What brings you here tonight? A fight with the missus?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. She’s out of town.”

You knew that already. You knew his schedule as well as he did, if not better. But you feigned innocence, like you always did.

“Lucky me then,” you replied with a flirtatious tilt of your head. “It means I get to have you all to myself tonight.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, his eyes roaming over you with undisguised interest. “I really couldn’t stop thinking about you lately.”

You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. “Really? What exactly have you been thinking?”

“I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to spend some real time with you. Away from the club.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh? And what exactly would we do with that time?”

His hand brushed against your thigh under the table, a bold move that was more telling than any words. “I think you know what I mean.”

You pulled back slightly, giving him a flirtatious look. “You know it’s against the rules to do anything too... personal here. The club has strict policies about that sort of thing.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping for more than just a dance.”

You smiled slyly, your eyes locking onto his with a promise. “Who says we have to stay here?”

His grin widened. “Yeah?”

You nodded, brushing your fingers along his arm. “We could go somewhere else…” you murmured, your hand continuing a path up his shoulder, tracing the line of his suit jacket. “Somewhere we can really enjoy each other’s company.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your suggestion. “Like where?”

You let your lips brush his ear. “How about your place? Your wife isn't there, we can use it however we want.”

There was a pause as he considered your words. You could see the wheels turning, the temptation playing across his face. Sensing his uncertainty, you placed your hand gently on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your fingertips.

“Think about it,” you coaxed softly, your voice a seductive whisper. “Just you and me, no rules, no eyes watching...” Your body inched closer to his. “It’ll be our little secret.”

His eyes darkened with anticipation, the earlier reluctance fading away under your touch. “Alright,” he said after a brief pause. “Let’s go back to my place.”

You smiled triumphantly, standing up, brushing the nonexistent dust on his shoulders. “Meet me at the back exit in five. I need to grab my purse.”

He nodded excitedly as he watched you walk away, mesmerized by the confidence in the sway of your hips. But the moment you stepped into the dressing room, your façade cracked.

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a deep breath as you fought to keep your composure. The walls seemed to close in, the air thinning around you as if suffocating you under the weight of your own emotions. Your breath became shallow, the world spinning slightly as a wave of dizziness and anger overwhelmed you all at once.

You slowly forced yourself to move, your feet dragging you over towards the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable. The confident, seductive woman from moments was now replaced with a figure trembling under the weight of her memories.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the past rushed back in a wave of emotion. The image of the young girl you once were, the girl whose dreams had been shattered by the man waiting for you outside, seemed to blend itself over your reflection. The pain, the anger, the helplessness—it all came flooding back, threatening to overwhelm you.

But you couldn’t let it. Not now.

Wiping away the tears with the back of your hand, you straightened up, forcing yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. You grabbed your purse and checked its contents one last time, making sure everything was in place, and checked your phone.

There was a message.

Your eyes welled up with tears again as you saw the name glaring back at you.

Dr. Reid :)

Just seeing his name was breaking your heart. He had been trying to contact you for days now, ever since that night you spent together. The night that had been a brief, beautiful distraction from the dark path you were on. He was kind, gentle, and you couldn’t stop thinking of the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

Each message was harder to ignore than the last, and he wasn’t just reaching out; he was trying to reach in. His words were always kind, always thoughtful.

I had a great time. Can we meet again?

Just thinking about you. Hope you're okay.

Did you know sea otters hold hands when they sleep to keep from drifting apart?

His random messages of facts always made you smile because it was so authentically him—something you had never encountered before. And every time he tried to contact you, the walls you had carefully constructed around your heart began to crack. You longed to reach out to him, to relive those short moments of happiness that had brought a rare light into your life. But you knew that if you allowed yourself to see him again, it would only weaken your resolve.

So you had been avoiding him, giving excuses about being busy or not feeling well. His presence had a way of grounding you, and you couldn’t afford that now, not when you were so close to the end.

Your eyes fell to your phone again. Despite the knot tightening in your stomach, despite knowing how much it would hurt, you clicked open the message.

Can I see you tonight?

The words on the screen blurred as your grip tightened. A part of you wanted to see him again, to have his arms wrapped around your body, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. But surrendering to these desires would only put you in danger. It was only a matter of time until he saw through your act, and until then, you needed to move fast.

Because you knew that if you let him in, if you opened that door, you wouldn't be able to follow through with your plan. The plan that had consumed you for so long, and now with the final act right in front of you, you couldn't afford any distractions.

So you took a deep breath and crafted another lie.

I have work tonight. I'm sorry.

~*~

Spencer stared at the message, a frown creasing his forehead. Had he done something wrong?

He couldn't shake the feeling that you were avoiding him. He replayed the evening in his mind, analyzing every detail, every word exchanged. It had felt perfect to him—the connection, the chemistry. But now, your constant excuses and distant responses gnawed at him. Had he misread everything? Had he been too forward, or was there something he had missed?

"Reid?" Derek's voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbled, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You were saying?”

Derek opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Penelope entered the conference room with a laptop in her hand. "You guys are gonna love me," she sang, setting the device down.

“You found anything?” Derek asked.

“Remember that blurry picture of the tattoo you sent me a few days ago?” she turned her laptop screen towards them, showing a detailed emblem that was now clearly visible. "This isn't just any tattoo—it's mandatory for the members of a local club known for their… exclusive membership.”

“What kind of club?”

Penelope clicked through a few more screens, bringing up information she had compiled. “It’s a bit underground, not your typical social club. It appears to be part social, part cultural, but there are hints of something more... let's just say, illegal activities.”

“And all members have this tattoo?”

“Yep, it’s like a symbol of loyalty, almost like a badge of honor.”

Spencer felt a knot tightening in his stomach. “Is it… The Velvet Curtain?”

Penelope shook her head, typing quickly to bring up a comparison on her screen.

“No, The Velvet Curtain is just a fancy, exclusive strip club. This one, on the other hand…” She paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she chose her words carefully, “...is much more secretive and, from what I can tell, much more dangerous. Think less about glamour and more about power and control."

“What kind of activities are we talking about?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual gambling and trafficking,” Penelope said dryly, scrolling through her screen. “I think you guys should check this out after we wrap up the case.”

Derek ignored her jab and crossed his arms. “So our victim can be anyone, which doesn't narrow it down much.” He turned to Penelope. “How many members are we talking about?”

“Over three hundred registered members.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of numbers.”

“Have you tried cross-referencing the members with Rick Sullivan?" Spencer suggested. "He might be our best lead.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Penelope’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she pulled up new data. After a few moments, she exclaimed, “Got it!”

Derek leaned in. “We have a name?”

Penelope quickly brought up a profile. “James Dalton, went to college with Rick. Mid-30s, a manager at a tech firm, lives in the suburbs with his family…” She trailed off, her eyes widening. “...and was reported missing a week ago.”

Spencer frowned, piecing it together. “He could be our John Doe.”

Penelope nodded, already typing away. “I’m cross-referencing his dental records and fingerprints as we speak.”

“You can do that?”

“You underestimate me, pretty boy,” she quipped with a smirk, her fingers flying over the keyboard. It didn't take long for her screen to flash with the confirmation she needed. “It’s a match. James Dalton is our John Doe. The dental records line up perfectly.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as they absorbed the news. Derek ran a hand over his face, breaking the silence with a sigh. “Did Rick and James ever contact each other after college?”

