#and your (ex)husband's Like That about her

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[mattybsgroupie]

milf | chris sturniolo

contents: handjob (m receiving); p in v; mommy kink; corruption kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

♡⊹𑄽୧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: i was so, so excited for this one. and i'm so happy for all the support on my silly ideas. this is the whole story of this blurb but it's just a taste, because i want to do a series about them. i wanna write about the first time they ever saw each other, how did chris confess to her, the time she came back to her husband, everything. there's so much to explore about these two and i hope you guys enjoy this just as much as i did. i love yall so much ♡ btw this is so long and not proofread please don’t hate me

♡⊹𑄽୧

it was a silent, cold afternoon at home. your daughter was away, traveling with her father — your ex-husband — and you were enjoying some much needed alone time. the sun was setting and the wind blew through the windows as you adjusted yourself on the couch and took a sip of the coffee you were holding in your left hand.

you heard three knocks from the back door, letting out a deep sigh from the back of your throat. you got up to stretch your tired bones and walked in slow steps towards the kitchen, opening the door. it was chris.

christopher sturniolo, one of your daughter’s best friends. he was energetic, funny, educated and extremely attractive for his age. the type of guy you’d want for your daughter — the gentle, sweet kid, who was surprisingly smart and was definitely going to be a great husband.

however at this moment, chris looked tired. his eyebags were darker and his usual easy smile wasn’t here. he seemed… exhausted.

“hi, dear” you said in your gentle, yet sensual tone, which always caught chris off guard. there was something about your voice that soothe him at the same time it got him worked up, the conflicting feelings taking over his chest.

“uhm, hey” chris said, scratching the back of his head. you noticed how his fingers tangled on his own hair — chris was tense. the other hand was hidden inside his pocket, his bruised lips looking even prettier under the sunset.

you smiled gently, thinking your daughter could’ve forgotten to tell him she’d be absent “she’s not here today, honey”.

“i know” chris answered abruptly, his gaze floating from your chest to his own shoes. “c-can i come in?”. with a simple nod, you entered the house, waiting for chris to join. he closed the back door and made his way to the kitchen, quietly following you around.

“i haven’t cooked since it’s just me” you said, noticing how his blue eyes scanned the empty table.

“oh” chris hadn’t realized you paid just as much attention to him as he did to you. “y-you don’t have to” he said. you raised an eyebrow and placed both of your hands on your hips, a classic mom pose. “i just like your food, that’s all” he looked away as you chuckled.

“aw, baby!” you cooed, genuinely happy with his confession as you opened your arms, offering him a warm, tender hug. “fuck, don’t call me that” chris mumbled under his breath as you approached him. you clicked your tongue in disapproval, silently calling him out. you were the older one and he needed to show some respect.

that’s when you noticed it. chris had failed to cover his pathetic boner, standing there, hard, in front of you.

you dragged your feet towards chris in slow, rhythmic steps, the sound of your heels clacking against the floor taking over the empty house. with a grin, you placed your hand on his tummy, chuckling at the contrast of your red nails and his baby blue hoodie. 

“chris, what’s this?” you say as if you’re surprised, gradually lowering your hand to his pants, gently palming his hardened cock. “you’re a naughty, naught boy” chris whined, throwing his head back as he finally felt your hand around him. 

this had happened a few times — a couple more than it should. chris was just so, so needy. your maternal instinct could always tell when he needed a hug or some encouragement, and you always gave it to him. until the hugs got tighter and the words turned to whispers, the handshakes turned to interlocking fingers and the quick gazes became lingering stares. one day, you don’t exactly recall how, chris ended up sitting on your lap, which led to your first kiss and chris inevitably cumming untouched inside his jeans.

“i just— ‘m s-sorry” he gasped when you finally got a proper grip of his cock, stroking him over his sweaters. 

“i don’t think you are” you teased, pulling his waistband and wrapping your knuckles around chris’s dick, which was covered in pre-cum. his cock twitched inside your fist when you placed a kiss on his neck, as if it was the first time he had ever been touched. “hm? what is it baby?”

“mommy” he breathed out without even thinking. his eyes were closed and his forehead was glued to your shoulder, his pathetic moans filling slipping from his bruised lips. “‘m gonna cum!”

“is that why you came here, chris? you wanted mommy to take care of you?” you cooed, biting his bare skin. with one last stroke and a shaky breath, chris came all over your fingers. the thick, sticky liquid covered your hand and dripped down his legs, staining his grey sweatpants. you brought your hand to your lips, licking all of his release.

you chuckled at him and chris quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to get closer to you. chris hid his face on the crook of your neck, sniffing your scent. “i missed you” he mumbled. “missed you s’much”

your hands went to the back of chris’s head, gently caressing his brown locks. “did you, sweetheart?” you cooed, squeezing his shoulder, silently asking for him to look at you. you touched his chin and chris tilted his head, closing his eyes for the kiss he so long waited for. you pressed your lips together in a tender seal, smiling into the kiss.

“let’s get you clean up, shall we?” you said, noticing the cum stain on his pants. “i’ll wash this one for you” 

you said and he agreed, undressing right away. you smiled at his politeness and couldn't help but glance at him as he removed his sweatshirt, exposing his abdomen — chris noticed you staring at him and attempted to tease you “like what you see, mama?”

you rolled your eyes, reaching for his clothes. his half-pumped cock remained coated in cum leaking down his thigh, ending just before his knee. “go take a shower” you suggested — demanded, actually — tossing everything he had on into the washing machine “are you gonna sleep here, sweetheart?”

“i-i… can i?” chris hesitantly asked. “well, there's no one else around” you checked the living room, reassuring chris that neither your daughter nor your ex-husband would be back any time soon.

chris rushed upstairs and took a shower as you finished his laundry. you took that chance to take off your soaked panties, making yourself bare beneath your nightgown before heading to your bedroom.

stepping out of the shower, chris wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the fogged-up mirror with his palm. his reflection stared back at himself, blue orbs with a mix of excitement and apprehension for sleeping with you for the first time. chris knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. you were just perfect. too perfect.

he opened the door and slowly dragged his feet across the hallway, the soft sound of your movements in the bedroom guiding his steps. through the door gap, chris caught a glimpse of you seated at the edge of the bed, your fingers tracing patterns on the mattress.

“done already?” you asked, voice low and tender. chris nodded as he sat by your side and leaned his back down the bed, holding his weight with both elbows.

for a moment, the room was silent, the weight of your emotions hanging in the air. in a sudden rush of courage, you got closer to him, brushing your lips against his, taking it nice and slow.

chris immediately melted under your touch. his large hand went to the back of your head, softly pulling your hair as you moved to his lap, your curvy thighs practically hugging him.

he gasped with the sudden move, even though he had touched you and you had touched him — you never went all the way. chris was a virgin after all, and you had lost your innocence decades ago. you chuckled at him “it's okay, prince” you whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek. “we don't have to do anything you don't want to”

and that's why he loved you. you were so understanding, so compreensive and gave him the reassurance he needed “no! i w-want it!” chris said, a bit of desperation on his tone, the fear of losing you somehow taking over his already fuzzy mind.

“‘m jus scared i'm not... not gonna be good” he admitted, gaze flickering between your chest — right in front of him — and the ceiling. “g-gonna mess up” he mumbled, nuzzling his face against your breasts.

“that's totally okay” you smiled gently, ruffling his hair before playfully biting his neck, pulling his skin with ur teeth. “and besides, you already know how to make me feel good” you purred like a kitten on his ear, your long, red nails scratching a line down his torso.

“you're such a tease, mama” chris whispered back, placing his palms on your ass, pulling the silk nightgown upwards and revealing your bare flesh, making you moan as he groped your lower body.

with a light push, chris had fallen against the mattress. you crawled back to your previous spot, resting your back against the countless pillows that adorned the bed. chris quickly made his way to you — he was used to sitting on your lap — but you were smarter and, obviously, more experienced.

you stopped him by placing both palms against his chest. receiving a pout in response, your skilled fingers moved to the towel loosely wrapped around his hips, finally pulling the cloth and revealing his hardened cock.

you took a moment to admire the scene in front of you: chris, freshly showered, his hair dripping small droplets of water down his shoulders, his lips slightly parted, a string of saliva connecting both parts, his chest quickly rising and falling and his dick unashamedly leaking.

you had been wet from the moment he showed at your door. by now, your pussy was pratically begging for chris. you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and sealing your lips on a desperate kiss. chris audibly gasped when he pressed his cock onto your pussy, the new feeling taking over him. he started to drag his swollen lenght against your open cunt, not really sure of what he was doing, but it felt so good.

