#As I proceed to never post about them ever

[honeyhonest]

Here's another request~

But if it bothers you that I sent you more, I'll understand orz

A story about the first time Yuu and Fellow had sex. Was it good? Bad? Was there consent? Were they in love? And what about the first kiss? Did they have a room?

-Neo

"was there consent" you know me toooo well. honestly and truthfully I can imagine a thousand first-time scenarios for these two, it's all very dependent on the yuu. buuuuuuut... who am I to deny a little dubcon for this guy? it's always so deliciously in-character for such a scummy man

minors get blocked, 18+ interactions only

✧˖°. to fib

warnings: gn afab!reader (you/yours pronouns), reader is ADULT yuu, DUBCON (coercion, intimidation, stalking kinda) proceed with caution, penetrative sex, post-playful land, pussy/cunt/clit all used, "slut" and "whore" directed towards reader, creampie, fellow calls reader a virgin but it's not confirmed, vaguely dissociative, obviously evil sex blah blah, not proofread FUCK IT!!

characters: fellow

length: long wtf where did these words come from

It had really all felt like a bad dream.

Unlike the fire lotus ordeal in October, which had been the subject of many conversations between those who bore witness to the blazing inferno of flowers that spread through the appropriately-named city like a pandemic, like a plague, Playful Land had been...

...Well, it had been bad. But as if contained between the walls of the seabound vessel, the lingering fear you had felt that night had not burrowed beneath your skin, had not left a bitter taste on your tongue and in your throat. You had been combed through by overblot after overblot, balls of fire and winds of poison that had left marks visible on your body for all the world to see.

Not even the wood grain of Playful Land imprinted itself on your softened skin; it was truly as if nothing had ever taken root there in the first place.

The small group of classmates that had been with you, wrists bound in a line, until they went limp and hard and knocked together like the colorful blocks of a mobile in the wind, well, none of them wanted to talk about it.

"Weird," Ace, distinctly, had said, "Just weird."

Unlike the shriveled fire lotuses, the eternal penance and unpayable fine of Rollo Flamme's punishment, there was no place on the intricately detailed paper map of Professor Trein's classroom wall to put a pin in; Fleur City remained unchanged, its borders hardened by time and wars fought long before your tenure at Night Raven College, and with them, Rollo Flamme. Contained between the stone walls of the city that he lay prisoner of, you had, as Malleus Draconia had unnecessarily reassured you, nothing to fear of him.

There was a place, a date, and a name to what happened there. Azul still mumbled under his breath about the malady of breathing problems the ash of the fire lotuses and the stairs to the belltower had left him, though with no noticeable venom in his voice. Malleus still scoffed at that name, Flamme, the boy who thought he was fit to be God. Ruggie and Jamil still chuckled about things they feigned to with the others, Riddle and Epel still chatted fondly and exchanged nods for their bravery, even Grim had taken to grumbling about his empty stomach when reminded of the many breads and cheeses of Fleur City.

But Playful Land was not this. It was nothing more than what it had sold itself as: an illusion. A dream. A tear in the tablecloth of time and reality, where the crumbs of haughty boys and overconfident students of arcane academies fell through.

There, simply put, was nothing to talk about.

Not that anyone wanted to, anyhow.

It crossed your mind, once or twice, though you never spoke those pedantic thoughts: in one part, because of the uncomfortable nature of the memory; in another, because any reminder of how easily fooled the Night Raven College students were would set off a terrible argument about "who's fault it was", and you hadn't the energy nor interest for that, especially after having barely dragged yourself out of Diasomnia alive this past month.

Another overblot under your belt. How many more were you expected to take?

But, as Headmage Crowley had assured you, that was all in the past- STYX will keep a sharp eye on the school for blot accumulation, the necessary funds will be delegated to recovery and prevention programs, and, after all, the school year was almost complete.

The thought of three months of... nothing was as relieving as it was terrifying. No overblots, no attempted murders, no end-of-the-world, nothing but yourself, Grim, ghosts, and...

...No home.

Three months wasted sitting around your derelict dorm, kicking rocks and waiting for the Headmage to return, as if you were some loyal lapdog for him. You had no hopes of finding your own way back- you had spent these past few weeks of school pouring over every textbook, manual, encyclopedia, ancient tome, and web article you could get your hands on, with your dutiful friends at your side.

But not even Lilia could come up with any sort of spell, incantation, potion, door, portal, or person that might help you home, and so all you were given were the palms of empty hands.

Only a few more days until you were doomed to your dorm for months.

You almost felt grateful for the interscholastic Spelldrive tournament, which would be taking place over the weekend, as it gave you more than enough to keep you moving, on your feet, and out of your own mind.

Sage's Island is packed full of tourists, rivaling teams, TV crews, family members, and fans looking forward to the days of entertainment ahead. Vil and Neige superfans pour from both schools, expecting to catch a glimpse of their biases amongst the crowds. Spelldrive enthusiasts trade tall tales of Leona Kingscholar's athletic routine, hoping they might one day follow in his footsteps. Even the locals are enjoying the food kiosks and sidestreet spectacles. You had never seen the island so full of... well, everything. People, smells, magic, life, light, entertainment. Grim has been dragging you from stall to stall all day, draining you of the measly thirty thaumarks Crowley had allowed you for souvenirs on sandwiches and cheeses and kebabs and sausage and cakes and candies and pie, none of which you've gotten a single bite of yourself, though it's not as if you mind.

You figure that Grim should be spoiled a little before the school year ends. He'll get bored of your home cooking within a week.

Best not to worry about that now.

"I smell fish! Codfish!" he announces, tugging on your sleeve with such excitement you almost tumble into a few burly spelldrive players in blue uniforms- not that Grim notices, or cares.

"We only have five thaumarks left," you remind him. "The Headmage was very generous, but- don't you want to wait for popcorn or something when the game actually begins?"

Grim stops walking in the middle of the cobblestone to ponder on that, and you have to scoop him up to get him out of the way. You plop him down on a stack of empty mango crates in the alley behind an abandoned juice stall, the paper "CLOSED" sign indicating that its occupants had likely left to grab their seats in the stadium. You should also be doing that, but Grim...

"I dunnoooo..." he starts, crossing his little paws like a tiny businessman. "What if they don't have any fish at the game?"

You sigh, slumping against the wall. "I packed tuna in the bag,"

You can predict the disgusted groans and complaints of your friends (and of all the people sitting around you) at the strong smell of cat food. It's funny, and you almost smile.

"Hmmm... fiiine," Grim gives in. You almost get your hopes up, but before you can announce you should then go grab your seats-

"BUT! I want cotton candy, too."

And there it goes, your hope dropping lower than you blood sugar levels. "But- Grim, the special cotton candy stall is at the pier. That's a twenty minute walk from here- maybe more, considering all the foot traffic,"

There he goes, crossing his little cat paws again and pouting. Damn, he's good. You're trapped, and Grim knows it- you both don't want to disappoint him, and you don't want him to pitch a hungry temper-tantrum in the stadium.

But you had really, really good seat... Leona picked it for you himself.

"Hey, there you guys are!"

Your body reacts before your mind, and cold relief flushes the cortisol out of your system. You turn to the sound of your friends, both warm-faced and smiling. Deuce has a red splotch across his nose- sunburnt. Ace must've dragged him around as much as Grim has you.

"Hey, guys,"

"The first round is about to start," Deuce says. "Didn't you say you wanted to wish the team good luck before they head onto the field?"

You shrug. "Leona wanted me to, actually, but that's- um, I just need to make a quick run into town again, can you take Grim and save my seat?"

Ace and Deuce share a look, but it's more weary than suspicious.

"Grim forgot something, didn't he?" the former sighs. "You've gotta keep it together!"

Grim bristles. "HEY! I keep it together all the time!"

You throw yourself in between them before they can waste any more breath. "I'm just making a final snack run! I'll be back as soon as I can, just save the seats and don't wait on me,"

Ace rolls his eyes, but he's never one to deny you. Especially now, knowing that it'll be a long three months before you can see them again. Deuce, always one to entertain your whims, smiles and takes Grim's paw.

"We won't wait on you, then,"

"Just keep us updated, text us in case something happens," Ace grumbles.

You sigh. "Thank you both. Oh, and here- Grim's tuna,"

Deuce shoulders the bag, looking fabulously like a middle-aged mom on vacation. "See you there, Prefect!"

"See you,"

You don't wait for them to start; you only have so much time to bus back to school, and the cotton candy stand with the disgusting tuna-flavored sugar that Grim worships is a commodity that can only be purchased at the piers. Damn it, shouldn't have spoiled him... You wouldn't be in this mess if you were capable of saying "no".

The crowds are tight for only a few minutes of walking (or, rather, shoving, pushing and pulling, being elbowed and stepped on), and then they begin to thin as more people head to the arena in Night Raven College to watch the first match. Which is both relieving and worrying- you're not so sure that some dickweed second-year won't take your seat before Ace, Deuce, and Grim can get there- the numbers on your tickets won't mean anything once you're actually inside.

The sun beats down on Foothill Town like no day before- you hadn't had a summer in Sage's Island yet, and a part of you is concerned that every day will be this hot and humid. Ramshackle has no air conditioning, after all, and the blinds are broken in most rooms.

You flick some sweat off your forehead with a swipe of your palm and keep walking, the cobblestone hard and unforgivingly hot under the thin soles of your borrowed shoes, your feet aching from how much legwork you've done today alone. You had made a promise with yourself to enjoy this weekend to the fullest, but so far, all it had been is hot, crowded, and noisy. And Grim's going to be farting up the bedroom tonight for certain.

Who even thinks of tuna-flavored cotton candy, anyway? You grimace at the thought of the smell.

The blinding sparkle of the blue sea catches your eye, and you follow that to the sound and smell of waves pushing against the white sand. The pier comes into distance, and you slip between the bars and pubs and fish markets, now somewhat unnerved by how quiet it is. There's an old man snoring in a chair on a porch, and then there are the warehouses and storage containers, and then the abandoned boats of the dock.

No cotton candy.

Damn it. They must've moved to get closer to campus. If you had gone with Ace and Deuce, you probably would've seen the damn thing...

You should text and tell them that it's not here. Grim'll pitch a fit, but there's nothing that can be done now. You make a grab for your tiny phone, and find nothing at your side but air.

Fuck. Your phone was in the bag you handed to Deuce.

You slump, defeated and sweaty and dead on your feet, against the closest surface, and then-

OW.

You yelp in pain- the tin walls are burning hot.

Whimpering in pain and cursing at your stroke of poor luck, you limp yourself into a shaded, dark alley between two buildings you can only assume are used to hold fish- based on the smell, at least. It's cool enough here, though, and you stand beside a stack of empty barrels while trying to find a will and motivation to walk back to school.

You're supposed to be having fun this weekend, but all you've felt is miserable- miserable that you're not going home, miserable that your little friends are leaving you, miserable that you shouldn't be so mad about both of those things, but you are.

No fun. No fun at all.

"Pardon, there, would you happen to have the time?"

For a second time today, you yelp like a puppy who's tail had been stepped on. Who the fuck-? You were alone just a second ago, but now there's a shadow in the morning sun at the mouth of the alley.

Embarrassed enough by your sweaty, sorry state and the pitiful sound you'd just made, you look away. "No, sorry, I... uh, my friends have my bag, so no phone. Sorry,"

"Ah. Well that's certainly a shame, I wouldn't want to miss the big game,"

You almost groan. "It's already started,"

The man, tall and too gaudily dressed for summer (you could certainly tell from the silhouette alone, who wears a three piece suit in this sort of heat?) walks further, which is, perhaps, the exact opposite of what you were hoping he'd do.

"What's got you so down, hm? Lost your ticket?"

Your focus stays on your feet, aching and sore from the half-hour of walking you had endured to come here. Should have said no...

"I'm... I'm just..." you hate how chatty the strangers here are. What does it matter to him? "Just catching my breath."

He hums, stopping beside you and sitting on one of the fish barrels without a single regard for the smell or the strange pinkish slime that seems to be splotched across them. "Hot day, isn't it?"

Great. Small talk. "Sure is,"

"Say," he says, the shadow of his face coming closer to yours, trying to catch your downturned eyes. "Have we met? You look awful familiar, but I can't place my finger on it..."

"I doubt that," you say. "I just have... one of those faces. I could be anyone."

"No, no! I'm certain we've met! I would never forget anyone so cute,"

A shiver shoots up your spine, and the shadow of a cloud passes over the alley. Time to go, you decide. Compliments from strangers have never preceded anything good.

"Well, I can't say, I've met a lot of people," you say, hurriedly pushing yourself off the wall. "My friends are waiting on me, though, so I should go."

You don't wait for a response, turning to the open mouth of the alley, away from the strange man, when you're suddenly yanked back by the neck of your shirt. The motion is so sudden and violent that when you choke, it's more out of surprise than it is out of the force that this man is holding you by. Your fear is set off by a flicker of orange, and you're suddenly face-to-face with someone you most certainly have met, and had hoped you never would again.

"It's wrong to fib. Didn't anyone ever teach you that?"

You swallow dryly, held by the scruff of your neck like a disobedient kitten by none other than the former manager of Playful Land, that place you never thought of, never spoke of.

"I-I don't-"

"Tch, come, now. I'm uneducated," Fellow says, using his free hand to tug on the tie of your uniform. "Not stupid. Just save the seats, don't wait on me!"

