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princesssmars · 5 months ago

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so...we can all agree vi is an ass girl, right?

modern!au. 18+ content ahead. post contains lesbian sex and dry humping. inspired by this video from love and deepspace. i didnt know they got down like that. wc : 3.081.

she didn't show it often before, but lately violet could quickly become so achingly desperate for you.

she didn't show it often, but violet could become so achingly desperate.

at the start of your relationship, she tried to play off her need for you in a casual way, brushing it off as just being a very attentive girlfriend. you never had a problem with, always open and accepting of whatever little bits of attention she would give to you.

but then one day she slips, and she can feel your dynamic shift as soon as it happens.

she was away visiting her family for the holidays, body snugly tucked under the covers in her childhood bed as she held her phone above her face. the house was quiet, the air was cold, and she was having an internal battle with the reasonable part of her that told her to call it a night and drift off to sleep already...

and then there was the other side. the one that suddenly brings to her attention the steady heat that’s been building beneath her stomach after you sent the prettiest photo of you all dolled up in your parent’s guest bathroom. the one that made her bite her lip as she observed every inch of you through the screen before instantly liking the photo and sending back a flirty message. the one that now gravitated her fingers to calling your phone in the middle of the night and hoping and praying you’d pick up, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when you did.

"vi? are you alright?"

loaded question, she thinks to herself. in perfect health? of course. of sound mind? debatable, but for the most part yes. alright? no, definitely not at the moment.

"yeah, yeah, i’m alright princess. just wanted to talk to you."

"aww, you're such a sweetie. how'd i get so lucky, huh?"

and yes, she does appreciate and silently adore the sweet sentiment. but the sound of you cooing at her with just the tiniest hint of a rasp in your voice from tiredness only cements her fate, having to use all of the rational energy she has left to stop whimpering.

"tell me how your trips been. wanna hear your voice for a little longer."

"no problem. well im fine, everyone here is good. besides my aunt nat, she's still moody because no one allowed her in the kitchen again-"

you go on about your family and their shenanigans, and she cant help but quietly laugh along when you giggle about some of the stories and memories you've made. but the 'conversation' takes a turn when you start to talk about her.

"you know i miss you, right?"

she feels a subtle pang in her chest, half longing and half desire. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. rolled over in bed this morning and kept trying to find you till i realized where i was. it's weird not waking up with you."

she hums, hoping you cant hear her stuttered breaths through the receiver. she doesn't know why hearing about you subconsciously looking for her embrace is what does it for her, but she can only give a short response as one of her hands trails down into boxers.

"wish i could've been there with you, baby."

"mmm, me too. missed your warmth, swear you're like my own personal heater. wish you could be here with me now."

her breathing stops and her eyebrows raise. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. missed your hands, too."

fuck, fuck fuck fuck. she's taken off guard, mind racing at your words and tone and before she knows it she has two fingers stuffed inside of herself while she quietly whimpers for you to keep talking to her.

"fuck, just a little more baby, please, 'm so close-"

"aww, you're such a good girl for me, aren't you violet?"

she swears she bites her lip so hard it nearly bleeds when she cums, walls clenching around her fingers and eyes rolling back into her head as she reaches her peak while you talk her through it.

the next week when she picks you up from the airport she can see it, a glimmer in your eye and quick in your smile that wasn't there before. she tries to ignore it when she pulls you in for a long-awaited embrace but then she just gets so enveloped in your warmth, your smell, the feeling of your body pressed hers. she's only yanked out of her lovestruck stupor when you whisper a sly little comment in her ear about how long and tight she's been holding you.

"call me crazy but if i didnt know any better i'd say you're feeling a little desperate for me."

so the cats out of the bag. she's super attached to you, so what? it's not like you ever complained about it, instead constantly using her neediness to your advantage to get what you want from her. you'll likely never have to beg and convince her to get up from bed to change the thermostat again, only needing to graze your hand across her chest and press a lingering kiss to the space beneath her chin before she's leaping out of bed and speedwalking down the hall.

and don't even get her started on her libido. the both of you had an amazing sex life already, able to almost instinctually tell what brought the other the most mindblowing pleasure possible. but ever since that night, it's like her desire for you only increased tenfold, barely able to go a day without getting her hands on you or vice versa.

it only reached a head when you decided to truly test her limits.

she had taken up a later shift to help out loris who had a date, which meant by the time she returned home she was too tuckered out to have her way with you. but during times like these, she could always count on the early morning sun waking her up just in the rich window of time for morning sex. but when the light rays peek through her bedroom window and she uses her arm to pull you closer she finds you absent, your side of the bed cold.

after a brief search through the house, she opened her text messages just to find your sent a sweet text only an hour before she’d woken up to tell her your friends had invited you on a last minute girls day around the city the night before, and you didn’t want to wake her from her sleep since she seemed exhausted when she got home.

vi groans and falls back into the pillows, lousily texting you back a short message to tell you she loves you and hopes you have fun with your friends. she’ll be alright, she can go a few more hours without you near.

but only an hour later after she’s showered and eaten a quick breakfast she feels the ache start to build in her chest, eyes darting up to the clock on the wall and groaning when realizes just how long this day is going to feel.

everything she tries to do to keep her mind off of you fails miserably. doing chores? she's thinking back on the time when the both of you first split up household duties when you moved in together, feeling giddy at sharing something so menial with the girl she was enamored with. making herself a protein shake for the gym? now she's stuck in a daydream about all the times you've been in this kitchen together, sharing sweet baked goods and sweeter kisses as you settle into domestic bliss.

she has got to get out of the house.

jayce understood her problem as soon as she called inviting her down to the gym for a few hours to work off any ‘pent-up energy’ she’s currently... unable to get out in her preferred method.

it works for a while, the familiar smell of sweat and the slight ache in her muscles grounding her back into reality as she makes casual gym talk with jayce. she's just starting to feel like the absence of you is off of her mind when she hears your text notification on her phone, accidentally leaving her place as jayces spotter to open up her phone.

as soon as her brain registers that you’ve sent her pictures she makes up some lame excuse to get to the bathroom, tuning out her friend's groan of disapproval as she speed walks to the restrooms and locks herself in one of the stalls.

the first few messages are sweet, little selfies of you and your friends as you enjoy your day together as you get some sweet treats together at one of the malls concession stands. a lovesick smile involuntarily grows on her face, always happy to see you smiling and enjoying yourself with the people who care about you. but her eyes start to squint when you start to send pictures of you trying on various outfits from some of the outlet stores, posing demurely in front of the trying room mirrors.

but then her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when suddenly shes getting photos of you in her vagina's favorite enemy - lingerie.

even before vi started acting so eager about your body, it wasn't hard for you to catch on to the fact that the woman was so clearly an ass girl. even on five hands, you wouldn't be able to count the number of times you’d caught her staring or sneaking small glances at your behind, not to mention how she thought she was being discreet about her affection for it with the numerous times she’d slap it when walking by you. she tried to laugh it off when you brought it up in conversation, assuring you that she loved each and every part of you and could never pick a favorite.

but now you were determined to really see how much she wanted you, using every dirty trick in the book you could think of. she feels her face get hot as she looks down at her phone, the image of you in lacy lingerie, back facing the mirror as the magenta fabric (nearly the same shade as her hair, jesus christ,) stretches across the swell of your ass and crisis crosses across your back.

her brain short circuits. before she can think about it she’s saving the pictures to her phone and calling you at the speed of light.

“hey, violet. how’s your day?”

“you are so… evil. amazing and beautiful and evil.”

your giggle rings through the receiver, melodic and teasing. “what's the problem? you don't like the set?”

“don’t even joke. when are you getting home?”

“mmm not till late, the girls wanted to go to a club tonight.”

“oh you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“do you want me to send you the address?”

vi hasn't been to a nightclub in months, at first harshly avoiding the hard party scene in favor of her sobriety before feeling no need to indulge in the party scene once her life became more stable, especially after she met you. but she never stopped you from going out and having fun with your friends, tagging along once in a blue moon to sip on a mocktail while she chatted up the bartender and stared at your ass while you danced.

tonight was an extremely necessary blue moon.

the air is hot, and the feel of her drink burns her throat as vi waits at the bar, blue eyes wide and aware as she stares at the club’s crowded entrance like it owes her money. the bartender asks if she’s alright, scared she’s waiting for someone to arrive to jump them before she assures them she’s fine. they slowly nod and get back to making drinks, nearly dropping a glass out of fright when she slams her glass on the bar and quickly makes her way over to you.

if she wasn't so laser-focused on finally getting her hands on you she might've been a little cocky at the fact that you look like you were about to salivate at the sight of her, knowing she made the right decision to wear the tight pants she knew you loved on her. in only a second she’s got her hands settled on your waist, not caring that your friends are laughing at her clear excitement over seeing you in your club outfit, a tiny dress so she can see the wide expanse of your legs, your arms, your shoulder - fuck, the straps of the pink bra aren’t even hidden by the strapless dress-

“wanna dance with me?” your voice is nothing short of flirtatious, and you already know your answer by the way you start to walk past her to the dance floor, already predicting how she follows you like she’s on a leash.

as the both of you grind and dance in the middle of the club every thought racing through vi’s head is centered on you, physically and mentally unable to focus on anything else when she finally has you so close again after what felt like years. she feels a familiar sense of euphoria when her palms glide up and down your waist, smirking to herself when she feels you shudder when her hands reach up to cup and discreetly squeeze your breasts. she’s feeling happy about finally starting to turn the tables back on you before you arch your back into her, your ass pressing into her as your hand reaches up to her head, nails dusting along her cheek before reaching into her hair and pulling.

it’s only to be expected that that’s her breaking point, dragging you through the dancing bodies and into the back of the building until she can find anywhere to get you alone, thanking any god that exists above that she finds an open storage closet and drags you inside, pressing you face first towards the door. a little voice in her head reminds her not to be too rough with you, but it’s quickly silenced when she sees just how much you crave it, how your back is yet again arching and your hands are clenching into fists from their places on the wooden door.

it's nice, to remember that you want her as much as she wants you.

in only a few seconds she’s given into it, pressing you further into the door by pressing her body against yours and grinding her crotch into the fat of your ass, eyes lidded and head dropping to rest on your shoulder from the rush of pleasure she feels below.

“vi, oh my god-” your voice is light and airy, every word almost choked out as you struggle to prevent yourself from moaning out and alerting every person in the bar about what the two of you were up to.

“i know, fuck, I know, baby. i just-” she cuts herself off with a groan when she lets her hand travel down your front and under your dress to your panties, face running hot when she feels just how wet you’ve gotten. she’s all but rushing to ruche up your dress, mind going fuzzy yet again at seeing the pink fabric covering your ass and how it feels under her when she begins humping you yet again.

“nngh, knew it. knew you were an ass girl.” you giggle.

“god, please stop talking-”

whatever snarky little comment you were going to make dies in your throat when her arm comes up and around your neck to hold your jaw, turning your head around and smashing her lips onto yours. you whimper and moan into her mouth, violet greedily eating the noises of your pleasure as she takes you up against the door.

you pull back for a few seconds to catch your breath, both of your eyes drifting to the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips together.

she can feel it, then. an almost electric charge that runs form her body into yours. you lean into her touch, arch into her further like you’re trying ot merge your bodies into one. when her other hand tightens around the pushed-up fabric of your dress and she gets that absolutely adorable scrunch between her eyebrows you know what she’s asking, and you gently nod your head.

and so she presses her lips back to yours, her crotch further into your ass, and rides you in the cramped nightclub storage closet. she's grateful that you seem to be enjoying it just as much as she is, her mind completely focused on getting closer and closer to her peak. she can feel it building quickly, a growing heat below her stomach reach to burst at any moment. all it takes is you, sucking on her tongue before mumbling muffled words into her mouth begging for her to finish against you. she cums with a stifled moan into your mouth, only amplified when she feels you shudder and go loose in the legs beneath her.

you’re both panting, sweaty, and tired as you stare at each other. it’s a comfortable silence as you help each other adjust - vi fixing your dress and you attempting to put her hair back in her signature style.

“so,” your voice lilts up as vi’s busy fixing her jacket, debating if she wants to take it off to cool down or not, knwoing she’ll probably just wrap it around your arms outside anyway. “you gonna admit it yet?”

she rolls her eyes, looking at you with an exasperated but fond look in her eyes that makes your stomach flip. “you just love being proven right, don’t you?”

“absolutely.”

“fine, you were right. are you happy?”

“very. now, let’s go home annnd maybe,” your fingers hook into the loops of her pants and tug her closer,”you can show me a little more just how much you need me, yeah?”

maybe, vi would show her neediness for you more often. just a little.

#shaboingboing #3k words...drabble right...#arcane #arcane x reader #vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x reader smut #vi smut

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majikkulu · 5 months ago

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﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE ONE ﹑ ﹒

✩ they might be a lover of books, always eager to expand their mind with philosophy, psychology, or history

✩ they have a strong artistic side, whether it’s painting, producing music, photography, or some other creative pursuit

✩ they are extremely expressive and don’t hold back, whether it’s their emotions, opinions, or excitement over something they love. they might have a naturally animated way of speaking or a strong presence in conversations

✩ they love learning new skills and thrive in environments that challenge them, especially in collaborative settings where they can bounce ideas off others or show off what they’ve mastered. they might enjoy competitive activities

✩ they like to yap a lot, always up for debates or long, winding conversations about everything and anything. they could have strong opinions and enjoy playing devil’s advocate

✩ deep late-night talks are something they enjoy, whether it’s about life, the universe, or personal experiences. they find these moments meaningful and might open up the most when the world is quiet and distractions are gone

✩ they could be from a different cultural background or have a deep appreciation for exploring different cultures. they might love traveling, learning new languages, or immersing themselves in traditions different from their own

✩ they question everything and rarely take things at face value. they might analyze social norms, challenge beliefs, or constantly seek to understand the deeper meaning behind things rather than just accepting them as they are

✩ your future spouse might be a romantic at heart, even if they don’t show it in an obvious way. they may present themselves as detached or cool on the surface

✩ relationships and chemistry are really important to them

✩ they are direct and value honesty above all. they don’t like sugarcoating things and might prefer blunt conversations over passive-aggressive behavior. they respect people who say things as they are, even if the truth isn’t always pretty

✩ they may enjoy dry humor, sarcasm, or simply observing people. they could have a sharp wit, make side comments under their breath, or find humor in the way people interact and behave

✩ they also have a goofy, innocent kind of humor. they might love wordplay

✩ they are flirty as hell and love to flirt a lot. whether through teasing, charming words, or playful banter

✩ they might be a pet lover too, the type to spoil animals or treat their pets like family. they could find comfort in their presence and may even prefer animals over people at times

✩ they express emotions through words. whether it’s sweet messages, deep conversations, or even writing

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE TWO ﹑ ﹒

✩ your future spouse is someone strategic, always thinking ahead and making calculated moves. they rarely act on impulse and prefer to plan things out

✩ they might be into video games, coding, or chess

✩ they could have an interest in investing, whether it's stocks, crypto, or business ventures. they might have a natural talent for spotting opportunities

✩ they might be fascinated by the paranormal and esoteric topics. they’re open to exploring the unknown, whether it’s astrology, tarot, or conspiracy theories

✩ they could love watching crime documentaries or reading about unsolved mysteries

✩ they enjoy moving to new places, embracing change and fresh starts. they don’t like feeling stuck in one place for too long

✩ their imagination is rich, making them naturally creative and capable of thinking outside the box. they might daydream a lot or come up with unique ideas that surprise people

✩ they might love road trips, preferring the excitement of spontaneous adventures over structured plans. they enjoy the feeling of freedom that comes with being on the road

✩ they likely hate overcrowded places, avoiding them whenever possible.

✩ they could be rich as hell, either through their own ambition and hard work or by making smart investments

✩ your future spouse doesn’t reveal everything about themselves easily. they have layers to them and only open up to people they truly trust

✩ they are private and prefer to keep their life lowkey. they don’t like too much attention on them and may avoid oversharing

✩ they are smart, calculated, and always thinking a few steps ahead. they don’t make reckless decisions and prefer to analyze situations carefully before acting

✩ they are sneaky, not necessarily in a bad way, but in how they operate. they move in silence and don’t like people knowing their next steps until they’ve already made them

✩ they likely overthink a lot, constantly analyzing situations, conversations, and decisions. their mind is always running, and they might struggle to shut it off

✩ they have strong emotions but also deep trust issues. they feel things intensely but might have trouble fully letting their guard down with others

✩ they might have left behind a difficult past, carrying experiences that shaped them into the person they are today

✩ they are extremely loyal to the people they love, willing to stand by them no matter what. once they let someone in, they are deeply devoted

✩ they don’t like people prying into their business and will shut down if someone tries to dig too deep into their personal life

✩ they have a deep and quiet devotion, showing their love in ways that aren’t always obvious. they might not be overly expressive, but their actions speak louder than words

✩ they are funny but brutally honest. they say things as they are and don’t sugarcoat the truth, even if it’s uncomfortable

✩ they might enjoy dark humor, finding amusement in things that others might consider too edgy or inappropriate

✩ they could use humor as a coping mechanism, making jokes about their pain as a way to deal with it rather than letting it weigh them down

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE THREE ﹑ ﹒

✩ your future spouse is the curious type, always eager to learn and discover new things

✩ they love researching new topics, often getting lost in deep dives about whatever interests them at the moment

✩ i do get gemini/virgo vibes from them

✩ they might always have a random fact to share, surprising people with their knowledge of the most unexpected things

✩ they may be interested in subjects like law or politics, drawn to debates, justice, and understanding how society functions

✩ they enjoy things that remind them of the past, feeling a deep connection to history, nostalgia, and tradition

✩ they might love old music, classic movies, or even vintage cars, appreciating the timeless quality of things from past eras

✩ they take on a lot of responsibility, often feeling like they need to be the one holding everything together

✩ they might be into working out, using fitness as a way to stay disciplined and clear their mind

✩ they analyze situations deeply, never taking things at face value and always searching for the bigger picture

✩ they rely on logic and facts to make decisions, preferring to think things through rather than acting on emotions alone

✩ they might be someone who always feels the need to take care of others, naturally stepping into a protector or provider role

✩ they have strong emotional ties to their past, holding onto memories, people, or experiences that shaped them

✩ they are always questioning things, rarely accepting anything without digging deeper and figuring it out for themselves

✩ they dislike dishonesty and can see through people who try to manipulate or deceive them

✩ their humor is quick-witted, sharp, and often unexpected, making people laugh with their clever comebacks

✩ they don’t always laugh at obvious jokes, but they appreciate clever wordplay, irony, or dark humor

✩ they may humorously exaggerate how overwhelming life can be, playfully making self-deprecating remarks about their workload or the stress they endure

✩ they stand up for what they believe in, never backing down

✩ they could be the eldest sibling, carrying the weight of responsibility and leadership from a young age

✩ they feel deeply nostalgic about certain places or traditions, finding comfort in things that remind them of home or childhood

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE FOUR ﹑ ﹒

✩ your future spouse might be into cooking, gardening, or fashion

✩ they’re good at managing money, knowing how to save while still enjoying life’s pleasures

✩ they might be the type who balances multiple jobs or responsibilities

✩ they enjoy activities like hiking or picnics, appreciating the simplicity of being outdoors

✩ they might start many things but take time to fully commit, needing to explore their options before settling on one path

✩ they are skilled at handling multiple aspects of life without getting overwhelmed

✩ they are deeply loving, protective, and affectionate, but they show it in subtle, consistent ways

✩ they don’t rush things, preferring to take their time and make thoughtful choices

✩ they struggle with making decisions, especially when faced with two good options, overanalyzing every possible outcome

✩ they may have a habit of overthinking before acting, weighing all the pros and cons in their mind

✩ they have a fun, easy-going humour, making people laugh with their relaxed and effortless charm

✩ they might poke fun at life’s contradictions, pointing out irony in a way that’s both funny and insightful

✩ they might like to tease, but they also know how to give the right compliments at the right time

✩ they aren’t impulsive

✩ they’ve been patient in life, understanding that good things take time to build

✩ they love nature, animals, or anything visually appealing, finding beauty in small details

✩ they like cozy places, appreciating warm, inviting spaces that feel like home

✩ they are careful about expressing their true emotions, taking time before fully opening up

✩ they might take a while before fully letting their guard down, needing to feel truly safe before revealing their deepest thoughts

✩ they sometimes use sarcasm

✩ they might have a natural ability to comfort others, making people feel safe and understood

✩ they don’t mind waiting for results if the process is rewarding, knowing that patience leads to the best outcomes

✩ they enjoy making things beautiful, whether it’s their home, their appearance, or the small moments in life

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melwnst · 3 months ago

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────── ⋆⋅☆ MORNING COFFEE, DEAN WINCHESTER

summary. a morning in bed with Dean and coffee as company:)

⭑.ᐟI’ve had this in my drafts forever so it was about time I let it out of the vault. I love this, it’s a very cute one! Please interact and send requests if u have any<3

mention of sex but no smut!

word count. 900

supernatural masterlist

my full masterlist/support my work!