“whenever you're ready, prince” you breathed out as you enjoyed the feeling of having your folds explored after so long. chris savored that for a bit longer before positioning himself and moving his hips forward.

nothing.

he tried again. it was his first time and it was okay to make mistakes — that's what you told him. chris snorted, a frustrated sigh coming from him. one last try.

nothing, again.

you tried so hard to keep your composure. poor little thing, chris had no idea of what was going on. “w-why is it so hard?” he complained, more to himself than to you. his failed attempts were making him restless and sweaty, “mama” chris called, displaying puppy eyes and the biggest pout. “i c-can't get in...”

he was gonna cry. he was so vulnerable and upset at the same time. you ran your fingers through his hair “hey, hey, look at me” you shushed him, cupping his cheeks. “didn't i tell this could happen, baby? there's no reason to embarassed”

“c'mere” you called, patting the spot next to you on the mattress. “what if mama goes on top, huh? wanna try it that way?” you asked chris with your usual gentle, warm tone. he nodded eagerly, tears beggining to form in the corners of his eyes.

you changed positions, chris had his back resting against the headboard as you sat on his lap. “can you be a big boy and do a big favor for mommy?” he nodded once again, gripping at your hips with both hands. “stay still, alright baby? gonna sit down on you” you warned as you placed your folds against his flushed tip, gradually lowering yourself on his shaft.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck” chris cried at the overwhelming sensation. “mama! s-shit!”

a soft sigh escaped your lips as you surrendered to the moment, relaxing with chris underneath you. “nhng, so big” you whined, adjusting yourself on his cock. you were used to that feeling, being filled up by a huge cock and having men at your feet. but this time was different. it felt so raw, so genuine, so real with chris.

chris threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. his moans got louder as you fastened your pace, soon bouncing on his dick. he was making no effort at all, being a pillow prince and simply letting you do whatever you wanted.

more than having his veins pumping inside you, the thought of being his first woman, of taking away his last bit of innocence, of completely corrupting him helped you get closer to the edge.

“mommy, i can't hold it! 'm gonna cum!” chris whined, panting heavily. “cum with me, my good boy” you gave him permission, but the praise was all he needed. chris trembled and jerked his body forward, the instensity of his orgasm being almost too much for him to handle.

his whimpers and uncoordinated movements ts along with the spurts of warm cum filling your insides made you reach your own climax, your juices mixed with chris's release oozing from your pussy and coating his cock.

“gonna pull out, okay?” you told him, preparing to remove yourself from his dick. “no!” chris prosteted. you furrowed your eyebrows, more curious than mad. “c-can i... can i stay inside? please? it took me so long to get in”, he confessed and you couldn't hold back anymore, a giggle escaping from your lips.

you might have taken his virginity, but deep down, chris would always be your little boy.

♡⊹𑄽୧

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @bagsbyclair0 @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555

[alarajrogers]

But that is the reason -- it's just cultural rather than the actual truth.

In society, random people feel entitled to tell a man who is an abuse victim that aktually, women are afraid of being abused... because culturally, societally, it never occurs to anyone that men can be abused or that women can be abusers.

So we don't have a song about a man burning his ex's house down because everyone would interpret that the same way we interpret Blue October's "The End", which is about a man murdering his ex and her new boyfriend, then killing himself. "The End" has no hint or inclination that the woman was abusive, just that she left the main character, and from the fact that he murders her for sleeping with another man after she left him, we can see why! Same deal in "The Regulator" by Clutch, where a man returns after a year away to find his wife has taken up with another man, and he decides to kill her. We know nothing of the circumstances. Maybe she was told he was dead, maybe she has to sleep with the new guy to keep from losing the house, but all the main character cares about is, she's sleeping with another man, so he has to kill her.

To write a song where a woman does a man wrong, seriously wrong, and instead of just crying about it, he does something, and we all perceive him to be justified... we'd be pushing against a very heavy cultural headwind. Most "my ex did me wrong so I want revenge" stories from male POV in music are "my ex slept with someone else so I want her dead." And most people, obviously, do not view that with the same "Yeah! Do it!" fervor that we would a song about a woman who sets an abusive husband's house on fire.

The song would have to be very, very clear that the woman is a shithead, that she is abusing the guy, and that his revenge is not murder, but something that hurts her without invoking the spectre of male violence. And people would probably still misunderstand it.

A song about something like "you told me I was worthless and would never amount to anything, but now that I'm free of you, I'm successful and I'm happy and so that email you sent me about can we get back together? Hell no, go crawl back in your hole" would probably do the trick. Or "my new girlfriend is hotter than you, my new girlfriend is smarter than you, my new girlfriend is kinder than you, and she didn't want me to tell you so because she's nicer than you -- but I'm not, so here are the facts". You gotta establish incontrovertibly that this isn't a guy whining about his girlfriend left him, this is a guy whose girlfriend hurt him, was bad for him, abused him, and he's celebrating that he's free of her.

I'd love to see it, though. There is not nearly enough cultural understanding that it's even possible for women to abuse men, and we need to fix that.

men deserve more breakup anthems. I know and respect the societal reasons this genre is dominated by women, but where is my guy version of Miranda Lambert singing about burning your abusive ex's house down, metaphorically, for legal reasons

[archangeldyke-all]

I feel like (modern) sev is the type to call whatever trashy reality show ur watching stupid but then stand there and watch it 😭 she'd sooooo have opinions about everything too like she walks in and sees a new couple together and she's like "WHAT!!!!! but he's a cheater!!!!" and ur like "I thought u weren't watching 🤨"

COMPLETELY she's such a fucking grandpa omg

men and minors dni

for the first year of your relationship, sevika refuses to admit that she likes your trashy tv shows.

"sevika, please sit down, you're stressing me out standing behind me like that." you whine.

"no, no, i'm about to go in the kitchen." sevika grunts, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed as she stares at the screen. you groan.

"you've been standing there for half an hour!"

"yeah, well, i wanna see if sammi gets the note the girls wrote for her." she mutters. you cackle.

"just come sit and watch with me!"

"i'm not really watching this shit! i'm just... waiting to see if she kicks his ass."

"oh janna i hate you."

but, once you guys move in together, she starts letting herself watch with you.

"okay, why doesn't teresa like this skinny girl with the hoops?"

"she found a tell-all book about her ex-husband's dirty secrets."

"shit... oh, fuck, she flipped the fuckin' table!" sevika shouts, the popcorn flying as she points at the tv. you cackle.

by the time you're married, sevika's the one dragging you to the couch for your nightly tradition.

"babe, housewives of salt lake is on in three minutes!" sevika screams from the living room. you giggle.

"i'm just making snacks!"

"well, hurry up!"

"i'm coming, oh my god!"

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[ifwebefriends]

Sinsmas thoughts (MAJOR SPOILERS)

BLITZZZZZZZZZ WHY DO YOU LOVE THE HORSES??????????

OMGGGGGGG THE EGGS THING

STOLAS AND BLITZ DOMESTIC MOMENTS OMGGGGGGGGG IM DEAD

Stolas and Blitz were just so cute this whole episode I’m dead

THE MONTAGE AWWWWWW

NOOOOOO STOLAS NEEDS HIS XANS

Stolas was just fun and iconic this whole episode fr

Okay Sinsmas is iconic I’m glad they explained what it is lol

STOLAS BEING SCARED BY MOX AND MIL FIGHTING OMGGGGGGGG

BLITZ CHEERING ON STOLAS AT THE PHONE WAS SO FUCKING SWEET AND FUNNY IM CRYING 😭

That homophobic client made me want to kill her I’m glad they threw her out the window later

That being said I wonder how she died? She had wooden antlers maybe a tree fell on her?????????? It doesn’t seem like the ex husband had anything to do with it

NOOOO STOLAS NEVER KILL YOURSELF YOU DESERVE TO LIVE YOU NEED YOUR XANS

No but actually AS SOON as Millie threw up and it WASN’T a “getting sick from all the joy and jolly” joke I knew she was pregananant

It’s so touching how Blitz decided not to kill the family very reminiscent of episode 1 and emblematic of his development

THIS EPISODE JUST PUNCHED ME IN THE GUT OVER AND OVER

No but Stella and Andralphus’ laughs made me want to murder them fr

No but I CANNOT actually believe that we were right about the Stolas secretary thing good work chat

NOOOOOOOO STOLAS PLANT GONE 🥲

Octavia’s song was so good!!!!!!! But so heartbreaking

THE PANO SHOT DURING VIA’S SONG IM FLOORED

“IM POOR NOW” OMGGGGGGGGGGG STOLAS 🤣🤣🤣

STOLAS HAVING A MELTDOWN BEFORE SEEING VIA

YES STOLAS BEAT ANDREPHUS’ ASSSSSSSSS

OMG BLITZ RISKING HIS LIFE FOR STOLAS

LOONA UPGRADE???????? HOW?????? WHY???????