He trills in an unconvincing imitation of your voice, and then chuckles. You don't dare move, though he shoves you against the cold metal wall anyway.

"I don't have any money," you lie again, feeling the weight of those final five thaumarks in your pocket. What would the Headmage say if you told them they were stolen? Would he believe you?

Fellow rolls his eyes and lets go of your collar, dusting off his hands on his patchwork pants. "I don't want your money,"

He says that word with such disgust that you might have assumed, if you did not know him (or know him enough, in your case), that he really meant it. But he was so willing, so utterly gleeful in stripping away your personhood for a little extra in his paycheck before- what would he do for the five thaumarks in your pocket?

"Don't give me that look," he scowls. "I'm not going to kill you. Why would I? It's all water under the bridge, isn't it?"

You open your mouth, and nothing comes out.

"Besides, I could always tell you..." he gestures vaguely at your sorry state. "...Were a... special exception to the Night Raven College rule. What was it? Pity? Scholarship?"

He smiles, as if that were a funny thought, fixing your collar and smoothing over your shoulders with his dirty-gloved hands. "I just wanted to give you a scare, that's all. Maybe catch up? Laugh about old times?"

You don't say anything, but the suspicion and unease on your face is noticeable. Fellow grins.

"Were you hoping for something else? I've got time,"

You force something, anything, to fall out of your parted lips. "Th-the game,"

"The game?" he scowls. "You'll live, not seeing those pampered brats pretend to beat each other black and blue on sticks."

"But-"

"Shut up," he says, though softly, an odd choice of words if he was going for soothing. Fellow's eyes drift down your body, stiff and unfeeling, your feet frozen to the ground. He checks over his shoulder for a moment, and, deciding that there won't be any consequence for it, he grips the plush of your hip and squeezes. A strangled gasp comes from your throat, startled, not aroused, though he likes it anyway.

"Missed me?" he teases, retracting his hand if only to force you against the wall again, his fingers dancing up your side. "You know, of all those fat-faced school brats, I always found you the most..."

Fellow pauses, as if carefully picking his words.

"...Fuckable. Though that's not a very gentlemanly thing to say, is it?"

"...No," you manage.

"Cute, then," he says. "But I didn't touch you, didn't see the point in risking my paycheck for pussy- I could've done that with any town whore, anyhow. Though, that was then."

You look to the side, as if pretending to yourself that there's a way out of this. You should make some effort, at least. Then you can say you fought back and won't be so mad at yourself about it later.

"And what luck that it was you I ran into here, hm? I dare say fate is rewarding me for good behavior," Fellow smile, tapping the tip of your nose. "Maybe you, too. I bet those private school pricks don't know how to treat someone like you, hm?"

"...It's not like that," there's your voice, at least.

Fellow rolls his eyes. "Oh, sure it is. They're teenage boys- I was once one myself, believe it or not- if they're not already thinking about sticking their dicks in, they will be. Unless they're as blind as they are oblivious,"

He pinches the fat of your hip between his fingers again, laughing and leering over you.

"It doesn't take a genius to see that you were made to take cock,"

"Uh-? But I-"

"I'd be surprised if you haven't been passed around already. You know how teenage boys are,"

"N-no," you say, firmly enough for how your voice is trembling. "They're not... interested in me... in that way. Nothing's happened."

"Nothing's happened?" Fellow asks in a mocking tone, feigning shock with wide eyes and an O-shaped mouth, the look of innocence, before falling into a smirk. "Well, then- I was going to let you run off, but now that I know that, I think I should at least give you your first load before letting you go back to that spoiled rich place."

Ah, fuck.

Your eyes widen. "Um- I- I..." where are you going with this? "...Is that really how you speak to strangers?"

"No, just you,"

"...Right," you mutter. "M-maybe we should... talk about this, first-"

Fellow scoffs, though he's smiling, as if your complaints are funny to him. He presses you firmly against the wall of the alley, forcing a knee between your thighs and reveling in the wince you respond with.

"What, you don't like me? Think I'm diseased?"

You look away. "...No,"

"Well, you'd be right to worry," he mutters. "Come on, honey. Do I really look like a bad guy to you?"

You make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Oh, don't tell me you're still upset about that thing? That was months ago! I've reformed, changed! I'm an honest man now!"

"...You don't expect me to believe that-"

"I expect you to stop talking so much," he mutters, stopping his incessant petting of your side to pinch your cheek, and then squish your face between his hands. "You're too damn cute for those lazy pricks. It's a shame they haven't been using you the way you ought to be- though, I'm glad they haven't. Does that make me selfish?"

He knows the answer to that. It's hidden in his smirk, snarky though more sincere than before. He's enjoying himself, pinching and squeezing you and groping you like a stress ball.

"Just relax. It'll be over before you know it,"

Not promising, though you know he's not exactly concerned with your personal pleasure. You might as well be a porno mag or the warm touch of his palm, nothing more than something to entertain himself with.

It made you sort of dizzy, though you couldn't pinpoint exactly where that was coming from.

"...I can't keep them waiting," you murmur in a gentle admission of defeat. Fellow smiles, his fangs digging into his lower lip.

"That's alright, sweetie, that's alright," he coos. "We won't keep them waiting, will we? We'll be nice and quick."

His hand rests on the back of your head, cradling you- no holding you in a firm touch, his fingers squeezing around your neck, digging into the soft flesh as his lips press against yours. The kiss is not as brutish or bruising as you were anticipating. It is, rather, gentle, dozens of kisses peppered onto your waiting lips, pressed softly and quickly, though despite their delicacy each feels distinctly like he's stealing something away from you- your breath, your resistance, your sense of time. It's only when you've melted a little, become docile and small in his hands, does his forceful, unforgiving side return, his tongue filling your mouth and demanding yours in return. Everything to do with this man is an exchange. A kiss for a grope, a favor for a service, an eye for an eye. He forces your body closer to his with his free hand, digging into your hip and pressing you into the apex of his thigh, making you grind on him. It feels good, despite your better wishes not to enjoy this as much as Fellow is.

He pulls away, leaving the bitter taste of metal and the sting of last night's alcohol on your bitten lips, if only to use both hands in his pursuit of getting you wet enough not to tear anything. He's gentlemanly enough in that regard, you think, giving him an encouraging moan (why?) when he gently bounces his thigh under the beguiling movement of your hips.

"That's it... that's it..." he mutters, his body curved around yours in a certainly uncomfortable manner, shielding you from the world outside of his shoulders and chest. "You weren't lying, huh? They really don't fuck you at that school. You're so desperate for it, you're practically easy... taking it from a stranger... I bet your buddies would pay to see that, eh?"

"Don't want to think about them," you murmur into his shoulder.

He laughs. "Oh, but it'd be funny, wouldn't it? They'd be wide-eyed and slack-jawed, watching their cute little class crush moaning against a strange man's shoulder like a needy whore," his fingers dig deep into your hips and he forces you further onto him, the unforgiving friction sending a jolt of sensitivity through your clit. You yelp. He grins into your hair.

"I've fantasized about fucking you in that shitty control room for months. What I wouldn't have given to go back to that moment and bent you over the control panel. Would've put load after load in you- fuck,"

He stops himself, a strangled whine escaping his throat as you slide further down his thigh and push against his crotch.

"Ugh," he gasps. "Your pants, off."

It's amazing what the simplest of touches will do to him. If you were braver, and bigger, maybe you could have challenged the weak thread of authority he was clinging to- how easily it snapped the second you touched him, even if by accident. You almost wonder what else you could break in him, but that's a subject you're better off not worrying about now.

You peel off your pants, practically drenched in sweat and damp with wetness around the crotch (how you hate your excitable body) and let them crumple on the dirty gravel. Fellow wastes no time nor breath, forcing a hand between your legs to cup you through your underwear, feeling the heat coming off of you.

"Slut," he says, though it sounds more like an observation than an insult. As if he were talking about the weather.

He doesn't ask you to undress him, like some men would. He's perfectly happy with keeping his own pockets, empty as they are, far from your wandering eyes and prying hands. You almost don't want to look when he works out his cock, already erect and leaking to a comically lewd degree (and he called you the easy one...)

"It's rude to stare," he teases, even though his weak, breathy voice.

Fellow lifts one of your thighs as high as it will go, around his hip, forcing you to lean against the tin wall behind you with some difficulty. He doesn't feel the need to warn you when he's about to sink in, and so one moment you're thinking about the smell of metal lingering on your clothes, and the next you can't think of anything but the distinct sensation of something pushing between the walls of your cunt. It nearly knocks the wind out of you, though, all things considered, it's rather underwhelming. There's only the feeling of pressure in your lower stomach, and the trembling of Fellow's body beneath yours.

"Oh, f-fuck..." he mumbles, obviously having the time of his life. "Ah... fuck, damn it, shit..."

Is that how he's going to talk the whole time? Though you dare not speak; you're not sure you even could if you tried.

"...I knew it," he finally mutters, forcing more and more of his cock inside, or, rather, forcing you to take more by the firm grip he has on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"You were made for this."

Some awkward, strange moaning noise comes from your throat, and he laughs, though his own voice is breathy.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Hold still," he demands, keeping you in place until he's calmed himself down enough to start thrusting, though, again, weakly and shallowly, little movements of apathetic effort, or of barely constrained lust, you can't decide.

The tiny thrusts are enough to send shockwaves of arousal up your body- you had forgotten the simple feeling of pleasure, of lust, you had been trapped in this world and this tired, emaciated body for so long. When was the last time you truly had a moment to yourself? You were always with someone, misunderstood and mistreated by the people of this world, surrounded by their smiling faces and soft hands that never quite touched you, that never felt your body as if you were a person with weight.

There was something, then, gratifying about this encounter; disgusting as he was, and as shameful as you felt, Fellow Honest did not see you as some untouchable artifact, some ugly, divine thing. You were as human as he was, as fucked up and weak and poor, as desirable as any normal person should be. Not a ghost, not a beast, not a thing, not an alien, not an angel, just a lonely, disgusting little animal who needed to be fucked like one. Deserved it, maybe. Miserable little thing you were.

Maybe you liked the attention. Maybe you liked the thought of existing outside of Night Raven College, if only for a few minutes of unprotected sex with a dangerous stranger in an alley, clit sensitive and swollen but receiving no attention as his cock twitches inside you. It's almost summer. You're not sure if you'll even exist in a few months, when school has returned, but you exist now; perhaps more than you had before.

Playful Land had felt like a fever dream; but right now, being fucked by its former manager, is the most awake you've felt in months.

In a disgusting, vulnerable, human sort of way, like an open wound.

"Fucking- mm, fuck, I'm- you want to take my load, don't you?" Fellow mutters, fangs grazing against your shoulder, threatening to sink in. "You're gonna be a good whore and let me fuck my cum into you?"

You nod, not thinking twice about it- it feels as natural as the breeze coming from the sea some ways west.

"Good, fuck, you're so good-" he stiffens, legs shaking, shoving you hard against the wall again to take some of your weight off of his own body. You can only vaguely register the warm feeling of cum filling you, or at least the feeling of it dripping out, gravity at work.

Fellow pulls away after a moment, panting weakly, though there's that smirk on him again.

"You're a doll," he mutters, wiping tears you hadn't realized you'd cried off your cheek. "What'd I do to deserve such good treatment, hm?"

Nothing. You shrug, tired despite not having cum. You don't really feel like seeing the game anymore- nothing sounds more appealing than a good nap, except for maybe sitting on Fellow's face for a few hours.

"Mmmhm," he mutters, snapping your underwear back into place when he pulls out, the red lines of friction indented in your skin where it had been forced to the side. "I haven't had virgin pussy in..."

He pauses, stuffing his limp dick back in his pants.

"...Well, ever, I suppose. A man could get used to that."

Fellow offers you your pants back, pointlessly brushing some gravel off of the front. You don't want to go through the trouble of redressing yourself, but you do. Not like you have a choice. And you couldn't say no to him, anyhow.

"Done now?" you finally ask, watching Fellow zip up his pants. He shrugs.

"Guess so. Thanks for the pick-me-up, sweetie,"

You grimace, something gross settling in the pit of your stomach as he heads for the mouth of the alley. Off to become another dream, another memory you don't speak of, a pinless location on a map.

"Wait,"

Fellow stops, turning over his shoulder, his eyebrows arched in apathetic half-curiosity, his ears perked up.

You hesitate, open your mouth, hesitate again, and-

"Do you... need a place to stay, for a few months?"

[starlee246]

I’m finally getting off my ass and making coherent oc content yay!!! So properly introducing my first twst oc

Altair Scarlett!

He’s twisted from Iago and is probably my most developed oc because I just keep making them and never bother to do anything.

A macaw beastman hailing from the wetter areas of the Sunset Savannah, Altair is an aspiring musician and a first year at Nrc who became friends with Cal and joined their group.

Outgoing, short fused and with no indoor voice, he’s the type of guy everyone has a distinct reaction to when he walks in. Often that reaction is exasperation. Despite his (relatively) easygoing nature, he doesn’t suffer fools and doesn’t hesitate to let people know, even if he doesn’t hold malice towards them, they’re still getting on the receiving end of some snark. He’s also quite a bit smarter than people tend to assume, being a good planner and surprisingly sneaky.

His signature spell is called Harpy Song, and it lets him perfectly copy any voice, stretching his range so he’s able to reach every note.