Penelope shook her head, scrolling through her data. “No, there’s no evidence of any recent communications. It looks like they hadn't been in touch for years until... well, until whatever pulled them back together recently.”

Spencer leaned closer to get a better view of Penelope’s screen. “Can you check his bank records? There could be any mutual transactions between them.”

“Pulling up his financials now,” she said, her eyes scanning the data that populated her screen. Moments later, she pointed at a series of numbers. “There are no mutual transactions… oh wow.”

“What is it?”

“He spent a lot of money over the past few months,” Penelope continued, her eyes wide with surprise. “We’re talking significant amounts.”

“Where?”

She looked up at him. “The Velvet Curtain.”

Spencer felt the blood drain from his body. It was as if a heavy, sinking feeling took hold, the kind that grips the stomach and pulls down hard. At first, he thought of your safety. The club you worked at was linked to the case, and worse, even directly to the victims. This connection sent chills down his spine, filling him with dread.

But the more he thought about it, especially when his mind replayed how you had been avoiding him lately, the worse his feelings grew. His concern turned into suspicion, and then that suspicion morphed into a sense of betrayal. Were you involved in this? Were you hiding something from him?

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t let his mind go there. You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t. You were too kind, too genuine. There had to be another explanation.

“Reid, let’s go.”

Spencer looked up to see Derek standing by the door. “Where?”

“We need to go back there,” Derek said firmly. “We’re missing something.”

Spencer’s badge felt heavier than usual, the gun on his hip weighing him down. His mind was clouded with doubt, his heart pounding with anxiety. He always considered himself as someone who was confident when it came to his job, a man of knowledge who could win an argument with facts and logic. But now the lines of right and wrong seemed to blurred and he found himself questioning even his own judgment.

He let out a heavy breath. There was nothing else he could do but to follow Derek out of the room. He needed to see this through, for justice, for his peace of mind, and perhaps, for your innocence he hoped to prove.

~*~

You weren’t here.

I have work tonight, I’m sorry.

You weren’t here.

Spencer was trying to come up with excuses for your disappearance. Maybe you got sick. Maybe there was an emergency. His mind went through plausible scenarios, but none seemed to fit quite right, and his curiosity continued to gnaw at him. He braced himself and approached the club owner, hoping to gain some information under the pretense of connecting you as a witness.

The man, with a burly frame, salt-and-pepper hair, and a scowl etched on his face, barely let Spencer get the words out.

“She was here,” the owner grumbled. “Her set was half an hour ago and I haven’t seen her since. If I find out she’s skipping out on work again…” He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration.

Spencer felt his heart sank. “Again?”

He nodded gruffly. “Yeah, she’s been a bit unreliable lately. Shows up late, leaves early. It’s becoming a problem.”

“Did she mention anything to you?”

“She never says much. Keeps to herself mostly. If she’s in some kind of trouble, she’s not talking about it.” He gave Spencer a once-over. “You know her personally?”

Caught off-guard, Spencer quickly shook his head. “No. I’ve just heard she might have some useful information on the case we’re working on.”

The owner seemed to accept this, nodding slightly. “Well, good luck with that. If you find her, tell her she’s got some explaining to do.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him even more. The pressure in his chest was almost suffocating. He knew he needed to focus on trying to find out anything about James Dalton, but his mind kept turning to you, unable to shake the fear that something terrible had happened, or worse, or worse, that you might somehow be involved.

“What was that all about?”

He looked up to see Derek watching him closely. “Nothing.”

Derek studied him for a moment, noting the slight shift in his demeanor, the way his eyes darted away. “Reid, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine."

“You know you can talk to me if something’s up, right?”

“I know,” he snapped. Then he sighed, his expression softening. “I’m fine, really. Let’s just focus on the case.”

Derek studied him for a moment longer, wanting to press further, but was stopped when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, saw Penelope’s name, and quickly switched it to speaker.

“Found something new?” Derek asked.

“Yes,” Penelope's voice came through with urgency. “Have you found anything interesting yet?”

“No, nothing solid on our end,” Derek replied, glancing at Spencer who remained focused but visibly tense. “What did you find?"

“I think you should take this somewhere private,” Penelope suggested cautiously.

Derek nodded, catching Spencer’s eye and motioning for him to follow. They navigated through the bustling backstage area, moving past busy staff and performers until they spotted an empty dressing room. He ushered Spencer inside and shut the door behind them.

“We’re out of earshot,” Derek confirmed, his tone low. “Go ahead.”

“Alright, listen,” Penelope began, her voice serious. “I’ve been digging into the pasts of the two victims we identified and I found something disturbing that was buried deep in their college history. It took a lot of digging because it was almost completely erased from the public record.”

“What did you find?”

“There were reports of a group of men, including Sullivan and Dalton, who were accused of sexually assaulting a high school student who was a minor. The details were sketchy and it seems there was a significant effort to cover it up. The case never went to trial, the reports were sealed.”

“How many men were involved?”

“Four. Sullivan, Dalton, Mark Eldridge, and Robert Lawson.” There were some clicking noises in the background before Penelope continued, “Mark Eldridge was reportedly missing a few days ago, and I cross-checked his dental records with our second John Doe—it was a match.”

Derek let out a sigh. “This looks like some kind of revenge plot.” He ran a hand over his face, the weight of the situation sinking in. “What can you tell us about Lawson?”

Penelope quickly typed in a few commands. “Robert Lawson lives on the outskirts of town. He’s maintained a low profile over the years, but nothing in his recent history suggests he’s aware of the danger he might be in.”

Derek nodded, absorbing the information. “Alright, send us his address. We need to get to him before the Unsub does.”

“Sending it now,” Penelope confirmed.

“Garcia?”

Derek looked up to see Spencer standing at the edge of the room, staring blankly at a spot on the wall. His posture was tense, his face pale, and his breathing uneven. It was the most uncharacteristic of him Derek had ever seen.

“Who was the victim?” Spencer asked, his voice low, almost strained.

There was a brief pause as Penelope searched through her files. “Y/N L/N,” she answered quietly. “She was a high school student at the time, just sixteen. The case was buried deep, but it’s all here—she was threatened, her family was paid off, and the whole thing was hushed up.”

Derek felt a chill run down his spine. “And where is she now?”

Another pause, this one more tense, as Penelope gathered the final piece of information.

“She’s a dancer at The Velvet Curtain.”

Spencer felt his world tilt. The realization hit him like a freight train, his heart dropping like a stone into the depths of his stomach. It was as if the ground beneath his feet had turned to ice, sending him slipping into a dizzying spin of shock and disbelief. The pieces clicked together with the painful precision of a knife twisting in his gut. All the clues that had seemed disconnected before suddenly formed a clear, devastating picture.

“Reid.”

He couldn’t breathe, his chest tight with a constricting panic. The room closed in around him, the walls seeming to press closer with each labored breath.

“Reid.”

The reality made him feel sick.

“Reid!”

He needed to get out of here.

His feet carried him toward the door, pushing him outside to breathe. The fresh air hit his face, but it did little to ease the heaviness in his lungs.

“Reid, I need you to talk to me,” Derek’s voice followed behind him.

Spencer leaned against the cool brick wall, trying to steady his racing heart and chaotic thoughts. He struggled to find the words, the horror of the situation crashing over him like a relentless wave.