The animation on that fight was incredible

Omgggggggg Octavia and Stolas’ conversation was heartbreaking

STOLAS’ SOBS WHEN VIA WENT AWAY BREAKS MY HEART

As someone who’s parents divorced when I was a teen I deeply respect and admire Stolas’ apprehension to talk about how shitty Stella was to Via but I also feel like that would clear a lot of things up so oooooooooooooo I’m so conflicted

Yeah I think they both need time to think and hopefully Via understands someday

Okay but I’m so glad that Loona has her own friends I’m so happy for her

Omg Millie called Sallie May about her pregnancy 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Not but when I saw the drinks get pulled out I hugely expected to see a reaction from Millie but whatever

Omgggg Blitz talking about his sister maybe they’ll make up next season 🥺

no but actually I kinda love that the episode ended with them dancing and hugging instead of kissing that’s a bold iconic move love it no notes

No but I’m actually so anxious for Millie girl do whatever you need to do but please talk to Moxxie I’m sure he’ll be on board with whatever

No but I didn’t anticipate the pregnancy that was COMPLETELY out of left field and that kinda hit me more than the stolitz moments did (I lowkey have Tokophobia so that’s probably why)

This is so interesting because we’re about to go into a season that probably focuses on parent-child relationships and whatever Millie decides will be an interesting part of that theme

Yeah I have no idea where they’re going to take this

I’d be pleasantly surprised if they go the abortion route it feels like shows never do that but I feel like more shows should and I think Viv is bold enough to go that path

Incredible episode great season finale can’t wait for more 10/10!!!!!!

[hellaverse-critical-confessions]

im so thankful i found this account because i NEED to get this off my chest. it irritates me to my core and i dont think anyone else feels the same way.

STELLA'S DIALOGUE IS SO FORCED AND I HATE IT. i understand she hates her ex-husband for cheating and thats fine, but the way she talks about him and her tone when she does it feels so incredibly forced and it agitates me. i've known this since the first episode of season 2 and i'm pretty shocked nobody else has noticed this.

helluva boss WANTS you to hate stella, but they do it in a way where its being shoved down your throat in a "hey, look at this! isn't she SUCH a horrible person for hating stolas??? isn't she SOOOOO evil?!" kind of way. its fine if you make a character people aren't supposed to like, but if you do it in a way where people can tell its forced it doesnt work.

i believe stella has potential, and i think she'd be a great villain-like character if it weren't for the fact that when they make her talk about stolas, it sounds forced. it's literally nothing but mocking, hating, and making fun of him and it makes me want to bash my head into a brick wall. YES she is allowed to have hatred for him, but i don't want to hear it every fucking time she talks about him. it's repetitive, unnecessary, and pretty annoying if i'm being honest.

tl;dr: stella's dialogue whenever she talks about stolas feels incredibly forced and it's always pissed me off since she started doing it at the beginning of season 2.

sorry for the long rant, but this is something that has bothered me for a while and the new episode just fueled that hatred further.

You said it, Anon

[winchestergirl2]

You felt his lips ignite your skin, a trail of love down the back of your neck and shoulder blade as the sun filtered in through the trailer’s blinds behind you.

What a way to wake up!

Aww, he got her a fancy coffee machine... what a sweetie.

You only smirked in response and draped your arms around his neck. You repeated the same deep kiss and straddled his thighs, pushing him back into the mattress.

“Guess we’ll be very late.”

100% would be worth being late for 😉

femmefatale187

Ooo, that has to be the killer, right? Too much of a coincidence otherwise.

Love the details you're weaving into this, like 187 being the code for murder in the California Penal Code.

Her eyebrows raised in disbelief before a scoff followed. She shook her head as if she wanted to shake the image of you, half-naked in her ex-husband’s shirt, in his apartment, out of her mind.

Oohh... no wonder Carla wasn't happy to see her in their first meeting in Montana.

The conversation they had about the football and how they both still talked to Randy, but the frequency of how often she does has changed felt so realistic. It really showed their grieving and how it changes with the passage of time.

Oh no... the breakup flashback. I had a feeling we would come to this one at some point, and I wasn't ready 😭

“Yeah,” he choked out, swallowing the tears down that fought to escape. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just a distraction. For both of us.”

Ouch, that hurt!! Even more so knowing that neither of them meant it.

As the harrowing silence consumed the air in your lungs and the love in your heart, you fell to the floor and shattered. Sobs wrecked your body like an incurable disease, and you knew at that moment you could never caulk the cracks again and return to who you were.

Polaris – Chapter 5

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, angst & some hurt, more murder mystery and flashbacks

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your comments on the last part! They really make my day 🤍 We'll take a small break next week, but hopefully, the spice in this chapter keeps you afloat 😉

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 5: Illicit Affairs

You felt his lips ignite your skin, a trail of love down the back of your neck and shoulder blade as the sun filtered in through the trailer’s blinds behind you. You sighed blissfully, a smile dancing on your lips as you stretched your limbs in his embrace.

Your hand wandered above you, finding his full head of hair, fingers carding through the dark blond and soft strands. You could feel him grin against your skin before you felt his bulging erection pressing against your butt, causing you to push further into him on instinct.

“Mornin’,” he chuckled against the shell of your ear, his hand wandering to your front and diving between your legs. His fingers ran through your slick and stroked your sensitive bud.

“Oh God,” you whimpered and bit your bottom lip harshly. Your pussy throbbed at his touch, already feeling yourself fall over the edge. Beau could tell as well.

“Jesus,” he groaned with a gentle bite of your shoulder. “Someone’s ready.”

When his other hand snaked around your body from underneath and pulled you flush against his own like the lightest feather, his palm cupped one breast roughly, fingers playing with the pert nipple.

“Fuck me,” you mewled deliriously, your cunt screaming to be filled as his hands teased you to the brink of existence.

“I believe that’s what I’m already doing, darlin’,” he drawled, chuckling.

“Beau, please,” you begged, pushing even more against him as you searched for friction.

“Alright.”

Abandoning his teasing, he flipped you onto your stomach and straddled your thighs, prying your legs apart. His fingers did the same with your asscheeks before he threaded the aching tip of his cock through your arousal and nudged at your entrance. With one thrust, he pushed inside you till his pelvis met your cheeks. You moaned out in ecstasy when he stretched your walls with a pleasurable burn.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned into your ear, his beard scraping your cheek.

One of his hands gripped the headboard above you while the other one steadied you at your waist. His hips rolled slowly as he slid in and out of you, his cock stroking your cunt at a lazy early morning pace.

It still was enough to tip you over that sweet cliff of pleasure, especially when the hand on your waist traveled to your clit and gave it a few skillful rubs with his fingers. His thrusts then gained speed, hearing his ragged breaths in your ear. Your screaming climax was muffled as you buried your face in the fluffy pillow, fingers fisting the sheets tightly.

Beau’s hips came to a stuttering halt as your cunt pulsed around him. With his last stroke, he pushed into you as deeply as he could, burying himself to the brim. His cock twitched inside your velvety walls and filled you with his warm release. He cried out and let himself drop on top of you, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck until his orgasm passed.

You could’ve easily drifted back into sleep now, your eyelids heavy as he slipped out of you with one last wet kiss to your shoulder and rolled onto his back next to you as best as he could.

The bed was small, barely fitting two, and pushed against the wall at the very end of the trailer. But it was cozy, and you liked the tight space, considering it practically forced you two to cuddle all night.

“Guess I can save the workout this morning,” Beau said, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

You chortled. “As if you would’ve actually worked out.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve hiked this summer, alright? Those mountains are no joke,” he quipped.

“Actually, I do know ‘cause Cassie told me, and she said you weren’t all that impressive,” you retorted teasingly. You could feel him rise onto his forearms behind you as the mattress dipped, looking down at you with an arched eyebrow.

“‘Scuse me, I think I just showed you impressive,” he countered, making you laugh. Chuckling himself, he pecked the top of your head. “Got a surprise for you this morning.”

“I think I’ve already gotten your surprise,” you teased and rolled onto your back, smirking up at him.

He smiled down at you. “Hilarious. But I actually think you’ll like this one even better.”

“Better than your dick? Consider me interested.”

Beau nodded with his chin to the little kitchenette. “Look over there. It’s on the stove.”

You acrobatically rolled yourself to the edge of the bed, one hand touching the floor as you stretched your neck enough to spy his little surprise for you.

“I always knew you were flexible, but damn, girl, where’s that move been?” he joked behind you. You playfully slapped his arm, Beau tickling your sides in revenge.

“No, no, no tickling!” You squirmed through your giggles and tried to fend off his attack, almost plunging out of the bed before his arms caught you and pulled you back in. Then, you finally spied his surprise. “Aww, you got me one of those Italian coffee makers for the stove. I love those!”