In case my handwriting is unreadable, the notes say:

•(arrow pointing to the spot of colour) natural hair colour

•dyes his hair and leaves the Scarabia bathrooms bright blue 💀

•used to bind with bandages, binder gifted by Cal

•wings regularly clipped pre nrc by mother, cut by aunt one time but went too far

•cuts holes into most of his clothes so his wings fit (he hates it)

•long ass claw nails that he never bothers to cut, with patchy chipped nail polish

[theshadowrealmitself]

I like to think that Vulcans who come to understand that Humans just can’t try to process emotions the same way as them, it’s just healthiest to let it out in harmless ways, decide that venting and stuff should be taken just as seriously as Vulcan’s meditation time, and will encourage the Humans around them to complain about what’s upsetting them

People who are used to aloof Vulcans who avoid Humans at all cost running into one comforting a Human

“-and then they said my cheesecake was subpar, and they didn’t even bring a dish!!!”

“The purpose of this event was that every participant brings a food item of sorts, correct?”

“Yeah!!”

“And they did not follow this rule while insulting dishes that were brought?”

“Mostly just my dish but yeah >:(“

“How illogical”

“That’s what I’m saying!!!”

[chiquilines]

In honour of mha ending, have some old (and i mean OLD) miryumi scribbles i never got around to posting. They were the main characters in my heart

[cold-neon-ocean]

Posting this by itself because :) I just feel like he should have gotten to wear the mech pilot suit at least once..

(my AU black version and the og green)

[smile-files]

i continue to find ii3 baffling. why did they make it (this isn't to hate on the season, i'm genuinely curious)

[bnyf]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#1 crush ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒yandere male elf x female human reader ♡

┊ warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic, sexual content, noncon, kidnapping, size difference, strange dynamic.

╰﹕୨୧﹒authoress note : after receiving some unwanted but much needed criticism i've tried my hand at writing a little better and fixing errors. i apologize in advance if there's any errors or gaps in my writing, i also apologize for the messed up story that this is. ik some people don't like the way i write the reader but like??? idgaf sorry anyways other than that, i hope you guys enjoy, please read the warnings and proceed with caution <3 i would also like to say that this post is kinda inspired by a very popular yandere artist on here with a male elf oc

what a treacherous fate had befallen on a vitreous soul such as yourself.

it truly is unfortunate, you're so unlucky. how could your luck have run so low? to think, this everyday mundane routine would now be your nightmarish reality was stomach wrenching. you never did anything to deserve this, this was simply some sort of faulty by the gods, right? there's no way this is your horrible ending. no way.

you sobbed and yet... he hummed and chastised you by smacking your puffy clitorous.

it's always like this, it's been like this for...? a while now apparently. you've completely lost track of time. maybe a month or so if you're playing the guessing game.

well, if it wasn't obvious already, you've been taken hostage by an insane elven prince. probably the most insanely angelic, good-looking, prettiest and sick minded male you've ever met.

he really needs professional help. something that he can more than afford considering his house is almost made of gold, his herculean physique adored and draped only with the most expensive clothes, jewels, silks, soaps and scented creams and perfumes. his perfume, so extravagant, worth more than your vital organs all put together. that was the part you admired about elven people, they are so intelligent, so ahead of humans.

but to him? therapy is cheap and free! you're the first ever human he's laid eyes on and that's all he really needs. and really, you're the one to blame for his actions. it's all you. so you should take responsibility, right?

he's sought out humans before, trying to break the barrier between the two worlds and connect with them. he was damn near obsessed with coming into contact with the human realm and ruling over them like a god despite the fact that any sort of magic that threatens to break the barrier and connect the realms or offer passage through the two realms is absolutely forbidden. this is such a serious offense that if caught violating, can lead to public execution.

but your little caregiver did not! give one flying hoot at all, nor did the rules really even apply to royals as the royals participated in a lot of magical corruption and kept it all on the low.

so what a surprise! not really that he'd succeed in his conquest. not entirely since he'd only manage to bring one human to the elven realm, but now he knows for sure he's making great progress. and not only succeed in getting a nitty gritty palms on any human, but such a cute little human female like yourself.

humans are a lot more fragile, smaller, weaker, lesser intelligent beings, almost like a sub species from elves. so that's why you must be taken care of with so much extra love and attentiveness. all this was his reasoning for treating you like a minor being, enabling you and excuses for his weird kinks.

there was no way you'd ever dream of over powering him, not when a large veiny arm wrapped so tightly around your wrists, holding it behind your back, and the other with it's slender long digits effortlessly reaching your g spot.

it was 'bath time' or whatever, which called for a thorough inspection and cleanse. or just another excuse to use your body to his likings.

his tongue lap at your folds and clit, moaning in delight and relishing in all your juices spraying him. his voice muffled by your pussy, making wet sounds as he attempts to praise your gorgeous body: all of which sounds like incohesive unhinged, obsessive rambling of course.

if you ignore this scene and focus on other small things around you maybe you can, somewhat imagine yourself having a luxurious warm bath in the tub, with flowers and scented stuff in the water, scented candles creating a relaxing atmosphere, marvelous one-sided glass view... maybe not the one-sided glass view that's actually a little too scary to think about but yeah, you're having a nice little bath.

the most relaxing bath in the most prettiest and pearliest tiled bathroom you've ever been in.

your insides contorts though and you find yourself coming again undone on those perfectly manicured fingers of his, messing up his perfect face with your essence. your voice is loud and echoes throughout the bathroom, all the way into the bedroom and closet but never enough to each anyone's ears as he's casted multiple protective barrier spells to keep your presence unknown from other elven people. you've came like 5 times already and he won't let you rest, getting high off your pussy juices.

"poor baby, you look so tired, shhh don't worry~ mama will take care of everything, just relax and be good for me, okay? it'll all be over soon, my darling ^ mama will get you all cleaned up and dressed, right after this..." you wish you had the energy to welp out an 'ewwwwww da fuck?!' right about now but you were so weak and constantly sedated. you felt helpless as his bulbous tip hits your pussy, rubbing it back and forth to coat and lubricate himself with your juices. he leisurely teases, making your hole spasm and grasp around nothing, your body reacting in a lovely manner to his advances.

he licks his lips, only putting the tip in before quickly pulling back out. taking his time cause he wants to drive you insane like him. and luckily for him, his mind games always work so well.

his precum leaking and smearing you in the process as he rubs his whole length, measuring your pelvic area with his cock length and soon putting it in to see how far it'll actually go.

you almost blacked out. even though he prepped you well for this it still stings, he's just too big. and you? way too tight, squeezing him like you want every last drop of his seed, has him shivering and grunting in the process.

"fck- you're so tight, baby ngh~"

has him seeing stars and by the time he's balls deep in you and hitting the tip of your womb, you're a drooling and moaning mess. can't even control his obsessive thoughts from spilling out his mouth, he immediately gets to work on those hips too like a wild animal, only sparing a few seconds to sloppily kiss you and slap your thick behind.

it only takes a few minutes before he breaks his load inside you and shifts you into another position, manhandling you and roughing you up like a meat toilet, all for his own enjoyment and pleasure.

his long silky hair tickling your skin. when you think about it, he's so masculine with many feminine traits too, like the perfect balance actually and it is to be expected from an elf. he always wants to be in control, always wants to take care of you like a god watching over his creation. it sorta overlaps with him calling himself your mama but it makes sense in a way. he doesn't see himself as a woman in any sort of way, he just wants unrestricted authority over you.

your tears stream down your cheeks which he licks away and kisses, it only hurts your head trying to rationalize this or even understand it, your vision goes all blurry and for the next few rounds, your in and out of consciousness while being filled.

when you're awake again, you're draped in silk half naked and powdered up, you feel your caretakers strong arms wrapped around you, spooning you as rubs circles into your skin. he's also half naked with nothing but a cloth draped around himself. you both lay on a soft layered bed with many squishy pillows and blankies. fruits, steam veggies and grilled meat laid out on a silver tray for you to enjoy, though your stomach was filled with his cum.

[ddlydevotion]

Grace and Bo Chow both being infatuated with you 💌 ₊˚⊹⋆

a/n: I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing this! This post contains nsfw content/slightly obsessive behavior so proceed with caution. This is also quite long so I apologize for that. Look out for a part two!

currently listening to: Cupid by Sam Cooke

You met Bo first. You applied for a job at the shop and proved yourself to be incredibly dependable. He allowed you to count the money in the register, keep logs of what was going in & out of the store, and take care of client records and accounts. The two of you had a purely professional relationship, but if a professional relationship consisted of longing glances, lingering touches, and endearing nicknames.

You knew he was married, the golden band around his ring finger didn't let you forget the fact that he was. You felt horrible for even entertaining the nicknames and the close contact he kept with you, but you considered yourself to be on the safe side of things. As long as the two of you kept the touchiness to a minimum and didn't take your affection for one another to the bedroom, everything was fine.

His wife, Grace, tended to their shared store on the white side of town. She'd occasionally pop into the store to check in on Bo & their daughter, making sure she completed her tasks for the day. Afterwards, she'd never fail to make her way up to you and ask about your day.

"How are ye doin? Bo been treatin' you well?"

"You're doin' a good job around 'ere, girl. We gotta keep you here, don't want the other stores to try an' take ye from us."

Bo would affirm her praise by nodding his head and adding in his own little two cents. Grace wouldn't shy away from rubbing your arm or placing a delicate finger underneath your chin while saying "you're a real pretty girl, y'know that?". Her physical touch could be disguised as something playful and sweet, something between two women that were fond of one another. But, as the two of them made eye contact over your head they knew that what they had in store for you was anything but playful.

The playful banter between the three of you continued for weeks after that. You didn't expect anything more to blossom from your friendship with the married couple, but the clueless cloud you had over your head was quickly blown away one night. It was usual for them to invite you over to have dinner at their shared home. It was a common occurrence that even Lisa looked forward to as you were never anything but kind to her.

If you try to tell them that you wouldn't be able to make it due to a packed schedule, they'd do everything in their power to convince you to show anyway.

"Oh, we promise we won't keep you long. C'mon ya could just come on over for some dinner and make your way home after that. promise."

"awe are ya sure? Lisa was really lookin' forward to seeing ya again."

Sure, it was common for them to invite you over for dinner. However, it wasn't all too common for them to invite you into their bedroom. They'd usually keep you past midnight to have conversation going in the kitchen, but Bo offered to move the late night ritual into their bedroom. The conversation went on as normal and the wine in your glass disappeared by the minute. You sat with your legs crossed on their wooden-framed bed, the couple sat right in front of you. Bo's hand made a home for itself on the skin of your thigh that peaked from underneath your dress, he rarely ever showed such explicit affection like this. You expected Grace to become angry with the two of you, rightfully so, and have the night come to an end. Instead, she moved towards you and swept your hair out of your face with those delicate fingers of hers you've come to admire.

"I don't think ya know just how pretty ya are. I mean, jus' look at that face, baby. You just might be the prettiest damn thing I've ever seen." Bo's hand moved towards the inside of your thigh and a small smile stretched across his lips. "s'true, sweetheart", both of his hands eventually moved towards the inside of your thighs, spreading you open for him, Grace shuffling behind you before positioning your head to lay on her lap.

The night ended with your legs curved around Bo's slender waist as he pumped his cock into you, the coarse hair at the base of his cock stimulating your pulsing clit once he finally bottomed out. Grace kept herself busy, too. She rubbed your throbbing clit with her middle & ring finger, occasionally cradling your flushed cheeks and encouraging you to "take that cock, baby. s'so big, ain't it? I know, I know", shushing your whines and cooing at your fucked out expression. She couldn’t help but smile when you let out a surprised squeal at the feeling of her fingers tweaking and pinching your sensitive nipples.

Your relationship with the Chow's was never made public to the town, I mean, why would it be? Everyone in your close circle knew that the three of you were quite the close bunch of friends, but they didn't know the rest of it.

I can definitely see the both of them being possessive over you. They could see you talking with a friend of yours outside of the store and immediately interrogate you about it.

"She's just a good friend of mine! What's this all about?"

"Y'know damn well what this is all about. She looked like she was imaginin' what ya looked like without your clothes on."

It'd make them inexplicably upset to see you in a relationship with anyone that isn't them. They'd never allow you to do so without putting up a fight, though. It'd be foolish for you to think they'd let you go so easily. Even if you did get romantically involved with anyone else, you'd never be truly satisfied. Grace and Bo raised your standards to the damn moon and it'd be impossible for anyone to try and fill their shoes. Whenever your partner did anything wrong, you couldn't help but think "they'd never do that to me."

Helping Grace whenever she's working on a sign for a client. She doesn't hold back on sharing just how proud she is of you when you finish up a paint job.

Sharing many passion filled nights with the couple at the Juke Joint. You spend so much time sat at the bar without ordering anything just to talk to Grace. Bo pulls you in to dance with him and no one around bats an eye. What's wrong with two friends sharing a dance together? However, the way his glistening eyes gaze into yours with such intense passion behind them is anything but platonic.

It's incredibly easy for you and Grace to hide the true nature of your relationship. Nobody suspects anything even when her arm is firmly wrapped around your waist, or when her lips graze your cheek in a sweet peck. That's just how good friends celebrate one another.

They always find themselves on your front porch with gifts and they hardly ever show up empty handed. The gifts range from sundresses perfect for the southern heat, pastries they know you'll enjoy, savory treats the both of them worked on.