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Your eyes are still closed, but the warmth next to you makes you want to melt into it. You feel Dean stir, trying not to wake you, but he feels you sigh contently, which makes him aware that you already are. Dean’s arm is heavy on your waist, while he lays a small kiss on your shoulder.

‘Morning.’ His voice is hoarse, but his lips linger.

You turn away in his embrace to face him. You’re still half asleep, so your head finds itself into his chest, not wanting to wake up.

‘Morning, handsome.’ You say quietly, only for him to hear.

Dean lays another kiss on your forehead this time, his arms engulfing your figure.

‘Sleep well?’ Dean asks, which he seems to do every morning, because he needs to know that you’re okay. He needs to know that even in your sleep, he contents you.

‘Always. I always do when you’re here.’

‘Good thing I’m always here then.’ He smiles sleepily, still holding you.

You stir again, this time looking up at him.

‘You better not go anywhere Winchester.’ Your brows furrow as a warning, though a little smile dances on your lips.

‘I don’t plan on going anywhere, sweetheart.’ Dean doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he presses a kiss on your lips. You don’t want to let go- and Dean feels it, so he pulls you closer. His hand lays on the back on your neck, pulling you, while the other one lays on your waist at the top of his shirt you stole.

‘Hmm. Coffee first, I’m still half asleep.’ You laugh and break the kiss, while slapping his chest as a message, as to tell him ‘go get me my coffee.’

‘Alright. I got it. Coffee’s more important than me?’ He jokes.

‘Hotter too!’ Dean puts a hand over his heart, acting hurt. He knows you’re joking. Or so he thinks.

Dean gets out of bed, but before leaving the room, he makes sure to let his lips touch yours one more time. He knows he’ll get to kiss you again in a couple minutes- he knows he’ll get to kiss you a million times more- but this makes him feel like he has a good start of the day. The first thing that his lips touch- is yours.

Without that coffee, you feel like Dean is gone for hours. The minutes are ticking, and you pick out a book. You read- or at least try to. But your mind is full of just him. The way his lips felt, his hands, his arms. So you know that the minute that coffee hits the system, you’ll be all his, at his mercy.

Dean finally comes back with two cups. He sits in bed next to you, handing you your coffee.

‘Thanks darling you’re my savior.’ You kiss his cheek and go back to your book.

The moment the coffee hits your lips, it’s burning love. It’s hot- very hot. But it instantly resets you.

‘So, that coffee still hotter than me?’ Dean observes you waiting for an answer with his brows raised.

‘You know, I’m still debating that.’ You nod your head and take another sip, but Dean doesn’t accept that.

Dean lunges to you, taking you by surprise.

‘Stop! You’re gonna make me drop that everywhere!’ Your laugh echoes in the room, making Dean smile.

‘I’m not competing with damn coffee, ya’ hear me? It ain’t happening.’

‘Oh my god.’ You lay your coffee on the bedside table and hide your mouth with a hand, because he’s being ridiculous.

‘You’re insane.’ You finish.

‘I’ll show you insane.’ Dean hovers over you now, his legs on each side of your body.

Your giggles are enough to make him happy for a lifetime. You’re enough.

Dean doesn’t wait, his lips are on your jaw, on your neck, at the hem of the top of his shirt. His hands are on your waist, while he slowly gets it up to your chest.

You get the message and put your arms up so Dean can take your shirt off.

Then he looks at you with so much love. He looks at you like you’re the only good thing left in this world. Like he sees a thousand more mornings just like this, by your side, seeing your smile and hearing your laugh, getting to feel you.

‘You’re so damn beautiful.’ Dean tells you, feeling like a high school boy.

‘I’ve been told that a couple times.’ You try to joke, but your heart is racing. It doesn’t matter how many times this has happened already. He makes you feel like it’s always the first time. He makes you feel like the only girl in the world. The only person he’s ever gonna love, the only person he sees himself loving.

‘Shut up.’ Dean laughs at you and kisses you again. This time, he’s hungry. He’s hungry for you, for your touch. You kiss him back with just as much urgency. You find yourself lying down instead of sitting up, and Dean goes on to make you feel like that coffee is definitely not, hotter than him.

He might just be the hottest thing alive.

Dean’s hotter than lava.

Dean Winchester is hot.

And now you’re the one feeling like a high school girl.

Coffee doesn’t matter. Only Dean does.

#imagine #fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean x oc #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #deanwinchtser #dean x you #dean x reader #dean supernatural #dean fanfiction #jensen ackles

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cheeseceli · 3 months ago

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Boyfriend Hobi

Pairing: Jung Hoseok × gn!reader

Genre: headcanons, fluff

Request: boyfriend hobi, perchance?!

Warnings: physical touch, mentions of food, he's an idol, mentions of fights

A/n: this one's a bit long I think lmao | daily click

Hobi ver. | Namjoon ver.| Jimin ver. | Taehyung ver. | Jungkook ver.

This was probably a best friends to lovers thing

It took him a while to make a move because he was scared to mess up the relationship

So either you make the first move or you'll have to be very patient 😭

Oh this one is strong on physical touch btw

He likes to cuddle, he will always save a seat for you next to him, random hugs just because

And he will never let go of your hand

Trust me on this one

If you're walking around, better believe he WILL be holding your hand

And he also hugs you when you're cold to warm you up 🙂‍↕️

Your opinion is EXTREMELY important to him

Both on trivial matters, like what hat he should wear, and on more important things, like his job

You always receive spoilers to the tracks he's producing as well

Partner privileges

Talking about partner privileges

He takes such care of you

Always make sure you ate enough and on time

Drives you to your work/uni and then drives you home after

Insists on you taking an extra coat on cold days

Even massages you when you're too stressed or when you had a particularly rough day

Also loves to send you texts and voice messages throughout the day

If you can't see each other that day, he's gonna make sure to document EVERYTHING to you

He loves to have you near, even when it's not physically possible

He also smiles mid kiss 💔

He perceives everything as well

You're currently obsessed with a new series? He's already sending you videos about that

You're feeling kinda down? He is comforting you before you can barely understand what you're feeling

You want to go to some place? He's already cleaning his schedule so you can go asap

He's so observant

And if you're talking, his eyes are on you

The type of guy to put his full attention on you

He's a perfectionist, nothing new here

So if you guys ever fought it would probably be because of these details

And because he wanted the relationship to be so perfect, there would probably be a bit of accidental self sabotage

But with time this gets better

He also needs a bit of validation

I don't think he'd be very jealous (considering the perilla leaf debate)

But some validation is still nice lmao

Trusts you with his life

You know every single secret of his

You know where every precious possession of his is, and you can use all of them

You're his emergency call

He genuinely trusts you a lot

He's not jealous, but he is protective

If he senses you're feeling uncomfortable, he will step up with no hesitation

Sidewalk rule

He loves your smile

He has 649264 pictures of you smiling

And most of these pictures were taken secretly, when you were too focused on just enjoying life to notice the camera

Idk he also seems like he would want to have matching items with you

If English/Korean are not your mother tongue, he would LOVE to learn your language

He would learn a few words and suddenly that's all he's saying for the rest of the week

Overall, he's your safe place and you're his

He is your personal sunshine: cheer you up on sad days and make happy days even brighter

Confidents of each other

It would be a dream, honestly

Masterlist | you'll probably like: Fri(end)s

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs

Dividers by @adornedwithlight | images 1, 2 and 3

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empty-vessel-of-a-person · 7 months ago

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Are LaDS Men V!rg!n Pre-Relationship with MC in LaDS present timeline?

Note: This is a personal take and observation in the LaDS men memories, short stories, phone call, messages, and etc. Nothing is confirmed by Infold and I maybe wrong/missed something from their memories. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Zayne - Yes

This is easy and Zayne confirms it himself. He mentioned that MC is his only experience. Although they are not romantically involve when they were still kids, (I strongly stress on this one as some creep send an anon message to me before that it is creepy to think that they have relationship pre-LaDS present timeline. Well They are not in a relationship. So hold your horses) I feel like he is strongly bound to her emotionally.

The need to protect her is strongly etched to him. Remember the wonderer attack when they are still kids?(Source: Nostalgic Sweetness) He wanted to cheer her up by freezing her melted popsicle. It maybe a crush or puppy love (whatever you wanted to call it) But this is his pure affection towards MC and he take it until he is an adult.

By the time they are reunited, they were awkward with each other but MC is the first one to show affection. She told him to not disappear again and constantly look up for him. I firmly believe that MC has crush with Zayne too because she remembers him well even with a blotchy memory.

Xavier - NO!!!

Before you kill me, just hear me out. Xavier's age is virtually unknown. For one, they never revealed it and two, Jeremiah was even uncomfortable about the topic of Xavier's age (source: Celestial Message). But who do I think he is been with? I Highly suspect that it is MC herself.

So how is his age and MC been related on him not to be a virgin, you say? Think about it this way, back when they Philos, it seems like (I feel like) he was already in a relationship with MC. That star ornament that MC is bothered about was from her (again not confirmed). And this previous/forgotten lifetime (by MC) they have already done it. Why else will he be so comfortable having very spicy and intimate time with her?

One of also the indication of them being intimate in the previous life was his being territorial with MC. He sometimes get a bit of Yandere vibe (I not really sure it its the correct type of dere to label him) but he kinds of a little bit rough when handling people who got overly close to MC. (Source: Myth and Celestial Message.)

Among all the LaDS men, he and Sylus shows sign in knowing what to do during the intimate moments.

Rafayel - Yes

Despite his flirty and confident demeanor, this baby is really a big baby! Don't get me wrong, he is not that innocent, he knows the deed (Source: gem Affection, Omnipotent perception, Your Fragrance, and Ebb and Flow) But he does not do the did, at least not yet.

Unlike Zayne and MC, who clearly hinted spending the night together (Source: Business Trip, Snowy Serenity, Hidden Motive and Moonlit Dream) Rafayel and MC after the kindled moment seems to be sleeping apart or Rafayel was out of the room or was fully dressed already (source: before Sunrise)

Some may argue that they already did it on "Gem Affection", they perhaps did, but what I'm infinitely having a debate with myself is, how Rafayel is kinda Distant again by "Into the Canvas". I don't mean distant physically, but him and MC is still do not seem in a relationship. They do not communicate well to establish plans in meeting up and he was just kinda following her around.

In the "Tailwag Moment" he was shocked and shy when he nuzzles MC. True it was kinda heated, but if you are already physically intimate with someone (specially guys) the awkward moment and hesitation to touch your lover disappears.

I also don't believe that Rafayel is a friends-with-benefit type of guy. This man is so devoted to MC and search for her when she disappears.

Sylus - Not Sure

Since Sylus was still fairly new compared to the other men, I do not have a strong assumption on whether he is a virgin or not. But if you ask how I personally feel about him, I will say yes, he is a virgin.

From here on out is just assumptions base on his current known memories.

Despite being rough and how he manhandles MC, he is actually giving me an Edward Cullen Vibe (OLD SCHOOL VIBE) Oh my gosh! I am old. Like Edward, Sylus have some heated moments with MC (mainly on Secret Times). Yes they are spicy, but it never really hinted that they pass more than heated make out.

We are also yet to see him kiss MC on the lips. And although, he already kiss her in the head, this is after he gave her a ring. (Thinking about a Victorian Type of Courting) He take her to dates, bring her food, give her flowers, and going on rides. I applaud Infold for creating Sylus as a guy who is mostly rough but he definitely have a sweet side.

He worries about MC, hum while cooking, and taking selfies with her.

I have mentioned this before in my previous entry, But Sylus never inappropriately touch MC. True he like to carry MC but never lays a hand in any parts of her other than her wrist. He also doesn't initiate her or gauge her into touching him.

His relationship with MC is Definitely HOT but not yet intimate.

As for previous partners, I don't think he have any as he is looking for MC as well.

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #sylus #sylus love and deepspace

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ckret2 · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter 71 of human Bill Cipher trying to debate his way out of still being the Mystery Shack's prisoner. Soos has found the stolen Journal 4 in Bill's possession and has to decide what to do about it in light of everything else he's learned about Bill lately.

[*this chapter was renumbered to squeeze in the Axolotl plot arc! If you. Haven't read it yet, go back to ch 61 and read it!]

Soos stared dumbfounded at the journal with a 4 on the cover that he'd pulled from Bill's hiding place. Ford had lost Journal 4 last fall—he'd said gnomes had stolen it. How in the world had Bill gotten it?

Soos sat in the attic window seat and flipped through it. The first few pages were Ford's journal entries—his observations of the dimensional rips they were glueing shut in Gravity Falls post-Weirdmageddon, a hand-drawn map highlighting various places around the globe he wanted to investigate, a few drawings and observations of paranormal beings he hadn't seen his first time in town, half a sketch of a gnome that ended with a jagged scribble across the page followed by a page that said "Shmebulock" over and over.

And then a page that said, in an unfamiliar handwriting of jagged, narrow gray letters: "CURSED BOOK! If your name is Mabon Mason Pines, STOP READING NOW or ENJOY YOUR HEX!"

Bill had written page after page of some weird code of gray and yellow-green dots and dashes. A few sentences in English—every one of them was a threatening message to Ford. "Everything would have been fantastic if you'd just helped me finish, Fordsy." "You'll regret not siding with me when you had the chance." "You should have known better than to let your idiot brother turn you against me." "Sixer, you're lying to yourself every time you say you never worshiped me, and you know it. You spent the first third of your life running away from the god you were raised with and the second third chasing after me. Don't waste your last third denying it. YOU'RE MINE." A small, worrying diagram of what looked like the interdimensional portal. And a sticker.

Wait, hold on.

A sticker. One of Mabel's. The rest of the page was the same as the others, the two-tone dots and dashes, except for the sticker, and an arrow drawn from one paragraph to the sticker.

A yellow smiley, its round edges filled in with black marker to make a triangle, over the words "Good job!"

Soos stared at the sticker.

####

A couple of weeks ago, Melody had texted to let Soos know that there was a mess in the upstairs bathroom, and the kids said they'd been fighting a werewolf ghost.

When Soos had gotten home the next morning, Melody had pulled him aside and quietly told him she hadn't wanted to worry him and the Stans, but she did not think it was a werewolf ghost.

When Soos saw the bathroom, he didn't think it was a werewolf ghost either.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Menacing magical sigils painted all over the walls in blood and toothpaste, Bill's zodiac painted on one mirror, the other mirror broken, glass and water all over the floor. It looked like the site of a really wet demon summoning. This contained none of the hallmarks of ghostly or werewolfish activity. Why would Bill do this?

Soos was kind of reluctant to ask Bill. Bill still sorta scared him sometimes. Sure, he looked like a lost 18-year-old, but Soos knew what teens were like in a fight. So he asked Mabel instead.

Mabel pursed her lips uncomfortably. "Ask Dipper."

So Soos asked Dipper.

Dipper winced and. "Promise you won't get mad."

Soos considered that. "Yeah, I guess that's a fair deal."

Dipper confessed that Bill got accidentally locked in the upstairs bathroom for like a whole day, because he and Mabel didn't hear him yelling. Not because they were out of the house when they shouldn't have been. They were just... somewhere else in the house. Doing something loud. For the whole day.

While Bill was trapped alone.

####

Soos had vented to Abuelita about cleaning the bathroom. Like sure, he got Bill was annoyed about being stuck, but that seemed excessive.

Abuelita had made the observation that sometimes people in profoundly bleak and oppressive situations would just... destroy whatever was around them. Like punching a hole in the wall or snapping a pencil when you were angry, but much more so. Not because they wanted their surroundings to be destroyed, but because that was the last and only thing they had power over, and they needed to feel like they were in control of something. Even if that thing was merely changing their environment from ordered to chaotic.

Bill didn't have control over very much. He probably hadn't since he died. Soos didn't know what kind of space triangle afterlife Bill had been in before he showed up as Toga Lady, but it couldn't have been great if he'd come straight back here.

Soos could remember the one time weeks ago he'd let Bill into the bathroom to shower and forgotten to come back and let him out. How Bill had screamed so all the Mystery Shack's tourists could hear; how he'd seethed in Soos's face, how he'd said he'd rather blow their collective cover and throw them all on the mercy of the town's law enforcement than remain locked in the bathroom a second longer than they'd agreed upon. Soos had thought Bill was just impatient and hotheaded.

Standing in the bathroom, looking at the material evidence of Bill's claustrophobic terror—the broken glass, the spilled blood—he wondered.

####

The same day, he had felt a breeze in the gift shop and found the trap doors to the roof left open. He'd climbed up, shut them, and in between tours he'd visited his office to check yesterday's security tapes.

He saw Wendy coming into the shack to hang out the morning before. That was fine. Soos had discovered she did that from time to time on days the shack was closed, but she wasn't doing anything bad and she hadn't brought it up yet, so Soos didn't bring it up either. Maybe she just needed a private place to hang. Teen stuff. He was just glad Wendy felt that safe at the Mystery Shack. Maybe she'd just gone up to hang out on the roof and forgot to shut the trap doors...

And then, right there on screen, Soos saw Bill letting himself into the gift shop, through the door, which he shouldn't be able to open. A chill shot up Soos's back. The door curse was their only real means of containing Bill. If he could use doors now, he was out, there was no way they could trap him without doing something crazy like locking him in the bunker and hoping he didn't kill himself.

Or could he use doors? Soos thought back to the frantic messages on the bathroom wall, written in Bill's own blood—his desperation over being unable to escape. Maybe he could use doors but not doorknobs. That was okay, maybe?

On tape, he saw Wendy run into Bill. He saw Wendy take Bill onto the roof. Out in the open air, where he could just... do whatever. But he didn't do whatever. Soos fast-forwarded the tape until Wendy and Bill came back down, and Bill simply returned to the living room.

He'd had the perfect opportunity to shove Wendy off the roof or escape. He didn't take it.

If all Bill was using his new door skills for was ducking into the gift shop and hanging out on the roof with Wendy, Soos thought maybe it would be kinda mean to take that away from him. There weren't a lot of other places Bill could go in the shack. (Soos kept seeing the blood on the bathroom wall. He kept trying to imagine what kind of helplessness would drive someone that far.) Maybe Bill needed the open air.

So Soos had put the security tape on his desk, not sure what to do about it.

####

A couple of day after that, while Soos was restocking the gift shop in between waves of tourists, he'd seen Wendy reading an oddly dull-looking booklet instead of one of her usual magazines. He tilted his head to glance at the cover. The Oregon state driving manual. "Aw dude, gonna get your learner's permit?"

"Think so," Wendy said. "Don't tell my dad."

Soos remembered Wendy groaning about her dad wrangling her into doing errands if she ever got her license. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks."

"What made you change your mind? You were totally against getting a license a week ago."

"It's probably those stupid Gleeful Auto commercials that have been worming into my dreams." Wendy laughed. "I'm just waking up in the morning like, neeeed caaar."

"Oh yeah! Heh, funny coincidence, Melody says she had a dream like that too. Sometimes she gets these like, dreams about monsters watching her in bed? But one time, the monster was Bud Gleeful, whispering in her ear about a big car sale. She totally woke up laughing!"

"Ha! Annoying car commercials should be banned, man. Why do we need to be told multiple times a day to spend thousands of dollars?"

"You make a salient point."

They fell silent for a moment as Wendy read a couple more paragraphs. Then she said, "That, plus... I was talking to Goldie the other day."

Soos looked up from the t-shirt he'd been putting on a clothes hanger. "Oh. Yeah?"

"About where we wanna go when we get out of town."

"Huh." Very casually, Soos asked, "What did Goldie say?"

"He wants to go on some big vacation. Like a world cruise or something, I dunno."

"Huh." Soos wondered if that was true. He tried to imagine Bill Cipher as a tourist. Floating triangle in a Hawaiian shirt with a camera hanging from a strap and a fanny pack. What kind of places would he even visit? Soos bet he wanted to visit the pyramids. Heh. (Was that stereotyping? Maybe that was stereotyping.)

"And I told him I'm moving to Portland for college."

"Oh, hey, I didn't know you were thinking about college."

"I... actually, never told anybody else before," Wendy said. "I've been thinking about it for years, but part of me felt like it's just a fantasy? But Goldie said when he got out of high school, he did the same thing—moved to another town, made a new group of friends, all that. And... I don't know, actually talking to him out loud about it just... made it feel real, you know? So I thought, if I'm gonna move to Portland, I should probably start planning for it. Starting with how I'm getting there." She held up the driving manual.