“Oh, I know. I remembered you have one of those at home,” he said. “Figured it’d save you some gas before you bolted to the next town over for coffee.”

“Thank you.” You grinned broadly and showed your gratitude with a deep kiss, your hands cupping his cheeks.

“You’re welcome, although you can’t keep kissin’ me like that,” he said, smiling against your lips.

“Why?”

“‘Cause if you do, you and I are gonna be very late for work,” Beau quipped, but his palms already slid up your sides, pulling you closer to him.

You only smirked in response and draped your arms around his neck. You repeated the same deep kiss and straddled his thighs, pushing him back into the mattress.

“Guess we’ll be very late.”

September 2021

A beam of light hit your eyes as you groggily blinked awake. Your skin felt sticky under the thin layer of sheets, close to burning as if you’d slept next to a radiator all night. The digital alarm clock on the nightstand read 7:03AM and 80.3°F, and it took you a strong arm tightening around your middle to realize where you were, what happened, and why you were so goddamn hot.

Beau’s breath felt like a welcoming breeze against the nape of your neck, a cool draft of air that tickled your skin. His little snores in your ear made you smile, a serene and steady lullaby that could rock you to a peaceful sleep. Something you could get used to.

Your eyes then focused on the hands that held you. Massive and calloused. Reliant and durable. Protective and safe. Your fingers found themselves mindlessly playing with his, interlocking as if they refused to ever be separated.

He stirred, and you took a deep breath to inhale his scent and memorize it, scared he would take it with him when he decided to leave. Somehow a part of you knew it wouldn’t last. It was too complicated, too intricate, too messy. It was illicit, clandestine, and sinful.

It was everything you shouldn’t want but wanted.

“Hey,” Beau rasped behind you, his voice heavy with sleep and the great unknown.

You rolled onto your back, careful and slow as not to disturb the arms that held you. You didn’t want them to retreat. “Hey,” you said in a shaky whisper, your voice jittering in rhythm with your heart.

Yet, you couldn’t help the smile that rose to your cheeks when you looked into his eyes. There was a flicker of something in them that made your whole body rejoice.

An apprehensive swallow caused his Adam’s apple to bob as if he had to will himself to choke out these next words. “Any regrets yet?” he repeated last night’s question, the look on his face anticipating you to break his heart with your answer.

Tears crept to your eyes, but you did your best not to let them fall. You’d spent over a year crying out of sadness, never believing you’d find it and feel it again. But here you were, with tears of happiness stinging your eyes, falling in love all over again.

You cupped his cheeks, fingers carding tenderly through his beard. He watched you with a curious, hopeful, and awaiting look in his eyes, unlawful glances as your noses were so close they could touch at any forbidden heartbeat.

When you shook your head, you could feel his heart expand with relief. “Mm-mm, no. I don’t regret it at all. Not you, not anything,” you assured him.

His mouth twitched to a smile, his lips quivering against yours when he kissed you so criminally ardent you thought the world might be ending outside.

And yet, you ignored the warning in your heart, foreboding this love affair between you wouldn’t end well.

It was another long afternoon as you, with the help of Jenny, Cassie, and Beau, went through tons of files, looking for a connection between the victims. You’d been at it for a week now – and that was only the time you’d spent in Montana.

The whole case had already dragged on for months and several states, each new victim making you feel like a failure. The past months were strenuous, and you were growing tired of running in circles.

You were glad about the new helping hands and fresh eyes, though.

When Beau and Jenny had to work on other cases, it was just you and Cassie. Sometimes even Denise stopped by the station to help sort through the stacks of documents and make sense of them. Most of all, she would bring a little sunshine and make the dark days feel significantly brighter.

Denise would even bribe you with baked goods if you were willing to share some intimate details about her favorite sheriff, or in her words – the big details.

Cassie threw her a scolding look at that comment, whereas Beau gave you one when you sold him out for a deliciously homemade apple pie. The taste was well worth every inch you revealed.

However, aside from the few jokes that were shared between all of you, the case itself demanded long hours, a lot of brain cells, and an abundance of strong caffeine and greasy junk food.

While the victimology was clear, you still didn’t know how the killer found out about the cheating. Every partner had been pretty discreet about their infidelity, as were the women they cheated with. No one blasted their illicit affairs over social media. After all, what sane person would?

Most of them didn’t even bring their closest friends into the loop. Some workplace liaisons were even so hush-hush not a single co-worker knew about it until a screaming wife showed up.

There was no pattern in the furtive relationships, either. Some were classics like banging the secretary, the nanny, or the hot divorcee neighbor. Some were star-crossed love affairs that started with innocent meetings in cafés, in parks, or in elevators.

Not a single thing connected each of them.

So, how did your killer pick their victims and know for sure they had the right ones?

“I think I’ve found something,” you said on the eleventh day of research and narrowed your eyes at your laptop screen as the others around the table looked up from their stack of files and glanced curiously at you.

“What did you find?” Beau asked first and got up from his seat to stand behind you, leaning his hands on the backrest of your chair. Sometimes, it felt like he wasn’t ashamed to use any excuse to be close to you, and it made your goddamn cheeks blush, your knees weak, and your heartbeat faster.

“So, apparently, some of our victims visited a site called ‘doublecross(dot)com.’ It’s a website where people who’ve been cheated on can exchange stories and seek comfort. Sixteen of our twenty-four victims all made an entry on the site’s forum. Some of them even went into great detail about their spouse’s supposed escapades.”

“What kinda detail?” Beau questioned more out of curiosity than anything else.

“‘His secretary still had his cum on her lips when I visited him at the office last week. Guess it’s a new chapstick trend no one told me about,’” you read one entry and glanced over your shoulder to catch Beau’s scrunched brow behind you. “That’s from a victim in Wyoming, Margaret Davies.”

He gasped in disbelief. “They wrote that on the internet? Why would they do that?”

“You’re such a guy,” Cassie teased him with a chuckle.

“Various reasons,” you answered his question. “Some wanted to rant, some just wanted listeners, some comfort, revenge ideas, advice… You name it.”

“Did all the victims post on the site?” Jenny asked next to you and leaned closer, looking at your screen.

“I haven’t checked them all yet, but so far, yes. The four victims in Montana did. As did two in Wyoming, four in Texas, and three in Utah and Colorado each,” you said.

“There were five victims per state, right?” Beau spoke up and mused, “We’re at four right now, so how long we got until the fifth?”

“She takes a victim every five weeks. Ten between states,” you told them.

“Alright, five victims, five states… So we’ve got three weeks left to find her,” Beau concluded with a determined nod. “What’s next?”

“First, we should find out if the remaining vics made accounts on that site as well. Then, we should crosscheck all the comments and replies on each entry and see if we have a common denominator. Maybe there’s a user who talked to every victim. That could be our killer,” you explained the next logical steps.

“Everyone takes four victims, and we cross-reference?” Cassie proposed, and everyone nodded in agreement. “Meanwhile, I’ll tell Denise to check if the other victims were on the site as well.”

“Fine.” Beau sighed dreadfully behind you and sauntered back to his seat. He hated paperwork. He was more of a “go in, guns blazing” kind of cop.

“We should keep this under wraps for now,” you advised. “Closest circle only. If I’m right, the killer is watching us. They can’t know we’re onto them, or they might spiral.”

“What about the DA?” Jenny asked.

You nodded. “I’ll meet with Newton next week and can clue her in. Let’s hope we find something till then.”

July 2022

A thin layer of sweat covered your entire body, your hair damp from the summer heat, beads forming in the nape of your neck and running down your spine. Your hand left a print behind on the fogged car window as you adjusted your grip. You always thought that was a movie cliché, only to be stunned and find out that it was indeed true.

The glass was cool for a brief moment, giving you the sensation you had craved as the heat made your head dizzy. It was not just insanely hot but downright sweltering.

“Fuck, I love that angle,” you sighed breathlessly as your cunt stroked his cock, rising your hips till he almost slipped out before you slid back down.

“Me too,” Beau groaned and smirked up at you.

Massive hands cupped your tits and held your waist as he fucked into you. Your thighs straddled him, one palm on his heart as you met him thrust by thrust. With one last roll of your hips, you came, your orgasm shaking your entire body to the point of passing out. An animalistic scream rocked the car.

Beau’s climax hit right behind yours as your pussy milked every drop of his. Pantingly, you dropped down, your hands finding better rest on his broad shoulders. He kissed your lips firmly and passionately as you both came down from your highs, his fingers dancing up and down your spine.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” you noted in breathless exhaustion as you laid your head on his chest, bodies sticking together.

“Yeah, I mean, I always knew we’d do it in the car at some point, but that even exceeded my expectations,” Beau said.

You laughed a little and grinned at him in amusement. “I meant the weather.”