You're constantly heading over to their home and being convinced to stay the night by the sweet-talking couple. They don't entertain the possibility of you staying in a spare room, they want you to make yourself familiar & comfortable with their bedroom. Their spare room is honestly quite useful in having visitors believe that's where you stay, assisting in avoiding any questions about the true nature of your 'friendship'.

Bo wraps himself around your body like a koala and Grace curls herself into a fetal position in front of you, relishing in the feeling of your warm arms around her.

taglist: @officialthrad @bochowswife @thegr33nc0met @missroro @mjwhis @foreid let me know if you'd like to be added!

[aliteralsemicolon]

We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend

Part 1 of We can't be friends (wait for your love) | See part 2 | See part 3

You and Spencer have convinced yourselves that you’re only meant to be friends despite the strong tension between you two. It only seems to intensify the longer you ignore it, eventually reaching its boiling point and forcing changes in the friendship.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

(but no mentions of pronouns in this so it can be read as gn)

DISCLAIMER I do not consent to my work being used to feed/train AI and/or re-posted anywhere by anybody else This story is SFW but it’s intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNING Mentions of: Indirect peer pressure, alcohol/drinking/being drunk, very slight implicated SA (it doesn’t happen), serial killer, kidnapping, torture, murder, stalking, and threats. It’s all barely there and doesn’t really matter to the story tbh. Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 9.3K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Being in love is hard. Being in love with your best friend is harder. It’s a merciless form of torture really, devoting yourself entirely to the person you hold dearest to your heart, but they aren’t yours. It was almost masochistic, standing by to serve him in whatever way you thought he needed. Luckily, you weren’t a masochist. 

Not entirely, at least. 

You were there for him when he needed, offering whatever you had to give, but there were parts of you that you kept guarded. To protect yourself, but more importantly, to protect Spencer. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear that you were ‘too much’ from passing lovers in your life. A certain level of detachment was necessary to ensure the safety of Spencer’s friendship. He was the most important person in your life. 

Maybe it was the multitude of degrees as a result of his intelligence. He never let you feel stupid or any less intelligent. 

Maybe it was the way his whole body lit up when he shared information he’d stored in that beautiful mind.

Maybe it was the charm in how goofily he carried himself. The way his hands would flail around when he spoke to keep up with the speed his brain moved at. 

Or maybe it was how he made you feel seen. 

How he always knew what to say, what to do. How he remembered little details about you, like how you preferred the window seat on the jet. And how he went out of his way to accommodate the details, like giving up the window seat just so you could sit in it. He was an unusually thoughtful man, with everybody he knew. 

That’s something you had to remind yourself of often. 

He’s like that with everybody. He has an eidetic memory, of course he remembers the little details. 

If only you knew how wrong you were. Spencer was a thoughtful man, there was no doubt about that. Sure he was gifted with an arguably incomparable memory, but unlike all the things he had no choice in remembering, he chose to remember the little details about you. To him you were the closest thing to a real life angel. 

It was the way you were the only person he’d ever met, willing to sit there and listen to him talk for hours. You’d go out of your way to show interest in the things he’d share, even if you didn’t actually have any interest in it.

The way he could swear he saw stars in your eyes whenever he stole an opportunity to stare into them. They would burn brighter if accompanied with the sweet sound of your laughter. 

He felt compelled to accommodate you. Especially when you light up the way you do from such minuscule actions on his part. Spencer loved being the person to bring out your smile, taking any excuse to try and coax one out of you. Even if he’d slightly inconvenience himself at times. His convenience mattered little to him because he knew how much you did for him too. 

Every morning before work you’d make the trip to his favourite coffee shop, getting him scones and coffee exactly to his liking because you knew he had a tendency to skip breakfast. His favourite coffee shop was a fifteen minute drive from your apartment and an extra twenty from Headquarters. You went out of your way to deliver it to him, even reheating the coffee yourself before handing it over. 

Spencer wasn’t alone in recognising your generosity. The entire sixth floor had noticed how both of you subconsciously performed acts of service for each other, even if nobody had brought it up to your faces. 

“I know that look.” Rossi remarks, turning his head towards his raven haired co-worker, eyes on you and Spencer.

“Yea..I just wonder if they know.” Emily mirrors his actions as she gives her own comment on the sight just a few feet in front of her. 

Neither of you realise you have spectators observing your conversation. You’re in your own little bubble at Spencer’s desk, the resident genius seated comfortably with his gaze on you as he speaks. Your focus is entirely on the man across from you, leaning in slightly, perched on the wooden surface. 

“Because stomach acid in the human body is typically 1-2 on the PH scale, it’s capable of dissolving metals such as certain types of stainless steels. Razors for example! The Gastrointestinal Endoscopy journal shared that scientists found that the thickened back of a single-edged blade dissolved just two hours of immersion in stomach acid!” His voice went up a pitch as he spoke and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So theoretically, an unsub could use a razor blade as a murder weapon and potentially eat it to dispose of it?” It was a relatively dumb question, but you just wanted to keep him talking. 

“Well, it’s possible, but realistically I don’t think a razor blade-” 

“Sorry to interrupt my younglings,” A colourful Garcia appears in your bubble and cuts Spencer off, “but I am here to let you know that the team will be going out for drinks, on Rossi, tonight! No exceptions!!”

When your head swivels to Garcia, you also notice the gawking pair not far behind her, shuffling off when they realise they’ve been caught staring. 

“I’ll come, but I won’t be drinking.” Spencer says with an awkward smile. They shift their sights on you for your response. 

“Sorry guys…I already have plans for tonight.” You purse your lips together apologetically. 

“What no! No, no, no! You know how rare these nights can be!” Garcia frowns and grabs your shoulders pleadingly.

“I knowwww…I’m sorry!!”

“Fine, fine, but at least share what’s keeping you busy tonight?” The blonde pokes.

You shift your eyes to Spencer, who’s just staring at you with a curious look and then back to Garcia. 

“Well I have a date-” You begin, but are interrupted by a whispered squeal.

Garcia begins a response, but stops herself when she spots a nonchalant Derek Morgan heading towards the elevators. “We will discuss this in detail during Saturday’s girls night. For now I will accept your excuse and remind you to dress your sexiest! Now excuse me while I go and intercept my sweet chocolate thunder.”

She grips you in a tight hug and scurries off after Morgan. The atmosphere shifts slightly, as you meet Spencer’s eyes awkwardly. 

“You have a date? Why didn’t you mention that” Spencer titters.

“I’m sorry, it just didn’t occur to me.” You try to lie, but Spencer’s expression gives away that he doesn’t believe you. “Okay, okay, I just didn’t wanna say anything because the last time I talked about one of my dates you got all weird and I didn’t want to upset you again.”

“Upset me? I was not upset.” He protests and folds his arms across his chest. 

“Okay what would you call it then?” 

“I wouldn’t call it anything.” 

“Oh really? So you’re not upset that I’m going on a date?”

“Nope. Not at all. I’m interested actually, tell me about him.”

You eye him carefully, trying to figure out where his head is at. Spencer has a tendency to get sassy when he feels defensive. 

“You’re interested? To hear about one of my dates?” You question with playful caution. 

“Yes. I’m always interested in things about you.” He spills. 

Your reaction to his words is immediate, a surprised jump in your features, but you manage to mask it almost just as fast. Spencer’s just as surprised as you. 

“I-I just mean- you know? Because yo-you’re my best friend.” He tries to play it off. 

There’s no way. 

You think to yourself. Spencer definitely didn’t mean it in that way. 

No he definitely didn’t. He just said so himself. You’re his best friend. Spencer Reid does not feel the same way about you.

It stings to admit to yourself, but it’s for the best. Spencer is a smart, handsome, wonderful man with so much to offer. You’re too much work, come with too much baggage, just too much.

“Yea, we’re best friends.” An affirmation more for yourself than him. 

A silence looms as you stare at each other stiffly. 

“Anyways, my date,” you decide not to linger on it for too long, “it’s with that guy I told you about, Nathan.”

“Nathan? Didn’t you go on a date with him last time?” A casual inquiry. 

“Yea!” You squeak enthusiastically, grateful that he had reverted back to his light-hearted self. 

This was something you deeply enjoyed about your friendship. The fact the two of you could flow back into casual conversation no matter what.

“So it’s a second date?”

“Yes! The first one went really well, so I thought why not agree to a second when he asked?”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.” 

His approval should feel better than it does. For some reason, it makes you uneasy. Almost as if you don’t want him to approve. 

He has approved though, meaning he isn’t against you dating other people. He doesn’t want you the same way.

“Really?” You want to be sure, scared that you might put him off again.

“Yes! Really! If you’re happy then I’m happy for you.” A fib that you were unaware of. 

In truth, Spencer would rather crawl on the office bathroom floor than see you with some other guy. Fortunately for him, he isn’t actually going to be there to see you with this ‘Nathan’. So he doesn’t need to submit to such an awful torture. Maybe he’s being dramatic, you aren’t his girlfriend. He has no right to feel such a heavy drop in his gut. 

Part of him really is happy for you. He wanted you to feel loved, even if it wasn’t by him. God, how he wished it was by him. If friendship is what he has to settle for to be near you, then so be it. Though at times it feels like it might kill him, you being the closest person in his life, but not close enough to the point where he could call himself yours. 

“REID!”

Spencer jumps at the sound of Morgan’s voice, finding it difficult to focus on his current surroundings. He missed half the team scattering around to different parts of the bar, Morgan now his only company. 

“What’s up?” His expression shifts to a tight-lipped smile.

“Where’s your head at man?” Derek probes.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean I have never seen you this zoned out before. You haven’t checked back in since you sat down.” 

It wasn’t intentional, but since you walked out the doors of the BAU all Spencer’s been able to think about was your date. You probably went straight home to get ready, pulling out all the stops to feel as beautiful as you are. For somebody that can never truly appreciate it, not like he can. 

“I guess I’m just not feeling well.” A pathetic excuse. One Spencer finds himself making whenever he’s pulled out of his thoughts about you. 

Morgan doesn’t believe him. Hell, Spencer doesn’t even believe himself. 

“Kid. You know you can always talk to me right? About anything.” 

“I know. I’m really just tired. Actually- you know what, c-could- could you just tell the others that I’m just not feeling great, I’m- bye Derek.” Spencer stutters as he rushes out of his seat. 

He doesn’t even give the man a chance to respond as he makes his exit out of the bar. He’s lacking the capability to force himself to socialise. The knowledge of you on a date with another man was something he’s been able to handle, but a second date with a man was harder to stomach. You must like him if you’re willing to see him again. 

The ride home feels longer than it actually is. How far had the date gotten? Were you enjoying it? Did Nathan make you laugh the way he could? Spencer might lose his mind. He wondered if you had given Nathan the privilege of touching you. Your skin always looked so soft, his heart panged at the thought. He felt sick. 

You were his best friend. You trusted him. He shouldn’t think this way about you, feel this way about you. Unreciprocated feelings were something Spencer was entirely used to. He’d perfected being able to put the person at the receiving end of his affections in the back of his mind. To ignore until it went away entirely.

Why was it so much harder this time? There is no universe in which you would ever return his love for you. Which is why he needs to force himself to love you from afar. It was a fact Spencer reminded himself of repeatedly. And he would’ve kept at it, if he wasn’t interrupted by the sight of you standing in front of his door as he stepped up his apartment stairs. 

“Hi!” His voice alerts you softly.

“Hi!” You squeak back, turning on your heel to face him. 

He can’t help but note how heavenly you look. It almost knocked the air out of his lungs, except he noticed the poorly wiped tears glistening on your face. He didn’t ask about it, immediately. Instead he just pulled you in for a hug, something he rarely did with others, and unlocked his door as he motioned for you to enter first. Another thing to love about Spencer Reid. 

You step inside, more than familiar with the deep green walls surrounding you. If the stench of liquor wasn’t enough, then the way you stumbled on your way to his couch was all Spencer needed to deduce that you had been drinking. A lot. He walks past you towards his kitchen, returning with a glass of water and painkillers you would definitely need later. 

“Have you eaten?” He asks softly, handing you the glass of water. 

“Um..” you take a sip and pause as you sigh, “yeah.”

The two of you just sit there, silently, stealing small glances at each other and averting your gazes before the other can notice. You know he’s waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to speak first. Except you don’t know what to say. You feel so embarrassed. He probably had better plans for tonight, but here you are, pestering him again. 

“How long were you waiting?” He speaks up once he realises that you aren’t going to.

“Not long, I had actually just gotten there, your timing was really good.” You mumble, forcing an awkward chuckle. 

“Did Nathan drop you off?” Spencer hopes that bringing up your date might give you enough courage to vent. 

“No. No, I walked.” A resigned smile creeps on your face, not wanting to talk about your journey here. “How was your night?”

“Walked?? Alone?? Drunk??” The words seep out of him before he can hold his tongue. “Why didn’t you call me?!”

“I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to bother you!” You defend. 

But you are bothering him. You’re bothering him right now.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back tears. Guilt creeps inside him. He knows that he’s not the source of your tears, but he didn’t want to make you cry regardless. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he takes hold of your hand and squeezes ever so gently, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Why don’t we play chess? You’re getting better at it, you know?” He adds, thinking of a quick distraction. 

Chess was a favourite pastime of yours with Spencer. You pull your hand out of his grip and use it to rub the opposing arm, his touch overwhelming you. He was too soft with you. You suppose it’s why you seek him out so often. Out of all the men you’ve ever known, Spencer was the only one who knew you. It felt so nice to be known. 