“What happened?”

He stared at Derek through blurry eyes. “It’s her,” he managed to choke out. “I-I didn’t know it was her…”

“Reid.” Derek stepped closer, gripping his shoulders. “Breathe.”

Spencer looked up at him, the pain suffocating his chest, building up inside until he couldn’t hold it back any longer. The words began tumbling out of his lips.

He told him everything. How you approached him that first night they came to the club, how you stood out in the crowd. He described the spark in your eyes when you had asked him out on a date and how hesitant he was at first until his curiosity got the better of him.

He recalled that night, how he felt a connection he hadn't known was missing. He told Derek about the conversations you shared, the laughter between you, and how deeply fulfilling it felt to be with someone who seemed to truly get him, a happiness he hadn't known before.

Derek stared at him when he finished. There was no judgment in his eyes, far from it, but what Spencer saw was even worse—it was pity.

“Reid…”

Spencer shook his head, trying to dismiss Derek’s sympathy that made him feel so exposed. “I know what this looks like,” he cut in quickly. “But you have to understand, it felt—everything with her felt real.”

“I know, I know. I believe you, man, it’s just—”Derek sighed. “You’re too involved in this.”

Spencer met his gaze. “I never wanted to be this involved.”

Derek let out another sigh, something he couldn’t stop doing when the person he considered as his little brother was going through so much pain. He took out his phone from his pocket. “Look, let me call Hotch and tell him to send someone else—”

Spencer quickly grabbed Derek’s arm, stopping him from dialing. “No,” he insisted. “I need to do this. I want to see her.”

“I don’t think—“

“I have to,” Spencer pleaded. “I need to. I can’t… I just… I need to see her.”

“Reid, she’s dangerous. She’s killed three men before, and there’s a chance she might do the same to you.”

Spencer shook his head. “What she’s doing is for revenge, you said that yourself. She won’t hurt me.”

“But—“

“Morgan, please,” Spencer interrupted, the desperation clear in his voice. “Let me talk to her. This might be my only chance.”

Derek watched him closely, seeing the pain and determination in his eyes. It was clear Spencer wasn’t going to back down, and understanding this, he finally gave in.

“Fine. But we’re taking every precaution, okay? You’re not going in alone.” Spencer nodded gratefully. “And I’m still calling for backup.”

“Of course,” he agreed, watching Derek turn around.

Spencer silently followed him back to the car as he replayed every moment without you. He tried to search for any clues he might have missed, wondering how he had been so blind, so caught up in his feelings. The thought of you being the one behind those murders was too much for him to bear, yet he knew he had to confront you. He had to know why you did it. He had to know whether any of those moments you shared together was as magical for you as it was for him, even though he was scared of the answers, of this new, cruel reality.

He just had to see you, no matter how painful it might be.

~*~

Your last victim was the easiest. You’d think he would have struggled a bit, or maybe he’d see right through your act. After all, this wasn’t the first time he had seen you, and sure, you might have looked different, but you still had the same features from when you were young. Your eyes. Your smile. You were still you, just older.

But he never noticed, because as soon as you started to seduce him, he was just like the others. All they sought was your body, or the thought of it, the fantasy they spun so easily in their minds. You realized that another thing that hadn’t changed was their disgusting perception of you, not as a person, but as an object for their desires.

Despite their oblivious nature, it came to your benefit. It was easy to put the drug in his drink, not much, but enough to make him drowsy. Enough for his body to go limp so you could tie his hands behind his back easily. You could see his brows creasing as he struggled to keep his eyes open. You knew the sedative was starting to get to his brain.

You managed to drag his body to his study. You had pulled him by his feet, his head occasionally bumping along the floor. He groaned but didn’t do much, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. His eyes, heavy and confused, flickered with a dim recognition of his state, a useless attempt to grasp the situation that was slowly escaping his control.

And you loved it.

“W-What…” He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “…help…”

You left him there to struggle as you grabbed the can of gasoline from his backyard, which you had hidden there that morning when he was at work. You wondered briefly if he had noticed it when he came back home, but just like the others, he was oblivious. It was still right where you left it.

You carried it back into the study and noticed his eyes widening slightly, a fear starting to seep through his confusion. You unscrewed the cap, the pungent smell filling the room, and stared down at him.

That was when you heard the ringing.

It was a loud, jarring noise and your eyes settled onto the house phone sitting on his desk. The sound was out of place, cutting through the tension-filled silence like a knife as you waited for it to stop. It kept on going, on and on, until the answering machine clicked on, and a familiar voice cut through the room, calling out your name.

You let out a cry. The sound of Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed in your ears, the voice you had hoped to avoid was now invading this moment.

“Pick up the phone,” he pleaded. “Please.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when his voice was already starting to shake your defenses.

The call ended not long after that. You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain your composure. But then the phone rang again. This time, his message was more desperate.

“Talk to me, please, I know what you’ve been through... I just want to help.”

The gasoline can shook in your grip. Help was the last thing you needed. “I don't want any help," you muttered to yourself, the words barely audible over his voice cutting through the answering machine.

“I-I’ll be here if you need me, you don't have to go through this alone.”

"I don't want any help.”

But he kept on, his voice calm yet insistent. "I know you're in pain, but this—this isn't the way to solve things. Answer me, please, let me help—“

It was your last straw. You finally snatched up the phone. "I don't want any help!"

You were met with a stunned silence on the other end. It was deafening, stretching out long enough for the reality of who was on the other end to sink in.

“…Spencer?”

“I’m here,” he replied softly. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Hearing his voice, so familiar and filled with genuine care, made you pause. For a split second, the walls you had built around your heart trembled. You wanted to scream at him, to push him away, but a part of you longed for his presence.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why are you not going anywhere?”

“Because I…” There was a pause. “Because I care about you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst. “You do?”

“I do,” he confessed. “More than I should have.”

You sniffed, gently placing the gasoline on top of the wooden surface of the desk. “Because you’re an FBI agent and I’m a stripper?” You wondered, recalling the same question you had asked him days ago.

“You know it was never about that,” he said. “But you’re smart enough to know the real reason.”

You glanced back at the man lying on the floor, barely conscious, his breaths shallow and labored. Spencer’s voice rang in your ears again.

“Don’t do this… please.”

You swallowed, your heart beating fast. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

“I’ll give you three,” he responded quickly. “One, you’re not a bad person.”

Your grip on the phone tightened.

“Two, you deserve a chance to find real peace.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, the resolve in your heart wavering.

“And three,” Spencer’s voice softened. “Because I want to dance with you again.”

The memory of that night, the connection you felt, rushed back, overwhelming your rage that you couldn’t help but laugh through your tears. “Yeah?”

“I want you to teach me again,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m still not very good at it.”

The image of the two of you dancing at the bar brought a bittersweet ache to your heart. But it wasn’t enough to overwhelm the anger, the deep-seated rage that had driven you for so long.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the phone, the words escaping in a breath so faint it was almost swallowed by the silence of the room.

Spencer heard it, though. “Don’t say that. It’s not over,” he pleaded. “We can still have more nights out, more dances.”

“Spencer, stop.”

“Think about it,” he continued, his voice softening as he tried a different approach. “Your family, they would rather take the money than fight for you. They left you to fend for yourself when you needed them the most.”

“Spencer…”

“And you’ve carried that weight for so long. You’ve been so strong, but now you’re not alone, you have me. So don’t let their choices define you,” he muttered. “You’re better than this.”