“Oh.” His brows rose in realization, and he chuckled. “Yeah, that too.”

“I can’t believe this is our last night here,” you said with a quiet sigh. Your voice sounded almost sad. Probably because a part of you was.

While the circumstances of your Mexican stay were arguably the worst, you’d still miss it. The last one and a half years felt like a welcomed escape from reality. From your grief. At home, there was nothing and no one waiting for you anymore.

And then, there was the man who was currently underneath you, inside you, and kissing your lips. You didn’t know what you and Beau even were. You’d been entangled in bars, cars, and under stars in motel rooms for ten months now. Was it casual? Was it serious? Was it misguided friendship? Was it love?

You never said the words out loud or talked about your feelings, but there was always a certain heaviness in the air between you two. It was never loud. It always came in quiet moments, when you were kissing in bed and laughing and staring at each other for hours.

It felt like the two of you were caught in a bubble floating through time and space. A bubble, which was about to burst.

Could your relationship survive the reality back home?

“You okay there?” Beau had grown quite accustomed to your facial expressions and their different meanings. At this point, you were an open book to him, and he could read you flawlessly.

“I’m fine,” you replied and forced your best smile onto your lips.

Beau saw right through you. “Yeah, I’m a little sad, too,” he admitted and assured you, “Nothing’s gonna change, alright?”

Not trusting your voice, you simply nodded in response and hoped he’d stay right.

Beau debated whether he should be honest about his feelings, but it seemed too soon. Too soon after his divorce. Too soon after Randy’s death. No amount of time ever seemed to be enough.

What if you weren’t ready to hear it? What if he wasn’t ready to say it? What if the guilt in his heart, mind, and soul was right all this time and you were never his to take?

What if you would never belong to him at all?

After wiping the station’s whiteboard in the conference room clean, you wrote one single username on the surface.

femmefatale187

All of you had narrowed it down to that user. Denise had confirmed that the other eight victims had made accounts and written entries as well, which brought you to a total of twenty-four posts. And that particular user was the only one who had engaged with every single victim without fail.

Not only that, the comments even suggested a deeper relationship forming with all of them. The killer acted like their friend before a knife was aimed at their backs. If that user was indeed the killer, as Beau liked to remind you.

The four of you then had the tedious task of reading through every comment that account had ever made, going back years and several hundred user interactions. The one that piqued your interest the most, however, was the very first entry that had started it all.

“Does the number mean what I think it means?” Beau asked as he stared pensively at the whiteboard.

“Pretty sure. 187 is the code for murder in the California Penal Code. It’s gotta be. Otherwise, it’d be a weird coincidence,” you mused as you put the cap back onto the marker. “The name in general is pretty obvious. I don’t like any of this…”

“What d’you mean?” Cassie looked at you with a questioning brow.

“I mean she literally put ‘murder’ in her username. It’s too easy. It almost seems like she wants to be caught,” you explained.

“Like writing ‘redrum’ on the wall,” Beau muttered, and you pointed an eager finger at him, nodding in agreement.

“Exactly,” you said and sat back down in your chair. “I already gave everything to our tech analysts at the FBI. If she is as smart as we think she is, she hid her IP addresses and used VPNs, torrents… If they do find a name and an address this username is connected to, we should assume it’s a trap.”

“You said the first entry gives hints to her backstory,” Jenny spoke up and leaned forward in her chair. “Can we use it to track her down this way?”

Nodding, you rose from your seat once more and grabbed the marker, writing down some bullet points as you talked.

“Apparently, she was married and trying for a baby, but without any luck. She then caught her husband cheating but forgave him when he assured her it was a one-time mistake. Turns out he was actually sleeping with tons of women during their entire relationship and got five of ‘em pregnant. Meanwhile, she also discovered he’d been slipping her birth control pills in her coffee every morning.”

“Well, that guy probably won’t win ‘Husband of The Year,’” Beau quipped, chuckling, earning him a borderline scolding look from all three women.

“It’s probably why she chooses victims that ended up going back to their partner,” Cassie speculated.

“She’s punishing women that made the same mistakes she made,” Jenny concluded. “You think the husband is still alive?”

“Honestly? No,” you replied. “The username suggests she had already made up her mind when she started posting. I believe her husband and maybe the women he cheated with were her first victims.”

“Maybe we can find her that way?” Beau pondered.

“Would be a long shot. We don’t even know what state she’s from, when she was married, her husband’s name…” you explained. “Our best bet is the IP address of the username. Until that, we just gotta sit tight, I guess.”

“I hate that.” Beau sighed in frustration.

September 2022

When Beau’s lips left yours, you whined, your hands trying to keep him pressed flush against you, pulling him back into bed.

Beau chuckled. “We have to get up at some point.”

“Do we?”

“I have to get to work, and so do you,” he reminded you with a smile and pecked your lips once more. “How about you hop into the shower, and I get the coffee started, huh?”

“Fine. I guess I can be persuaded to leave this bed for caffeine,” you relented playfully. “Hey, uh, I was thinking maybe we could get dinner tonight? There’s this new pizza place I wanted to try.”

Beau swallowed, his head bobbing with a scrunched brow. Your heart twisted, only knowing too well by now what that expression meant.

“Yeah, uh, do they have take-out?”

“They do, but I figured we could go out for a change. Leave this apartment every once in a while,” you pressed.

Maybe you were being pushy, but you were getting tired of hiding. Ever since the two of you had left Mexico almost two months ago, you had been hauled up in Beau’s apartment and barely ever left. And whenever you did step out, you could tell he was nervous, always looking over his shoulder. He wouldn’t hold your hand or even touch you. The idea of kissing you in public would’ve probably sounded downright insane.

“Uhm, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s such a good idea,” he replied as expected and averted his green eyes to the floor.

“Houston has over two million other people, Beau. It’s very unlikely we’ll run into someone we know,” you argued calmly and tried to sound understanding of his feelings. It wasn’t like you didn’t get his inhibitions at all, but it still hurt your heart all the same. “If it’s Carla you’re worried about, maybe we should tell her, you know? It’d make things easier. It’s not like she’s still hung up on you. She’s been dating Avery for a year now.”

“Yeah, no, I know. We’ll get to it. I promise, okay?” Beau assured you with a smile and pecked your forehead, but his voice sounded far from convincing.

Ever since you came back to Houston, he’d been withdrawn, moving further and further away from you. You had a feeling, though, it had actually little to do with Carla and more with the guy both of you had loved.

Everywhere you went reminded you of him, his ghost still lingering around. But while you welcomed that feeling, like Randy was still watching over you, you knew Beau hated it.

He still blamed himself for what happened, no matter how many times you told him he shouldn’t. And now, the guilt of being with you had entered the equation as well.

As Beau brewed some coffee, a knock on his door forced him to leave the kitchen and answer it. As he opened it, he almost turned as white as the ghosts he was running from.

“Carla, what-, uh, what are you doing here?” Beau’s wide eyes probably showed his surprise. She’d never visited him here before in all those weeks since he’d been back. Emily was always dropped off by the building’s entrance, so he had thought himself safe here. Clearly, it’d been a false sense of security.

“Oh, Beau, don’t look so surprised. I’m not here to yell at you for having your laundry lying around,” Carla huffed in her annoyed voice. He knew that one well. “I’m not here to disturb your bachelor pad. I just need to talk to you about something important, okay?”

“It’s not a–” Beau started to argue and defend himself, but then stopped, figuring it was no use. They were already divorced. “We can talk, alright? But I’m running a little late for work. Can we do this tonight or something?”

“Alright, sure, I’ll call you at lunch,” Carla accepted, but then the sound of the shower turning off made her head tilt past him. Her brow furrowed before she let out an annoyed sigh. “Are you having someone over? Is that why you don’t wanna talk right now? Look, I don’t care if you’re seeing someone. We’ve been divorced for a year now, Beau. If we could just do this now, you’d both save us some time.”

Beau had tried several times to interrupt her, but he’d always been unsuccessful with that endeavor in the past. It was hard being married to a lawyer, especially a good one like Carla.

“Carla, no, I-… Can we please just do this tonight? I have to tell you something, too, okay? But I don’t wanna do this here right n–”

“Hey, by the way, we’re out of Pop Tarts,” you called out as you casually strolled out from the bathroom with only one of Beau’s button-ups covering your naked body. “We should go to the store la–”

As you passed the front door on your way to the kitchen, you stopped – both talking and walking. You stared at Carla like a deer in headlights and felt like Bambi’s mother shortly before she got shot.

The divorced couple stared right back at you. Beau’s eyes then closed as Carla’s lips parted in shock – and anger. She definitely looked furious.

“Carla, hey.” You forced a jittery smile to your lips, although all color drained from your cheeks. You almost choked on the giant lump in your throat.