Soos nodded slowly. "Huh. Yeah. That's a pretty mature way to look at it."

And that was what Bill was talking to Wendy about on the roof? Just... listening to a teen vent and helping her figure out her future?

And so, Soos took the security tape off his desk and put it in a drawer.

####

A few days later, Soos had heard the downstairs bathroom sink running for several minutes, assumed someone had forgotten to turn it off, and went to turn it off himself—and had caught Bill, in the dark, half undressed, washing himself in the sink.

After Soos had backed out and profusely apologized, he'd asked, "But—how come you're washing in the sink? I can let you in the upstairs bathroom if you need—"

"Worry about your own grooming habits and leave mine alone," Bill snapped. "As long as I don't smell, what do you humans care how I do it. Soap is soap and water is water."

It took Soos several days to realize he didn't think Bill had had a shower since he got locked in the bathroom. And nobody had noticed, because Bill made sure nobody noticed, because he'd been keeping himself clean in the bathroom he couldn't get locked in.

####

Dipper would go all summer without showering if he could get away with it; Stan showered like once a week and had constant old man smell; Abuelita also showered weekly and had a more refined old lady smell; Soos didn't know when Ford showered, but he'd never caught him doing it and Ford always smelled weirdly like burned hair. Soos showered almost daily during tourist season—that Mr. Mystery suit was hot—but outside that might go three days at a time. Mabel showered near daily.

From what Soos had observed, Bill was showering like, at least twice a week. He didn't know how often Bill cleaned himself in the sink in between.

That meant he was showering more often than two-thirds of the house.

Yet he was the only one in the house living under the threat of being thrown in the tub at 3 a.m. if someone decided he hadn't bathed enough for their tastes.

The reason Bill had refused to shower during his first week of imprisonment was so he could use the condition of his body as a bargaining chip—with no physical possessions in the world, his own body was the only bargaining chip he had—to try to buy a little more dignity. In return, his captors had taken more dignity away. They permitted Bill less autonomy over how to take care of his body than the household's children had.

Dipper had never gotten forced into a bathroom he couldn't let himself out of.

####

The day after the eclipse, Ford had pulled Soos aside and said quietly, "Soos, as soon as you have some time—could you repair the door to the kids' room? Before the end of the day? The latch has been broken since the tooth fairy's attack."

"Uh, sure, I can probably do that," Soos said. "How come?" The latch had been broken for a couple weeks, and the Pines hadn't been worried about it before.

"Right now, the door can swing freely with just a push," Ford said. "I think Bill's figured out how to use that to get in. Which is worrisome, since he shouldn't be able to use any doors..."

"O-oh." Soos thought about the swinging door into the gift shop. "Yeah, uh... sounds bad. Byyy the way—how'd you figure out he knows how to use the door?"

"Dipper says Bill somehow got in and out of the room last night," Ford said. "Mabel fell asleep in the living room and Bill carried her upstairs. I really don't like the thought of Bill being able to get his hands on the kids while they're asleep and defenseless."

Ford was mad at Bill for tucking a kid into bed? That was the big red flag? "No problem! I'll fix the door right after work."

The next time Soos visited his office, he took the security tape out of his drawer, rewound it, stuck it back into the tape recorder, and let that day's security camera footage overwrite and erase the evidence of Bill's visit to the gift shop.

####

And now, today, carrying Journal 4 in both hands, Soos trudged downstairs, trying to figure out what to do with it. He had to return it to Ford, obviously—but Bill and the Stans were already in the middle of a discussion that sounded a lot more like an argument. Flinging a stolen journal into the middle of the proceedings would just make it worse. Maybe he should wait until they were finished and everyone had cooled down a little—?

While Soos was upstairs, the discussion had apparently moved into the kitchen. He hovered awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching.

"What do you mean, you need kitchen access," Stan was asking, "you already have kitchen access. It's never been off-limits! Even after you peed in the sink!"

"It's not kitchen access if I need to ask someone else for permission to eat anything but snacks."

"No one's making you ask for permission! You can take what you want!"

"Okay, fine. So what can I eat?" Bill gestures at the shelves. "Go on. List anything you can think of. Anything."

Stan grimaced, and glanced at Ford to see if he was willing to walk into the obvious trap first.

Ford looked at the nearby shelves. "Cereal."

"One point for Stanford Pines! Cereal! So am I supposed to eat dry cereal for every single meal, or—?"

"No, of course not."

"All right, then what else?"

"Brown meat," Stan said. "We've got plenty of brown meat. It's good for you!"

"You didn't give me can opener rights," Bill said.

"Huh."

"So no brown meat," Bill said. "No canned soup, no canned chili, no canned fruit, no canned vegetables—"

Ford cut in, "Some of the cans have pull tabs, you don't need a can opener for those."

"Terrific observation! As soon as you realized I could open those cans myself, you moved them all under the counter because you thought I'd use the sharp edges as weapons!"

"It's... possible to open cans without a can opener, I did it sometimes while roughing it in other dimensions—"

"Yeah, wearing off the metal rim with a rock, right? Lemme just go outside and grab a rock—oh wait." Bill crossed his arms.

Ford sighed, and turned to Stan to suggest something else.

Stan surveyed the available supplies, spotted the bread, and said, "You could make sandwiches!"

"With what filling?"

"Uh..." Stan kept looking.

Meats and cheeses, of course, were kept in the fridge. Along with jelly, condiments, most vegetables... tuna or spam weren't options, they were canned... "Hey, we leave out some meats that don't need refrigeration. Sausages and stuff."

"Right, right. The ones that don't need refrigeration because they're wrapped in plastic you need a knife to cut," Bill said. "Sometimes I bite the plastic open with my teeth and rip off chunks of sausage with my fingernails, that's always fun! Then you put the leftovers in the fridge, and I'm out of luck until we buy another sausage."

"You could put... peanut butter on your sandwiches?" Ford tried. "Peanut butter's nutritious."

Bill fixed him with a hard look. "For the past five weeks, every time I've gotten a meal without asking someone else to help feed me like a baby, I've had nothing but peanut butter and banana sandwiches, peanut butter and jerky sandwiches, peanut butter and raisin sandwiches, and peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. And we're out of bananas, jerky, and raisins." He pointed at the tortillas. "Once I decided to get creative and made myself a cold peanut butter quesadilla! I can't even add spices, because guess where the breakable glass spice jars are kept?"

"Pasta," Ford tried. "We could keep the pasta out."

"Oh, wow, that'd be great! I just love pasta! But I can't open the microwave and I can't turn on the stove! How do I heat the water, Stanford?"

Ford frowned. "Hm."

"I can cook, you know—not that any of you bothered to ask! It might not suit your tastes, but it suits mine! I wouldn't need your help to eat if you didn't make me need help! I am sick to death—" his voice went thick and took on an uncharacteristic waver, "—of having to beg to... eat." He cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut, and rubbed his eyelids with one hand. "Sh-shouldn't even—need to eat." He clenched his jaw to keep it from trembling.

Stan and Ford exchanged a guilty look. Stan said, "You don't have to beg— I mean, we know the, uh... position you're in..."

Bill was silent for a moment as he tried to get a tough face back on. His voice came out as a rough whisper—too thick to get any louder without breaking. "I had to negotiate to get burnt eggs."

Ford winced.

Soos was dumbfounded.

When had Bill had to negotiate for food? He could all too easily understand how it might have happened—Bill was an annoying guy, sometimes they had to pull out dumb bargains to get him to do stuff. But bargaining for food should never be on that list. Meeting Bill's basic nutritional needs couldn't be dependent on whether he was annoying that day. If it was, he'd starve.

It sounded like he was starving. Right under Soos's roof. He hadn't even noticed.

He thought about the piles of junk food trash upstairs and the bag of chips Bill had hurled across the room.

Ford said, "We'll... discuss it."

"We'll figure something out," Stan said. "I mean it."

Bill nodded silently. Head down, without uncovering his eyes, he hurried out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

He nearly bumped into Soos's chest without noticing him. Soos backed up a step, tucking Journal 4 under his arm. "Whoa, hey!"

Bill froze, head jerking up. "You." His voice was thick and his glare was watery and poisonous. "Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" He tried to elbow past Soos, smacking his leg with his umbrella. "Move."

Soos realized uneasily that Bill's face looked a little slimmer than it had when he'd arrived.

He stepped in Bill's way. "Can't go upstairs right now. Attic's being cleaned."

"I didn't ask you to clean!"

"I'm not cleaning for you, dawg. It's just gotta be cleaned."

"Fine! Whatever!" Bill veered around the staircase and stomped down the hall, muttering, "Can't decide when I eat, can't decide when I shower, why should I get to choose when my hovel's swept..."

Soos's leg hurt where Bill had smacked it. (Bill couldn't even control whether or not he cried; all he had control over was making someone else hurt.)

In the kitchen, Stan murmured, "Didn't even realize we don't keep anything decent out on the counters. They're so crowded..."

"Chip bags take up a lot of space." Ford sighed. "I assumed he'd get a serving with everyone else whenever Mrs. Ramirez cooks."

"He does, but she only does dinners. And he'll only eat it if he watched her cook it. I've seen him get lunch with Mabel, but I don't know what he does when she's not..." Stan spotted Soos on the stairs. He tiredly called, "Soos? You need something?"

"Uhhh..." Soos hid the journal behind his back. "Nope! I just thought I'd come downstairs! For no reason." He awkwardly walked up the stairs backwards, journal still tucked behind him. "And—and now I'm going up again." He stopped at the landing and scooted sideways up the next flight of stairs. "See ya."

He pressed the journal to his chest and returned to the attic.

####

When Soos and Abuelita moved into the shack, the first thing Soos had done was turn Ford's ground-floor study into a bedroom for Abuelita. Because she was a little old lady, and not quite as steady as she used to be, so Soos didn't want her constantly going up and down the stairs—because falling once, just ONCE, could send her to the hospital or worse. That was how serious it was! You don't mess around with that!

Bill tripped and fell on the stairs so often that they could use it to tell when he was awake. And nobody had thought to offer him a cane? Did anybody even ask if he was alright?

When Bill first arrived and tried to murder everyone, naturally, he came out of it pretty banged up and bruised. That was to be expected. It was self-defense. They'd gotten used to seeing Bill with scrapes on his arms and legs, rope burns around his ankles, and the angry purple-black bruises of chain links over his arms. But in all the weeks since then, Soos hadn't seen Bill bruise-free once. Bruises on his shins and arms, scrapes on his elbows and knees. Soos had seen him with a four-inch burn on his forearm. Bill had brushed it off.

In Bill's first few days in the shack, he'd resorted to peeing in the kitchen sink because nobody had bothered to give a guy who couldn't open doors a way to use the bathroom. And they were the reason he couldn't open doors in the first place!

He threw up in the living room in the middle of the night and went upstairs to sleep on couch cushions on the floor and nobody had talked about it.

He burned off all his hair and was so upset about it that he stole Soos's zodiac blanket and hid under it for half a week, and everyone but Mabel just ignored him.

In less than a month in the Mystery Shack, Bill had lost a tooth.

He had been dragged out of the house during a weird weather phenomenon while terrified out of his mind. Soos had seen Bill cowering on the ground in fear, Ford looming over him, grabbing him by the collar and snarling in rage. Bill had been pleading with everyone in hearing range not to make him go, and had come back in such a state of shock he could hardly walk.

And yet, he'd protected the whole town from getting hurt in zero gravity—and he'd brought a pet for Soos.

They'd tried to execute Bill two days later.

####

Soos sat in the window seat, flipping through the remaining filled-in pages in Journal 4. The last few pages were packed with stickers. A cat that said PURRFECT! A smiling fish that said A REEL PAL! Bill had started a little collection of pizza slice stickers for some reason. A couple of holographic rainbows, a smiling scratch-and-sniff sun. (Apparently, the sun smelled like lemons and oranges. Astronomy facts!)

Soos reached the current page. Bill was using several pieces of paper—regular printer paper and notebook paper, folded in half—like a bookmark. Soos unfolded them. A list of animals ranked by fuzziness. (Soos was satisfied that he'd been placed under the "smooth and squishy" category, but wondered whether he should be bothered by the fact that he shared the category with pigs and slugs.) A drawing of Bill riding a looping rocket ship and waving a fishbowl helmet above him. A drawing of a blue house with a couple of kids and a pig in the window. Several drawings of shape people kinda like Bill: a pink heart person labeled "Me in Flatworld," a stern-looking red stop sign wearing sunglasses labeled "Bill's parole officer," Bill dancing, the pink heart protecting Bill from some villainous-looking shapes—all clearly Mabel's art.

Several notebook pages in someone else's handwriting detailing names, addresses, and contact information, with statements Soos couldn't make sense of—as if maybe someone had been asking somebody else questions and writing down their answers. He thought the questions might be about how some people had reacted to the end of Weirdmageddon. He got the impression the people being discussed had known that Weirdmageddon was coming. He got the impression they were disappointed it hadn't happened. There were several questions at the end: How will we rendes-vouz? (Whoever was writing didn't know how to spell rendezvous, but to be fair Soos wasn't 100% sure either.) What supplies do you need? What are your interim orders?

Soos stared at the notebook papers.

He flipped back through the journal again, looking at each page more closely.

Sometimes the two-tone dot-and-dash segments had a stray human word: a few characters he recognized from his Teach Yourself Japanese workbooks, sometimes words Soos thought might be Arabic but honestly he didn't have a clue. At one point he listed half a dozen human names that Soos didn't recognize. The most common character was a stretched-out letter M (Mabel?), followed by a 6 knocked on its side (Sixer?).

The dot-and-dash segments had occasional amateurish illustrations. Sometimes they were human stick figures; sometimes the stick figures' heads had symbols off of Bill's zodiac wheel. He saw Stan's fish symbol, Gideon's star symbol, and Mabel's shooting star symbol. Ford's stick figures were the only ones with hands; Bill consistently gave them six fingers. The doodles were like particularly esoteric cave drawings; they were so bad that Soos couldn't tell what most of them were supposed to illustrate.

Except for one featuring Bill (as a triangle) and Mabel and some other inscrutable figures in a really awesome car with flames on the side, its coolness limited only by the fact that it was all in gray and yellow-green crayon. When Soos had been in high school, there had always been a couple of kids who didn't know how to draw anything except expensive cars or name-brand sports shoes, but they drew them in extreme realistic detail. Apparently, Bill was that kind of artist. Nothing but stick figures and the sickest crayon car Soos had ever seen.

It didn't do anything to dispel Soos's impression of Bill as a lost alien 18-year-old.

On one page, in sloppy lines of handwriting that meandered drunkenly up and down the paper, Bill had written, "I don't get why you won't give me a second shot. I asked you to join my gang. I serenaded you in a pyramid. I got a fantastic makeover. I offered you godhood. I showed you my dimension. I didn't torture you until I had to. I even made you a skin couch! I know how much you've always wanted a leather furniture set! I've given you everything from chicken zombification magic to jelly beans, what does it take? What am I missing?"

Soos reread Bill's other messages to Ford. All that "you'll regret not siding with me" junk wasn't threats. It was the impotent rage of a socially inept teenager who didn't understand his own creepiness had driven his friends away. It was the whiny moan of some guy going "Why doesn't she like me anymore" about an ex-girlfriend who had told him five times she didn't like him anymore because he didn't listen to her. Like that guy Wendy dated last summer. So like, a jerk, but not a terrifying world-ending monster jerk, just an annoying creep jerk. A regular jerk. A human jerk.

Soos stood, gave one last look at this journal—clearly stolen, definitely a violation of Bill's "no writing materials" restriction, completely stuffed full of mysterious messages to outsiders and some kind of weird alien code that could say anything at all and might have been super dangerous—and he slid it back into the ripped seam in the attic seat cushion where he'd found it.

He finished vacuuming up the potato chips Bill had flung across the room, thinking about how offended Bill had been that Soos had given him any food except what he'd asked for, remembering what Abuelita had said about people who destroy the things around them when they feel like that's the last and only thing they still have power over.

Enough was enough.

####

(Hope y'all enjoyed! Next week we may interrupt our regularly-scheduled programming to post a TBOB-based chapter I'm inserting early into the fic—it depends on if I get it done by next Friday. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this chapter!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #soos ramirez #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(Dec 12 edit: chapter has been renumbered)

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saeun · 8 months ago

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ꪆ୧ ── REAP WHAT YOU SOW ┊ LOVE TO LOSE ﹑ JJK. ⤿ starring: gojo satoru x fem!reader.

꒰ heart to none ﹢ if only he knew karma would come back to bite his ass a few years later. now he misses his ex while she's moved on.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: nothing much!! just moments of him suffering

co-parenting with satoru truly isn't all butterflies. as reserved and respectful as he is (to a selected few), satoru never hesitated to taunt you whenever you mentioned going on dates.

“a date? hmm, good luck with that.”

“if it happens to kick off, good for you, but i don't want him near my child.”

“how exciting! i hope it fails.”

those are just some examples of his behaviour. he's vocal about disliking you and the idea of sharing you. had he known beforehand he'd become slightly possessive, he would've avoided you and relationships altogether.

loving someone his mind hates but his heart longs for isn't an experience he'd wish upon his worst enemy — it's too much. the wretched feeling in his chest deepens whenever he's with the kid; scenarios of you being beside him at that very moment flashes before his eyes, but his pride's too high to crash whatever you're doing.

that doesn't stop him from texting, however. he never had an issue with double—triple texting you. if he had something to say (which is never anything important), he'll say it.

satoru: hey.

satoru: did you forget you have a family at home?

satoru: my child's asleep btw, we had fun all day.

you: my* child. not yours.

satoru: so what am i, an elf on babysitting duties?

you: sure if that's what you want. now stop texting my phone.

satoru: what if i'm dying?

you: i'd pop some champagne. throw something on the grill. light up a cigarette, even.

satoru: you don't even like cigarettes.

you: exactly. now bye i'll be there for six.

yeah, there's no doubt that you'll never entertain him again. he, too, wouldn't entertain himself if he was in your position. sure, he was an ass in the relationship but— you're both older and wiser. maybe you can put the differences aside and come together? a flat no is what you'd answer.

satoru doesn't even hear from you often; most of your activity reports come from your child who excitedly tells their father the details, wishing he was there.

“you guys had fun. i wish i was there too, bub.”

a sentimental tone settled in his voice. he's suffering the consequences of his actions, and he desperately needs you to help him through it.

just like old times: you'd be there for him, going along with whatever he needed to calm down. whether it's wanting to be in you or on you— as long as your arms were wrapped around him.

but it's all a memory now. a bitter one.

do you show your vulnerable side to the guys you date, too? do you hold them the way you held him? do they even know what you like? do they know you the way he knows you?

jealousy, regret, longing— everything mixes in his mind. his stomach aches. it feels as though his insides are hollow.

he adores your child. they look mostly like him, but the personality stems from you. the attitude, tantrums, even the way they hold things — it's all you. he guesses the kid's observed you and eventually picked up your habits. satoru relates; after all, he still has some of your habits he picked up.

as the clock ticks on, his fingers hover over the keyboard on his phone. somehow, he found himself in your pinned chat— debating whether he should text or not. he's been typing and deleting for the past ten minutes. unless you're not on the app, there's no way you didn't notice the ‘typing...’ under his contact name.

satoru: i've been thinking.

(message deleted)

satoru: fuck your date let's get back together.

(message deleted)

satoru: or whatever you're doing right now. let me apologize — it's been years. our baby's four now.

(message deleted)

satoru: hey.

you: what's with these deleted messages?

you: are you okay?

he wonders. is he okay? would you come over if he said no? are you going to be mad if he re-sent what the deleted messages said?

satoru: uhhh yeah. everything's fine.

satoru: i'm bored that's why.

satoru: you should totally come over.

you: no.

you: talk to you later.

satoru: please? i'm serious.

you: fine.

satoru: might as well spend the night.

(message deleted)

satoru: thanks.

(message delivered)

“well fuck...” he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. he doesn't have anything to say nor do with you. actually, he does — he has quite a few, but he wouldn't push your buttons. he'd love to, but the chances of him receiving a slap is high.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk scenarios #jjk drabbles

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mywitchyblog · 6 months ago

Text

Trauma and Reality Shifting: Neurobiological Boundaries and the Prevention of Cross-Reality Psychological Impact

Imagine having the ability to consciously shift your existence from your everyday life to an alternate reality, experiencing different scenarios and outcomes. This phenomenon, known as reality shifting, has garnered significant attention, particularly within online communities. As individuals explore the depths of shifting, a compelling question arises: Can trauma experienced in a Desired Reality (DR) follow you back to your Current Reality (CR)? Understanding the interplay between trauma and reality shifting is crucial for both mental health and the integrity of shifting practices.