His words struck a nerve.

“Better than this?” You suddenly snapped, anger flaring up again. “You don’t know me. Just because we had one date, it doesn’t mean you understand what I’ve been through.”

“I don’t know everything you’ve been through,” Spencer admitted. “But I know pain. I know what it’s like to feel abandoned and betrayed.”

He paused, the line silent for a moment before he continued with a heavy sigh.

“When I was in school, a girl asked me to meet her by the school field one day… only for the football team to show up instead. They tied me up to a goalpost and stripped me naked in front of all the students.” He took a deep breath. “Everyone laughed and stared, and no one did anything to stop them.”

You knew what he was trying to do. And partly, it worked. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for him. You imagined how sad it must have been for him, how traumatic and devastating that experience must have been. It was heartbreaking to picture him in that situation. But despite your sympathy, it didn’t suppress the anger inside you.

As painful as his story sounded, you knew you’d rather take his place instead of enduring what you had experienced.

“Spencer, it’s not the same,” you said, your voice trembling. “What they did to you was horrible, but what happened to me… it destroyed everything.”

“I know it’s not the same,” he replied quietly. “But pain is pain. And it doesn’t have to define us. We can choose—“

“Pain is pain?” You cried, finally letting go of the tears you had been holding back. “You know what’s painful? Hearing your story and the first thing that came up to my mind was how I’d rather take your place, because unlike you, those men didn’t stop after they stripped me naked.”

The anger boiled over, and you couldn't stop yourself, tears streamed down your face as raw, unfiltered pain poured out in your words.

"Do you know what it feels like to be young and helpless? To have four men twice your size assault you?" You screamed, losing any semblance of control you had left. "Do you fucking know how it feels to see these disgusting men get away with everything while you have to endure the nightmares, the flashbacks, the fear every single day?"

Your voice broke, heavy sobs wracking your body.

"Do you know how it feels to be broken, to be so destroyed that you can't even look at yourself in the mirror without hating what you see?”

Silence fell, your heavy breathing the only sound in the aftermath of your outburst. Spencer's voice was gentle when he finally spoke. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course, you didn’t. Because you’re a man, after all.” You picked up the gasoline again, the weight heavy in your hand. “You’re just like them… all you want to do is to save them.”

“That’s not what I—”

“And you’re fucking wasting my time.”

You slammed the phone down, cutting off the connection.

You moved on instinct. You looked down at the man on the floor, his eyes half-open, barely conscious. You regarded him one last time before you poured the gasoline over his body. The fumes rose in the air as you spread the liquid around the room, creating a trail that led to the door. At some point, one of your heels cracked, and you kicked them off, feeling the cold ground beneath your feet. It was a minor inconvenience, nothing compared to the gravity of what you were about to do.

When you finally reached a safe distance from the house, you paused, taking one last deep breath, throwing the empty can onto the ground. The weight of your past, your pain, and your anger all converged in this single moment. You took out the lighter, your hands trembling as the reality of what you were about to do settled in.

You flicked the lighter, the small flame dancing in the night air. For a moment, you were transfixed by it, the flickering light a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you. Everything you had endured, everything that had brought you to this point, seemed to hinge on this tiny flame.

With a flick of your hand, you let it fall to the ground.

The flame kissed the trail of gasoline, igniting it instantly. The fire took life, racing along the path with a hunger that matched your own rage. It moved back toward the house, consuming everything it touched, fueled by the fume and your deep-seated desire for retribution.

The flames grew and the fire roared louder, its crackling sound filling the silence of the night. The house began to catch, the flames eagerly climbing the walls. The sight was mesmerizing yet horrifying, and you stood rooted to the spot, the fire reflecting in your eyes, casting light on the tears that streaked down your face.

You felt a smile forming on your lips.

So this was what it felt like, to watch the ashes drift through the air. To smell the acid scent of smoke. To feel the heat envelop you, wrapping your body like a suffocating blanket. To hear the sound of the world cracking and crumbling under the force of your wrath. It was beautiful, and you were mesmerized by the flames, the destruction—they were your creation, your justice.

But deep down, it was so much more than that. This wasn’t just for you, but for everyone else who had been silenced, who couldn’t do anything. You realized your anger was more than just a personal vendetta. It was a voice for the voiceless, a stand against those who had used their power to hurt and destroy.

You thought of all the others who had been through the same hell, who had been left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives alone, who had been dismissed by a system that should have protected them.

The fire was for them, too.

You continued to watch the flame dance through the night sky, and that was when you heard it, the distant sound of vehicles approaching you. The crunch of gravel under tires grew louder and you stayed rooted where you were.

There was no running from this, no escaping what was to come. You had chosen this path, you had already accepted the consequences long before the first match was struck.

As you turned around, a group of people in FBI vests came rushing out, some frantically calling for backup as they watched the fire consume the house, while a few others pointed their weapons towards you. But your eyes were fixed on the man who had given you a glimpse of hope, the man who had tried to save you.

You felt tears streaming down your face as Spencer approached you, and you sobbed uncontrollably, the reality of what you had done sinking in.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking. “I-I had to do it.”

“Reid.”

An older FBI agent standing close called him, his tone a clear warning, but Derek, the other agent who you had also seen at the club, placed a hand on his shoulder. The older agent hesitated, then remained silent, allowing Spencer to approach you.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Spencer’s eyes took in your appearance. The confident woman he had always known was nowhere to be found, replaced by this version of you—vulnerable, sad, and angry at the world. The sight of you barefoot, the dirt and grime clinging to your skin, made it even more heartbreaking. Your hair was disheveled, your face was streaked with tears. The raw emotion in your eyes tore at his heart.

“I—I’m sorry too,” he whispered.

You let out a choked sob. “I… I-I really had fun that night.”

Spencer nodded helplessly. “It was the best night of my life.”

Your sobs grew louder, feeling the air restrict your lungs. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get to do it again.”

He shook his head. “We could.”

“You know well we couldn’t,” you murmured. The pain in his eyes after those words left your mouth was too much—that raw, unguarded hurt—and you had to close your eyes, not wanting to see it.

In that brief darkness you wondered what would have happened if you had never gone through with any of this. Would you still have crossed his path? Would things have been different? But no, your rage was too consuming, too deep-seated for you to second guess the path you had chosen.

His soft voice whispered your name, and you blinked your eyes open, noticing his outstretched arm.

“Dance with me.”

You let out a painful cry. “Spencer… don’t make it harder than it already is.”

“Please, I… I just want to hold you.” You stared at his hand trembling under the firelight. “Please.”

You had never felt so much pain, a crushing weight on your heart, and against your better judgment, you took his hand. He pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close as if trying to memorize every detail of your body pressed against his.

The world seemed to pause. You let your mind be happy for a while, you let it travel to the simple, mundane things you wished you could do with him—walking hand in hand through a park, sharing quiet breakfasts, laughing together over something silly, and feeling his comforting presence beside you during the small, quiet times in bed.

You dreamed of a life where your past didn’t haunt you, where the weight of your decisions didn’t crush your spirit. You dreamed of waking up to his smile, of whispered conversations in the dark, of his naked body pressed against yours as he whispered sweet nothings to your ear. You allowed yourself to fantasize of a life filled with those ordinary, beautiful moments, a life that felt so achingly close yet so painfully out of reach.