Her eyebrows raised in disbelief before a scoff followed. She shook her head as if she wanted to shake the image of you, half-naked in her ex-husband’s shirt, in his apartment, out of her mind.

“You gotta be kidding me…” She smacked her lips with a seething glower aimed at her ex. “I’ll take it back. I do care who you’re fucking seeing.”

“Carla, listen–” Beau tried to calmly interject and keep the peace, even though he knew it was too late for that. He knew what she was thinking. They had several talks about it. Fights, actually. Fights you knew nothing about.

“I knew it!” Carla exclaimed and felt almost validated. “All this time I knew… I knew you two hooked up in Mexico. I asked you several times if there was something going on, and you kept denying it.”

“And I’m still denying it,” Beau maintained with the same firm anger she was showing. “We didn’t start dating until after the divorce.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that? How stupid do you think I am?” she snapped. “You know, I came here to talk to you about Emily’s future and give you the courtesy of having a say in the decision, but now I don’t think you should. Not after the shit you pulled all year! I put up with a lot from you – the drinking, the spacing out, the disappearing to another country for months… But I draw the line here!”

“Carla, wait–”

But for once in his life, Beau couldn’t speak fast enough as she bolted down the hallway to the elevator and was soon out of earshot. He glanced back at you, his look halfway asking if you were okay after witnessing all of this, and partially asking if he could follow his ex-wife to clear things up.

“Go,” you told him and nodded in understanding. But your heart twinged as you watched him leave.

When everyone had filtered out of the department and the night shift arrived, you knocked on Beau’s office door to announce your presence before peeking your head inside.

“Hey.” You smiled softly when his crinkled green eyes found yours with the same loving look on his face. “Ready to head home?”

His palms drummed on the table, one last glance at the files on his desk before he rose from his chair with a keen nod. “Uh, yeah, let’s go, darlin’.”

As you approached his desk, you chuckled a little, picking up the familiar football, a myriad of memories flooding your brain. “I can’t believe you still got this thing. Same one?” You doubted he’d thrown it away but found yourself still wondering.

“Course, I’d never toss this old thing out.” He smiled and caught it when you playfully threw it at him. His palms pressed into the leather. “I still do it, you know? When I’m stuck on a case, I grab the ball and pretend I’m still throwing it around with Randy, spittin’ theories.”

Your lips curved into a gentle smile. “Yeah, I still do it, too… talk to him.”

“You do that a lot?” Beau scratched his throat, tucking his lips between his teeth as he found himself curiously cocking his head, hoping the gesture hid the worry underneath well enough.

You shrugged. “Sometimes. Not as often as I used to,” you confessed and ignored the drops of guilt that oozed from your heart. “He was a part of my life for a decade. I can’t pretend he wasn’t.”

Beau swallowed at your words, his brow braided into soft crinkles. He struggled with the truth that festered in his heart like snake venom. The guilt of having you was one thing, but the shame of always wanting to have had you was another. If he had seen you first, if he hadn’t been married when you’d met, if he had asked you, would you have picked him?

“I know. And I don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me about it… him.”

You closed the distance between you, taking his hands in yours and interlacing your fingers. You squeezed them reassuringly. “He’d want us to be happy,” you reminded him and then snorted a bit in amusement. “Maybe not with each other, but the dead don’t get a say in it anymore, so it doesn’t matter. He’s my past. You’re my present… And probably my future?” Bashfully, you bit your lip at the end of your question, a smile carved into it.

“Actually about that…”

Playfully, you raised your brow and laughed. “Uh-oh.”

Beau cracked a laugh, too. “No, nothing like that. Never like that again, alright?” He cupped your cheeks in his warm and safe hands, looking deeply into your eyes as he uttered those words like an unbreakable vow, his raspy voice imparting a comforting promise.

You nodded in his hands and stretched up to kiss him, searing and slow. “So, what do you wanna tell me, Sheriff?”

“Date,” was the only word he said at first. A smile formed on his face that reached his eyes. “I wanna do it right this time. Go out, do stuff, live life. That was my biggest regret when it came to you. I don’t wanna make the same mistake twice,” he shared. His lips claimed yours, adventurous and decisive. “So, you and me ain’t going home. We’re going out. Whatever you’re in the mood for, darlin’.”

With mischievously pursed lips, you pondered your choices for a moment, although only one truly came to mind. “Mmmh, Mexican.”

“Ah! I knew it.” Beau grinned broadly. “I know a great place. Amazing Quesadillas. You’re gonna love it.”

September 2022

Beau hadn’t spoken to you in almost two weeks. After chasing Carla down to the street and having a public argument on the sidewalk that turned several heads, he eventually convinced Carla that nothing had happened during their marriage and calmed her down enough.

Then, they talked for another hour, where his ex-wife informed him of her engagement and her impending move to Montana. She also made it quite clear that he had no say in the decision, especially after that particular morning.

He wasn’t delighted about it by any means, but he accepted it. As long as Emily was happy and taken care of, he didn’t care what Carla did. But the fact he wouldn’t be seeing much of his daughter killed him.

As he trudged back to the elevator, he came back to an empty apartment, however. You were gone, only leaving a note behind that said you had to get to work. He couldn’t really blame you for leaving. The morning already hadn’t started well, and then his ex showed up with a package full of drama on top of that.

Beau constantly felt like he was failing and disappointing you. He knew you were unhappy since the two of you had come home to Houston. But it was hard for him being back here. He fought his feelings for you every minute of every day. And then, the anniversary of Randy’s death rolled around, and he felt himself even more spacing out and withdrawing from you.

He never tried to compare himself to Randy, because any attempt to live up to him would’ve been futile. But Beau felt like the second choice. Like he didn’t deserve you. Like you weren’t truly his and never would be.

You never said or did anything to make him believe that. On the contrary, the way you looked at him made his heart melt every single day. You treated him like one in a million. You cared for him, listened to him, and even though you had never said it, he knew you loved him on some level.

You made him feel like he was the one.

Beau knew it was all in his head, but it felt like a lie. Because how could that be after everything he’d seen? After everything he knew? And in the brief moments when it didn’t feel like a lie, it felt like the biggest betrayal.

No matter what, he couldn’t win.

For two weeks, he was plagued by indecision, guilt, confusion, the need to do the right thing, and his feelings for you.

Beau loved you like he’d never loved anyone before, but it felt like a slow poison that rotted him from the inside.

He called and texted you every day, never sure what to say or do, though. He almost felt relieved whenever you came up with an excuse for why you couldn’t see him. That was his first warning sign that things needed to change.

And by the end of the two weeks, the indecision faded, and he’d arrived at a conclusion.

That final night, Beau had called you, and you told him you were working late at the office. That wasn’t true, though. He could see the lights of your apartment were on when he stood on the street outside. So, he knocked and found your surprised face in front of him before you averted your gaze in shame.

He didn’t fault you for that either, though.

“Beau, I-, uhm…”

“It’s fine,” he said gently, knowing you were about to apologize for your little white lie. And it was fine. He knew why you’d been avoiding him. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

He hated saying those words. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what they meant. It was universally understood. And by the look on your face, he knew that you were aware of why he was here.

You let him inside with a crestfallen nod of your head, crossing your arms in front of you like you were trying to hug yourself as you prepared for the worst. The two of you then stood silently in your foyer for a minute, the air between you punishing.

“So this it, huh?” your voice bitterly broke the silence. The hurt in your eyes and the coldness in your face tore his heart apart.

As soon as he looked at you, he started to doubt his decisions again. Was this really the right thing to do? Would he regret it? Would he hate himself for it?

His best guess was yes.

“Look, uhm, this is hard. I didn’t make this decision lightly,” he started.

“Just get it over with, Beau. Spit it out,” you bit.

Nodding, he scratched his scruffy throat. “Carla’s getting married and moving to Montana. I can’t be this far away from Emily. I wanna see her grow up,” he explained earnestly.

“Makes sense. So you’re moving,” you deduced. “What d’you want from me?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” he said. That was where the lie came in. His heart pounded against his ribcage, demanding to be freed from its prison, but Beau kept it cuffed and jailed until it broke. “I’m still in love with Carla. I have to get my family back before it’s too late. It’s just-… It’s the best for all of us, you know?”

With a harsh swallow, you nodded, your gaze glued to the floorboards underneath your socks. “Yeah, no, I get it. You should go with your family. ‘S okay.”

“Y/N–” Your name fell from his lips in a pained sigh.

“No, really. We’re good,” you tried to assure him, forcing a tight-lipped smile to your doleful face. “It was nice while it lasted, but now it’s over. I get it. We were just each other’s rebound. It didn’t mean anything, right?”

Your look was full of bitterness as you stared at him, your features haunted by agony and hardened by resentment. It broke his heart all over again.

Yet, there was no turning back.