Reality shifting refers to the deliberate transition of one's consciousness from their Current Reality (CR) to a Desired Reality (DR), where different experiences and circumstances unfold. Trauma, in this context, is defined as a profound neurobiological response to distressing or life-altering events, such as abuse, accidents, or natural disasters. Trauma induces significant changes in the brain and body, affecting neural circuits, hormonal balances, and overall physiological functioning. The convergence of these two concepts—reality shifting and trauma—raises important questions about the nature of psychological resilience and the boundaries between different states of existence.

The significance of exploring whether trauma can traverse realities lies in its implications for personal well-being and the ethical considerations of shifting practices. As reality shifting becomes more popular, particularly among young individuals seeking escape or personal growth, understanding the potential psychological impacts is essential. This inquiry not only addresses fears and misconceptions surrounding shifting but also empowers individuals to engage in these practices safely, ensuring that their mental health remains uncompromised across different dimensions.

This essay is structured into two main parts. Part I: "Trauma Explained – What It Is and How It Affects the Brain," which includes two subparts: "Defining Trauma" and "The Physical Impact of Trauma on the Brain." These sections lay the groundwork for understanding trauma as a tangible, physical process. Part II: "Trauma and Reality Shifting – Exploring the Boundaries," comprises two subparts: "Why DR Trauma Doesn’t Cross the 'Reality Boundary'" and "DR Memories as Context-Specific and Emotionally Detached." This section examines the relationship between trauma and reality shifting, addressing whether trauma can transcend different realities.

By dissecting the relationship between trauma and reality shifting, this essay aims to provide a comprehensive understanding of how individuals can navigate multiple realities without compromising their mental health, ultimately affirming that trauma remains tethered to its original reality.

Disclaimers (Please Read):

This essay comprises approximately 7,000 words and is likely the most extensive paper I have written on the subject of reality shifting. If you identify any information that is incorrect or outdated, please inform me so I can make the necessary revisions.

I encourage thoughtful debates and discussions. If you disagree with any points, kindly explain why, as I am eager to engage in further dialogue. However, please be aware of my boundaries: disrespectful insults and logical fallacies such as ad hominem attacks, straw man arguments, and hasty generalizations will not be tolerated. Such behavior will result in immediate removal from the discussion. As in imma block your ass.

As i know my word and opinion is in no way shape or form law or absolute truth. This is simply my perspective on the matter based on research, logical observations and personal experiences.

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

P.S : This shit took me weeks to write i hope the message came across well if not do not hesitate to ask me questions i shall answer them asap

Taglist of the people i think would be interested by the essay or that i want their opinion/commentary/feedback on it :

@sunnirayss Because i really appreciate your content and your knowledge and i saw we were mutuals and as you have said in your boundaries : "Feel free to ask me for advice or my perspectives on things. As long as you're respectful and clear with your question, I'll probably answer it."

@carlyshifts111 Because i saw your video where you if i am not mistaken (please confirm it to me thank you) you see to disgaree with the statement "i scripted that i cant bring back trauma". A statement in which through the essay i respecfully disagree.

@shiftinghoesblog Bestie your are like my shifting sis so def tagging u in everything lol.

@lizzy4president We seem to get along quite well in the sense that we share the same takes/opinions about shifting.

Part I: Trauma Explained – What It Is and How It Affects the Brain

Subpart 1: Defining Trauma

1.1 : What is trauma?

Trauma transcends the simplistic notion of personal weakness or mere inability to manage stress. It represents a deeply ingrained neurobiological and psychological response to events that fundamentally destabilize an individual's sense of safety, agency, or normalcy. These responses are not voluntary but arise from external circumstances, such as interpersonal violence, life-threatening accidents, or large-scale disasters. Far from being confined to subjective emotional disturbances, trauma triggers quantifiable changes within neural circuits, hormonal systems, and the broader autonomic nervous system. These alterations propel the body into a sustained state of hypervigilance and defensive readiness, often with lasting repercussions.

Trauma is not monolithic; its manifestations vary widely depending on context and exposure.

Acute trauma typically results from a single, overwhelming incident, such as a violent assault or a natural catastrophe.

Chronic trauma, on the other hand, emerges from enduring exposure to harmful or abusive conditions over time, such as repeated domestic violence or systemic oppression.

Complex trauma constitutes an intricate constellation of psychological wounds arising from prolonged and compounded exposure to severe adversity, often rooted in early developmental periods. Such trauma intertwines with personal history and environmental factors, creating unique and often profound impacts on individuals.

Critically, these forms of trauma are not reflections of personal fragility but are biologically embedded responses to extreme stressors that overwhelm existing coping mechanisms.

The physiological adaptations initiated by trauma include a spectrum of survival-oriented behaviors and states. These are often categorized under the "fight, flight, freeze, or fawn" responses. Each of these reflects a distinct strategy for managing perceived threats. For example:

the fight response manifests as aggression or confrontational behavior.

the flight response entails avoidance or physical withdrawal from danger.

The freeze response is characterized by immobilization and dissociation, a state in which individuals may feel emotionally numb or disconnected from their environment.

The fawn response, though less commonly discussed, involves appeasement and compliance as strategies to defuse perceived threats.

While these responses serve adaptive purposes during traumatic events, their persistence in the absence of actual danger often leads to maladaptive patterns, such as hypervigilance, intrusive memories, and disrupted emotional regulation.

The biological underpinnings of trauma are well-documented and highlight its tangible effects on brain architecture. :

The amygdala, a critical node in the brain’s fear-processing network, becomes hyperactive following trauma, resulting in heightened threat detection and exaggerated emotional responses.

Simultaneously, the hippocampus, responsible for contextualizing and integrating memories, often exhibits volume reduction, impairing the individual’s ability to distinguish between past traumatic events and present safety.

The prefrontal cortex—central to executive functions such as decision-making and emotion regulation—experiences functional suppression, further compounding difficulties in managing stress and regulating behavior.

These interconnected neural disruptions illustrate the profound ways in which trauma is encoded within the brain, far beyond the realm of conscious awareness.

Recognizing trauma as a biologically driven process demands a shift from stigmatized interpretations to a nuanced understanding of its pervasive impacts. Trauma reshapes an individual’s cognitive, emotional, and relational frameworks, influencing their interactions with the world and their perception of safety. By addressing the physical and psychological realities of trauma, scholars and practitioners can develop more precise and effective interventions, facilitating recovery and resilience.

Trauma, therefore, is not an ephemeral or subjective condition but a profound reconfiguration of the body’s and brain’s adaptive systems in response to extraordinary stress.

1.2 : Types of trauma responses

Trauma engages the body’s most primal survival mechanisms, activating automatic responses that bypass conscious thought. These responses—fight, flight, freeze, and fawn—arise from the nervous system’s attempts to protect the individual in the face of perceived danger. Understanding these patterns highlights the physiological and behavioral imprint trauma leaves long after the initiating event has ended.

The fight response manifests as heightened aggression and a readiness to confront the threat directly. Individuals may respond with anger, physical outbursts, or confrontational behavior, reflecting the body’s preparation to eliminate the perceived danger. This reaction, while adaptive in threatening situations, often persists as disproportionate irritability or hostility in non-threatening environments.

The flight response propels the individual to escape perceived danger. This can take the form of physical avoidance—such as steering clear of certain locations or social settings—or adopting behaviors that provide a sense of safety, like constant vigilance or seeking isolation. While the instinct to flee ensures survival in acute situations, its chronic activation can lead to avoidance behaviors that disrupt daily functioning.

The freeze response immobilizes the individual, akin to the well-known "deer in headlights" phenomenon. This reaction stems from the body’s attempt to evade detection by remaining still, often accompanied by feelings of numbness or dissociation. Those experiencing the freeze response may struggle to react to their surroundings or articulate their needs, creating barriers to effective communication and problem-solving.

The fawn response involves prioritizing the needs of others to de-escalate perceived threats. Individuals may engage in appeasing behaviors, suppressing their own desires or boundaries to maintain a sense of safety. While adaptive in abusive or manipulative environments, the fawn response can lead to an erosion of self-identity and a pattern of unhealthy relationships.

These survival responses, while beneficial in the context of immediate danger, frequently extend their influence into daily life, resulting in a range of secondary effects.

For instance, hypervigilance—a hallmark of trauma—leaves individuals perpetually on edge, misinterpreting benign stimuli as potential threats. This heightened state of awareness often triggers flashbacks, wherein sensory fragments of traumatic memories intrude upon the present.

Flashbacks are vivid and fragmented, involving intense visual, auditory, or emotional recollections that bypass conscious control. Similarly, dissociation—a state of detachment from one’s surroundings or self—serves as a psychological escape, yet may disrupt the individual’s ability to engage meaningfully with reality.

These trauma responses, deeply rooted in neurobiology, underscore the enduring impact of trauma on both behavior and cognition. Recognizing them as automatic, physiological processes rather than conscious choices provides a framework for addressing their effects in therapeutic contexts. By situating these responses within the context of survival, it becomes possible to approach trauma recovery with greater empathy and scientific understanding.

1.3 : Why Trauma is Often Misunderstood

Trauma remains one of the most misunderstood phenomena in mental health, primarily due to pervasive societal stigma and the oversimplification of its nature. A significant portion of the public reduces trauma to an emotional weakness or an exaggerated reaction, perpetuating harmful stereotypes. This oversimplification not only undermines the legitimacy of trauma but also marginalizes those who experience it, leaving them to contend with the dual burden of their condition and societal judgment.

The societal stigma surrounding mental health often equates trauma with personal failure or fragility, fostering an environment where individuals feel compelled to suppress their experiences. Trauma is frequently perceived as a purely emotional reaction—an individual failing rather than a neurobiological condition. This perspective ignores the tangible physiological effects of trauma, such as structural brain changes and hormonal dysregulation. Consequently, trauma survivors are often dismissed as overreacting or dramatizing their symptoms, a misconception that overlooks the profound and measurable impact trauma has on neural pathways, stress response systems, and overall functioning.

Another critical misunderstanding stems from the tendency to view trauma as an exclusively mental or psychological phenomenon. While trauma indeed affects emotional regulation and cognition, its origins are deeply rooted in the physical processes of the brain and body.

Neuroimaging studies have consistently shown that trauma induces heightened activity in the amygdala, impairs the hippocampus’s ability to process and store memories, and suppresses the prefrontal cortex’s capacity for rational thought and emotional regulation.

These biological disruptions challenge the oversimplified notion that trauma survivors can merely "move on" through willpower or emotional resilience alone.

Furthermore, the limited public discourse on trauma has reinforced reductive stereotypes. Media portrayals often depict trauma survivors as permanently damaged or excessively fragile, feeding into a culture that glorifies stoicism while pathologizing vulnerability. Educational systems and workplaces rarely prioritize comprehensive mental health literacy, allowing misconceptions about trauma to persist unchallenged. This lack of understanding perpetuates the stigmatization of trauma survivors and deters meaningful conversations about its complex nature.

Compounding this issue is the narrow definition of trauma that many hold. The general population often associates trauma exclusively with catastrophic events, such as war, natural disasters, or severe accidents. While such events can indeed cause trauma, this perspective ignores the equally profound impact of chronic stressors like emotional neglect, prolonged abuse, or systemic discrimination.

Research shows that these subtler forms of trauma can result in neurobiological changes indistinguishable from those caused by acute trauma. However, survivors of these experiences often face invalidation due to the societal expectation that trauma must be linked to a dramatic, singular event.

In conclusion, trauma is frequently misunderstood because it is perceived as an emotional failing rather than a physical condition rooted in neurobiology.

This misunderstanding is perpetuated by stigma, lack of education, and a narrow, event-centric view of trauma. Recognizing trauma as a biological response to stress, rather than a character defect, is essential for dismantling harmful stereotypes and fostering a more informed and empathetic approach to mental health.

Subpart 2: The Physical Impact of Trauma on the Brain

2.1 : Neurobiological Changes Caused by Trauma

Trauma doesn’t linger in an abstract psychological space; it rewires the brain at a structural and functional level. Among the most notable changes, trauma disrupts the amygdala, hippocampus, and prefrontal cortex, creating a cascade of dysfunctions that alter perception, memory, and behavior.

The amygdala, the brain’s alarm system, becomes hyperactive in response to trauma. This small, almond-shaped cluster of neurons flags threats—real or perceived—at hyperspeed. Under normal conditions, the amygdala activates appropriately to warn of danger. Post-trauma, however, it’s perpetually on high alert, interpreting harmless stimuli as potential threats. This hypervigilance results in exaggerated fear responses, persistent anxiety, and difficulty distinguishing between safe and unsafe situations. Such overactivation not only exhausts mental and emotional resources but also intensifies the stress cycle, trapping individuals in a state of relentless fight-or-flight reactivity.

The hippocampus, essential for memory formation and contextual processing, also bears the brunt of trauma. Research shows that trauma reduces the hippocampus’s volume, impairing its ability to differentiate past events from present experiences. Memories associated with trauma often resurface as fragmented, sensory-laden flashbacks devoid of temporal context. These fragments, unanchored to a timeline, can feel as immediate as the original event. This dysfunction contributes to a loop where individuals relive their trauma without the cognitive tools to process or resolve it.

Simultaneously, the prefrontal cortex—responsible for executive functions such as rational decision-making, emotional regulation, and impulse control—experiences diminished activity. Trauma suppresses this region, undermining its ability to override emotional reactions triggered by the amygdala. As a result, individuals may struggle with planning, managing stress, and interpreting events with clarity. The prefrontal cortex’s reduced functionality leaves emotional responses unchecked, leading to impulsivity, difficulty concentrating, and heightened vulnerability to stressors.

These neural disruptions do not operate in isolation; they occur within a dysregulated stress-response system. Trauma triggers chronic overproduction of cortisol, the body’s primary stress hormone. This hormonal imbalance exacerbates the neural damage, contributing to systemic issues such as poor sleep, mood instability, and weakened immune function. Over time, the cumulative effects of heightened cortisol levels and neural restructuring manifest in both mental health disorders, such as PTSD, and physical ailments, including cardiovascular disease.

Brain imaging studies corroborate these findings, providing visual evidence of trauma-induced changes. Functional MRI (fMRI) and PET scans consistently reveal heightened amygdala activity, reduced hippocampal volume, and diminished prefrontal cortex engagement in individuals with trauma histories. These alterations underscore the tangible, physical nature of trauma, dismantling misconceptions that trauma is “just emotional” or a matter of willpower.

In essence, trauma is a physiological phenomenon. Its effects penetrate the brain’s core systems, warping its architecture and leaving long-lasting marks on cognition, emotion, and behavior. Trauma is not an abstract adversary; it is a biological force that demands recognition and intervention.

2.2 : The Physical Impact of Trauma on the Brain

Trauma fundamentally alters the brain’s architecture, creating maladaptive neural pathways that prioritize fear and hypervigilance. This process reconfigures the brain's responses to prioritize survival, often at the expense of flexibility and emotional regulation. Neural circuits become wired to perceive everyday stimuli as potential threats, leading to persistent states of anxiety and avoidance.

Trauma memories are typically stored as fragmented sensory imprints—disconnected sights, sounds, or physical sensations—rather than coherent narratives. These fragmented memories are easily triggered, leading to flashbacks or distressing physiological reactions that are difficult to contextualize. This disorganization results from trauma’s disruption of the hippocampus, the brain region responsible for integrating sensory information into structured memories. Consequently, trauma survivors often struggle to differentiate past experiences from present reality, perpetuating cycles of fear and distress.

Maladaptive neural pathways formed during traumatic experiences reinforce survival-oriented behaviors, such as avoidance. Avoidance becomes a coping mechanism, convincing the individual that evasion equates to safety. Over time, this pattern solidifies, limiting behavioral responses and emotional resilience. The brain defaults to fear-based reactions, reducing the capacity to engage with new challenges or relationships meaningfully.

Trauma also impacts the brain’s reward systems, diminishing the capacity for pleasure or relaxation. Hyperactivation of the amygdala the brain's fear center keeps the individual in a constant state of alertness, while reduced activity in the prefrontal cortex impairs rational decision-making and emotional regulation. Chronic stress leads to an overproduction of cortisol, the primary stress hormone, further entrenching trauma-induced neural patterns. This biochemical cascade perpetuates hypervigilance and emotional exhaustion, leaving the individual trapped in a survival state.

Social functioning is similarly affected by trauma-induced changes in neural wiring. Trust and emotional connection often become compromised as the brain perceives interpersonal closeness as a risk. Survivors may experience emotional numbness, detachment, or difficulty interpreting social cues, which can lead to isolation and strained relationships. This relational disconnect exacerbates the individual’s sense of vulnerability and reinforces the trauma-driven neural patterns.

The cumulative effect of these changes underscores the enduring nature of trauma's impact on the brain. Without targeted intervention, the maladaptive wiring established during trauma persists, dictating future responses and limiting psychological growth. The brain becomes trapped in outdated survival scripts, unable to fully engage with the present or adapt to new circumstances. This reprogramming reflects not a failure of character but the brain’s natural biological response to extraordinary stress.

Trauma’s reprogramming reshapes the individual’s mental and emotional landscape, narrowing their perspective and constraining their ability to navigate life effectively. Understanding this process highlights the importance of addressing trauma at the neurological level to restore balance and adaptability in the brain’s functioning.

2.3 : The Physical Impact of Trauma on the Brain

Empirical evidence strongly supports the argument that trauma induces measurable physiological changes within the brain and body. Advances in neuroimaging technologies, hormonal studies, and biochemical analyses illustrate that trauma is not merely an emotional or psychological phenomenon—it is a tangible alteration of biological systems.

Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) and Positron Emission Tomography (PET) scans consistently reveal structural and functional changes in the brains of individuals exposed to trauma. For instance, the amygdala, the brain's primary center for fear and threat detection, shows heightened activity in trauma survivors, reflecting a state of persistent hypervigilance.

Simultaneously, the hippocampus, responsible for memory processing and contextualizing experiences, often exhibits significant shrinkage in volume. Studies suggest this reduction compromises the ability to regulate emotional responses and distinguish between past and present threats.

Furthermore, the prefrontal cortex—the region critical for executive function and emotion regulation—shows diminished activity, impairing the brain’s capacity to modulate fear responses. These observable changes underscore the biological footprint trauma leaves on neural architecture.

Trauma also disrupts endocrine function, particularly involving cortisol, a stress hormone central to the body’s fight-or-flight response. In trauma survivors, cortisol levels frequently deviate from normal patterns, manifesting as chronic hypersecretion or suppression. Elevated cortisol levels contribute to disrupted circadian rhythms, mood instability, and heightened anxiety. Prolonged exposure to abnormal cortisol levels exacerbates the brain’s structural vulnerabilities, particularly in the hippocampus, further embedding trauma’s physiological impact. This dysregulation extends beyond the brain, affecting metabolic and immune systems, illustrating the systemic nature of trauma’s influence.

Trauma’s effects extend into cellular and molecular domains, where chronic stress triggers an inflammatory cascade. Inflammation disrupts neural connectivity, impairing cognitive function and emotional regulation. At the cellular level, oxidative stress emerges as a response to trauma-induced biochemical imbalance. This process involves the accumulation of reactive oxygen species (ROS), which damage cells and tissues, including neurons. These disruptions highlight trauma’s ability to undermine homeostatic mechanisms, perpetuating long-term physiological dysfunction.

Decades of research corroborate trauma’s biological reality. Neuroimaging studies confirm trauma-related structural changes, while hormonal assays and biochemical analyses provide additional layers of evidence. These findings dismantle misconceptions that trauma is solely a psychological phenomenon or a subjective exaggeration. Instead, they reinforce the understanding that trauma imprints itself onto the body and brain in ways that are both observable and quantifiable.

Trauma’s effects do not dissipate when the distressing event ends. Neural pathways shaped by trauma continue to trigger maladaptive responses long after immediate threats subside. Hormonal imbalances persist, maintaining a state of heightened alertness that no longer aligns with current circumstances. The inflammatory processes and oxidative damage initiated by trauma further entrench these physiological patterns, creating a lasting legacy of altered functioning.

In conclusion, trauma manifests as a multifaceted physiological event, supported by robust scientific evidence. Imaging technologies, hormonal data, and biochemical markers provide incontrovertible proof of trauma’s biological foundation. These findings affirm that trauma is not an abstract emotional state but a profound disruption of the brain and body’s structure and function. Trauma, therefore, must be understood as a condition that bridges psychological and physiological domains, demanding acknowledgment of its tangible reality.