But the fire’s glow around you was a reminder of the reality you couldn’t escape. Still, for a few moments, the night around you seemed to fade, the chaos and destruction reduced to a distant backdrop. His hands were gentle on your back, holding you as if you were something precious, something to be cherished, someone to be loved.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he murmured into your hair.

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, those deep brown eyes you knew you were going to miss. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

The sorrow there was mirrored in your own, a mutual recognition of the pain you both felt. His gaze held yours, intense and searching, as if trying to commit every detail to memory. The color of your eyes, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice. He wanted to remember you for a lifetime.

With tears streaming down your face, you leaned into him, savoring the bittersweet moment. You ignored everything around you. The noise, the chaos, the destruction—all of it faded into the background. It was just the two of you, as if nothing else mattered.

And nothing else did.

So you danced for the last time, holding on to each other desperately, each step a silent prayer, each turn a tender goodbye, as the world continued to burn.

~*~

“Can't seem to hold you like I want to,

So I can feel you in my arms.

Nobody's gonna come and save you,

We pulled too many false alarms.”

~*~

A/n: If you managed to make it to the end, I applaud you! Thank you from taking the time to read this fic. I’m very self conscious about this because not only does it have 14k words, the plot is also very heavy. But I’m happy with how it turned out and I hope you liked it too. Also, I could go on and on about why I chose this specific plot, but I’d be talking too much here. So if you want to further discuss this story, feel free to send me asks. I’ll gladly reply to them <3

#lou’s birthday party🎉#unsub reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #angst #dark fic #angst with no happy ending

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jam3sacaster · 2 months ago

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“I can’t sleep. I just think of you.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by the wonderful @nebulastarr / Rupert realises he’s in love with reader.

Sorry if this seemed a bit long winded, I just like a slow burn ya know.

18+ FANFIC / No smut, just a few lewd references & a soft, soppy mess 🫶🏽 Blood mention! Reader character aged 21. Please request any pieces you want! Just hit my ask box with a character and/or suggestion 💋

Whilst chopping a medley of large misshapen onions, the incessant ticking of your dining room grandfather clock taunted you — a constant reminding of passing time. You had been seeing Rupert Campbell-Black for a few weeks now. Well, you say seeing, more-so arriving at Penscombe Court as soon as he clicked his fingers, spreading your legs and letting him blow off steam. All truth be told, you hated being his personal call girl but you believed there was something so much more to it. You’d seen the way he’d glared at you as you unclipped your bra, eyes ablaze with passion. The way he touched you was no longer fuelled with lust, but was intricate and gentle — the tender touch of a man so eager to please such a dainty woman. Was he really beginning to fall for you, or is it wishful thinking? Seeing his chest rise and fall as he slept beside you kept you awake, speechless by the serenity of such a raucous man. Watching his lips contort as he laughed at your hopeless jokes, most likely out of pity, but sent a chill through you nonetheless. You were beginning to… grow rather fond of him.

Right on time, three firm knocks on the door made you jump, and you jolt slightly, scratching a wonky line into your chopping board. Before waiting for a response, Rupert entered the wooden door of your cottage and lowered himself into the kitchen. Leaning against the doorframe, he took a long pull of his cigarette, casting his carven face in an ashy amber glow. “Afternoon.” You chirp, pumping your speech with fake enthusiasm. Rupert replied only with a suave wink as he puffed once more on his cigarette. “I thought I’d cook first.” You respond to yourself, motioning to the variety of fresh vegetables laden across your kitchen countertop. “Oh darling, I haven’t come here for that.” Rupert chortled, his eyes following your every move. You felt your eyes subconsciously roll back to the back of your head.. you could call out his bullshit straight away.

“I’ve just been to look at a horse. Beautiful. Thoroughbred. And the woman advertising her was just gorg-“ He began, evidently trying to rile you. You felt your hand tighten around the large kitchen knife as you kept your eyes focused on your chopping board .. feeling your slices get more and more harsh by the second. “I don’t… want to hear it, Rupert.” You bark, gently placing down your knife and momentarily turning round to face him. You want him to see the jealousy flooding your eyes green. Rupert knew exactly what he was doing. Fighting back the most marvellous smirk, he lowered the cigarette from his mouth to add fuel to the fire, but decided against it.

Continuing to prepare your unromantic meal, your heart pounded furiously and the repetitive thump of blood coursing through your body blurred any other sound from your ear. “I wasn’t interested anyway, angel. She was all over me like a rash.” The chiselled man continued to coax vexation from you. Who the fuck does he think he is? Coming into your house and telling you about- “Fuck!” You bellowed. Your frantic chopping had gone rather wrong— the pure spiteful mess of Rupert’s words had riled you so heavily that you had miscalculated the direction of your knife and chopped straight into your finger. Blood crept into the natural layers of the onion, and began to seep into the wooden cutting board. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You scream again, applying pressure to your finger with the nearest tea towel, immediately soaking it. And of course, you feel your body weakening and your mind dizzying. You do NOT like blood. Springing into action, Rupert stood directly behind you, using his body as a human shield as you inevitably fell into him, just on the brink of fainting. “Are you okay, angel?” He whispered, taking control of the tea towel, squeezing it tight onto your finger and placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead. But the words he spoke sounded too heavy to make any coherence in your head and your vision grew thicker and hazier.

What felt like an eternity later, you awoke on your sofa, head propped up on a pillow and covered in thick, woollen blankets. “Rupert?” You croak, and look down at your finger. Perfectly cleaned up, and wrapped securely in bandages. The bitter smell of TCP filled your nose and made you wince. “I’ve disinfected it. I managed to save your finger, but the onions are a little worse for wear I’m afraid.” He mocked, and took a gentle seat beside you. You managed to push out a chuckle, and sat yourself up on your elbows. “You scared me, angel. Please be careful next time.” Rupert warned, waving a cautionary finger in your face. How dare he! “Are you serious, Rupert? The only reason I cut my finger in the first place is because you come in here, gloating about a woman being all over you. Shoving it into my face like I’m supposed to care…” You can feel fury coursing through your veins and attempt to speak in the most coarse tone possible, but you still feel incredibly weak and hunker back down half way through. Your usually supple porcelain skin has been drained of blood, and your limbs tremble under your weight.

“Shh, shh, angel. You need to relax.” Rupert speaks in a hushed tone — one so soft and gentle that it feels otherworldly from his lips. He caresses your mottled cheek with the back of his hand and just.. freezes. His cerulean orbs study you intensely, admiring every freckle. Every crinkle of your nose. Every misplaced hair on your head. “I didn’t come to have sex with you, you know, angel.” He murmurs, hand unmoving from your cheek. Your breath catches in your throat — too afraid to exhale. Even the sound of your breathing will be much too loud of an interruption. “Seeing you hurt like that… it was as though it hurt me too. All of a sudden, I feel this great wave of protection flow through me. I think of you constantly, you’ve infiltrated my mind. I can’t sleep. I just think of you.” Rupert blurted out, filled with unwavering confidence and an expression of adoration.

“Rupert…” You begin, but there are simply no words to say. This is what you have craved to hear all along. “I feel as though I cannot shake you. You are a part of my soul.” He whispers softly now, placing your hand on his chest to feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat.