“Y-yea..yes. Please. Let’s uh- let’s play chess.” You stumble on your words, eager to think about anything else. 

Spencer retrieves his mini chess board from his satchel and prepares the board between the two of you. Neither of you utter a word as you play your moves. You appreciate the silence, because you know that you can’t say or do the wrong thing. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You break the silence anyway, scared that the silence might bore him. 

“You’re holding back.” He argues and you finally meet his eyes for the first time since you started the game.

“No, I’m just drunk.” You counter.

“I was the one at a bar but you’re the one who’s drunk.” It’s a stupid comment, slightly cringy even, but he earns a genuine laugh out of you. 

His dorkiness was part of his charm. Your laughter makes him smile. A comfortable silence fills the atmosphere as your eyes meet again. Spencer’s eyes were so beautiful, you could drown in them. Spencer in general was so beautiful, in every way possible. 

“It’s your move.” He has to remind you, worried that if he’s allowed to look at you for two long he might do something really stupid.

“I-uhm- I had a shitty date.” You owe him an explanation for ruining his night.

He doesn’t respond, not wanting to say anything that might make you close up again. He wanted to be the person you talked to about your problems. He wanted to be your solace. 

“It started really well. I thought I could see something more, but it turns out he just wanted the same thing as all the others. Thought that maybe if he got me drunk enough..but it obviously didn’t work” You try to lighten the weight of your words by laughing with them. “It’s probably for the best, you know? I don’t think it would’ve worked out regardless, I couldn’t stop-”

Stop comparing him to you. 

Normally, Spencer is the one with the tendency to ramble, but the alcohol wasn’t making it easy for you to shut up. You just hope he doesn’t realise where you were headed with that statement. You kept comparing your date to Spencer. Everything Nathan did today was a direct reminder of things Spencer would never do. 

“Check.” You choose to stop making a fool of yourself there.

Spencer’s breath hitches. Not because he picked up on what you hoped he didn’t, rather because he was concerned by the possible implications of what you said.

“Did he..did he try to-” 

“No. Oh my God, no!” You cut him off before he can finish the thought. 

His shoulders relax and the silence resumes. For the first time since he met you, Spencer found himself speechless. He didn’t know whether to comfort you or give you advice. Part of him felt selfishly relieved, at least he didn’t have to worry about some other guy anymore. The other part, the part that felt disgusted with himself for even thinking about himself right now, felt a mixed range of hurt for you. 

It started with resentment for the negligence Nathan displayed with you and ended with sorrow for how easily you brushed off your hurt. While he ran all the possibilities of the best thing to say, you ran all the possibilities of leaving his apartment in the least inconvenient way for him, interpreting his silence as irritation. 

He should be irritated, you’re disrupting his night. 

You need to leave before he can tell you to. Just as you’re about to mutter some bull-shit excuse, Spencer gently cups your hand with both of his hands and locks eyes with you. His voice is so painstakingly gentle, your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Nathan and anyone else who has ever allowed themselves to be blinded by their shallow urges is an absolute fool. Idiot. Moron. There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe how stupid they are for missing out on knowing you as you are. I’ve experienced a lot of good things in my life, none have ever brought me as much joy as you do. I can’t even begin to explain how deserving you are of love and it’s heartbreaking to see that you’ve convinced yourself of the opposite.”

It’s your turn to be speechless. Of the list of things you didn’t expect, this wasn’t even on the list. You should have expected it. It was in Spencer’s nature to prove you wrong for underestimating his tenderness. He felt perhaps he went too far. Said too much.

“I-I just mean-” 

“Why are you so nice to me?” Your heart feels like it’s lacking space inside your chest, tears threaten to build. 

“Because you’re my f-friend.” He struggles to utter the last word.

“Friend..” You nervously laugh.

The meaning behind his words don’t register in your drunken state. All your focus is diverted to the feeling of his calloused skin on yours. The liquor in your veins awakens dazed boldness. One you’d be too wary of displaying otherwise. You allow your fingers to dance against his, an act of intimacy not reserved for friends. He doesn’t stop you either. 

“You know…” 

it’s almost not even a whisper, 

“...if I wasn’t who I am…” 

but Spencer was an expert in tuning out everything else to focus solely on your voice,

“...maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

And the world, as Spencer knows it, stops. Your words ring in his ears and he’s sure his heartbeat has become audible. 

“Y-you love me?” He repeats, unable to suppress his need to hear those words again.

The validity of your confession doesn’t bear any weight until you hear it from him, your motions against his hand coming to an immediate stop. You shift line of sight to his face faster than you can blink, waiting for his reaction so you can scramble to save your friendship. 

Parroting your words wasn’t enough, Spencer couldn’t believe it. He had never considered it feasible for you to love him. He had spent so many sleepless nights tormenting himself over the fact. He wanted so badly to cup your face and tell you about all the thoughts of you that consumed his mind. To say those three words back. 

“You can’t love me.” Instead he said four words that strained your hope for salvation. He’d shoot himself if he had any realisation of what he had just done. 

“No, of-of c-course, I meant like an- a- amazing fr-friend. You k-know, like the kind of bes-best friend you only mean once in your lif-life.” And you unknowingly shattered that hope in him. 

Silence has never been more deafening. Neither of you can look away from each other. There’s so much to say but how can it be said now? 

“Right. No, yeah. Of course.” He forces out. 

A fake understanding between you two. The expressions canvassing both of your faces display anything but understanding. Though you’re no longer physically touching, you’re still holding each other in your view. A few moments pass and Spencer is the first to look away. 

“You must be tired-” He starts.

You were still disrupting his space.

“Right, I’ll go-” You stand, ready to rush out the door.

“No-no.” He sighs. “Stay please. It’s late and you’re drunk-”

“No I’ve alrea-” You try to protest, not wanting him to go out of his way for you any longer.

“Please. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re safe.” He begs, not just with his words but his eyes. 

“Okay.” You murmur. “But I’m taking the couch.”

Under any other circumstances, Spencer would have resisted you taking the couch. Today? He was utterly drained.

“Alright. I’ll get you something comfortable to change into while I set up the couch. You know where the bathroom is.” He sports a weak smile, unable to meet your eyes again. 

He watches you disappear into the bathroom after handing you some spare clothes. He sets the couch with the pillows and blankets he’d reserved for you. He bought them after you’d slept over a few times at the start of your friendship, wanting you to sleep as comfortably as possible so you would keep coming back.

You’d just broken his heart into a million pieces, so fine that he’d never be able to put it back together whole, but he still couldn’t not exert the utmost care when it came to you. 

In the bathroom, you fight back tears again as you fumble into his clothes. You’d worn this particular sweatshirt before, because you didn’t anticipate staying the night. It was never planned, often you two just lost track of time because you spent too long engaged in conversations. After a while you started leaving things at his place so you had an excuse to keep coming back. 

You can handle just being his friend, but you don’t think you can handle not being anything to him. Was there something you could do so you didn’t have to stop coming back? 

When you came out and saw your makeshift bed for the night, you felt slightly fuzzy inside. Spencer had already gone to bed but he’d covered the cushions of the couch with a thick blanket and two fluffy pillows. A fresh glass of water was waiting for you on the coffee table with the pills from earlier. 

Maybe things were okay after all? Surely he wouldn’t have put as much care into your comfort if they weren’t. So why couldn’t you shake this feeling of dread inside you? Why did the air feel so thick?

You spend most of what’s left of the night awake, curled into yourself on his couch, muffling your sobs. You’ve ruined another good thing. Pushed away probably the most important person in your life. You knew he was too good for you, he could never feel the same way. You got greedy.

Just a few feet away from you, Spencer’s in the exact same position as you on his bed. No rejection has ever hurt as much as when it came from you. He knew you were drunk, he knew you could never actually feel the same way. But aren’t drunk words sober thoughts? Statistics definitely agree they are.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the pounding headache. Then the dry mouth. Spencer had left a glass of water, painkillers and a bagel on the coffee table. You reach for the pill first, hoping that the faster you take it, the faster it kicks in. As you practically pour the water down your throat, you see a little note next to the bagel. 

“Paper work day at the office. Make sure to eat and drink lots of water. Will tell Hotch that you’ll be late/taking the day off. - Spencer”

Thoughtful as ever. The bagel was still warm so he must’ve left recently. It was strange that he’d left without waking you up like he normally does. Your first bite of the bread jolts the memories of the night before and it hits you harder than the headache. Your appetite faded and the remorse set in. 

Shit. 

You and Spencer have always been able to bounce back, but the damage you caused last night might be irreparable. Say Spencer does forget about it, can you? You always knew he couldn’t love you back, but you never imagined that he would forbid you to love him in the first place. As much as you didn’t want to face Spencer right now, work was the best place for you to be if you didn’t want to go mad thinking about last night. 

You’d have to change into appropriate work attire first, so a trip back to your place was warranted. The whole uber ride back to your apartment you think of things to say when you see him. Things didn’t need to change. You had to apologise, obviously, but there had to be some way of apologising while maintaining normalcy. The best start was getting him his coffee and scones like you usually did. 

Meanwhile at the office, Spencer was stuck on the same page of his file. It had never taken him more than a few seconds to turn a page, but he wasn’t actually reading the words. You took up every thought in his mind again. He wondered if you were awake yet, if you remembered the events of the night before. 

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he initially heard you say it, all he heard was that you love him.

“You know if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.”

When he said it out loud to himself all he wanted to do was tell you how much he does love you, but the chance was ripped away from him just as fast as it was given to him. Did you even care? Or was it just an insignificant event to you? It was a lot easier to accept that you could never love him the same way before he had a taste of what it would be like if you did. 

There was this moment, when your fingers were fiddling with his and you said those words, just a second where he experienced what it could be like. He can’t go back to how it was, not now that he knows how it could’ve been. In order to protect himself from unravelling completely he has to let you go. An impossible task, considering you work together. 

“I brought coffee.” Your expression is tentative. 

Spencer looks up to see you standing above him, holding his daily coffee and scones in hand. There are no traces of the night before to be seen on you. Your makeup is fresh and you’d clearly changed clothes. You looked perfectly angelic, as always. If it were any other day, your gesture would’ve made him feel like the most special person in the world. Today, it felt like the cruellest thing in the world. 

“Do you wanna come with me while I heat it up? Or should I just bring it back to you?” You prompt. 

“No.” He rises from his seat and pries it out from your hand. “I can do it. Thank you.” 

Before you comprehend what’s happened, Spencer’s walked away. You try to follow him to the kitchen, but when you get there he’s nowhere to be seen. This seems to be a trend for the next few days. You find some excuse to try for conversation and he shuts it down after about one sentence. That’s if you’re able to get close enough to him for that sentence. It’s becoming more and more obvious that he’s avoiding you. 

You decide to give him space after about a week of it, wishing everyday that you could go back in time and change things. Around the two week mark, he starts giving you the cold shoulder, not even so much as looking at you. He couldn’t look at you. It was taking everything in him to force himself away from you, but it was easier than being near you. You weren’t the only one who could feel this change in your dynamic, the team was just as confused.

They’d all tried to investigate the root of this shift, individually directing casual questions to both of you in conversations. You’d both just brushed it off, not wanting to be the burden of the topic. Spencer had been doing so well in keeping his distance, but eventually, Hotch made the decision that enough is enough.

The BAU was in Chicago this week, hunting down another unsub who thought he was too smart to get caught. This was one of those cases that would stick with you for a while, so tensions were already high amongst everyone. Nobody was more on edge than Spencer and now he was forced in a car with you, driving around the city, chasing leads. 

Rarely did he ever get behind the wheel, but he knew he would need any distraction he could get. Driving was supposed to mean he wouldn’t be stuck in the passenger seat, fighting the urge to stare at you. Now he was fighting the urge to stare at you from the driver's seat. He hated being in love. You were trying your best to stay silent and looking out the window at the passing buildings. 

“Are you hungry?” 

That’s the first time in a month that Spencer’s been the first one to speak. He tried not to. Like he tried not to pay attention to your routine. It wasn’t possible. No matter how hard he tried, there were just some things Spencer couldn’t not do in regards to you. The most important thing was that he couldn’t not care. 

He knew you hadn't been eating properly. You had a tendency to forget about your well-being during hard cases. You were probably hungry. Somebody had to take care of you because you most definitely weren’t going to. He was right. The thought of food made your stomach growl. It was wicked timing. 

“No, thank you.” You lie anyway, not wanting to inconvenience him further. 

“Why won’t you stop lying to me?” He mutters in annoyance. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, turning to look at him. 

He doesn’t look away from the road, pretending to not have heard you. 

“Seriously?” You sputter. “You’re ignoring me now?”

You huff as you throw yourself back against your seat. He didn’t mean to ignore you, he just didn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.” You mumble. 

It was already daunting when he was barely acknowledging you, but refusing to acknowledge all together? When you were the only person next to him? That was just vicious. You knew you’d fucked up, but was this necessary? You had already spent so much of yourself trying to keep it together, being confined in this car with him would waste your efforts. 

“Pull over.” You say in the kindest way possible, which was immensely harsh. “Spencer Reid pull this damn car over or I swear to fucking God I am going to jump out of it.”