Part II: Trauma Stays Where It Belongs – Why DR Trauma Doesn’t Follow You to the CR

Subpart 1: Shifting Creates a Clean Slate Between Realities

1.1 : The separation of DR and CR experiences

The delineation between Desired Reality (DR) and Current Reality (CR) serves as a foundational concept in understanding the dynamics of reality shifting, particularly concerning the transference of trauma. Contrary to popular misconceptions, trauma experienced within a DR does not permeate into the CR. This separation is rooted in the fundamental differences in neural engagement and physiological responses between the two states of existence.

Primarily, trauma remains confined to the DR because the individual's Ordinary Reality (OR) brain does not physically experience the traumatic events occurring within the DR. During the process of shifting, the consciousness transitions, but the OR brain remains inactive and unexposed to the distressing stimuli present in the DR. As a result, the neurobiological impact of trauma—such as neural rewiring or hormonal imbalances—is localized exclusively within the DR. Upon returning to the CR, the OR brain has not undergone any alterations; it retains its pre-shifted state, free from the stress-induced changes that characterize trauma.

The notion that trauma could transcend the boundaries between realities misconstrues the biological underpinnings of traumatic experiences. Trauma is intrinsically linked to the physical state of the brain and body that directly experiences the distressing event. In the context of reality shifting, since the DR persona endures the trauma, the OR self remains unaffected. The lack of neural activation and hormonal response in the CR brain ensures that traumatic experiences do not carry over. Consequently, the OR neurons do not develop new fear-based circuits, and there is no elevation in cortisol levels, which are typically associated with stress responses.

Moreover, the concept of a "reality boundary" further solidifies the separation between DR and CR experiences. This boundary acts as a psychological and physiological barrier that prevents the transfer of trauma. When an individual shifts back to the CR, their emotional and physical baselines are automatically reset. This reset mechanism ensures that any emotional disturbances or physiological stress responses encountered in the DR do not persist in the CR. Essentially, the CR functions under its own biological rules, independent of the experiences that transpired in the DR.

Additionally, memories of events in the DR may persist; however, these recollections are context-specific and emotionally detached from the traumatic experiences. Similar to how one might remember a vivid dream without experiencing lingering emotional distress, DR memories do not evoke the same biochemical responses in the CR. The OR nervous system does not encode DR events as real threats, thus preventing the manifestation of trauma symptoms such as anxiety or hypervigilance in the CR. This detachment underscores the resilience of the CR self, which remains insulated from the psychological ramifications of DR experiences.

The separation is further emphasized by the absence of biochemical signatures that typically accompany trauma. In the CR, the heart rate remains stable, and the nervous system does not register DR experiences as immediate threats. The hippocampus, responsible for memory formation and stress regulation, remains unaffected by DR-induced stressors. Consequently, the CR self continues its existence without the burden of trauma that is confined to the DR.

In summary, the separation of DR and CR experiences is maintained through distinct neural and physiological processes that prevent the transference of trauma. The OR brain's inactivity during DR experiences ensures that trauma does not impact the CR, preserving the individual's mental and physical well-being upon their return. This clear boundary affirms that trauma remains tethered to its original reality, allowing individuals to navigate multiple realities without compromising their mental health.

1.2 : Why DR Trauma Doesn’t Cross the “Reality Boundary”

Trauma, as a profound neurobiological response to distressing or life-altering events, is inherently tied to the physical brain that experiences it. Within the framework of reality shifting, where an individual transitions from their Current Reality (CR) to a Desired Reality (DR), the concept of trauma traversing the “reality boundary” warrants rigorous examination. The premise that trauma from a DR could impact the CR is fundamentally flawed due to the distinct physiological and neurological separations between these realities.

Firstly, trauma is a condition that necessitates the direct involvement of the brain’s physical structures. When an individual experiences trauma in a DR, the neurobiological alterations—such as changes in neural circuits, hormonal imbalances, and activation of the amygdala and hippocampus—are confined to the DR’s physiological substrate. The CR brain, which remains uninvolved during the shifting process, does not undergo these changes. For instance, if an individual encounters severe stressors like torture or betrayal in a DR, the CR brain does not process these events, resulting in no corresponding activation of stress-related neural pathways or hormonal responses in the CR.

The “reality boundary” operates as an impermeable firewall that prevents the transfer of trauma from the DR to the CR. This boundary ensures that the emotional and physical baselines of the CR are maintained independently of experiences in the DR. Upon returning to the CR, the individual’s emotional and physiological states revert to their pre-shift conditions. This automatic reset is possible because the CR brain and body were never subjected to the traumatic events occurring in the DR. Consequently, the neurobiological foundations required for trauma—such as altered dopamine receptors or disrupted cortisol systems—remain unaltered in the CR.

Moreover, memories of traumatic events in the DR do not carry the same emotional or physiological weight in the CR. These memories are context-specific and lack the neurobiological engagement that is essential for trauma formation. Drawing a parallel, recalling a vivid dream does not induce the same emotional or physical reactions as experiencing the events in reality. Similarly, DR memories exist as mere recollections without the accompanying biochemical changes that underpin traumatic responses. This detachment further reinforces the impermeability of the reality boundary, as the CR brain does not associate these memories with actual neurobiological stressors.

The separation between DR and CR is also maintained through the concept of homeostasis in the CR body. Homeostasis refers to the body’s ability to maintain stable internal conditions despite external changes. When an individual shifts back to the CR, their body’s homeostatic mechanisms ensure that any temporary emotional fluctuations experienced in the DR do not disrupt their overall physiological equilibrium. This reset mechanism is crucial in preventing any lasting impact of DR experiences on the CR’s mental and physical health.

Furthermore, the absence of physical signs of trauma upon returning to the CR underscores the non-transferability of DR-induced trauma. Physical manifestations of trauma, such as changes in heart rate, cortisol levels, and neural activity, are absent in the CR because these physiological responses were never triggered in the first place. The CR body remains unaffected by the DR’s traumatic events, maintaining its original state of equilibrium.

In conclusion, the delineation between DR and CR ensures that trauma remains confined within its originating reality. The neurobiological prerequisites for trauma—direct brain involvement and physiological changes—are not met in the CR during shifts to the DR. The reality boundary effectively isolates traumatic experiences, preserving the mental and physical integrity of the CR. This separation is essential for maintaining psychological resilience and safeguarding the individual’s well-being across different states of existence. As such, trauma experienced in a DR does not traverse the reality boundary to impact the CR, affirming the distinct and independent nature of each reality within the context of reality shifting.

1.3 : DR Memories as Context-Specific and Emotionally Detached

Memories originating from a Desired Reality (DR) may persist within an individual’s consciousness; however, they inherently lack the emotional and physical weight that accompanies such recollections in the Current Reality (CR). This phenomenon can be analogized to the experience of recalling a dream—vivid in detail yet detached from the sensory and emotional intensity of the original event. Trauma, by its very nature, necessitates a comprehensive context that includes biochemical processes and physical states, elements that DR memories do not possess when recalled within the CR framework.

In the CR, individuals may vividly remember events from the DR, such as traumatic experiences, yet these memories do not engender the same profound emotional responses. This dissociation occurs because the DR’s neurobiological context, which facilitates the emotional depth of trauma, remains confined to the DR itself. Consequently, when these memories are accessed in the CR, they are experienced without the accompanying neurobiological changes that are essential for trauma to take root. The absence of factors such as altered neural circuits, hormonal imbalances, and physiological responses renders these memories inert in terms of their potential to induce trauma.

Trauma in the CR results in tangible and lasting effects that permeate an individual’s entire being, influencing neural pathways, hormonal balances, and overall physiological functioning. In contrast, DR memories function as mental snapshots devoid of the original biological context. The assumption that recollection equates to the retention of trauma fails to account for the necessity of an active neurobiological framework. Trauma requires the engagement of the nervous system, including the release of stress hormones and the activation of fear circuits, processes that are not triggered when DR memories are recalled in the CR. Without these biological responses, the memories remain harmless and do not contribute to lasting psychological distress.

The processing of dreams provides a pertinent parallel. Individuals often recall intense dream scenarios, such as falling or experiencing loss, yet these do not result in enduring trauma upon waking. Similarly, DR memories emerge in the CR as vivid yet emotionally detached recollections. Statements reflecting on DR experiences, such as “That was intense,” indicate a superficial engagement devoid of the physiological reactions necessary for trauma. The CR maintains physiological stability—heart rate remains steady, motor functions are controlled, and cortisol levels do not spike—thereby preventing the establishment of trauma.

Misconceptions frequently arise regarding the impact of intense DR events, with some individuals erroneously believing that such experiences can inflict lasting trauma in the CR. However, genuine trauma requires the persistent activation of altered neural circuits, a process absent in the CR brain when recalling DR events. DR memories resemble narratives one might encounter in literature or interactive media; they are engaging and contextually significant within the DR but do not alter the individual’s psychological state in the CR. Without the requisite biological involvement, these memories lack the capacity to trigger authentic trauma responses, functioning instead as mere informational data.

Furthermore, DR memories retain context-specific details, including sequences of events, sensory information, and narrative structures, yet they do not carry the biochemical signatures essential for trauma. Significant events within the DR, such as the death of a friend or a natural disaster, are remembered without evoking the same emotional and physiological responses as real-life traumatic experiences. The CR nervous system interprets these memories as informational rather than as sources of trauma, allowing individuals to retain memories without enduring the associated psychological scars.

In conclusion, DR memories are intrinsically context-specific and emotionally detached, encompassing detailed narratives devoid of the underlying neurobiological mechanisms required for trauma. Individuals can engage with and reflect upon their DR experiences without the risk of enduring trauma, as these memories do not activate the necessary physiological responses. This distinction underscores the importance of understanding the boundaries between different states of existence, ensuring that the exploration of alternate realities does not compromise mental health in the CR.

Subpart 2: Scripting and Personal Control Over Trauma

2.1 : Shifting Grants Individuals Control Over Transference of Experiences

The practice of reality shifting empowers individuals to regulate the nature of experiences they retain upon returning to their Current Reality (CR). Central to this control is the technique of explicit scripting, which ensures that only desired outcomes and positive insights are carried back from the Desired Reality (DR), thereby preventing any adverse emotional or physical effects from influencing the CR. For instance, an individual may affirm, “I will return with only positive lessons, leaving all emotional and physical effects behind,” thereby establishing a clear boundary between the two realities.

Traumatic experiences within the CR typically arise from uncontrollable external events, leading to involuntary neurobiological responses. In contrast, reality shifting offers a mechanism for individuals to define the parameters of their DR experiences proactively. By scripting the conditions of their shifts, individuals can ensure that negative experiences remain confined to the DR, thereby safeguarding their mental and emotional well-being in the CR. This deliberate structuring of experiences allows for the exclusion of traumatic elements, as the individual asserts control over what is permitted to affect their CR consciousness.

Scripting serves as a practical tool for maintaining the integrity of the CR by delineating the scope of what is transferred from the DR. For example, an individual might declare, “I return to the CR calm, stable, and free from emotional harm,” thereby reinforcing the separation between realities. This assertion is effective because the cognitive frameworks established during shifting operations under the individual's predefined rules.

Consequently, the DR functions as a self-contained environment (as in they exitst separatly from this reality) where experiences, including those that might be distressing, do not impose lasting effects on the CR. This approach mirrors the psychological detachment one experiences when recalling dreams—memories remain, but the emotional intensity dissipates upon awakening.

Moreover, scripting enables individuals to curate their personal narratives across realities. In the DR, one might encounter chaotic or high-stakes scenarios, such as battling adversaries or facing personal loss. However, upon returning to the CR, the individual consciously chooses to discard the emotional weight associated with these events. This selective retention of experiences ensures that only beneficial insights and strengths are integrated into the CR consciousness. For instance, an affirmation such as, “After returning, I feel only a sense of accomplishment and gain confidence, not trauma,” establishes a definitive psychological boundary that prevents traumatic residues from permeating the CR.

The efficacy of scripting lies in its ability to function as a mental filter, permitting the transfer of only those experiences that align with the individual's desired outcomes. Unlike trauma in the CR, which necessitates an involuntary engagement of the nervous system, trauma within the DR remains isolated due to the absence of direct neurobiological impact on the CR brain. By reinforcing the separation through explicit scripting, individuals ensure that their CR remains unaffected by the potentially destabilizing experiences encountered in the DR. This methodical approach to reality shifting underscores the importance of personal agency in maintaining mental health across different states of existence.

In summary, the practice of scripting within reality shifting provides individuals with a structured means to control the transference of experiences between realities. By establishing clear boundaries and intentional affirmations, individuals can ensure that only positive and empowering insights are carried back to the CR, thereby preventing the encroachment of trauma and maintaining psychological resilience. This deliberate separation not only preserves the integrity of the CR but also enhances the overall safety and efficacy of reality shifting practices.

2.2 : High-stakes DRs as cathartic but non-damaging experiences

Experiencing trauma within a Desired Reality (DR), such as battling zombies or losing allies, can be likened to emotional role-play—intense and immersive in the moment (as you are living through them when in your CR) but ultimately non-permanent. This analogy serves to elucidate the nature of trauma within the context of reality shifting, where the experiences in the DR areauthentically felt by the individual.

The premise of reality shifting posits that process of shifting is mental and not physical therefore you cannot bring physical things across realities. However, upon returning to the Current Reality (CR), the metaphors of role-playing and narrative experiences become pertinent in understanding why trauma does not transfer between realities.

Trauma is fundamentally a biological response to genuine threats that impact the nervous system, resulting in lasting neurobiological changes. In contrast, DR scenarios, despite their apparent intensity—such as engaging in life-threatening missions or enduring emotional losses—are meticulously structured within a controlled environment (as in they are scripted either in our out as per the shifters will). These experiences function similarly to engaging with a high-stakes video game or an emotionally charged narrative, where the shifter undergoes significant emotional engagement without enduring real physiological harm in the CR. The separation between DR and CR ensures that the neurobiological imprints of trauma remain confined to the DR, as the shifter's brain in the CR does not physically experience these events.

The concept of a "reality boundary" further reinforces why trauma does not traverse between realities. Trauma is intrinsically linked to the specific neural and hormonal changes within the brain that experiences the distressing event. Since the shifter's CR brain does not partake in the DR experiences, the trauma-induced alterations remain localized to the DR. Upon returning to the CR, the individual's emotional and physiological baselines are automatically reset, preventing any residual trauma from affecting their current state. This reset mechanism underscores the impermeability of the reality boundary, ensuring that the CR remains unaffected by the DR's traumatic events.

Moreover, memories of DR events may persist upon returning to the CR, but these memories are context-specific and lack the accompanying emotional or physical weight typically associated with genuine trauma. This detachment can be compared to recalling a vivid dream—while the experiences are remembered, the emotional intensity and sensory details do not impose lasting psychological effects. In the same vein, DR memories are retained as narrative elements without the neurobiological context necessary to sustain trauma. The emotional responses experienced in the DR, such as fear or sadness, are transient and do not result in long-term psychological consequences within the CR.

This delineation between DR and CR experiences provides significant reassurance for individuals engaging in reality shifting. By recognizing DR trauma as temporary and confined within a controlled narrative framework, shifters can partake in intense emotional experiences without the fear of lasting psychological harm. This understanding promotes the safe practice of reality shifting, allowing individuals to explore and engage with challenging scenarios for personal growth and emotional release without compromising their mental health. The analogy to role-playing and immersive storytelling serves to highlight the protective mechanisms inherent in the reality shifting process, ensuring that trauma remains tethered to its original reality and does not permeate the individual's current existence. This does not mean that we invalited the authenticity of the practise or that we proclaim that it is not real .

In summary, the controlled nature of DR experiences and the existence of a reality boundary effectively prevent trauma from crossing into the CR. The metaphor of emotional role-play aptly captures the essence of DR trauma, emphasizing its temporary and non-permanent nature. This framework not only demystifies the process of reality shifting but also affirms that individuals can navigate multiple realities without enduring lasting psychological damage. By maintaining the integrity of the reality boundary and understanding the contextual detachment of DR memories, shifters can engage in high-stakes DRs confidently, knowing that their CR remains unaffected by the emotional and physical challenges encountered in alternate realities.

2.3: Healing and Empowerment Through Desired Reality (DR) Scripting

Trauma inflicts profound and enduring scars when actual events compromise an individual's sense of safety, perpetuating cycles of fear and psychological distress. However, Desired Realities (DRs) present a unique opportunity to reconstruct personal narratives within a controlled environment, thereby mitigating the transference of trauma to the Current Reality (CR). By exercising authority over these experiences, individuals can ensure that trauma remains confined to the DR, facilitating the processing and release of past wounds without their adverse effects persisting in the CR. Through deliberate scripting of scenarios where one overcomes adversity, confronts fears, and emerges resilient, individuals can prevent trauma from impacting their Original Reality (OR) self.

Central to this process is the assertion, “I return better, not broken,” which serves as an affirmation that recalibrates one's approach to shifting. In this framework, the DR functions as a psychological workshop, allowing individuals to symbolically engage with and conquer challenges without sustaining real damage. By orchestrating events that foster resilience, individuals can cultivate growth and empowerment within the DR, ensuring that only positive insights and experiences are carried back to the CR. This method transforms the DR into a space for emotional training, analogous to how athletes train their muscles in a safe environment. In the DR, individuals simulate threats, assert their strength, and demonstrate their capacity to overcome obstacles. Upon returning to the CR, they retain a sense of accomplishment devoid of trauma, as the DR scenarios do not imprint fear into their OR neurons. The deliberate control over these scenarios guarantees that trauma does not biologically affect the individual.

This approach redefines the traditional trauma narrative by distinguishing between involuntary trauma in the OR and consensual, controlled trauma within the DR. In the OR, trauma can occur without an individual's consent, leading to lasting psychological harm. In contrast, the DR allows for the intentional experience of trauma-like events under the individual's terms, preventing such trauma from impacting the OR self. For those seeking to heal from past OR traumas, the DR serves as a stage to symbolically confront and overcome fears, facilitating a return to the CR with enhanced clarity and emotional stability. Affirmations such as, “In my DR, I face my old demons and leave them defeated. I return to the CR with strength and peace,” empower individuals to actively manage their internal narratives.

Moreover, this methodology enables the reshaping of internal experiences, rendering trauma less insurmountable by addressing and overcoming challenges within the DR. Witnessing oneself prevail in the DR not only demonstrates personal strength but also provides emotional tools that enhance well-being in the CR. The OR system recognizes that no actual trauma has occurred, as the engagement within the DR functions as a form of immersive therapy. Consequently, individuals return to the CR uplifted rather than harmed, utilizing the DR as a space for growth and healing.

Critics who fear the transference of trauma from the DR to the CR overlook the empowering potential inherent in DR scripting. They may perceive trauma as an inevitable consequence of intense experiences, failing to recognize that within the DR, individuals retain complete control. Since trauma necessitates a physical substrate—which the DR does not provide to the CR—thoughtful scripting ensures that trauma remains isolated within the DR. Instead of bearing scars, individuals retain only the lessons and strengths derived from overcoming challenges in a safe and controlled environment. This strategic approach to scripting facilitates healing and empowerment, maintaining the integrity of the CR by ensuring that trauma remains firmly anchored within the DR.

In conclusion, DR scripting offers a sophisticated mechanism for individuals to engage with and overcome trauma in a manner that preserves their mental health in the CR. By leveraging the controlled environment of the DR to rewrite traumatic narratives, individuals can achieve personal growth and resilience without the detrimental effects of trauma permeating their everyday reality. This paradigm not only enhances the safety and efficacy of reality shifting practices but also underscores the critical interplay between psychological resilience and the boundaries of alternate states of existence.

Conclusion :

In the discourse surrounding trauma and shifting realities, it's crucial to acknowledge trauma as a profound physical phenomenon that rewires the brain and body under stress. When trauma occurs, it triggers significant changes in neural circuits and hormonal responses, but these alterations remain confined to the specific reality where the trauma happens.

Shifting between the Current Reality (CR) and Desired Reality (DR) is a genuine process that maintains the integrity of each reality by ensuring no physical overlap. Trauma experienced in the DR does not affect the CR, as the nervous system in the CR remains unaffected by events in the DR. This biological separation means that trauma cannot traverse between realities.

Empowerment through control in shifting allows individuals to script their experiences in the DR, confining any negative elements to that reality and preserving the stability of the CR. By managing the narrative within the DR, individuals prevent trauma from impacting their CR, maintaining peace and well-being.

Ultimately, recognizing the distinct and non-overlapping nature of CR and DR ensures that trauma remains confined to its originating reality. Through intentional scripting and clear boundaries, individuals can use shifting as a tool for personal growth and healing while safeguarding their current reality from unintended emotional or physical repercussions.