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” - Wuthering Heights

#rivals #rivals fanfic #rivals fanfiction #rupert campbell black #rupert campbell-black #alex hassell #Rupert & taggie #Rupert and Taggie #ily rupert #my own dreadful writing

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wispyxjae · 2 months ago

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touch and feel

day 14: overstimulation/massaging/begging with hwang intak

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

wc: 4.9k

summary: intak has been your massage therapist for a few months now. you don’t know if it’s the actual magic in his hands or it’s just your seemingly silly crush on him but you can’t go to anyone else for massages. one night he makes an exception for you to see him after hours.

cw: dom massage therapist!intak x sub!reader, porn with plot, strangers to lovers, massaging, begging, overstimulation, dirty talk, fingering, intak accidentally walks in on you naked once, pretty as a pet name, praise, body worship(?), sensory deprivation kind of (reader is laying face down on the table for most of it)

a/n: this is my first time ever writing a full fic with plot and it’s for piwontober! thank you sooo so much @sxfterhearts and @kisseobie for hosting such a wonderful event. i'm so grateful to get the opportunity to write for this event alongside all these amazing writers ♡ and thank you to my bb @hazyhae for beta reading <3

the first time you meet intak, it’s your first time at the massage spa he’s a manager and massage therapist at. your best friend, being the sweet angel she is, handed you a free voucher for this place she’s been going to for the last few months while you guys were out at saturday brunch.

“you know,” she meets your eyes. “you deserve to treat yourself every once in a while,” her big doe eyes stare at you, concern flashing through them. you smile softly at her.

“thanks for looking out for me y/f/n,” you thank her sincerely. the both of you know how many hours you’re working in a week, spending at least 8 hours a day (sometimes 10 depending on the time of year) hunched in front of a computer.

of course your shitty company turned down the idea of implementing standing desks or higher quality office chairs, so you’re consistently stuck with tight hips, sore shoulders, and a killer stiff neck.

you decide to go the very next day as you, surprisingly, didn’t have anything planned on a sunday. usually, you’d be grocery shopping or prepping for the week ahead, but you took care of that with your best friend before brunch so your sunday was free for a much needed self-care day.

the moment you walk through the doors of serenity spa, an insanely cute guy greets you with these big brown eyes that sparkle at you as he speaks. “hi, welcome to serenity spa! do you have an appointment with us?” his eyes are big and round, staring up at you.

“i don’t,” you shake your head. you reach in your purse for the voucher and present it to him. “but i have this voucher for a free massage? it’s my first time here and i saw i could just walk in.”

he takes the paper from your hands while smiling. “that’s perfect! here, you can take a seat and just fill out this preference sheet,” he says, handing you a clipboard and pen. you follow as he says and get to scribbling on the sheet.

“y/n, 60 minutes, full back massage, light pressure, and aromatherapy,” he repeats your choices back to you. “you don’t have a preference for a therapist, right?” he double checks your paper and glances up at you, your breath catching in your throat at the sudden eye contact as you shake your head no.

“it seems that everyone else has a client, but lucky for you my books are actually free for the next hour. so i can take care of you for your first time if you’d like?” his plush lips turning up into a smile.

you finally glance at his name tag which reads intak and head manager right under.

“that sounds great actually,” you return the smile, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you realize how intimate he could possibly get on the first meeting. “but that’s his job,” you have to remind yourself before you end up psyching out.

he leads you to a room where the lights are dim, a handful of lit candles are placed throughout, and there’s soft spa music playing from a speaker.

“alright y/n, just go ahead and get undressed. you can lay on your front and cover yourself with this towel. i’ll give you a few minutes,” intak explains, gesturing toward the massage bed with a small cover up and towel for your privacy placed nicely in the center.

you let the door close behind him before you move to place your bag on the small table in the corner of the room. you follow his directions, pushing any embarrassing thoughts of getting naked in front of this incredibly attractive stranger on the first meeting.

lying down on the table, you gently place your head through the hole and pull the towel over your butt before resting your arms by your side as you stare at the ground, taking a few deep breaths to get rid of your nerves. it’s just a massage.

the massage goes incredibly smoothly with the help of intak’s professionalism soothing any worries you had. his large warm palms worked their magic all around your back and shoulders, working gently through the knots you had built up under the skin.

you were so lost in time, his hands distracting you from thinking of anything that could possibly stress you that you almost whine in protest at the end of your massage, wishing you had booked him for longer.

you hear him wipe his hands on a towel before wiping lightly the excess massage oil off your back and arms.

“i’ll let you get dressed and you can meet me back at the front desk to get you checked out, alright?” you hum in agreement, feeling a bit sleepy after the complete relaxation session you just had.

he chuckles at the slight rasp in your voice after such a quiet session, since you only replied in hums any time he asked you if the pressure he was applying was okay, or if the temperature of the warm towels he used were alright.

“just take your time, there’s no rush,” he reassures you softly. thank god you were lying face down so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

you get redressed and grab your bag before checking out at the front desk.

“and did you want to book your next appointment at this time?” intak asks.

“yeah, why not?” you smile at him. he nods before clicking around on the computer. he schedules your next appointment for a month out at the same time as today.

“did you want to book me again or see a different massage therapist?” you blush at his question, already knowing you wanted to feel his incredible hands on you again. that’s not weird, right?

“i guess i wouldn’t mind seeing you again,” you tease him, a smile creeping onto your face. “oh, and can you make it a 90-minute appointment this time?” you ask shyly. “i actually wish this session was longer because you’ve got some mad skills,” you have to mumble to save yourself a bit.

“oh so i’ve already got you hooked after one visit, huh?” he smirks back at you, a small giggle leaving his lips. “don’t worry, y/n, i’ve got you.” he grabs a card from the acrylic holder in front of him, scribbling down your appointment details with a pen. you roll your eyes but can’t wipe your smile away.

“thanks. i’ll see you next month, intak,” you reply, turning to walk out before you can get any more embarrassed. what you don’t see is intak cheesing like an idiot for the rest of the day after you leave.

the third time you meet intak, it’s at your third appointment which you happened to book just 2 weeks after the second one instead of another month out.

it’s not that work got any worse than it already was, or that you had other stressors in your life. you don’t even really work out hard enough to really be sore.

to be quite frank, you simply couldn’t get enough of not just his hands (hell, you even start to add other body areas to your sessions now that you’ve gotten more comfortable with him), but now his company as well.

during your second appointment, you made a conscious effort to initiate more small talk with intak. you couldn’t help but want to learn more about him and this time wouldn’t be different from the last.

after intak leads you to his massage room and leaves you be, you start your usual routine of putting your belongings on the corner table before undressing. this time, though, you get distracted by the buzzing of your phone in your bag. you reach for it to put it on do not disturb, and you miss the knock at the door.

you don’t react fast enough before it swings open, a yelp escaping your lips as your hands come up to cover yourself as much as you can.

“oh! shit, i’m so sorry,” intak mutters before shutting the door. in all his time of working here he has never accidentally walked in on anyone until now. and of course it was you. he presses his hands to his face to cool himself down, walking back to the front desk to take a sip of cold water to bring him back to his senses.

your heart is racing while you stand vulnerably alone in the massage room. you put your phone away and settle onto the massage table like normal. god, how was the rest of this appointment gonna go now?

after what feels like forever, there’s another knock at the door, and this time intak remembers to ask if you’re ready for him.