That definitely caught his attention. In all your time together, you had never spoken to him in that way. You had definitely never addressed him by his full name. He brings the car to a halt on the side of the curb and finally turns to face you. You push the door open and hop out, slamming it behind you. 

“What are yo-” Spencer starts, but you’re already walking away. He quickly gets out and follows behind you. It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you and he stops you by the arm when he realises saying your name won’t make you turn back around. 

“Don’t touch me!” You yank your arm out of his grip and keep walking. 

“Where are you going?!” 

“Anywhere you’re not.” 

He tries you by your name again, but when it fails again, he grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around. You hadn’t noticed that you’d walked into an alleyway. 

“Get back in the car.” He demands.

“I am not getting in a car with you.” You have never been this upset with him before. 

“You’re being childish!” He snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Oh I’m being childish?! Spencer, believe me when I say I mean this is the nicest way I possibly can right now – FUCK OFF!” You push his hands off you and take a step back, but he just grabs your wrist.

“Listen to me,” he urges, “there is a serial killer that’s kidnapping women in broad daylight, torturing them and murdering them. And he’s threatened each of us individually during the course of this investigation. You cannot just be walking around alone, in a city you hardly know.”

“Don’t explain the details of this case to me, I’m well aware.” You snarl, your irritation increasing tenfold.

“Then why are you being so difficult?!” He screeches.

“Why are you–fucking hell, I cannot keep doing this. I’m not getting in the car when you won’t talk to me. Hell, you won’t even so much as look at me!” 

“Fine! You wanna talk? We’ll talk! Just–get back in the car. Please.” He sighs in defeat. You still don’t budge, so he pleads softer. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, stealing your wrist out of his grasp. Spencer doesn’t move until you do, both of you silently making your way to the car. 

You’re both silent initially, not knowing where exactly to go from here. There’s one thing you know for sure, you won’t be the first to speak. Spencer catches on to that fast. 

“What do you wanna talk about?” He snarls, shrugging his arms. 

“Cut the shit, I won’t get back in this car if I get out for a second time.” You’re not in the mood. The two of you had avoided this conversation for long enough, it was now or never. Some part of you wished for never. 

“Fine. Did you mean it?” He shoots, briskly. 

“What?” You didn’t know which part he meant. 

“That you love me specifically as an ‘amazing friend’, I believe was your wording.” His voice cracks and it causes a shift in his behaviour. He’s no longer hostile, just hurt. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” 

In your rush to get him talking, you hadn’t actually realised that you weren’t ready to talk about this. You were stalling. 

“Answering a question with a question.” 

This doesn’t feel like a conversation. More like an interrogation, except you’re the unsub. He scoffs bitterly at your silence. 

“Spencer, don’t–” 

“No, you’re the one who wanted to talk! You were so insistent, in fact, that you would have rather made yourself a serial killer’s target then get in a car with me if I didn’t talk to you. And all of a sudden you’re speechless?” He snaps at you. 

“Yes! I was the one who wanted to talk! I just– I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you hate me so much? Was it because I said I love you? Did it really upset you that much?” You were both shouting from frustration. 

“You think I’m upset because you love me?!” Spencer scoffs in disbelief. 

“Aren’t you?!” You bitterly laugh. 

Spencer rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, mumbling some under his breath. He’s genuinely never been this frustrated in his life. 

“Are you being serious?” His voice strains in pitch, as he tries to keep himself a lot calmer than he feels. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“Some sort of joke–”

“Do not interrupt me again. You wanna run away from this? Fine. But you will listen because I will not have this conversation again.” His tone is sharp, like a blade being held against your throat. It definitely shuts you up.

“Talk. Okay, let’s talk about how I have spent the last four years watching you allow undeserving men to walk all over you, letting them treat you like you’re worth nothing. I damn near drove myself insane trying to figure out why. Why is it something you accept for yourself? And then I realised– that’s how you see yourself. You actually hate yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself you deserve it! Do you realise how infuriating that is?!

Especially because it’s the furthest thing from the truth! Still, I watched you throw yourself into this vicious cycle over and over again. You gave yourself away to those idiots, knowing that they didn’t have good intentions, but you still hoped it would be different every time. I mean you’re a fucking profiler for God’s sake! How can you expect others to love you if you can’t even love yourself? 

That’s not even the worst part! You’re so desperate for their acceptance that you continuously neglect the acceptance you already have from the people who love you. People like Emily, Penelope, Derek– the team– people like– people like me. I mean I’ve always known that you didn’t love me as anything more than a friend, but your constant reminders feel like a punch to the gut! Is it that embarrassing for you to love me as anything more?

I’ve survived way worse things, but this is the cruellest thing I’ve ever been through. Because it’s coming from you! I just never expected it’d be from you.” He’s practically hyperventilating for air by the time his speech comes to a stop, the vein in his forehead more prominent than usual.

Your jaw is tense and restless, twitching from anger. Some part of you still wants to keep this friendship. The louder part knows that there’s no going back from this. You’re not entirely sure you want to go back. Your entire body is shaking from rage. The first rule of your friendship was no profiling. Not only did he break that rule, he used the profile against you as if you actually were an unsub he was interrogating. 

“That’s not fair”

His eye twitches at your response. 

“Not? Fair?” Spencer grumbles in pauses.

“No, that's not fair!” You cry out. “It’s your turn to listen.”

It doesn’t feel like there’s any oxygen left to breathe in the car.

“Self loathing? Spencer, that's your projection! You love too hard and nobody’s ever loved you back the same way. But just because you lack things you want in your life doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me! And all this talk about love, but none of it makes any sense. You think I’m embarrassed of loving you? Is that how shallow you think I am?! You’re the one who told me that I can’t love you. God, you are the most duplicitous person I’ve ever met! I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because I love you as an ‘amazing friend’? Because you love me and you think I’ve been neglecting you?!”

You had never spoken to anyone this way in your life. There was so much truth to Spencer’s words, but he had no right. He’d touched every nerve in your body without ever laying a hand on you. Up until roughly twenty minutes ago, being seen by Spencer was your favourite thing in the entire world. Now? You’d never hated the feeling more in your life. 

Spencer squeezes his hand into a fist, knuckles going white and releases his fingers like if he were aggressively squishing a stress ball. If asked about a month ago, he would never in a million years think that your friendship would manage to dissipate in just a few seconds. He didn’t think he could associate the word love with you anymore.

“Let’s get one thing straight. I do not love you. I do not love anything about you. Actually, I hate you. I hate how sweet you pretend to be. I hate the stupid morning coffee you bring me, nothing tastes more bitter. I hate to admit this but you’re right; everything about you is a brutal reminder of all the good things I can never have and I despise you for it.” He spits his words out with extreme tension in his blood vessels. 

“I can’t say I’ve known what it feels like to truly loathe someone before I met you.” You fire back, breathlessly, not having it in you to spare any more words for him. 

You’re not exactly sure how long the two of you have been sitting there just glaring at each other. Only when Spencer’s phone rings do you two look away. 

“Reid.” He answers the call. “Yea, she’s still here. We’re on our way back now.”

The ride back to the precinct was silent. Even as you regrouped with the rest of the team, you acknowledged everybody but each other. The team was instantly alert to the change, but no one mentioned it at the time because of the high stress of the case. You wrapped the case up a few days later and only then did the questions start making their way around. 

“Is everything okay between you two?”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“What happened between you and Reid?”

“What’s up with Boy Wonder over there?”

You didn’t entertain any of them, Spencer had taken up enough time in your life. You refused to talk about him, look at him or acknowledge him at all. He shared that same incentive. Another three weeks passed as the team watched what was once the closest duo in the BAU, pretend that their counterpart didn’t exist. 

If one of you was in a room and noticed the other enter, you’d walk out without drawing attention to the situation. When leaving the room was not an option, you either went as far in the opposite corner of the room as you could or you’d simply pretend the other wasn’t present just a few metres away. You wouldn’t discuss intel with each other about cases, sharing your findings with anybody else. 

Since Chicago, Hotch only assigned you with Spencer once more, but quickly realised that wasn’t going to help when both of you begged to be assigned with someone else privately. If you were in a discussion with someone and they started talking about Spencer, you’d tune out entirely. After a while the hating game got exhausting.

Spencer hated pretending that he hated you. He felt an immense amount of guilt for the things he’d said, but it was too late to take it back. He thought it would be easier to deal with his feelings if he wasn’t around you all the time, but it was just as difficult as before. You still lit up the dull grey rooms of the building. The only difference was that now he had to watch you shine from afar. 

In truth, you didn’t hate Spencer either. What you actually hated was that you didn’t hate Spencer. You still caught yourself staring at him for long periods of time. There were days when you’d go to his favourite coffee shop before work and buy his order, only to give it away to somebody on the street because you didn’t want to ruin Spencer’s day with the bitterness of your coffee. 

By the fifth week since you had gotten back from Chicago, you and Spencer were no longer ignoring each other as much. You’d gotten into a routine of professionalism for the sake of the team, only talking to each other about cases when necessary. That didn’t stop you from subconsciously showing subtle gestures of love. These were a lot quieter than the gestures you showed when you were friends. 

You’d make sure that there was always a fresh pot of coffee in the office kitchen, so Spencer would have it ready to drink whenever he needed. He’d make sure that the snack cupboard was always filled with your favourite snacks because he knew you liked having something to munch on when catching up on paperwork. You’d keep extra painkillers in Garcia’s lair knowing Spencer would retreat there when a migraine hit.

He’d ensure the aircon was always set to room temperature, you get uncomfortable if the room was too cold. Both of you were aware of the little gestures too, no one else knew your truly niche preferences. Neither of you was brave enough to actually go up to the other, though. It was all too much for you. No matter what was said, he was still your thoughtful Spencer deep down and it killed you.

You’d tried to talk to Spencer a few times, building up the courage for days in advance. As soon as he noticed you heading in his direction, he nearly bolted in the other direction. His avoidance didn’t end at the office. You recently became aware that Penelope had been scheduling rosters to invite you and Spencer to outings, trying to ensure you were present for equal amounts of time. 

You were chilling at her desk in wait for her, when you noticed a little note with your name next to a date and time. Under that was Spencer’s name with a separate date and time. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” She greets you.

“I needed to talk to you…Penelope what is this?” You hold up the little pink sticky note.

Penelope sets her octopus mug down and takes the note from your hand. 

“This? This is nothing.” She fumbles a bit as she speaks.

“Garcia?” You purposefully speak with warning.

“Okay! Okay! But you didn’t hear it from me! We’ve kinda been taking turns hanging out with you and Spencer sometimes. But it’s because we love you and don’t want to make either of you-” She starts a panicked tangent.

“Garcia!” You interrupt her before she sends herself into a spiral. “There’s no need to do all of this. Yes Spencer and I aren’t close anymore, but you guys don’t need to go out of your way for us.”

“Well..” She grits her teeth and tilts her head.

“What?” 

“We didn’t really mean to. It’s just we noticed that Spencer would never come if you were going. And both of you just straight up refuse to talk about it, so this was the best we could come up with.” 

“Oh. Penny, I’m sorry that you guys have had to do that.” That was all you could say, your head hanging in guilt.

“Can you at least tell me why you won’t talk about it? I mean it makes sense for Boy Wonder, he’s always been stubbornly private, but you’ve never not told me anything!” 

You look towards Garcia again, thinking for a minute. You didn’t know exactly why you refused to talk about it. 

“I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to talk about it, if that makes sense?” You pull your friend in for a hug as an apology. 

You felt awful leaving her lair without giving her a proper answer or a resolution. It didn’t matter how professional you acted, this rift would always impact your friends and your work life. 

Spencer would always impact everything in your life. 

The guilt didn’t spare you that night, creeping its way to the forefront of your mind every few minutes. It had been four months since your last fight. It was the longest you’d gone without Spencer. This had to end for the sake of the team. That was how you found yourself standing at his door once again. After a few minutes you finally knock. You didn’t know what you were going to say, honestly you just wanted to run before he answered. You hear the locks being undone, but it’s not Spencer who answers when that door finally swings open.

“Yes?” 

It’s a woman, one you've never seen before. You’re taken aback and look around to make sure you got the right apartment. This was definitely Spencer’s apartment, you’d been here a hundred times before. And some woman was answering his door for him. Some very beautiful woman. 

“Can I help you?” She follows up, looking you up and down. 

“Hi, yeah, sorry, is–um– is Spencer here?”

“Who’s asking?” She’s definitely not very friendly. 

“We work together. Is he here or not?” You didn’t have the patience for this, annoyance seeping through your pores. 

“Who’s at the door?” His voice emerges from behind her and he finally shows up. “Oh.”

“Hey.” You glance away as soon as you see him. 

“Could you give me a minute?” He turns to the woman. She flashes a sickly sweet smile and kisses his cheek before disappearing inside. Spencer shuffles out to the corridor, closing the door behind him.

“That–uh–that was–” He stops himself, clearing his throat and switching to his professional voice. “What are you doing here?”

Cold.

“I was hoping we could talk.” You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to play off what you just saw. 

“What more is there to say?” 

“About the team. I came over to, um, apologise and maybe move past things for the sake of the team.” You were looking everywhere but at him. 

“Honestly?” His eyes are on you though. “I don’t care. And even if I did, I don’t want to hear it.” 

He starts to walk away, but turns back and mentions your name like it’s the most vile word in the dictionary. “Please don’t come back here. It’s hard enough at work, I don’t want to see your face in my personal time too.” 