IF YOU ARE LIKE TL:DR (TOO LONG DIDNT READ) HERE IS A VERY WATERED DOWN VERSION OF EVERYTHING I SAID :

Since it is impossible to bring physical stuff across realties and that trauma is something physical, therefore no, you cannot bring trauma to your CR.

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bandgie · 1 year ago

Note

I had an idea but idk if you'd be comfortable with it so feel free to ignore it

I thought of minho and hyunjin for it. minho knowing hyunjin has a crush on someone. minho knows her but hyunjin doesn't. to tease him, minho takes the girl out on a friendly date and takes pics to show hyunjin. he gets jealous but that pushes him to talk to the girl and after meeting up a few times, they fuck. as revenge, hyunjin takes a picture or video or whatever to send to minho

I like loser to cocky hyunjin 😶

2k words

warnings! MDNI 18+, blowjob, throat fucking (light), cum swallowing, recording during oral

"Hyung, can you not send me things like that?"

"Like what?" But Minho already knows. He has a sly grin that makes his top two teeth slightly poke out. The smile only widens when Hyunjin groans, digging his phone from his pocket and unlocking it.

It only takes a few clicks before Hyunjin shows Minho the message. A sent picture of you holding up ice cream, smiling, and throwing up a peace sign.

"Ohhh," Minho pretends to finally understand. "Did you know she loves strawberry ice cream?"

"Minho!" Hyunjin jumps at the sound of his voice. "You know how I feel. It doesn't make me feel any better." He shoves his phone back into his pocket, folding his arms. "You're being a mean hyung to me."

"Mean? It's not my fault you're not doing anything. I'm just trying to give you a little encouragement." And although that's somewhat true, Minho can't lie that he finds joy in Hyunjin's scowl.

Hyunjin shakes his head. "Well, stop it. It's not working."

But Minho doesn't. Every few days, Hyunjin gets an image of you with Minho. It ranges from going out for lunch to volunteering at animal shelters. Minho is in the same major as you and Hyunjin only came across you once. That's all it took for him to develop an innocent crush; one that Minho is seemingly keen on ruining.

Message after message, days upon days that leave Hyunjin feeling a mix of emotions. He's at the university library, staring at his phone and debating on blocking Minho's number until a glimpse of your figure catches his attention.

It shouldn't be a surprise to see you, you all go to the same college, but it's rare for Hyunjin to come across anyone he knows due to his schedule. For a minute, he just watches. He observes the way you survey the room to look for a spot, and steps slowly to get a good look. He watches as your eyes lock with his, smiling and giving a small wave. You quicken your steps in his direction-

Holy shit. Are you going to sit next to him? Hyunjin hurriedly collects his scattered papers to make some room, not bothering to lock his phone that he hastily sets on the table. Your steps get closer, his heart beats faster. He's managed to make a small, messy pile when you stop just a few inches shy away from him.

"It's Hyunjin, right?" Gosh, even the way you say his name makes his stomach dip.

Hyunjin nods, eyes shifting from his paper to your face. "Yeah."

"Okay good!" You happily set your backpack on the table and choose the seat right next to him. "I wasn't sure. I just seen you and thought you looked familiar. You're Minho's friend, no?"

This is the closest Hyunjin's ever been with you. He can smell your perfume, the lip balm that makes your mouth shine, and your cheery expression as you speak. How is Minho even friends with someone so happy?

Probably to make Hyunjin's life difficult. But there isn't an opportunity to answer as Hyunjin's phone goes off. Still unlocked, both of you stare at the message.

From: Asshole [image sent] got to try out the new cafe with your favorite person the other day lol

Hyunjin reaches for the phone, but the damage is already done. You're quicker than him, snatching it off the table and scrolling further into the messages. Some casual conversations, lots of cussing, but mostly you. Just photos of you with captions ranging from what you did with Minho to Hyunjin asking- no begging - for Minho to stop.

"What the hell?" You mumble to yourself just as Hyunjin successfully pries his phone from your grasp. He's sweating, you notice. Chest expanding rapidly and hands shaking. "Why is Minho sending pictures of me to you like that?"

He just shakes his head, unable to answer from embarrassment or shock, you're not sure. His dark hair sweeps over his face and he hurriedly packs his things. "I need to go." His voice is just as shaky as his hands.

You grab a hold of his bag, preventing him from leaving. "You're not going anywhere." You yank on the material and he whines. "Hyunjin." He whines again at the sound of his name, but he remains standing and pulling against your grasp.

"Hyunjin. Sit. Down."

His legs turn to jelly, a final whimper escaping his throat as he plops back in his seat. You let a sigh, rubbing your temples in a way that makes Hyunjin gulp.

"Sorry, I...I didn't mean to say it like that." You take a deep breath. "I just don't understand why Min is sending you pictures of me. It comes off a little...weird. You know?"

Weird? Oh, he's so fucked. You're keeping a neutral expression, but Hyunjin isn't sure how much longer that'll last. If he tells you the truth, you might be disgusted. You both hardly know each other, how can he harbor even just some feelings for you? This is Minho's fault. It's only fair that he gets the full blame.

"Yeah, no I get it," Hyunjin nods. "He just..." Fuck, what is he supposed to say?

You give him a few seconds before you prompt him again, "He just what?" You're being so patient. So understanding that you're still here letting Hyunjin save his ass. You should have called him a perv by now, slapping him across the face. But you didn't.

"He's just a dick." Fuck it. "I've already asked him to stop, but he just likes to torture me." You raise a curious eyebrow, but Hyunjin continues. "It was one time. I said that I think you're pretty just one time and he makes it his fucking mission to make sure he sees how much fun he's having with you."

That's not what you were expecting, but Hyunjin is far from done. "I would love to get to know you, to talk to you, but I'm such a pussy. That dick rubs it in my face how often you two hang out. Like, that's cool and all, but I want to rip my hair out." Hyunjin gets more confident as he talks, most likely getting riled up from talking about Minho, but you hardly mind.

"So, yes, it's weird. I know. But it's not my fault!" Hyunjin quickly scans the near-empty library at the raising of his voice. "Minho just keeps sending me you 'cuz he likes to tease me. That's all."

He stares at you and you stare back. A few seconds pass with quiet blinking before you realize you should say something.

"Oh."

Hyunjin groans, burying his beautiful face in his hands. You stare at his ashamed state, both pathetic and endearing. Truly, this isn't a big deal, but his dramatic reactions bring a small smile amidst the anxious atmosphere.

"So you think I'm pretty?" Hyunjin lets out a scoff, shaking his head at your question. "Is that really all you got from that?"

You shrug, but the smile on your lips still lingers. "Maybe. But that does sound annoying. I'm sure you get tired of looking at my pretty face all the time." Hyunjin laughs, finally picking his head up to look at you. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes like moon crescents. He gleams in the artificial lighting and it casts beautiful shadows on his features.

"Have you ever thought about getting back at Minho?"

Hyunjin stops his cheery laughter, eyes growing curious. He pinches his eyebrows together in thought, "I mean, does blocking count? Cuz if so, then yes."

You shake your head, lower lip caught between your teeth as a mischievous thought comes to mind. "I was thinking something a little more."

It's hard for Hyunjin to angle the camera at you. His hands keep shaking, the phone threatening to fall from his grasp right on your face. You're looking up at the lens from your knees, mouth full of cock. Your knees slightly ache from the bathroom tile floor, but you pay no mind. The main center of focus is quietly gagging on Hyunjin's length. That women's bathroom may be empty, but the sound of wet pops and smack echoes in the room rather embarrassingly.

With a hard suck, you pull away from his cock. Hyunjin lets out a whine, hips shaking as you replace your mouth with your hand.

"Are you getting my good angles?" You can't help but tease with swollen lips. Even in a messy state, he nods. You can't see his face, but you can see the black, tangled hair that moves.

"Pretty," he chokes out as you pump him. " So so so pretty."

You flash your teeth at the camera, "Aw! Thanks. Do you think Minho will think so too?"

"Ye- Mmf!" He cuts himself off by pinching his lips. You've wrapped your lips around his girth again, sucking the tip while you stroke his shaft. He whines and whines, unable to stay quiet while staring at you through the phone.

The video is wobbly but if he slows the footage down, he might be able to screenshot a few good frames. There's just something surreal about indirectly looking at your mouth take him inch by inch. It's like you're his personal pornstar, though he's keen on making sure little no one gets to see how good you look.

You relax the back of your throat, slowly pushing him deeper until his pubes barely tickle your nose. A soft gag comes from you, but you're determined on deep-throating him at least once. Hyunjin uses his free hand to brush a few strands from your face, coaxing you. You hum in appreciation and fit the last few bits.

Hyunjin's tip presses deep against the deepest part of you, pulsing from your tight throat. You can tell he's trying not to move, to fuck into your hot mouth to not overstimulate you.

But he wants to. He can taste the orgasm on his tongue. So close, so warm, but you look so good with wide eyes. Tears brimming your lashes as you hollow your cheeks.

Hyunjin moans, a long, drawled-out sound that makes him throw his head back. "Fuck. You're gonna make me cum."

It's too difficult to speak, so you gently rock against his hips instead. As much as you would love for Hyunjin to bruise your mouth, this isn't the time. Right now, putting on a good show for the camera is your priority. To make sure you suck dick so good that Minho never bothers Hyunjin again with pictures.

His tip repeatedly hits the back of your throat, a little salty from the oozing precum. With one of your hands, you massage his balls. Hyunjin mewls at the sensation, toes curling in his shoes. His breath turns jagged, and now he can't help himself. His gentle hand turns rough as he reaches the back of your head. He makes a tight fist with your hair and drives his cock deep.

You gag, the tears finally falling from the relentless pace Hyunjin's set. He's already so close, you might as well let him use you.

"Look into the camera." Hyunjin's voice is rasp. While you were trying not to choke, your eyes were unfocused. Now you're trying desperately to look into the phone, mostly likely going cross-eyed from the force his his thrusts.

His cock twitches in your mouth and you brace for the spurts of cum. Even as your prepare, you can't help the gurgled squeak you make on Hyunjin's cock at the salty release. He shoots his hot load down your throat, and all you can taste and feel is cum. Your hand tightens around his sack and they tense in your hold.

He's moaning, panting like a dog behind the phone. Hyunjin gives a few more sloppy thrusts before pulling out, cum dribbling from the corner of your mouth.

You groan as your throat empties, using your tongue to wipe the semen as Hyunjin's cock slowly goes down. Once the cum has collected, you flatten your tongue to give a good look to the camera before tucking your tongue in your mouth, swallowing.

"And, scene!"

note! I am in a but of a rut, but hopefully this'll help me get back on game!

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz hard hours #skz hyunjin #skz #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin hwang #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #skzsmut

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730architect · 7 months ago

Text

picture your face - L4B (1.2)

part 1

part 2 yay!! i started writing parts of this all the way back in february and finally got around to fixing it up into a completed work. This takes place the night of the october 11, 2024 episode of smackdown for context :) this will be the final part of picture your face but i will def write more l4b because i miss them dearly </3 enjoy my sweets

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wc: 7.8k

tags: 18+ MDNI!! liv4brutality, hatred, conflicted feelings, past liv morgan/rhea ripley, angst, cunnilingus, face sitting, light dom/sub, strap-on sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, nipple play, it's sweet at the end, lmk if i forgot anything

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It had been exactly one week since Rhea had been laid out on her hotel bed, scrolling on her phone mindlessly when she got a notification alerting her that “yaonlylivvonce and 82,385 others liked your photo.” Rhea blinked hard, rubbing any sleep from her eyes that had collected from the long day she’d had. She couldn’t register what she was feeling. Disbelief would be an understatement, but so would confusion. Was this another one of Liv’s pranks that she had pulled with the encouragement of the rest of the Judgment Day?

Well.. if she wants to play games, let's play. Rhea thought to herself as she opened up her contacts. She scrolled until she found the one she was looking for and pressed “message”. Rhea pondered her options. What should she send? Eventually she decided on something simple. A smirk formed on her face as she finished typing out her message.

“I guess you really were watching me.” Perfect.

Rhea hits send and turns her phone off for the night, images of another plan brewing in the back of her mind before her body finally allows sleep to overtake it.

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Rhea stormed from the ring back to the backstage area after finally getting her hands on Liv and her pathetic posse of sorts with several referees following after her, ensuring that she would leave the premise. Fading fan chants and the enraged yells from the referees fell on deaf ears as she navigated the maze that was the Bon Secours Wellness Arena to where she had hastily parked her rental car. Her body was hot from the adrenaline but her attack wasn't enough to satisfy her ever-increasing lust for revenge. She wasn’t sure what she wanted more, her title or to make Liv suffer under her hand.

Rhea knew better than anyone that the odds were stacked against her, especially now that Raquel has aligned herself with the one woman she hates the most in this lifetime. She needed to think smarter. All this hostility and aggressiveness hadn’t done her much good and her patience was running thin. She may have Liv beaten physically, but psychologically? That was a whole different playing field.

She ponders her options to herself as she makes her way to the parking lot after narrowly escaping a scolding from Nick Aldis for her invasion of his show. She gets into her rental car and lays her head back onto the headrest, drumming her fingers on her thigh while taking a couple deep breaths to calm down before she drives back to her hotel.

She eventually buckles up and goes to put the car into drive but stops abruptly when she sees the top of a familiar blonde head hurrying from between the cars in the parking lot just a few rows in front of her, followed by two taller brunettes.

Rhea watches as Liv and Dominik are ushered into a large black SUV by the latest addition to their group, Raquel, who has been serving as a bodyguard and now apparently a chauffeur of sorts to Liv since her interference during Rhea’s match at Bad Blood. Rhea’s heart rate increases, blood rushing in her ears. She can feel herself growing more belligerent at their fright.

She observes as Raquel climbs into the driver's seat and reverses out of the parking spot. Rhea ducks her head a bit in an effort to remain hidden from them as she debates on whether or not she should follow them to wherever it is they’re staying, thankful for the tint on her windows. She debates for a solid 15 seconds until finally putting her car in drive and peeling out behind them, making sure to keep a healthy distance in order to not blow her cover.

Rhea discreetly followed the trio all the way back to their hotel and watches as they give up their car to the valet service as quickly as they can before they rush inside. She decides to call it a night, not in any mood to hunt them down all the way to their hotel rooms, at least not at the moment. She circles back and merges back onto the highway leading to her hotel, mind still racing. She spends the rest of the drive lost in her thoughts, in a trance over all the ways she can make Liv pay for all she’s put her through over the past 7 months.

Rhea wanted her to suffer. She wanted to make Liv feel the same hurt and betrayal she felt while she was sitting at home, icing her shoulder for hours on end until her skin was blue and numb to the touch. The thought of Liv on her knees, begging for mercy as she looks up at her, blue eyes glassy with tears and terror has Rhea shifting in her seat; searching for at least a little bit of friction to relieve the familiar ache she felt in her gut whenever she thought about her. Rhea pulls up to the front of her hotel sloppily, tossing the keys to the attendant hurriedly before rushing inside.

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Rhea makes it to her hotel suite, deadbolting the door behind her before making a beeline for the bathroom. She tears her clothes off of her body hastily and jumps into the shower, letting the cold water run through her hair and down her back as she takes some much needed deep breaths. Rhea runs her tattooed fingers through her hair, trying to focus on the chill of the water on her skin, or anything else really. Anything to get her mind off of the women’s world champion. But despite being doused in cold water, it does nothing to cool the heat building in her core that she's been fighting since she left the arena.

She runs her right hand down her body, her left still running through her dark hair. Tattooed fingers dancing lightly over flushed skin, feeling the groves of the goosebumps that formed beneath them. Her fingers make their way to her breast as she thumbs over her nipple piercing, feeling the sensation shoot straight to her aching cunt. Low whimpers spill from her lips as she lightly pinches and twists at the piercing, the sensation making her delirious.

Rhea allows her head to fall back against the glass walls of the shower while her fingers trickle down her figure, allowing them to ghost over her most sensitive parts. Visions of Liv dance behind her eyelids as she slips a finger inside of herself, moaning quietly at the intrusion. Rhea shifts her hips forward slightly, jaw going slack at the feeling of her fingers curling up inside of her due to the adjustment.

Rhea cries out Liv’s name. She imagines Liv seeing her like this, getting off at the mere thought of her. How she would drop to her knees just before Rhea could reach her climax to finish her off. Rhea lets out one last pathetic whimper as she gushes around her fingers, heart hammering in her chest while she rides out her orgasm. This wouldn’t be the first time she’s pictured Liv while touching herself and she was positive it wouldn’t be the last. Rhea finally pulls her spent fingers out of her cunt and brings them up to her lips, sucking them clean. She sighs contentedly around them as she sinks back against the glass propping her up.

Once her heart rate had returned to normal, Rhea reached for the soap and finally began to wash her body, getting lost in the scent of tea tree and steam. She washes her hair and turns the shower off when she finishes, stepping out and grabbing a towel to dry herself off with. She hums to herself as she dries off and pumps lotion into her hands to massage into her skin.

She had changed into sweatpants and an old band tee she wore religiously back in Australia. The fabric was soft and worn from years of use and had a bleach stain on the collar. Rhea was drying her hair with the complementary hair dryer the hotel provided when she heard a pounding on the door. She turned off the hair dryer and unplugged it, storing it away before going to answer the door. She assumed that it was just housekeeping making their rounds and asking if she wanted any clean towels.

Rhea turned on a lamp to provide some more lighting before swinging the door open. She hadn’t checked through the peephole of who it might be, face going blank when she sees a blonde at her door. It was Liv.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rhea demands, glancing around in case Dominik or Raquel had been hiding around somewhere ready to attack.

Liv rolled her eyes at the hostility. She knew Rhea would be borderline impossible to talk to, she had spent at least half of their former partnership trying to get her to just make small talk with her until they had finally warmed up to each other. A whole lot of good that did her. “I’m just here to talk.” Liv replies calmly.

“‘Talk’ my ass. Do you think I’m stupid?” Rhea scoffs, still wary of a potential attack. “Why are you here? How did you even find where I was staying?”

“I asked around. Not like it was all that hard. Now are you gonna invite me in so we can talk or are you going to force me to stand out here like an idiot?” Liv retorts.

Rhea narrows her eyes at her. “How do I know that this isn’t an ambush?”

“Rhea, if I wanted to attack you I would’ve done it already. Now suck it up and let me in.” Liv snaps, fed up with their banter.

Rhea takes one final look around and sighs, stepping aside and granting Liv entry into her hotel. “Don’t mind the mess, I just finished showering.” Rhea comments, suddenly confused as to why she was asking her rival to disregard her mess. This was her hotel, she could do whatever she wanted. And she definitely didn’t owe Liv of all people an explanation.

Liv disregards her statement, looking around and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, facing Rhea. She’s dressed in a sweatshirt, shorts, and tennis shoes. All neutral colors. It seems that joining the Judgment Day had stripped her of her usual fun and flirty color palette. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back and her tortoise Prada frames were perched on the bridge of her nose. She watches as Rhea shuts the door behind her, locking them both inside.

The silence is deafening. It’s been over 2 years since they’ve been in the same room as one another without ripping each other’s throats out. Rhea stands in front of Liv, looking down at her with her arms crossed over her chest, making her muscular 5’10 frame look even larger. Liv swallowed hard as she looked up at her, trying to look as unfazed as possible.

It had been one week since Rhea had posted that photo on Instagram that had her in complete shambles. Liv had spent the past seven days trying to forget it even happened, so much so that she had even deleted Rhea’s unopened text message from her phone. And she had to admit, she was doing a pretty damn good job at distracting herself. That was, until today. After Rhea’s attack, Liv found herself consumed by her yet again, this time even more. The fact that Rhea was willing to do everything in her power to find a way to get her hands on her, even if it meant crossing over to another brand for a night, it all just made Liv so lightheaded. Well, that along with the repeated blows to the head she had taken in the ring.

“So… what was so important that you needed to come to my hotel to talk to me?” Rhea questions, her glare never wavering.

Liv looks down at her sleeve and picks at a loose thread in the fabric. “I wanted to talk to you about…” her words trail off. Rhea cocks an eyebrow at her, impatient. Liv peeks up at her through her glasses and sees her visible irritation before taking a deep breath and blurting out, “I wanted to talk to you about what happened last week.” She says the sentence so fast it almost sounds like one long word.

Rhea’s face doesn’t change at the admission, remaining frozen in permanent annoyance. “What about last week?” she asks despite knowing exactly what Liv is referring to. She wanted to hear whatever pathetic explanation she had to offer up.

“Listen, what happened was a complete accident. I didn’t mean to press any wrong buttons or anything, in fact that would be the last thing I would want to do.” Liv explains, eventually looking up at Rhea as she twists her hands. She seems genuinely agonized over the whole situation which Rhea finds hilarious considering it wasn’t even that big of a deal anyways. Maybe Rhea had finally knocked some sense into her during her attack earlier that day.