“yeah, i’m ready,” you reply, clearing your throat afterwards. once intak takes a deep breath, he enters the room, proceeding as usual.

“i am so sorry about that, y/n,” he starts to apologize, genuine worry in his voice as the guilt pangs in his chest. “i’m not going to make any excuses but it was a genuine accident.” the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, but he wanted to respect your boundaries.

“it’s okay!” you blurt out a bit too quickly. “it was a mistake and you really do sound like you feel bad, so apology accepted,” you continue, hoping to ease his concerns. “and hey, we can forget this ever happened as long as you work your magic like you always do.” you lift your head slightly in order to get a peek of him since you never get to see his face during these appointments.

intak sighs in relief, meeting your eyes and smiling apologetically. “thank you for understanding,” he says sincerely.

once he gets started, it feels like most, if not all, the tension in both the air and your muscles has faded out.

“so how long have you been a massage therapist for?” you asked, breathing deeply to try not to audibly react to his hands that worked through your calf muscles.

“it’s been a little over a year,” he replies. “i got the manager position here about 6 months ago now and i love it. i enjoy making a difference in people’s lives and their wellbeing,” he speaks fondly.

“you don’t need to take my word for it, but you deserve it. you’re amazing at what you do- ooooh,” your last word draws out as he digs a bit deeper into your leg.

he laughs at your reaction. “that didn’t hurt did it?” he soothes over the area with a broad hand as to not put any more pressure in case it did hurt.

“no! no, not at all. it felt really good,” you exhaled. “you’ve got some sorcery or something in those hands, intak, i swear.” his cheeks flush at your compliments.

“i’m just doing my job, y/n,” he mutters, not being able to accept such kind words from someone as pretty as you. he’s grateful you’re not facing him because he would not be handling this as coolly as he is now.

“can you tell me more about yourself?” you ask, voice a bit small as even you can’t believe you’re initiating this.

“hmm,” he hums, thinking of what to tell you. “when i’m not working, i’m at the gym. i love working out and improving myself. i usually lift weights but… i actually really love dancing too.”

your eyebrows raise, even though he can’t see you. “really?” you ask in disbelief. “i wish i could dance… maybe you can teach me someday,” you say through a smile.

“i would love to teach you,” he replies, chuckling. are you flirting with him right now? no… surely it’s just a friendly conversation.

“your girlfriend must be really lucky,” you say, immediately flustering yourself at how bold that statement was. “i mean, like imagine coming home from work and you just get one hell of a massage from your partner,” you stumble out, trying to cover for yourself, holding your breath.

“whoa, hey. relax your muscles for me and keep breathing. you’re tensing up,” intak points out, his hands gliding across your skin with the help of the massage oil. “and for the record, i’m single,” he adds, blood rushing to his cheeks. okay maybe you are flirting with him.

you exhale a little louder than you mean to, a great relief washing over you at this new knowledge. as if a lightbulb goes off above your head, you start brainstorming with more conversation topics. not wanting to make things awkward, you both move past this conversation and begin to talk about yourself to allow him to know about you too.

the fourth time you meet intak is at your fourth appointment. you booked this one for just a week after the last one, too impatient to wait an extra week to see him again.

after last week’s session of you two nonstop flirting in the massage room, you just wanted to see him even more often. your best friend even caught your change in attitude, noting you were happier and more lively ever since you started going to the spa for massages. you just blushed and brushed her off, not wanting her to tease you for crushing on your massage therapist.

today’s session was almost no different than the last, the two of you settling into a routine now.

you knew he started with the aromatherapy, letting you breathe in the scent of lavender for relaxation.

you knew he kindly moved any stray hairs away from your neck before settling into the muscles there.

you knew the paths he took on your body each time.

of course, you hadn’t changed up your preferences besides longer sessions and firmer pressure since the first session.

this time, though, you decided not to hold back on your sighs and sounds of pleasure as his dexterous fingers kneaded and relaxed your muscles.

you wanted to test the waters. at first, it really was just a reflex. you were a naturally sensitive and reactive person. you had just been holding back in front of intak in case things became awkward, or it was too unprofessional on your end.

after learning he was single, you never missed the way his eyes lit up when he spoke to you at the front desk, or the slight stutter in his answers when you asked him something a bit more personal. it was cute, really. there was just something about flustering a cute boy who already has his hands all over you.

it didn’t take much from him to draw out a few mewls from you. the first few times, he didn’t think much of it. his hands still moved steadily as they always did across the expanse of your back.

the more noises you made, the more intak’s hands, which are usually confident and firm, started to falter.

he clears his throat. “you’re sure i’m not hurting you, right y/n?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

“intak, i would tell you if it hurt,” you reassured him. “it just feels really really good… you just really know how to work those hands.”

intak thanks whatever higher being there is that you can’t see him, otherwise you’d poke fun at how red and hot his cheeks and ears were getting. hell, his hands were even starting to sweat and he didn’t think that was possible with the oil covering his hands.

“why, is there something wrong?” you ask, trying to hide the smirk in your voice after noticing he couldn’t even reply back. there was no way you weren’t doing this on purpose…

“no, no,” he chokes out. “not at all… you’re just a bit more… reactive today and i just wanted to make sure you were comfortable… you know, with the pressure and everything,” intak babbles on. “but if everything’s okay i’m gonna continue with the massage.”

you hum back in response, deciding to spare the poor guy of your teasing.

the fifth time you meet intak is at your fifth appointment.

after the incident of your fourth appointment, intak shyly asked for your number (even though it was already in the system after your first visit; he didn’t wanna seem like a creep just taking it from the computer).

“you know, just in case you need an emergency visit from me,” he fibs. you laughed and agreed, reading out your number for him to shoot you a text.

“intak :)” the text simply reads.

since getting each others’ numbers, the flirting between the two of you had become both more natural and frequent. you guys text all day everyday about anything and everything, and intak can confidently admit he is very happy you haven’t booked with another massage therapist that isn’t him.

needless to say, you’ve become a regular of his and you’d be lying if you said you were booking massages for the sole reason of getting a massage. it had become your routine to see him at this point.

as usual, you book your next appointment at the end of the previous one. and usually, you reserve these appointment days just to see intak. you’d been seeing him for 2 months now so you already knew which days you’d be seeing him, but you forgot to check in advanced and only now (2 days before your scheduled appointment) realized you had other plans that day already.

shit, now you have to reschedule with intak.

5:42pm you: hey intak

5:42pm you: remember when you said i could ask you for emergency visits?

5:47pm intak: hi pretty, yeah why?

5:49pm you: i didn’t realize i was already busy at the same time as my next appointment is scheduled…

5:49pm you: can i redeem an emergency visit for today instead? it’s okay if not

you only half-expected intak to drop everything to see you, but what you didn’t expect was for your fifth appointment to be held after hours at the massage spa.

intak would be lying if said he wasn’t giggling and kicking his feet at the idea of just the two of you alone in such an intimate session. was he risking his career for this? possibly. could he find a way to cover this up to his coworkers and supervisor? that was an issue for later.

right now, as he unlocked the front door with you standing behind him, his heart was pounding. he really couldn’t believe he was doing this just for you, but he was curious as to what was going to happen now after the incident.