With that he re-enters his apartment, leaving you standing in the hallway. It’s hard to imagine that this man was once your best friend. If you didn’t know about all the good times, you wouldn’t have believed it. Every tear that your body could ever produce streamed out of you for the rest of the night. Once you had made it back to your apartment, they broke out in sobs. In your line of work, you had survived being shot at, almost blown up and even a kidnapping once.

The man you loved with every fibre of your being looking at you like you were less than filth under a person's shoes was your breaking point. There was no way you were going to face him again. You needed to forget about Spencer Reid, which meant a fresh start. This city was a constant reminder of his essence, you couldn’t stay. You plopped down on your bed with your work bag, reaching into it for your work computer. Hands twitching as you type. 

You remember being so proud when David Rossi recommended you for the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. You were even more ecstatic when Hotch actually requested your transfer there. You had worked your ass off for it. It was there that you met the infamous Doctor Reid. He was much different than how you had imagined him. He was so charming, friendly and so down to earth, not liking him wasn’t an option. The two of you had so much in common, despite being so different, it was the foundation for your friendship. His caring nature pulled you in further, you soon found yourself deeply in love with him. 

Tears flooded your keyboard as all your memories with him flash through your brain. His friendship was a beautiful bonus of the job you once loved, you never thought that he would become the reason you’d leave it. Yet here you were, furiously drafting your resignation to Agent Hotchner. There were so many signals in your brain telling you to back off, to open a bottle of wine and drown your sorrows instead, but your heart didn’t feel like that would be enough. Your love for your job didn’t outweigh your desire to run.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and being in love with him is an excruciating torture. One that you can no longer endure. You had never been more sure of anything as you are at this moment and you weren’t going to give yourself time to change your mind. Your time with Spencer and, as a consequence, your time at the BAU had come to an end. Another memory flashes through your mind as you sign the letter off with your name. A case in Boston had gone wrong and you were really hung up on it. Spencer, in an attempt to help you move on, shared a quote with an author he had recently read. You bitterly chuckle to yourself at this recall and press send with no second thought.

 “Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” - C.S. Lewis.

Spoilers: BAU! Reader, friends to enemies, mutual pining, hurt, angst no comfort, whump (maybe idk), Reader & Spencer are both idiots, they should probably consider therapy actually, Spencer is a sassy little shit, but really just needs a hug and a class on communication. 

AN - You’ve heard of enemies to lovers/friends, now I present to you the exact same thing in reverse (been done time and time again, I’m not in any way original <3). You can blame Ariana Grande for this one. Sorry that I haven't posted, I've had insane writers block. I might be slightly incapable of shorter word counts, I’ll try to improve that.  I apologise for grammar/anything that does not make sense, I am both an idiot and also was dealing with a bad case of the flu when I wrote this. I’d like to thank @reidmotif for curing my writer's block and inspiring me on the second half of this fic. Thank you @starstruckbambi for proof reading this.

Drop thoughts & feelings so I can ponder on them. Always remember that I’m in your walls. 

Thank you for reading!

[ubeb0nes]

NSFW Sevika HCs

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A/n: i haven't written any smut in god knows how long so pls go easy yall 😭

𖢻 ~ ~ ~ 𖢻

This is a dom

I love indulging in the bottom!sevika content when i come across it, it's beautiful, showstopping

But bby, you only get to do what she lets you do. Even when she's on bottom, you're never really the one in charge, no matter how you might try to convince yourself

She's a terrible tease, and has an absolutely filthy mouth. Loves watching your jaw drop slightly when she whispers things in public, and how you scramble to gather yourself

Her self-control and patience is absolutely insane. She's not one to jump your pants at the first tease you give her.

She'll let you have her fun, all while running the tip of her tongue across a canine and plotting her revenge

Gets a big head/ego if you call her mommy. Nearly loses her mind and reputation for restraint if you call her daddy

A lot of her turn-ons are things that aren't inherently sexual. I like to think she's attracted to both masc and fem-presenting people, and anything leaning deeper into these characteristics will get a rise out of her.

Ex.'s -> watching you put on makeup in the mornings, specifically lipstick/gloss. Conversely, how your thighs look and your face hardens when you manspread while striking a deal. When you look up at her and rest your hands on her chest. When you lean back and rest your arm over the back of her chair

Particularly masculine and particularly feminine things. She eats up both

Absolutely a bit of a sadist/madochist. We know this from the whole cait thing

She's obsessed with your mouth in particular. The marks you leave, the shapes it makes with certain sounds she pulls from you, how your lips wrap around her fingers when she teases your mouth open with them

She rarely ever has you on your back because she wants to watch your tongue loll and your eyes roll

Goes crazy for certain things you say when you start to reach melted brain levels of fucked out; "baby, it's too much…" "Sevi, i can't keep going" "no, baby, no more…" it's like a second wave. And, (always) only with your emphatic consent, she'll proceed to push your body even more

Her favorite position is missionary i'm sorry lmfao. Vanilla in theory, but definitely doesn't feel like it when she's slinging that shimmerstrap LOL

I HC she's generally pretty gentle with you, at least lovesick!sevika is. In the sense that she's not tossing you around or slapping your ass purple.

Rather, she'll wrap her hand around your throat but not really squeeze. And she'll push her fingers down your throat until you're teary-eyed, but she won't fuck your throat until it's raw and sore.

She prefers using her hands and her mouth, but her strap game is insane. That stroke would be hypnotic to watch.

Her eyes read clearly when it comes to intimacy. The way they darken and narrow when she's about to pounce on you, and how they always get so glossy and self-satisfied (if not a bit smug) as she watches you cum.

Her crows feet crease as she smiles down at you, whispering "good job, baby" and "there's my girl, you're okay. I've got you."

Always insists on taking care of you afterwards, but won't fight you on it if you flip it on her and make her lay back so you can clean her up

In fact, please do this. She'll think about it for weeks

Cuddles you afterward like she's trying to burrow in your skin. Can't get enough of the smell of you post-sex, burying her nose in your neck and your hair

Yeah, she's never sharing you. Everything about you is too precious, too hers.

She demands hickeys/lipstick marks on her chest- over her heart- because your claim over her deepens her own.

[ghostcond]

i fully expected nobody to relate to this post but i am pleasantly surprised and also shaking your hand because i wrote this about elene and arlen

can you all hear me out on a YW who is just so hopelessly in love with everyone and everything around them. a YW who puts their heart and soul into helping others without thanks. a YW who does not have the love they spread reciprocated in any capacity. a YW who feels the sting of failure like a dagger to the heart. a YW who can not leave well enough alone. a YW who realizes their love leads them to commit acts of incredible violence but the blade is double edged and they cut themselves in the process. they are just so tired but they can't stop themselves from caring about everyone they meet. and they can't stop hurting people because it's the only solution they know. they can't stop being hurt in the process. it will be their undoing

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Wonder Woman

@actuel-idiot is a major reason I’m writing this! They gave me the idea so the credit goes to them.

Diana has a special relationship with Captain Marvel. They’re family. Technically. But they’re family! The man has no problem treating her like one of his own, and it’s not like Diana has any of her other family in man’s world so she’ll take what she can get. The only downside is that no one knows his actual identity, including Diana. Half the people in the JL don’t even believe he has one, but when Diana asked, he confirmed he did. She hoped that one day he would share his identity with her, but for the meantime, she’d just continue to enjoy their bond.

Like, for example, Diana talks to Marvel whenever she misses Themyscira. The very first time she started missing her home was about a few weeks after the JL formed. (Marvel’s a founding member in this post)

WW: “Captain, do you ever miss home?”

Marvel: “Hm? I guess so?” *confused*

WW: “You guess so? Do you not miss Olympus? I assume that’s where you grew up.”

Marvel: “Oh, no. I’ve never been to Olympus. If that’s what you mean by home. It isn’t.”

WW: “Then where is your home?”

Marvel: “Well, I haven’t had a home in a long time. So, I can’t particularly say. All I know is that I can’t go back, and as the years go by, I hate to say it but I barely remember it.” He only knows what his dad looks like due to his Marvel form, and he only remembers his mom due to Mary’s form. As for what they were like? A lot of the memories are fuzzy. “So, unfortunately… there isn’t really much to miss.”

WW: “Do you think I’ll forget about Themyscira?”

Marvel: “I don’t know. But that’s why it’s important to make a home wherever you go. That, and if you really don’t wanna forget, you can always try and find people who used to call your home theirs.” *shrugs*

WW: “I don’t believe there are any other Amazonians and man’s world.”

Marvel: “Well… not technically.” *little smile* “You know, a few thousand years ago I was an Amazonian at some point.”

WW: “What…?”

Marvel: “Shocking. I know.” *little laugh*

WW: “But you’re a man?” *dumbfounded expression*

Marvel: “Yeah, I know, but I wasn’t always. If you want, I could tell you some stuff about the first island.”

WW: “The first Themyscira? You were alive back then?”

Marvel: “Yup.”

WW: *stares for a bit* “I’d… I’d like that a lot. Please share.”

The two spend the rest of the evening talking about all the lore about Themyscira, Diana’s mother, Diana’s aunts, the culture back then, the dialects, and so on.

Then, there was the incident with Circe. She had cast a spell on Diana, turning her into a child. After it had happened, she left and soon a mini Diana was swarmed by the leaguers.

Marvel: “Wait, so she still knows who we all are, she’s just a little kid?”

Batman: *nods head* “Correct.”

WW: *looking around as the other leaguers fawn over her cause she’s adorable*

Batman: “It also altered her mindset, making her more childish.”

WW: *spots Marvel and her eyes sparkle* “Big brother!” *runs over to Marvel and crashes into his legs hugging them*

Marvel: “Woah!” *slightly startled at her running over* “Wow, Diana, you’re still so strong.” *takes on the tone he uses to talk to Darla (aka big brother/father tone) as he leans down to pick her up*

WW: *nods head* “Yeah!”

Marvel: *moves to carry her like she’s his own daughter*

The two proceed to talk about whatever as the other JL members coo at the two looking like father and daughter. Same black hair and blue eyes. Also, Zeus was gnawing at the bars of his metaphorical cage when he saw this. His daughter was too precious. As soon as the other leaguers blinked, he took little Diana and they proceeded to go fight Mr.Mind together. They then went for ice cream afterwords. Now, they’re eating their respective cones while sitting on the edge of a building.

Marvel: “You did such a good job, Diana. That one punch at that one robot that sent it flying into three other ones was amazing.” *smiles and ruffles Diana’s hair*

WW: *giggles and licks ice cream* “Thanks, dad.”

Marvel: *pauses mid bite of ice cream* (Yes, I’m making Billy bite his ice cream)

WW: *doesn’t even realize she said that*

Zeus: “You… YOU STOLE MY DAUGHTER?!” *thunderclouds in the distance*

Billy proceeded to have to make many offerings to Zeus to make him calm down after the incident. For a week straight, he kept getting little shocks whenever he touched stuff.

[yushiroll]

Armin headcanons (nsfw)

Armin x fem!reader

cw: short mentions of 'slut' and 'cum dump'

An: Okay this is really all over the place LOL, lowkey wrote this with one hand and a single braincell. Nerdmin has been occupying my mind EVER SINCE HIS FIRST APPEARANCE, so glad he's getting the love he deserves. Also, please note that armin is in college in this post and in every future post I make of him.

- This boy is a certified professional pussy eater.

- As much as he loves getting his dick sucked by you, he loves giving you pleasure more than receiving it.

- Hearing you moan for him, feeling you quiver under his touch, his tongue–He gets so much pleasure from it.

- One time while eating you out, he got so worked up that he came in his pants while lapping up your pussy.

- Now when I tell you he watched videos and read quora posts on how to properly eat someone out for the first time... my boy put his high gpa and research skills into good use.

- Will. Get. Pussy drunk.

- Starts with kissing your thighs first, leaving so much hickeys on them that you aren't able to wear shorts for the next few days.

- Then he goes to your inner thighs, giving them a few kisses before finally going right up on your already wet cunt.

- Armin isn't the type to tease, but in bed? Oh, you're in for a treat.

- "Gosh, so wet for me already huh?"

- He takes his finger and traces along your lubricated slit, playing with your juices and licking it off while looking at you.

- "You're just so delicious."

- He then proceeds to go to town on you, making you cum at LEAST 2 times within 15 minutes.

- Absolutely loves when his glasses fog up while eating you out. Leaks so much precum when it happens

- "Mm..h...you close? Come on...cum for me angel. Cum on my tongue...."

- He is a guy with breeder balls. When I tell you he shoots ribbons of cum, literally painting your insides white when he creampies you

- He gets so riled up seeing you take him so good, considering that he has a monster of a dick. Talk about sleeper build, amirite?

- Favorite position to do with you is missionary–He loves seeing his cock go in and out of your swollen pussy, especially taking in the view of your face while he's plowing you.

- Kisses your tears away as he's going deeper inside you, all the while fondling with your tits.

- Nibbles your ears while he fucks you. He finds you squirming and moaning more when he does that.

- Despite how dominant he often is in bed, he moans like such a bitch.

- "M..o-oh...mmmah... f-fuck..yeah.. takin'...it...s' goo..good... for me baby..."

- "Take it take it take it...fuck... 'm gonna cum baby... s-..so close.."

- Armin having long fingers means having eye-rolling sessions of him just fingering you.