“Yeah, I figured it wasn’t on purpose. I posted that caption in order to get a reaction out of you, which I knew I would and I did. So why come all the way over here to plead your case? Was it the beating I gave you earlier?” Rhea chuckles, honestly humored by the circumstances.

Liv huffs in annoyance. “No, it was not the beating. Fuck you for that, by the way. It was the text you sent afterwards.” she admits.

Rhea nods in understanding, uncrossing her arms and sticking her hands in her pockets. “So you came all this way because I confronted you? That’s a new one.” she replies. “I still don’t understand why you’re here though. You could’ve just responded to my message. Hell, you could’ve even attacked me on RAW. So, why here? Why now?” Rhea presses, determined to get an answer.

Liv seems at a bit of a loss for words. She didn’t imagine their conversation lasting this long while still somehow remaining civil. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought it would be better to talk in person about it.” she shrugs lamely.

Rhea lets out a harsh laugh. “Talk? All of a sudden you’re focused on talking after over 2 years of hating each other? I knew you were dumb but not this dumb, Liv.” she smiles, canines flashing. She shakes her head in amusement. “Why even stalk me on social media? We beat the shit of each other every single week.”

“Since when do you regulate what I can and can’t do on my phone? Your account is public, people are going to check it. If you don't want that, maybe consider hitting the private button.” Liv snaps, her usual sharp attitude returning.

“Oh, Liv, obviously people are going to look at my account. I just didn’t expect someone who had successfully taken quite literally everything away from me to be so obsessive.” Rhea replies, leaning down so she and Liv are eye to eye.

Liv pushes herself off of the bed, standing before Rhea in defiance. “I think that’s really fucking rich coming from you, Rhea. Especially considering you haven’t left me or my family alone for months. But sure, I’m the one who’s obsessed.” She challenges.

“Here you go with this ‘family’ bullshit again. You know just as well as I do that they’ll never really be your family. You’ll come to learn just as I have that they’re all a bunch of conniving, selfish lowlifes who don’t care about anyone but themselves-” Rhea begins to taunt her but is cut off by a hard shove to the chest that pushes her back a mere couple of inches. Liv is nowhere near as strong as her but Rhea appreciated the effort regardless. The woman had guts, that was for sure.

“Don’t talk about them.” Liv hisses. “You’re just jealous that they love me and not you.”

“And what have they done for you? Besides occasionally hold your hand up after a victory? That’s not love, Liv.” Rhea argues.

“Oh, but you know what is? You have pushed away and betrayed every single person who has ever loved you and you can’t even bring yourself to own up to it.” she retorts.

“Very few people have loved me, Liv.” Rhea dismisses, not allowing the harsh honesty to penetrate her heart.

“I did.” Liv professes, her eyes overtaken by sorrow and hatred after her confession. “I loved you more than anyone else in this business and what did you do? You ruined my fucking life in front of the whole world. So excuse me for wanting to rub my victories in your face.” Liv laughs harshly, despite finding nothing funny about the circumstances. She had spent so long convincing herself that she had moved on from what Rhea had done to her that she couldn’t realize that with each passing day she cared more than she ever did.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was for me? Sitting at home, barely able to move my arm at all, being forced to watch you and Dominik every single week?” Tears brim Liv’s eyes, a sight that makes Rhea’s heart ache horribly. “Did I really mean that little to you?” she whispers, unable to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.

The sight in front of her makes Rhea’s chest hurt. She had always imagined having Liv a crying mess at her feet but not like this. “Please don’t cry.” she says while reaching out to brush away the fallen tear but is stopped by Liv’s hand pushing hers away.

“Don’t touch me. You don't get to comfort me after what you’ve put me through.” Liv asserts softly, wiping away the tears herself.

Rhea nods in defeat. She may not like Liv but she understands where she fucked up, regardless of not being able to admit it. God, why couldn’t she just fucking apologize? Maybe it really was too late.

“If it hurt you so bad to see me with him, why even choose Dominik?” Rhea asked quietly.

Liv smiles softly before answering. “Because I wanted to hurt you, why else? Hurting you will always give me a satisfaction that no championship ever could. Yours was just a bonus.” she winks.

“You sure you’re still not obsessed?” Rhea cocks her head to the side, looking at Liv with a smirk.

Liv leans in even closer. “So what if I am?” she questions defiantly.

Rhea decided that she’d heard more than enough. Throwing caution to the wind, she snaked her hands behind Liv’s head and entangled them into her hair before swallowing her words into a heavenly kiss. Her movements caught Liv so off guard but she managed to move perfectly with her, melting into her touch. Liv couldn’t ignore how fucking good Rhea felt against her mouth. With Rhea’s hand behind Liv’s head, she tilted her face up so she could deepen the kiss. Liv kissed her back with the same feverish passion, gently coaxing Rhea’s mouth open with her tongue, further intensifying the kiss. Rhea groaned against Liv’s mouth, feeling the other woman’s plush lips smile against hers at the sound.

Liv felt an unmistakable heat flicker between her legs as Rhea’s large, calloused hands explored her lithe body. She let out a blissful sigh into Rhea’s mouth, which only increased her frantic desire even more. Rhea redirected her lips to Liv’s neck, kissing and sucking like there was no tomorrow. Liv knew that there would be marks left in the morning but she couldn’t care less, not when she had finally gotten what she had been craving for years on end.

Rhea clumsily guided them back a few feet to the bed, refusing to part lips with Liv even after they almost tripped over each other. Rhea gently eased Liv down onto the bed, her mouth never leaving her neck. Liv’s hands had found their way under the hem of Rhea’s t-shirt and softly scratched her perfectly manicured fingers against Rhea’s muscled figure, enticing a soft groan from her.

“Fuck, Liv…” Rhea whispered, her breath hot on Liv’s skin.

Liv let out a soft giggle and tugged at Rhea’s top, a silent plea for her to take it off. Rhea paused her movements for a moment and complied, pulling the fabric up and over her body agonizingly slowly. Liv sat up on her elbows, making out the soft imprints of Rhea’s nipple piercings through the fabric of her bra.

Liv found herself rendered speechless, staring up at the mountain of a woman standing in front of her. Her eyes followed the lines of black ink that were embedded onto Rhea’s torso, imagining how they would taste on her tongue. Her breath quickens as watches Rhea run her tattooed fingers over the material of her bra strap before hooking onto them and pulling them off of her shoulder. Rhea tugs at her bra with one hand while the other unhooks the clasps behind her back. Rhea allows it to fall off of her figure, exposing the top half of her body to Liv like she once did in the locker room all those years ago. A moment Liv finds herself replaying in her head more often than she’d like to admit.

“Holy shit.” Liv whispers, feeling almost lightheaded at the situation she had found herself in. She feels her face heat as Rhea chuckles at her reaction.

“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna get to work?” Rhea teases, hands reaching up to palm at her tits, thumbs grazing over her piercings. Rhea hisses softly at the sensation and rolls her head back.

Liv’s mouth immediately waters at the sight before her. She takes Rhea’s words as a challenge, pushing herself off of the bed and standing before her once again. She takes off her glasses and places them on the bedside table before kissing her lips softly once more as her hands find themselves gripping the flesh of her breasts. She feels the cool barbells of her piercings under her fingertips. Rhea’s breath caught in her throat at the the sensation of Liv’s hands roaming her body, her own hands gripping the blonde’s hips tightly. Her breathing grows ragged as she watches Liv trail her lips from her lips to her collarbone to finally her sternum and the flesh surrounding it.

Rhea watches wide-eyed as Liv’s tongue laves at her breast, her fingers toying with the other in order to stimulate her as much as possible. She fights as hard as she can from allowing any noise to escape her throat, knowing that it would do nothing but inflate Liv’s ego even more but she can’t help the mewl that slips past her lips. Liv glances up at her, releasing her now swollen nipple with a pop. Her mouth forms into a satisfied smirk, kissing where her mouth just was before before asking a satisfied “you like that?”

Rhea rolls her eyes, that same familiar annoyance she usually felt around Liv sinking back in. “Shut the fuck up and put your mouth back on me.” she says irritatedly.

Liv cocks her eyebrow at her, the mischievous glint never leaving her eye. “I think you could ask a little nicer, don't you? Especially after all you’ve put me through?” Liv taunts with a pout, her fingers tracing hearts on Rhea’s skin.

Rhea huffs before letting out an exasperated “please.” She lets out a groan when Liv shakes her head stubbornly, not impressed by her lack of enthusiasm.

“Please what?” Liv doubles down on her stubbornness.

Rhea eventually swallows her pride, which she almost chokes on before finally pleading with the blonde.

“Fine, fuck, please just touch me.” Rhea borderline begs, looking down at Liv through her eyelashes with an anguished look painted across her sharp features.

A dangerous smile appears on Liv’s face at the sound of Rhea’s desperation. “Much better.” she hums in approval. She palms at Rhea’s breasts a bit more, feeling her skin heat beneath her hands before sliding them down her body. “This what you wanted?” Liv asked, unable to conceal her wicked smile.

Dominance was not something Rhea was willing to give up easily and she knew that. Liv didn’t know how long she had until Rhea could regain her composure and slip back into that commanding persona she never seemed to step down from, so she knew had to make the most of the time she had. Rhea nods hopelessly. She was usually such a giver but she wanted nothing more but to be taken care of at the moment. She was positive she would return the favor later on but right now, she craved the opportunity to forfeit her ability to think for the time being.

Liv gently lays Rhea down onto the bed, her raven hair fanning out around her head. Liv’s nimble fingers make their way to the waistband of Rhea’s sweatpants, fumbling with the waistband for a moment until she successfully unties it. Rhea lifts her hips off of the mattress so Liv can pull her pants out from under her and down her legs as she inhales the scent of the cashmere lotion Rhea had massaged into her skin earlier. Liv runs her hands up and down Rhea’s thighs, each caress creeping closer and closer to the waistband of her gray boxers. Liv allows her fingers to creep between Rhea’s legs and run along the small wet spot that had formed there.

Rhea whimpers and shifts at the contact, causing Liv to tut at her, feigning disapproval at her squirming. Liv hooks her fingers into Rhea’s waistband and pulls them down and off of her figure, exposing her dripping cunt to the soft light of the room. Rhea’s clit peeked through her swollen folds coated in her arousal along with the piercing that adorned it. Liv grows hungry at the sight, heat beginning to pool below her hips as well. However something catches her eye.

Liv squints in the dim lighting, her eyes taking a moment to focus since she didn’t have her glasses on anymore. She is able to make out a tattoo, no smaller than half of her thumb. The black ink had been manipulated in the shape of an eye with three dots below it. Her logo. Memories from years ago flood her brain like a tsunami. When she and Rhea had gotten so stupidly drunk together after a show that they had somehow stumbled into a shitty tattoo parlor and demanded matching tattoos. They decided on each other's logos on their bikini lines. They were so drunk that they didn't even feel the needle of the tattoo gun penetrate their skin, holding each other's hands as they got them. The exact details of that night were still hazy even now, as the Don Julio had gotten the best of them both that night but one thing remained: the tattoos served as an unspoken promise. No matter what happened, whether they loved or hated each other in the future, they would always be linked to one another. For better or for worse. Like wedding vows, almost.

Liv traces the tattoo lightly. “You kept it?” she whispers, eyes finally meeting Rhea’s.

Rhea smiled softly, immediately understanding what she meant. “Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?”

Liv attempts to smile but can't quite bring herself to do so. “I don’t know… I figured you would’ve had it removed or covered up or something. You know, after everything that happened.” she confesses, her eyes falling back to the tattoo.

“That doesn’t change what we had together. I was a dick, I know that. Removing it would’ve only further cemented that.” Rhea replies, slightly ashamed to look at Liv as she says this. “Do you… do you still have yours?” she asks timidly, afraid to hear the answer.

Liv’s eyes brighten at the question as she nods. She slides her shorts and underwear off before crawling onto the bed next to Rhea. Rhea’s eyes soften at the sight of the two R’s embedded onto Liv’s skin, leaning in to kiss it softly. Her strong hands grip Liv’s hips as she distributes kisses all over her stomach.

“I want you on my face.” Rhea professes, accent taken over with a soft rasp.

Liv clenches at her words as her hands cup Rhea’s face. “But I wanted to take care of you.”

“You can take care of me by shutting up and getting on my face.” Rhea grins. She doesn’t allow Liv to protest, using her strength to place her right above her face so Liv was hovering right above her mouth, just centimeters away from her lips.

Rhea flits her tongue over Liv’s now aching clit, almost in a lazy manner it was so slow. Liv let out the breath she had been holding and laced her fingers into Rhea’s hair, desperately fighting the urge to just shove her face into her dripping cunt. Luckily, Rhea understood Liv’s anticipation and began to dip her tongue into Liv’s sweet folds, the ball of her tongue piercing catching on her clit. Rhea began to use a finger to gently stretch her out. Liv’s chest heaved and her heart raced as Rhea flattened her tongue and ran it along her clit before gently enveloping it into her mouth and beginning to suck.

“Mmf- fuck.” Liv whined above the dark haired woman, tossing her head back in bliss. She felt the familiar warmth in her stomach begin to ignite and grow and spread all over her body, touching each of her nerves and setting them ablaze. Liv gripped onto her hair tighter and pushed Rhea’s face even deeper into her heat, ultimately giving in to her desires.

Rhea let out a muffled moan both at Liv’s actions and at the taste of her, sending vibrations through Liv’s already trembling body. The sensation caused Liv to let out a choked moan as she began to babble praises that she couldn’t even verbally finish. She was a mess. She felt Rhea’s piercing swirl around her clit, enticing desperate moans from the depths of her soul to rip from her throat. Liv could feel her orgasm approaching quickly, her legs beginning to shake around Rhea’s head as a result.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” Rhea hummed into Liv’s folds as she continued the assault with her mouth, drunk off of the taste of her.

Liv nodded dumbly, unable to even form a coherent thought. “Yes- yeah… oh fuck, Rhea.” she babbles, hips stuttering with every grind.

“Go ahead, baby. All on my face… every last fuckin’ drop.” Rhea slurs, her words melting into one another. She gripped the flesh of Liv’s ass tighter while holding her against her face as she intensified the motions of her mouth, determined to make her cum in ways Dominik could only dream of.

Liv does exactly as Rhea asks, eyes rolling back into her head and jaw going slack as she cums. One of her hands released Rhea’s hair and began to strangle the bed sheets surrounding her, twisting and wrinkling them in her vice-like grip. Rhea continued to lap at Liv’s clit as she re-inserted a finger into her, pumping at a steady pace. Liv could barely think as her legs spasmed from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She clenched around Rhea’s finger, hot white lights beginning to blind her vision as Rhea continued to stimulate her.

Rhea finally removed her fingers from her still leaking hole before Liv rolled off of her and sank into the plush pillows of the mattress. She looked over to Rhea who had brought her fingers up to Liv’s lips which of course she opened welcomingly. Rhea watched in admiration as Liv sucked her juices off of her fingers with closed eyes. She had entered a euphoric state as her mind began to settle. Liv opened her eyes after hearing the soft groan Rhea had let out at the sight of her fingers down Liv’s throat as she continued to clean her up, not wasting a single drop. Liv nearly orgasmed again when she saw the entire lower half of Rhea's face absolutely soaked with her sweet juices.

Rhea leans in to kiss her deeply, allowing Liv to taste herself one last time before pulling back with a smile. “Stay here.” she says, mischief blooming in her eyes. Liv nods obediently, she would probably do anything Rhea asked after an orgasm like that. She watches Rhea roll off the bed and walk into the bathroom, enjoying the view as she walks out of the room. Liv hears Rhea rummaging around her belongings softly and wonders what she may be searching for. She had almost fully recovered from her orgasm when Rhea walked back in. Liv turns to face her and feels her jaw drop when she sees what sits on her hips.

Rhea walks in with a purple silicone strap-on attached to a black harness strapped to her hips. She pauses at the foot of the bed and nods her head at Liv, a silent is this okay? Liv’s face breaks out into a smile and nods back eagerly.

Rhea grabs her legs and pulls her closer to the edge of the bed before climbing on. She kneels between Liv’s legs and spreads them wide, positioning the tip of her strap to just barely tease her entrance. She runs her cock up and down Liv’s slit, collecting her essence. Rhea leans down and spits right where she and Liv meet. Liv’s breath hitches when she feels it hit her pussy and looks up at Rhea with pleading eyes.

“Please.” Liv begs. She almost sounds like she’s on the verge of tears with how desperate she is. Rhea feels her pride swell seeing her like this.

“Please what?” she asks cockily, throwing Liv’s earlier question back at her. Her thumb slides up Liv’s thigh and settles on her clit and begins to rub slow circles, almost in an attempt to coax the answer out of her.

Liv’s chest heaves at Rhea's ministrations, her mouth falling open slowly and her eyes glued to where Rhea stimulates her. “Fuck me. Please just fuck me… I’ll do anything.” she pleads as she rips her eyes from Rhea’s fingers and returns them to her piercing blue eyes.

Rhea smirks in satisfaction. She removes her fingers and Liv whimpers at the loss of contact. Rhea decides to compensate by slowly pushing her cock into Liv’s aching cunt, letting out a strained exhale as she does. It takes all of Rhea’s willpower not to fuck into her like an animal at the sound of the prolonged whine Liv lets out as Rhea’s strap stretches her out. Rhea thrusts into her at a slow pace, allowing Liv to adjust to the feeling of having herself filled to the brim over and over again.

“Faster, please.” Liv breathes. Her nails dig into the skin of Rhea’s biceps in almost painful anticipation. The arousal Rhea felt while seeing her like this couldn’t be compared to any other sentiment on the planet. The way her blonde hair unfurled around her hair like a halo, she looked like an angel. An angel that Rhea couldn’t wait to ruin.

Rhea increases the speed of her thrusts, bottoming out in Liv’s cunt with each one. Liv’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, mouth agape with the most sinful noises spilling from her parted lips. The backs of her thighs began to ache with the constant slapping of Rhea’s skin against hers, her speed never slowing except to torture the poor woman. The squelches of Liv’s juices dripping from her weeping hole from each thrust made her head spin as they stained the sheets below her trembling body. A sheer creamy ring of white forms at the base of Rhea’s strap. How long has it been? It felt like an eternity, the way the pleasure seemed never-ending as Rhea continued to ravage her body like a woman possessed.

Liv couldn't do anything but moan Rhea’s name and make pitiful attempts at forming sentences, her words dissolving into whimpers in a matter of seconds. It should be embarrassing, really. And part of her was embarrassed. Embarrassed that she had let mortal enemy have her like this after 2 years of denying herself what she knew would be a destructive paradise.

“This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Rhea sneered down at the blonde, her voice dripping with malice yet adoration. Her thick accent overtaken by a harsh rasp, sweat forming on her brow and dampening her hair slightly. “You came all the way over here with your stupid little fucking apology prepared just to end up like this, didn’t you?” she pants. Her muscles bulged and glistened with sweat, her back adorned in angry red scratch marks, courtesy of the woman underneath her, to accompany the ink on her skin.

Liv made another measly attempt at responding to yet another one of her degrading comments but her mind seemed to short circuit as Rhea pressed into her even more, nearly folding her in half the same way she pinned her opponents in the ring. Liv cried out in pleasure, causing Rhea to laugh at her. Her sharp canines were on display, looking as happy as ever knowing that she was the only person who could get Liv like this. Liv could lie and pretend all she wanted with Dominik but they both knew that he couldn’t hold a candle to how Rhea made her feel.

Liv looked over at the mirror beside the bed, seeing exactly how fucked out she was folded up beneath the very woman she swore that she hated, watching as she let her do whatever she wanted to her. Rhea grabbed her face with a heavily inked hand, forcing Liv’s face in the direction of the mirror.

“My god, look at you… look at how much of a slut you are. Just a stupid, needy fucktoy for Mami to use whenever she wants, aren't you baby?” she cooed, leaning down to kiss and lick at Liv’s neck. She’ll never get over the taste of her. Sweet, tangy, carnal, hers. All hers.

Liv’s eyes meet Rhea’s piercing blue ones in the mirror, her body aching with pleasure and fatigue but still managed to nod along pathetically to her words. “M’all yours, Mami… all yours.” she whimpered.

Liv watches Rhea’s eyes light up at her confession. “That's right babe… this is all for you, I’m doing this all for you. Fuckin’ love this body… this pussy… this face.” Rhea says, her words slightly slurred. Her thrusts began to stutter, the piston of her hips becoming erratic as she chased her high the same as Liv did. Her strap fills Liv to the brim and stretches her out until she's delirious while the back of it hits Rhea’s clit just right with every stroke, her moans and pants mingled with hers.