“if you want, you can just sit here while i get the room prepped,” intak smiles at you, pointing to the massage table. you sit down, still clothed, legs hanging off the side as you watch intak prepare everything that would be needed for the next 90 minutes. you were curious since you never got to see the behind-the-scenes before your usual appointments.

intak leaves and lets you change and get comfortable, shouting for him once you’re ready like he instructed since it was just the two of you.

the massage starts like normal, everything being the exact same as every other time you’re laying on this very table. but there’s something else in the air that’s distracting you.

something about the two of you being alone in such an intimate environment, really getting to feel his hands make their way across your skin, especially after all the flirting and tension that has been growing between the two of you, has you hot and bothered.

even thinking about how flustered he got when you were moaning out to tease him just a week ago has your thighs pressing together to give you some relief.

intak notices right away. “just relax and keep breathing for me, pretty,” he mumbles. he’s working on the backs of your thighs, fingers dancing so close to where you want him. he’s gently pulling your legs apart to knead into the supple skin, but you let out a whimper at his actions.

“are you okay?” he asks, slightly breathless. you hope he’s thinking the same thing as you before you inhale and exhale deeply.

“intak… can you please touch me?” you ask just loud enough for him to hear, your breath catching in your throat.

“i… i’m massaging you, y/n. what do you mean touch you?” his fingers stop in their tracks and his ears perk up because of how nicely you asked, catching him off guard.

you use your arms to push your upper body off of the table, moving your hair to one side as you look back at him, one of your arms coming across your chest to cover yourself slightly.

intak’s big puppy eyes don’t leave yours as soon as your eyes lock with his.

“please… i need you here,” you say, wiggling your butt with his hands still placed on your skin there.

intak all but gasps, blood rushing straight down after hearing how desperate you sound. his fingers trail up cautiously while he feels your eyes still on him. he swipes a finger across your slit which is now dripping with arousal.

“shit,” he mutters. “do you get this wet every time i give you a massage?” he asks gingerly, his eyes nearly burning a hole through the towel that’s covering your butt.

“intak…” you whine. “can you just take the towel off my ass please?” you ask desperately, your upper body dropping back onto the massage table after losing strength at the slightest feeling of his fingers.

intak swallows thickly, getting rid of the dry feeling he was getting from gawking at you with his mouth open, and obliges.

“are you sure you want this? here? now?” he’s asking. you lift your head to look at him again. his cheeks are a deep shade of red.

“intak i swear to god,” you huff. you had to admit the consent was hot. he literally had you at the palm of his hand and he was still asking if you were okay. “yes. yes i want this, please just-” you’re cut off by your own gasp as he pulls the towel off, his fingers come back to your slit, sliding down to your clit once. you let out a sigh at the relief his digits are providing you.

“so fucking wet,” intak whispers and you almost miss it. you hear the cap to the massage oil pop open before you feel a warm liquid being poured onto your ass and it sends butterflies to your stomach. he uses both hands to massage and spread your cheeks with the oil and you do nothing to stop the noises that are escaping your lips.

as one hand continues gripping and groping your ass, his other fingers are back on your pussy and he groans at the sight of you, oiled up and sprawled out for him. he presses a single digit to your hole which flutters at the contact before pulling away, making you whine.

“what’s wrong, pretty?” he asks, feigning concern as he starts drawing slow circles on your clit. you feel his weight on the table as he sits on it by your leg. you wiggle back at him, not trusting your voice right now.

“intaaak,” you whine out, getting frustrated that he was still talking to you like you weren’t at his complete mercy.

“go on, you’ve got it,” he encourages, biting back a smile. “tell me what you want…”

“please,” you breathe out. he barely moves. once you realize that wasn’t enough you continue. “please… i want- i need your fingers,” you barely manage to squeak out the words.

fortunately for you, this was enough for intak. he pours more oil over your cunt, not that you needed it, but there was something about seeing your pussy glistening between his fingers that had his head reeling. he pushes your legs further apart and uses both hands to slowly spread your folds apart, almost like it’s part of the massage routine.

you’re doing nothing to bite back your moans, but you don’t miss his soft grunts in response just from seeing you and hearing your noises for him.

“you’re so cute when you beg for me, pretty,” intak mumbles. his sinfully sweet words paired with one of his soft fingers sinking into your impossibly slick cunt has you breathless. he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he watches you suck his finger back in each time he thrusts out, feeling your walls fluttering around his digit.

“letting me take care of you like this…” intak revels in the sight of you laying on the table all sprawled out for him. he adds another finger, eyebrows furrowing at how tight you are. “shit, baby you’re so tight,” intak grits.

you feel his other hand leave your ass, snaking its way around to your clit. he’s now massaging your pussy with both of his hands and the stimulation has you going lightheaded. you so badly wish you could see his face, but you’re stuck on your stomach, staring at the ground.

the longer his fingers are between your legs, toying with your most sensitive parts, the tighter the knot in your stomach gets. intak can feel the way you’re clenching around his fingers. he can hear your staggered breaths. he sees the way your thighs start to shake.

“you’re gonna cum aren’t you, pretty?” he asks in the sweetest voice. his fingers quicken their pace both inside of you and on your clit, and you feel the band about to snap.

“yes! yes, f-fuck… intak please,” you manage to get out between moans.

“you’re so sweet, pretty... i don’t even have to ask you to beg… you just do it anyway…” intak is in awe. how was he so lucky to be experiencing this right now? “go on, cum for me.”

hot white flashes behind your eyes as you cum, your walls constricting his fingers like they don’t want them to leave. and he doesn’t.

intak doesn’t stop stroking your gummy walls, nor does he stop circling your clit with the smooth tips of his fingers. he’s pumping his digits even faster and deeper in you than before, determined to make you cum again.

“intak!” you gasp, body writhing at the overwhelming sensations. but intak doesn’t hear you. his eyes are laser focused on your cunt, not stopping his movements. “intak, it’s… it’s too much, please!”

“oh, pretty,” he coos. “i’m sure you can take another one, can’t you?” he asks gently. the contrast between the sweet tone of his voice and the harsh movement of his fingers has your eyes rolling back. you feel another band tightening deep in your stomach this time and it makes you squeal.

he coaxes another orgasm out of you, and truth be told he could do this forever. between the cute noises leaving you and the way your pussy grips onto his fingers, he can’t get enough of you. your body squirms under his touch and you’re met with post-orgasm shudders.

intak finally lets up, pulling his fingers out of you slowly. he watches your hole clench around nothing, streaks of oil and cum smeared on your inner thighs.

you pull yourself up again on your elbows as best as you can, head turning to look at intak who’s already looking at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. he’s holding up his fingers which are covered in your slick for you to see. you wince at him before he’s putting his fingers in his mouth, tongue cleaning them up with a groan.

“oh… now i really need to taste you,” intak sighs out, moving toward you.

“what happened to hello, how are you?” you ask in disbelief. a smile makes its way to your lips as you notice him pouting at you, his sweet puppy eyes on full display.

“hello, how are you, pretty?” he asks, smiling at you now. he kneels down next to you. “i know this is really backwards but… can i take you out for dinner?” he asks shyly. you pretend to think about it, his eyes not leaving your face as he waits for your answer.

“hmm…” you start, noticing his lips moving into a pout again. “i would love to go out with you, intak.” you both are smiling like idiots, coming to realize what really just happened at his workplace of all places.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” intak laughs.

“yeah but were you gonna make the first move if i didn’t?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“oh shut up,” he replies, his cheeks turning pink.

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