“Yeah,” he choked out, swallowing the tears down that fought to escape. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just a distraction. For both of us.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you said with all the remaining power left in you.

Beau tried to compel a smile to his lips, but it was only a sorry excuse of one. “Hope we can stay friends.”

“Sure.” You held the same unconvincing smile as you uttered your lie. Then, you strolled to the still-open door and leaned your back against the wood. A gesture that told him it was time to leave. “You should go now. I might have lied about the office, but I still have a shitload of work to do.”

With his head low, he walked past you, each step of his lethargic, heavy, and reluctant. As soon as he crossed that doorstep, he spun, his eyes finding yours one last time. Every ounce of him wanted to grab you and kiss you till you both stopped breathing.

But he didn’t.

Silently, you closed the door, a piece of meaningless and unforgiving wood between you that both of you stared at for several relentless heartbeats. You waited till you heard his footsteps recede farther and farther away from you. Till there was just empty space.

As the harrowing silence consumed the air in your lungs and the love in your heart, you fell to the floor and shattered. Sobs wrecked your body like an incurable disease, and you knew at that moment you could never caulk the cracks again and return to who you were.

Chapter 6: Curses And Cries

Whoop, probably a good time to remind y'all that this last scene was a flashback and that they're happily together in the present 😇

We'll be back soon! Decided to take a little break since I can't keep up with all things tumblr these days, no matter how hard I try. Hopefully, this will give me some time to catch up properly. Love y'all 🤍

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser

[rosetta-stoned-bitch]

So twsift namedrop Kim K's daughter and mentions Kim's death. Because of the beef that she primarily had with Kanye....

But she shouldn't be held responsible for the bad that men in her life ever do, like Matty Healy being a bigot or that godawful director she worked with or Kelce being a xenophobe and misogynist. She disgusts me.

[starspangledbatter]

THIS! It’s kind of disappointing that they even consisted of the line “Cheating isn’t so bad” to begin with. I feel like cheating should only be justified when the partner is abusive towards you and that’s it. I completely understand why Stolas did do it and I feel bad for him being stuck with someone like Stella but yet again, he still committed actions that aren’t excusable (ex: breaking your child’s promises, coercing someone beneath you, etc). Sometimes it feels like the narrative acknowledges he did something wrong but somehow still finds ways to work around it? It just seems to drain out all nuance by excusing what Stolas does, y’know? It fails to make Stolas completely rounded, real, and accountable. Doesn’t matter how much he fucks up, at least he “tried”. Like Todd Chavez says “You can’t keep doing shitty things and feel bad about yourself like that makes it okay!” It’s nice that Stolas does regret his actions but you can’t also have the narrative award him for it at the same time.

It’s strange how HB seems to award cheaters, too. I’m genuinely wondering if Viv or someone on the team cheated on their ex-partner and excused it because they were actually gay. Just think about it.

Martha cheats on her husband with a married man and kills people? Well, that’s okay because she’s awarded with Mrs. Mayberry while her family is nowhere in sight and that’s cool because she’s most likely a misunderstood sapphic anyways.

That unnamed man possibly cheated on his wife because he was gay? Well, that’s okay because he’s happy and that she’s just a homophobic bitch who doesn’t understand her kids. She’s the only one in the wrong for this.

Stolas cheats on Stella and unintentionally ruins his family life and image? Well, that’s okay because Stella was always a bitch, Octavia is a naive clingy brat who the writers dislike, and Stolas never even liked her and was fixated on his childhood crush that he coerces 25 years later, anyways. But that’s also okay because their love is written in the stars and Blitz is the big jerk who keeps on pushing him away.

“Grace and Frankie” does none of that. It has characters acknowledge that cheating is wrong but it also doesn’t vilify the gay men either. Same goes with the wives. There’s a lot of nuance provided between the two, which makes both sides interesting and reasonable to sympathize with. Grace and Frankie aren’t bad women because they were rightfully upset and saddened with finding out they were cheated on. At the same time, Sol and Robert aren’t bad men for coming to terms with their sexuality and fearing that they would hurt their wives feelings by doing so. Sure they were still in the wrong for cheating, but that never meant they did so to intentionally hurt Grace and Frankie. Helluva Boss seems like it’s lacking an open-minded view like this. They just make the wives homophobic bitches and call it a day.

ACTUALLY YOU KNOW WHAT???

IF YOU WANT A SHOW THAT PORTRAYS BOTH REALISTICALLY AND WITH NUANCE THE FALLOUT OF TWO QUEER MEN CHEATING ON THEIR WIVES THAT DOESNT VILIFY THE WIVES OR THE QUEER MEN WHILE STILL HOLDING PEOPLE ACCOUNTABLE FOR THEIR ACTIONS GO WATCH “GRACE AND FRANKIE”

FIRST SEASON IS A LITTLE SLOW THEYRE GETTING THEIR FOOTING BUT THE SHOW IS SO GOOD SO ANTI-AGEIST IT HAS OLD MAN QUEER RELATIONSHIPS AND OLD WOMAN FRIENDSHIPS AND IT STARS THE IMPECCABLE JANE FONDA AND LILY TOMLIN.

[valnyte]

Touko Kuzuha Route Review

a few things of note:

I mainly play the adult version; I have an alt account but it is the regular version)

I chose the 妖艶 ending as it was the one showed for the previews (at least in the adult PV); I can confirm that this end does continue to Kuzuha's current Christmas story event story

Based on the way my uni structured its Japanese language classes, I can only say my Japanese fluency level is around 中級 level but still kept a dictionary app by my side

I am not a translator and I will not be translating his route

keep in mind that this is MY opinion, you are free to have your own and read his route as you wish

Plot: 3.5/5 ★

Kuzuha as a character: 4/5 ★

Kuzuha as a partner in a romantic relationship: 1.5/5 ★ (I am being generous)

Kuzuha when it comes to smutty situations: 8/5 ★

MC: 2/5 ★ (Again, I am being generous)

Personal route enjoyment: 3.5/5 ★

tw: dubcon, self-harm

MASSIVE spoilers up ahead so read at your own risk

If I were to summarise his route in one statement its: one-night-stand turns into a friends with (medicinal) benefits relationship that becomes a situationship until these dumbasses finally learn that direct communication is perhaps the IDEAL solution.

Can you see why I want to squeeze him?

Starting with plot, it reads like a fluffy and spicy story, heavily focused on the situationship they landed themselves in which has the air of a romcom. Seriously MC, you just let this guy who you don't know very well crash your apartment and live with you? Just because you slept with him once and found him petting a fluffy cat later on? Kuzuha is incredibly unserious as well for the most part but it is entertaining to see whatever the hell he is up to with MC, if he's going to tease her or spoil her - albeit, usually in bed. Though truth be told, I could not really see much of the romantic chemistry between them, mostly sexual chemistry and understandably so. For a romcom-y theme, I was not expecting something too high stakes but I was actually kept at the edge of my seat once the story hit around the 3/4 point as something I did not even consider an eventual side plot would turn into. Everything before the 3/4 point was very rom-com with a side of magical healing. Storywise, things sped up really quickly after that point, but so did the resolution. I had no issues with the pacing thus far, but the resolution was a bit fast. Nevertheless, it was entertaining, and I will do his route again after hopping unto a fresh route.

Next, Kuzuha himself. Oh boy. Oh boy, oh boy. Wow, you really are a mess with a pretty face. His character profile labelling him "trash" [クズ] is not a joke in the slightest, he is one, and hell, he knows it with zero remorse. Even Tsubaki shit talks to MC in private that Kuzuha is a bit of a shit and neither of them will ever deny it. It makes sense that little pretty trashy kitsune becomes jealous of Ryo once MC brings the topic of her new co-worker/childhood classmate/first crush up. And it is because he knows deep down, he's not that reliable at all, save for his healing magic and his abundant sex appeal.

However as much as I will affectionately clown him, he does have his reasons why he's flippant, and everything ties back to him as the Kuzunoha kitsune. As kitsune, his liver is hunted down for the fact it has high healing capabilities, he has been hunted down in the past (by humans and youma alike) and even in the present (only by youma now), he does dislike the fact he is only seen as useful for this healing aspect. Not to mention physically painful with how parts of his liver have to be taken away and despite his highly regenerative state, its taxing to do. Moreso when it is not by his free will. Next, he is Kuzunoha from legend - there are many variants mind you, but Cybird x DMM did their own spin on it. TLDR how the legend is explained ingame: more than a thousand years back while he was being hunted down in fox form, he was caught in a trap, and he was set free by Abe no Yasuna. As gratitude, Kuzuha transformed into a beautiful woman and lived with Abe no Yasuna and the child of the latter, taking on the role of woman of the house/step in mother. A few years passed safely but then one day, Kuzuha's true identity as kitsune was revealed, and thus was chased out from the home, never seeing them again.