- He knows your anatomy so well–curls his fingers to penetrate that sweet, sensitive spot of yours. When he hears you moan louder, thats his cue to go faster and lick your throbbing clit.

- He has fantasies of eating you out during your online meetings, jerking off to the thought of it even.

- It had only been a thought in armin's mind until now.

- You decided to joke around, telling him that he should totally try eating you out during an online meeting. He wasn't joking around. You're lucky you aren't fired yet.

- Loves getting your dirty panties and using them to jerk off.

- Absolutely loves cockwarming. Like, he ADORES it. Your warm pussy taking him entirely and trying to be steady on his cock while you do work or play games.

- Grinds his dick every once in a while to get a reaction from you, grins and says "C'mon, we both know you like it."

- Has you begging like a bitch during these cockwarming sessions, loves it when you beg for him to thrust every once in a while.

- He's such a fucking freak that you never actually expected him to be into demeaning nicknames in bed.

- "I'll only call you those names when you tell me to."

- Then he proceeds to call you his 'fucking slut' the entire night, whispering all the degrading shit that gets you off in your ear.

- "M...mmh yeah? C'mon slut let me hear you..."

- "Like it like that huh? C-course you do...my little cum dump."

- He is so, so good at aftercare. Literally pampers you after every session, he cleans you up and makes you food.

- Best cuddles ever! He sprinkles little kisses all over your body,

- "You really are perfection incarnate, angel."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[greenfiend]

The Significance of Lover’s Lake and Byler (Theory)

'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact

Yes we're lovers, and that is that (Heroes by David Bowie)

Part 2 here

(Warning: This post has mentions of sex (nothing graphic)… if you’re uncomfortable with that please do not proceed.)

So, Lover’s Lake has existed within the show ever since season 2, when Will mapped out the entirety of Hawkins. The lake is shaped like a heart (keep this in mind for later) thus the name “Lover’s Lake”. Makes sense within the town of Hawkins, but does not provide an explanation on a subtextual level. None of the “lovers” existing within the show has been associated with the lake (you could say Steve/Nancy but honestly it’s a stretch since they never actually rekindled their romance.)

This leads me to the question… why call the lake “Lover’s Lake” without associating any lovers to it?

Because maybe, there will be lovers connected to it… but they aren’t lovers… yet.

Okay, let’s get back to the shape. A heart. ❤️ Hm. Now which character within the show is most associated with hearts? Which character is even referred to as the heart by their love interest?

Mike.

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that he’s one part of the “lovers” here. Thus ruling out many other romantic pairings within the show. Leaving only two pairings: Mike/El and Mike/Will. I won’t go into detail on why I believe Mike and El will inevitably break up, you can read a lot of different analyses for that. So that leaves… Mike/Will. Not lovers yet.

Okay, here’s the part where I may get crucified. The definition of lovers.

Please put your pitch forks down for this.

Lovers usually refers to two people in a sexual relationship outside of marriage.

With all the subtext (and actual text) around sex and sexuality, and how we see Will struggle with his own sexuality, there is a likely conclusion here. He’s going to confront his sexuality. To do so, he will have sex. With whom? Well, with the one person he loves the most, the one he affectionately refers to as the heart… his best friend… Mike.

Now, where’s this going to happen? What better location than somewhere empty and secluded.

Reefer Rick’s lakeside house.

Now, who is “Reefer Rick”?

Also known as, Rick Lipton, Reefer Rick is a drug dealer who’s closely acquainted with Eddie.

He’s an enigma. We never see him. All that is known about him are the things mentioned by other characters.

He’s currently in jail apparently for dealing drugs. Also, he seems like a town pariah.

Also, he isn’t too keen on Fast Times (returned on time), at least not as much as “Cheech and Chong” (returned late each time.) That shot at 53 minutes and 5 seconds in Fast Times doesn’t do it for him, I guess. Unlike watching two guys get high.

His name choice is an interesting one.

“Reefer” Rick Lipton.

“Reefer” is a synonym for “marijuana cigarette”. Okay, makes sense, he is a drug dealer after all. But why the term “cigarette”? Well… there’s this other word that also happens to be a synonym for “cigarette”…

Then Rick… short for “Richard”. Richard is one of the few names out there with a nickname that is also slang for male genitalia… “Dick”.

Then finally… Lipton.

As Robin says, spelled like Lipton tea. Now, why would the writers use the name “Lipton” and even reference the tea company if there were no significance to it? They wouldn’t. We know this about them.

So why “Lipton”?

Let’s do a bit of research here, shall we?

The founder of Lipton tea was a man named Thomas Lipton.

Thomas Lipton just so happens to have been a closeted homosexual man who had a long term relationship with another man whose name is… *drumroll please*

William Love.

Okay, that can’t be just a coincidence right?

So moving on to Reefer Rick’s house.

We see glimpses of his living room, kitchen, and briefly his bedroom.

Jason and his buds are searching for Eddie and this involves looking under the mattress? As if, Eddie could successfully hide under there? Haha okay sure.

The angle of this shot is interesting too, because the bed is essentially being shown off to us.

This bed with a blue blanket and yellow sheets. Hm. Interesting.

Keep in mind this scene is essentially unnecessary. They could have easily shown Jason et al searching for Eddie without creating an entire new set for a room that’s only used in one single insignificant shot. Therefore, I do not think it’s unreasonable to believe this is used for foreshadowing.

Then we also get this shot from outside the window into the bedroom.

Look familiar? I thought so too.

Okay. Now for my theory/prediction.

As I mentioned earlier, Will is currently struggling with his own sexuality and feels a lot of shame and internalized homophobia. There’s also a lot of evidence that Mike is experiencing the same thing. Unlike Will, Mike conforms to the society’s expectations. He dates El, performing as her boyfriend. This is comparable to Nancy’s arc in season 1. She also conforms, and like Mike, leaves her best friend behind. We all know how that ended.

Now, what better way to wrap up the show than to have Mike correct his sister’s mistake? To have Mike reject societal expectations in favour of his best friend?

Okay so this is my theory.

Mike and Will have their first kiss an episode or two prior to 5x07. Tensions are high, but they’re busy fighting interdimentional monsters along side their friends.

Then comes 5x07 which somehow leaves Mike and Will alone by Lover’s Lake. The tension between them reaches an all time high, leading to a passionate kiss and then… more. Let’s just say it involves that blue and yellow bed.

At the same time as these two become the lovers they were meant to be, another character is being saved, or perhaps being brought back to life. Perhaps another red head, one we all know and love. Yes, a major parallel and contrast to Steve/Nancy’s sex scene in season 1, which featured Barb dying. But because Mike is rejecting conformity and being authentic, another character lives instead.

I mean, what better way to represent the beauty of the love and intimacy between these two boys? Their love is literally bringing back life to the world.

So yeah, basically I’m saying that Mike and Will expressing their love for each other will save Max.

This also wouldn’t be the first time that Max’s survival is correlated with their relationship. As I doubt that it was merely a coincidence that in episode 4x04 we have Mike’s genuine monologue to Will, then we have Max surviving Vecna. In contrast to 4x09, which features a forced monologue from Mike to El, followed by Max losing to Vecna and barely surviving.

So, as their bond strengthens, Max’s life bar goes up (so to speak). If something interferes with their bond, Max’s outcome is more dire.

The writers have also been associating Mike/El with death…

[Tumblr only allows a limited number of images so pretend we have one of El holding dead flowers and another image of the cut scene from 3x05 with Mike/El having a moment cutting to a dead body on the hospital floor]

Mike/Will on the other hand have been associated with life. The birds chirping in the background of their final scene together, the flowers blooming between them as they stand together. Plus, blue plus yellow does equal green after all. Which is the most commonly associated colour with life.

🌿🌱🌳

To conclude, I just want to say that I personally think this would be a nice way to end their arc. I know a lot of people are uncomfortable with associating Mike/Will with anything sexual… but the show has been doing this already. Whether you like it or not, Mike and Will have been shown implicitly and explicitly that they desire each other both romantically and sexually. The fact that they have sexual desire for each other does not minimize or trivialize their friendship and love, it’s an aspect of it… adding another dimension to their relationship.

Do I think or hope they would show anything pornographic? Absolutely not (do I even have to say this?) But explicit like Steve/Nancy? Yes. Do I think they’ll be only 14/15 years old when this occurs? No. This will likely happen after a time jump.

Being authentically yourself and not conforming is overall a major theme of the show. I mean it’s called Stranger Things after all. Will people be upset by the ending of this arc? Bylers included? Absolutely. Many people within the town of Hawkins and people watching the show will both show disgust for it. But that’s the point. It’s not “normal” and that’s okay. Different is good, and can be a beautiful and wonderful thing. We all just need to open our minds and hearts a bit. I’m not just talking about the GA; many Bylers are also closed minded and stuck in their ways too. Let’s all try to work on that, shall we?

Despite the opinions of others, Will and Mike will choose to love each other which will inevitably lead to their defeat of Vecna. Love concurs all. It may be cheesy and cliche but personally? I think that’s a beautiful thing. We all can learn to love more.

Anyway, would love to know your thoughts on this.

Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

Part 2 here

[astrotruther]

🔗 Lilith in the signs

their shadow side ft. songs that clock them too accurately.

♈️ LILITH IN ARIES

Their anger is a reflex, not a choice.

Secretly terrified of being controlled, so they control first—chaotically.

'I don’t hold grudges!' (rewrites history to paint themselves as the wronged party.)

Will fight you over a parking spot.

Smudged eyeliner, broken phone screens, unsent rage drafts.

♉️ LILITH IN TAURUS

Keeps a mental spreadsheet of every favor, compliment, or crumb of attention they’ve ever given.

"I’m not possessive, I just know what’s mine." (stares at you like you’re a straying pet.)

Silent treatment lasts longer than most relationships.

Will spend $200 on a candle to "treat themselves" after you forgot their coffee order once.

Vintage perfume bottles, handwritten lists with aggressive underlining.

♊️ LILITH IN GEMINI

Weaponizes forgetfulness to dodge accountability.

"It’s not lying, it’s narrative improvisation."

Starts debates just to watch you sweat. Changes sides mid-argument for fun.

Ghosts for months, then slides into your DMs like "you up? also, defend this political take."

Screenshots of deleted texts, meme warfare, unhinged Google Docs.

🎵 Who are you to recognize me / You frogs who live up to your name / I hope you die in that well - 땡 (Ddaeng) - BTS

♋️ LILITH IN CANCER

Cooks you soup while listing all the ways you’ve disappointed them.

'I’m fine :)' (cries in the shower for 3 hours because you used a tone.)

Collects your vulnerabilities like seashells—for safekeeping, obviously.

Will remember that thing you said in 2017 and weaponize it during a fight about pizza toppings.

Faded polaroids, saltwater-stained journals, cottagecore revenge plans.

♌️ LILITH IN LEO

Posts a thirst trap after any minor ego bruise. "Ugh, just feeling ugly today :/ (pls argue.)"

"I don’t need attention!" (sets themselves on fire metaphorically until someone notices.)

Secretly wants to be the ex you never get over. Leaves a sweater at your place on purpose.

Harsh flash selfies, dramatic Spotify playlists, Notes app manifestos.

♍️ LILITH IN VIRGO

"I’ll fix you :)" (proceeds to dismantle your entire personality like IKEA furniture.)

Nitpicks their own happiness into oblivion. "This joy is imperfect. I reject it."

Corrects your grammar mid-breakup. "It’s ‘you’re,’ not ‘your’ devastating me."

Neat highlighters, spreadsheets of your flaws, passive-aggressive sticky notes.

♎️ LILITH IN LIBRA

Flirts with the waiter to get free dessert, flirts with you to win an argument.

"I just want peace!" (stirs the pot, then acts shocked when it boils over.)

Dumps you but leaves the door open just enough to keep you orbiting.

Mirror selfies with cryptic captions, Pinterest boards titled "Vibe Shift."

♏️ LILITH IN SCORPIO

Asks invasive questions to "test your loyalty," then punishes you for answering wrong.

"I don’t trust anyone." (makes you earn it via psychological hazing.)

Their silence isn’t peaceful—it’s forensic.

Black candles, redacted text posts, unsent poems in blood-red ink.

♐️ LILITH IN SAGITTARIUS

"I just speak the truth!" (the truth is whatever hurts you most in the moment.)

Claims moral high ground from a moving vehicle.

Will backpack across Asia to avoid processing a breakup.

Blurry travel pics, deleted tweets, vaguebooking about "freedom."

♑️ LILITH IN CAPRICORN

Replaces therapy with productivity. "Can’t cry, I have a 5-year plan."

"I don’t get attached." (secretly mourns you for a decade.)

Rejects you before you can reject them.

Monochrome selfies, LinkedIn hustle posts, locked diaries.

♒️ LILITH IN AQUARIUS

"I don’t care." (organizes your entire life from afar to prove they don’t care.)

Treats love like a sociological experiment. "Fascinating. Now suffer."

Leaves group chats without explanation as a power move.

Glitch art, cryptic polls, unsent rants in the drafts.

♓️ LILITH IN PISCES

Love-bombs you into a daydream, then vanishes when it gets real.

'You misunderstood me :(' (you understood them perfectly—that’s the problem.)

Will forgive a crime but hold a grudge over how you said "good morning" in 2022.

Blurry film photos, deleted love letters, Spotify wrapped full of sadbreakcore.

🎵 In the dream I shortly went into / My agonizing phantom pain is still the same - Singularity - BTS

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