This then led him to the conclusion: "Love is not reciprocal. Either you take it, or it is taken from you."

Ouch.

And he does live with this conclusion set in stone for more than a thousand years until he meets MC and does not realise he is actively falling for her as the weeks go by when living with her. "Love is a one-way road," he said at the beginning. Not in this otome game, sir, it's only a one-way road because you're fictional.

All that aside, he has some very heartwarming sides to him. Despite his devil may care attitude and his love is never returned beliefs, he cannot change the fact he's genuinely compassionate towards others. It is bittersweet to read him filled with so much empathy for others cannot understand himself at the slightest. Healing MC's inability to sleep well in a very unconventional way when she didn't even ask for it at the start, to the point of actively being the one to stab himself to get a piece of his liver out to help save someone's life because he knows firsthand the pain and difference of a youma and human relationship. Characters who are a living irony of themselves am I right?

Not to mention that gentle side of his is further explored once he genuinely starts considering MC as a romantic partner. Still a big tease though .

But it does not mean he is entirely exempt from his flaws. I will address something that I did have issues with since the start: he technically coerced MC into going further with him in their first chapter. She was unsure about having sex with him at first but just a few heated moments later, one thing led to another then yup they screwed. By the time she realised it, it was too late as they already did the deed and she was shortly angry with him. Narrativewise, she was technically trapped in a "fuck him or your spirit disappears when the incense fully burns out" but he only told her that AFTER instead of the BEGINNING. Kuzuha... That is A CHOICE to make, and not a good one - considering you were the one who gave her the incense sticks in the first place 💀 Not entirely comfy with that situation even if he treated her gently. Sure he's the gentlest suitor in the starter pack, but that's just a little bit hmmmmmmmmmm. He has other flaws as well but that is my biggest gripe with him.

Would I consider him as a good romantic partner? Not exactly on that thread given how he has boundaries he wants respected but does not respect others' boundaries. He has a full point for actively looking out for MC and listening to her and responding to that at least. But he is 100% not the type of guy MC can show to her parents and get instant approval for a few other glaring issues.

This is how I see him maybe meeting the parents going in my head:

"So how did you meet?"

"Um..."

"What's your job?"

"Haha, about that-"

When it comes to sexy times in his route, there's a lot of very intensely heated moments, given his nature and the fact he's 90% in close proximity to her because he ends up living with her like a roommate/friend with benefits. Mugenro by itself has very lengthy sex scenes, and partially voiced so yes please do not be like me who forgets to turn down the volume 💀 He is a big tease, but once he knows how desperate she is, oh he's rewarding her a hundred times over. He's skilled, good grief, he knows it and makes use of everything he knows to send anyone to high heaven. Also outdoor sex does happen in one of the avatar challenges, yes I got it because I was curious and I am damn well not regretting it. Just saying, his voice getting raspy had me going, I need to hear this at home. Alone. Ehe.

Ok enough about Kuzuha, time to turn to MC. Girl... Because why. On one hand, I actively like the fact she's quite possessive towards him at the end, directly telling him there's a boundary he should never cross with her and he listens. But for the rest of the time, sweetie, there's a fine line being nice and then being trodded underfoot. And where is your common sense girl, you barely knew the guy and you're letting him crash at your place immediately? She has all the position to refuse him but nooooo. I cannot blame her for being attracted to Kuzuha with his debonair charm, but I do want to wring her like laundry sometimes with how downright idiotic she can get. Even she's not safe from being scolded by Kuzuha himself for running into a very dangerous situation. Maybe sit down with the blindfold from seeing the red flags for a moment and maybe come to terms with the different lifespans for a bit. Even just a little bit. I will give her a full point for taking on the usually active role instead of being passive and letting him make the decisions for her as she is more decisive than this free-spirited fox, but otherwise, ma'am you have a brain, don't let it waste away.

Overall, I did enjoy Kuzuha's route and will do it again to full clear everything, just not now. Not my true cup of tea, but he is arguably the nicest of the suitors so far and I am glad I read his route first. And because he's cute. If I make a plushie of him, he's going to become my new stress toy.

Have a blushie Kuzuha for the end:

K, bye.

[hsslilly-blog]

huntclaire divorce au. everything is exactly the same but wait i was going to make a joke here but i’m actually very invested in this

[cattatoir]

I think I have unpopular Sandman takes bc I'm usually on his side

[jaceeverett]

Holding up his free hand with his index finger and thumb just a tiny bit apart, he shot Sawyer a grin. "Maybe just a little bit." But there was so much that he had missed out on, even as a young adult, he felt that he had earned the right to enjoy marshmallows and whipped topping, make things as sweet as possible. "No candy canes, though. At home, anyway, we keep some at work. You know, treats for the people who stop into the lodge when they're visiting the park, or to hand out to kids," since kids did always like a treat, especially if they were being dragged out into the cold with mom and dad.

Jason let out a soft laugh, see-sawing his head a little bit. "Family dynamics can be a little bit complicated," he explained. "None of us have a relationship with our parents anymore, which is fine, that's for the best. I'll probably stop by everyone's house and drop off presents, be a real uncle Santa," he laughed at the thought, shrugging somewhat sheepishly. "Tessa's married with kids, I know that they have their own traditions that they love. Cordelia and Cage just got married, and the Newmans are big on Christmas traditions, so I know they'll be over at Kellan's, which is perfect for Delia. And Theo and Tamara will probably want to start some traditions with his kids," he looked over at Sawyer a bit sidelong, "I think we're still a bit far off from the entire family gathering. Kinda happens when your brother is dating your sister's husband's ex-wife."

Letting out a louder laugh as the stopped moving and seemed to put some deep, deep through into the question, he watched her face, waiting for the answer, until she gave a sincere one, and he felt a small smile touch his lips, nodding his head. "It's more about the memory of her making it and how much you enjoyed it than it being something fancy, right?" That seemed to be how it went, and for good reason -- as long as it tasted good and made her happy, why should anything else matter? "Oh, I hate fruitcake, please," he waved the thought off. "I love a good homemade chocolate chip cookie, though. Fresh out of the oven, though, so it's still warm."

“Oh, so you’re fully embracing your inner kid,” Sawyer teased, the warmth of her laugh curling into the winter air. “I mean, whipped cream straight from the can? That’s bold. And peppermint marshmallows? You’re not just leaning into it—you’re sprinting.” She glanced sideways at him, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Next you’ll tell me you keep a stash of candy canes hidden away for emergencies.” She listened as he talked about his nieces and nephews, her expression softening as he described the wide range of ages. The warmth in his voice was impossible to miss, and it made something in her chest ache—not in a bad way, but in a way that reminded her of what she’d been avoiding thinking about. “Sounds like Christmas at your place is packed,” she said, her tone lighter than the thoughts she didn’t dare let surface. “Must be nice, though. All that chaos—and I bet the younger ones think you’re the cool uncle. You know, the guy who sneaks them candy when their parents aren’t looking.” She nudged him lightly with her elbow, smiling. When he asked about Christmas cookies, she stopped mid-step, looking over at him with mock seriousness. “Oh, now that is a high-stakes question,” she said, crossing her arms as if deep in thought. “I mean, gingerbread is a classic, obviously. But if I’m being honest? My mom used to make these sugar cookies with this homemade frosting—super simple, but they were the best.” Her voice faltered slightly, but she pressed on, her smile still in place. “What about you? Or is this where you confess you’re secretly Team Fruitcake?”

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

trent is the best man at his ex-wife''s wedding and some people are like hang on werent you married to the bride? and hes like yes. and.

[caimitos]

saw a post about projecting your ethnicity onto a character and started missing vespa ilkay. so so bad

[pynkhues]

I don't think anyone is tired yet of great reunion fics and after reading your fics, I would be ECSTATIC to read your version of their first time together post-reunion. Or the first time with Lestat bottoming. Just anything you want to write. Your writing is just the best. I'll be even more ecstatic, ecstatic to infinity, if you make this a series and write different moments for them. After that fic, I am so eager to hear your versions of these characters talk about Magnus, and the thing with Louis not knowing that Gabrielle is alive and Lestat avoiding the question was HILARIOUS.

Ah! Thank you so much for your lovely words and for the encouragement! The reunion really does feel like it's inspired such a wave of fic, which is so great, and I definitely have a shape to how I'd write the rest of that night, so I might bump it back up my list for when I finish the one that I'm working on currently.

And I actually almost wrote a fic when s1 was airing about Lestat's first time bottoming with Louis, because I 10000% think they did it here:

I mean, Louis gulped, but even putting that aside, there's something to gliding on the intimacy of post-turning and Louis' first wave of supernatural strength and him being half burnt and probably stinking of souring milk and Lestat wanting him like that that just speaks to me, haha.