“Fuck m’gonna cum…” she whispers, not trusting her voice because she knew that it would come out as a whimper pathetic enough to rival Liv’s as she replies with a strangled “me too”, gripping onto Rhea’s shoulders for stability, biceps flexing as she holds herself up.

“Wanna ride you.” Liv mumbles. Her words are almost impossible to understand with the way her moans overpowered them but Rhea was still able to somehow comprehend her. She nods and pulls out before being quickly shoved back against the pillows. Liv mounts her lap and sinks back down onto her cock in a frenzy, a mix of whimpers and Rhea’s name spilling from her lips uncontrollably.

“Shit, baby… look at you. So fuckin’ worked up over me, aren’t you? Taking my cock so fucking good… like you were made for it.” Rhea praises, looking up at Liv in awe. Liv’s head was tossed back, tits bouncing as she rode Rhea fiercely. She slows her movements to grind down on Rhea’s hips. The back of the toy rubbed against Rhea’s piercing, making her almost incoherent. Rhea grips Liv’s hips and fucks up into her, matching her movements.

“That's it baby, give it to me. Come on… show me how fucking bad you want it.” Rhea grits, kissing at Liv’s neck as she does. Liv intensifies her movements at Rhea’s words, her face contorting in pleasure.

“Fuck, Rhea, right there… god, I’m so close.” Liv whines. Her thighs ached but she deemed it worth it with the amount of pleasure she was experiencing.

“I know you are, baby, I know. You’re being so fucking good for me, angel. C’mon, give it to me… cum all over my cock.” Rhea purrs, her accent like velvet.

Liv’s eyes roll back as she feels heat bloom in the pit of her belly. Her second orgasm hits her like a freight train. She cums with a loud cry, her body spasming as she curls herself into Rhea’s arms, burying her face into her neck. Rhea strokes her back and smooths her hair, kissing her shoulder softly until Liv finally stops shaking. Rhea gently lifts Liv up off of her lap just enough to pull the strap out of her and returns her to her previous position.

They sit there for a moment, holding each other. The silence around them isn’t deafening like it once was, but is now tranquil. It lulls their racing heartbeats and sharp breaths as they melt into each other’s embrace. Liv pushes herself off of Rhea’s body, eyes heavy with fatigue and something else Rhea can’t identify.

“You okay?” Rhea asks softly, hoping she wasn’t too rough.

Liv nods with a gentle smile. She was more than just okay, really. She tilts her head slightly and gazes at Rhea, a realization having hit her. “You didn’t get to finish.” she points out.

Rhea smiles, touched by her thoughtfulness. “That’s alright. I’m more than satisfied.” she reassures her. Sure, she was very close earlier but the contented bliss she felt at the moment made up for the lack of orgasm in her mind.

Liv shook her head in protest. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she actually owed Rhea something. “Please let me.” she says in a soft voice, her index finger following the tattooed lines on Rhea’s forearm. She doesn’t need to specify what she wants to do. Unspoken communication had been one of the things she and Rhea had been the best at back when they were a team.

Rhea sees the genuine tenderness painted across Liv’s features and agrees. Liv rolls off of her before Rhea attempts to undo the harness around her hips before she’s stopped by Liv’s hands. Liv motions for her to shift down the bed and lay back completely before she unfastens the harness with ease, sliding it down Rhea’s legs and tossing it to the side of the bed. She positions herself on her stomach between Rhea’s legs, bringing them over her shoulders so they could rest there. Rhea’s cunt is coated in her own arousal accumulated from being inside of Liv for so long. Liv plants a sweet kiss right on Rhea’s clit before beginning to devour her.

Rhea’s back arches up off the bed when she feels Liv’s tongue swirl over her swollen clit and the jewelry that embellished it. Her fingers found themselves gripping Liv’s hair, pulling lightly as she moaned her name sweetly. Liv inserts a finger into her hole and pistons in and out of her gently while sucking on her pearl. Every move she makes is meticulous. Every lick, every suck, every penetration isn’t without intention. Liv isn’t in any rush to make Rhea cum, in fact she wants her to savor it for as long as possible. However, she isn’t surprised when she does in only a matter of moments. Rhea mewls Liv’s name and nothing else as she climaxes around her fingers, like her name is the only thing she can think of when finally arriving to a state of everlasting ecstasy. She’s far quieter than Liv but Liv feels that her noises mean so much more than her own do.

Liv remains between Rhea’s thighs, placing small kisses here and there until Rhea finally catches her breath. She crawls back up to join her where she lay and places her head on Rhea’s chest, kissing it when she does. Liv listens to Rhea’s heartbeat slowly return to its normal steady pace. This all feels so intimate.

“You wanna spend the night?” Rhea asks quietly, her voice almost a whisper. She doesn’t really even fully understand why she’s asking, considering she and Liv technically still hate each other. But she would be an even bigger asshole if she made her cry, fucked the everloving shit out of her, and then kicked her out. The last thing she needed was to give Liv yet another reason to want her dead.

“Sure.” Liv replies, equally surprised at both the question and her answer. She rolls off the bed and follows Rhea into her hotel bathroom, unable to ignore he dull ache in her thighs from the vigor which Rhea fucked her with.

Inside the shower, they take turns washing each other. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter besides them in that very moment together. The warm water washed away the soap on their bodies and any residue the kisses they were unable to stop giving each other had left behind. After they had dried off, Rhea let Liv borrow another one of her shirts for the night before climbing into bed together.

Liv nestles herself into Rhea, inhaling the smell of laundry detergent and body wash as she did so. Rhea wraps her arms around her as well and holds her close. They lay in the dark room quietly for a few minutes before Rhea breaks the silence.

“So… are we ever going to talk about this?” she asks, a bit apprehensive of what this would mean for not only their relationship but Liv’s relationship with Dominik as well.

Liv thinks to herself for a moment, unsure of how to go about things as well. “I’m not sure, to be honest. But don’t think this means that I forgive you for everything you’ve done.” she says.

Rhea chuckles, and the sound warms Liv’s heart more than she’d like to admit. “I know. And I still want my title back.” she responds, unable to hide the smile in her voice.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Liv giggles.

They sigh, feeling satisfied and fulfilled. They both knew that this was only a matter of time coming. It was honestly a miracle they were able to hold off for as long as they did because one thing was for sure: they would never stop coming back to each other.

── •✧• ──

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #rhea ripley smut #wwe #wwe nxt #wwe smackdown #wwe raw #liv morgan #liv morgan x reader #liv4brutality #wlw post #lesbian

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moonselune · 8 months ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing, it brings allot of comfort and I find myself re-reading it all! 😍

Could I please request a human Tav with Gale and Halsin (either together or separately) that catches a cold while travelling and just cuteness, a little angst and fluff? Just a Tav being taken care of by them 😍

Your blog is a delight and I love coming back to it, it really does bring joy 💖 hope you have a wonderful week!

Thank you so much !! I hope you have a wonderful week too and messages like this really help keep the motivation levels up !

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The road to Baldur’s Gate had been long and rough, and while you tried to push through the fatigue gnawing at your bones, there was no denying the creeping cold that had settled in. At first, it was little more than an irritating scratch at the back of your throat, then a mild headache you brushed off as nothing, but by the time you reached the outskirts of the next village, a full-blown cold had taken over, making you feel sluggish, your head stuffed with cotton.

You sneezed violently for what felt like the hundredth time, your whole body jolting with the force of it. Your lover, Gale, was nearby, and immediately his eyes darted towards you with concern. He’d noticed your symptoms earlier, of course—he always did. Gale was observant to the point of being overly cautious, especially when it came to your well-being.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he took a few steps closer. His tone was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of worry that he wasn’t even trying to hide.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to wave him off with a smile. But even as the words left your mouth, your voice cracked, followed by another sudden sneeze. Gale sighed deeply, his hand coming to rest on your arm.

“You’re not fine, my dear. You’re sick, and you know it.” His gaze softened as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “You need to rest. I don’t want you pushing yourself any further.”

“I’m not that bad,” you muttered, feeling defensive. “It’s just a cold.”

But Gale wasn’t buying it. “Even ‘just a cold’ can turn serious if you don’t take care of yourself. You should stay at camp, let me handle things.”

You crossed your arms, frowning up at him. “I can still fight, Gale. I’m not some helpless—” You were cut off by another sneeze, this one even more violent than the last, and you couldn’t help but wince as it sent a sharp pang through your chest.

Gale’s face softened even more, but there was a firm resolve behind his eyes now. “I won’t let you endanger yourself. You’re staying here today. That’s final.”

Despite your best efforts to argue, Gale’s tone left little room for debate. His worry for you was palpable, and it made your heart ache a little. Still, you weren’t the type to sit idle while your companions faced danger, and the thought of staying behind, even while feeling miserable, didn’t sit well with you.

But you let it go, for now, returning to camp as Gale suggested.

By the time the next skirmish rolled around, you had grown restless. Despite Gale’s insistence that you stay back and recover, you couldn’t stand the idea of missing out on the adventure. So, despite your scratchy throat and persistent sneezing, you grabbed your gear and followed the party at a distance, trying to stay unnoticed.

Of course, Gale noticed immediately. He always did.

“Love, what are you doing?” he asked when you caught up to them just outside the edge of the forest.

You tried to play it off, shrugging casually. “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t want to sit around doing nothing.”

But Gale’s eyes narrowed, frustration mingling with the concern etched across his face.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, voice a touch sharper now. “You’re sick, and you need to stay back.”

Before you could protest further, Gale’s hands began to glow softly, arcane energy weaving between his fingers as he muttered a few words under his breath. Before you could react, you were suddenly engulfed in a swirl of magic, the world around you shifting as you were teleported back to camp.

You landed softly on your bedroll, blinking in surprise as you realized what he had done. Gale had just sent you back, and without even waiting for you to argue about it. A wave of indignation surged through you, followed quickly by a deep sulk as you pulled your blanket up around your shoulders. How dare he teleport you like that! You weren’t a child who needed to be coddled.

Besides you were just waiting for the lecture from Lae'zel on allowing 'your wizard' to use powerful magic on you and not on the battlefield.

And yet, as you sat there, pouting, your body betrayed you with another sneeze. You groaned, rubbing at your nose, frustration mounting.

It wasn’t long before Gale returned to camp, the skirmish evidently over. His shoulders were tense as he approached, but the moment his eyes fell on you, his expression softened—though there was a flicker of amusement behind the concern.

“Sulking, are we?” Gale asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he knelt down beside you.

You crossed your arms, looking away stubbornly. “I’m not sulking.”

“You’re pouting,” Gale said gently, reaching out to brush his hand across your cheek. “And sneezing, and coughing. And if I recall correctly, you promised you weren’t sick.”

“I’m not,” you muttered, even as your nose twitched with another sneeze. “I can handle it.”

Gale’s smile widened just a bit, but it was laced with tenderness. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his thumb gently stroking the back of it. “You don’t always have to handle everything, you know. It’s okay to let someone take care of you.”

His words broke through your defenses, and you finally let out a sigh, the tension melting away. You knew he was right. You had been stubborn, pushing yourself when you really should have rested.

“I just… I don’t want to feel useless,” you admitted softly, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Gale’s expression softened even more, and he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You could never be a burden,” he said quietly, his eyes full of warmth and love. “You are the strongest person I know, but even the strongest need time to heal. And I’m here to make sure you do.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his voice making your heart swell. His fingers moved to brush a lock of hair away from your face, and he smiled that gentle, reassuring smile that always made you feel safe.

“Let me take care of you,” Gale said softly, his voice full of affection. “Please.”

With a final, resigned sigh, you nodded, leaning into his touch. “Alright… but only because you’re so insistent.”

Gale chuckled softly, pulling you into his arms as he wrapped the blanket more snugly around you. “Good. Now, no more sneaking off to join the battles, alright? Just rest here with me.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “I suppose I can do that.”

And for the first time in days, you felt the tension ease from your body as Gale held you close, his warmth and love surrounding you, making you feel truly cared for.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The road to Baldur’s Gate stretched ahead, its path winding through dense forests and rocky terrain. The air had grown cooler as autumn settled in, its crisp bite seeping through your clothes, but you brushed off the chill as nothing more than an inconvenience. You'd felt the beginnings of a cold coming on a few days ago—scratchy throat, slight sniffles—but nothing you thought worth mentioning. After all, you were on an important journey, and the idea of staying behind to rest felt like a waste of time.

Unfortunately, your lover, Halsin, didn’t see it that way. As an elf, he was more attuned to subtle shifts in health, and your symptoms hadn’t gone unnoticed. He’d been doting on you since the first sign of a cough, worry etched into his brow every time he looked at you. It seemed that no matter how much you assured him you were fine, Halsin couldn’t shake his concern.

“Humans do not have the same resilience as elves,” he had reminded you, gently but firmly. “Your body needs rest and care, and I will see to it.”

At first, you found his attentiveness endearing. He always kept an extra blanket for you at night, made sure you had the warmest spot by the fire, and even brewed some herbal tea to ease your throat. But over the past few days, his doting had turned into something more… smothering. He hovered around you, always checking on you, insisting you rest when you wanted to help out with camp duties or join the others on patrol. It was sweet, but you were starting to feel like you were suffocating under his care.

Today, the group had been caught off guard by an ambush—nothing unusual on the dangerous road to Baldur’s Gate, but the sudden attack led to chaos, forcing everyone into battle positions. Despite your cold, you fought alongside your companions, determined not to be seen as fragile or incapable. Halsin had given you a worried look before the fight began, but he didn’t have time to protest as the enemy closed in.

In the thick of the battle, you found yourself backing toward the edge of a river, fighting off an attacker with all your strength. The cold air stung your lungs with every breath, and your body felt heavier than usual, but you pressed on, swinging your weapon to parry a blow. Just as you thought you had the upper hand, your foot slipped on the damp grass, and you tumbled backward—straight into the freezing river.

The shock of the cold water hit you like a hammer. It soaked through your clothes in an instant, chilling you to the bone as the current tried to sweep you downstream. For a moment, you gasped, disoriented, your body slow to react as you struggled to swim back to the shore.

Before you could even find your bearings, a pair of strong hands yanked you out of the water, hauling you onto the bank with ease. It was Halsin, his face a mixture of panic and determination as he pulled you into his arms, cradling you close to his chest.

“Halsin, I—” you tried to speak, but your teeth were chattering too hard.

“You’re freezing,” he growled, his deep voice rough with worry. Without another word, he lifted you as though you weighed nothing, carrying you away from the battlefield.

“Lae’zel! Take command!” Halsin called over his shoulder, his gaze never leaving you. Lae’zel, in the middle of fending off a foe, snapped her head in his direction.

“The battle isn’t over!” she barked, her eyes narrowing in frustration.

But Halsin didn’t falter.

“She is my priority,” he said, his voice firm, brooking no argument. “I will not risk her health.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that you were fine, but the truth was the cold water had sapped your strength more than you cared to admit. Your body felt sluggish, and you could feel the deep chill settling into your bones. As much as you wanted to argue, Halsin’s warmth and the steady beat of his heart were oddly comforting, and you found yourself leaning into his embrace as he carried you back to camp.

When you arrived, Halsin wasted no time. He set you down gently by the fire, his brow furrowed as he grabbed blankets, piling them over you with an almost frantic determination. The fire crackled, its heat seeping into your chilled skin, but Halsin wasn’t satisfied with that alone. He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

“I should have made you stay at camp,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with guilt. “I knew this journey was taking a toll on you, and yet I let you fight.”

“Halsin, really, I’m fine,” you croaked out, though your voice betrayed you with a shiver. But Halsin wasn’t convinced.

“You’re cold and drenched, and humans—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You need to rest now.”

With that, he moved away from you, but only briefly. You watched as he took a deep breath, and with a shimmer of magic, he shifted into his bear form. The enormous creature padded over to you, its massive body radiating warmth. Gently, he nudged you, urging you to lean against him, and though you felt a bit ridiculous at first, you couldn’t deny how comforting his warmth was.

You settled against his side, your head resting on his thick fur, and immediately felt the tension in your body begin to melt away. His bear form was like a living furnace, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth that made the fire seem like nothing more than a flicker.

As you relaxed against him, you heard the soft rumble of his breathing, steady and soothing. You knew Halsin had been fretting over you, and though you didn’t want to admit it, his smothering care wasn’t entirely unwelcome. It was comforting to know how deeply he cared for you, how fiercely he wanted to protect you, even when you insisted you didn’t need it.

“Maybe you’re right,” you mumbled sleepily, your head growing heavy against his warm fur. “I do need to rest.”

A soft rumble of approval came from Halsin’s bear form, and as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in blankets and his protective embrace, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe being smothered by him wasn’t so bad after all.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Omfg this was so cute I absolutely adored writing this and there will definintely be a continuation with the other characters !! Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale x reader #halsin x reader #bg3 halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin #halsin x tav #halsin the druid

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ghosts-to-reid · 9 months ago

Text

NeoGothic

A/N: First time writing for CM and Spencer so I’m still finding my footing. This will be the start of a series and will later include angst and smut. 18+

Part 2 / Bibliography

Summary: Receptionist at the BAU by day, Gothic Literature student by night. You are asked to consult on a case with the team, leading to you getting closer to the resident boy genius of the FBI. Going with the flow of the butterflies, you’re not sure where you’ll be taken when you accept the offer to consult on a case with Gothic themes.

When you applied to this random 9-5 admin job with the fbi, you weren’t particularly prepared for what awaited you. The job was a mix of different duties, filling case files for agents, passing on messages, answering the phone, kind of like a receptionist. However, you weren’t prepared to be filing away files for murders so horrific you couldn’t even imagine. The floor you were assigned contained the BAU, and as expected you were often face to face with the grim reminders of the horrors of humanity.

At university, the nature of humanity was something you often debated with your cohort. The why, who, where, when, and how was seen as key understanding to the nature of humanity, particularly the humanity of those who are fictional. See, you were a literature graduate, studying her masters during the evenings while trying to keep her head afloat and pay rent, hence the ‘random’ admin job that fit into your schedule perfectly. There was an adult mundanity in the fact you worked in the fbi that felt secure, that allowed you to study your passion with the knowledge that you had a job that supported that, and was a safety net if writing doesn’t work out. The role was easy, you weren’t particularly privy to inprotant information, but that wasn’t a problem, what you did hear was fascinating. In your time studying, you aquired a taste for gothic literature, and found it fascinating the new views gained after an overheard conversation from the team after their return from a case. Your understanding and insight of psychoanalysis in class has been applauded by your professor many times, and may or may not have earned you a few extra points on assignments when you throw in a fact overheard by the water cooler. The best thing about the job? It was never boring, there was always something new going on to observe.

Considering you’re not an agent, you communicated mainly with JJ, Penelope, and Hotch. Often having short interactions with Hotch, handing him messages or files that had been left at your desk for him, you were closer to the two blondes. JJ, as former media liaison, had trained you in some aspects for your role, an example being reporters finding the phone numbers of desk staff and asking them for intel, she taught you how to shut it right down. Over time, you exchanged pleasantries, and became friends. She would ask about how class was going, discuss weekend plans with you, often telling you to call her in any emergencies in her maternal tone. It was nice having a friend like her, when you moved to Virginia, it was on your own, your parents had passed and you had worked hard to earn enough money to move for college. Sure, it was a few years delayed but you weren’t going to college to party. So, JJs maternity towards you was welcomed. Penelope, however, befriended you almost instantly, or more likely decided to befriend you before you even got there.

As you arrived on your first day, satchel slung on your shoulder loosely, she greeted you at the elevator doors. A bright, bouncy, and very pink woman grinned at you and grabbed your hands before speaking frantically

“Hello there angel! It is so nice to meet you my name is Penelope and I am so excited to finally meet you! I’m so so sorry but I did do an extensive background search on you however it was with the best of intentions and you seem so so so lovely and I’m excited to have you here-“ she rambled on, making you almost dizzy, you kept your eyes trained on her and smiled back, giggling to yourself at her energy. Any first day nerves long forgotten.

“That’s okay!” You chuckled “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you Penelope.”

She took your hand and shook it excitedly

“You will love it here my love, I saw that you’re still a student, what are you studying, are you hoping to join the bay someday ebvause you know I have contacts” she winked as she lead you through the bullpen. A few people stopped to watch as the women lead you through, offering a small smile or wave, you assumed they knew Penelope and that this was fairly common. She lead you to a desk tucked away near an office with a plaque that read ‘Agent Hotchner’. A stern looking man emerged and joined Penelope and you.

“This is Hotch, he’s the head of the team!” Penelope introduced eagerly, Hotch reached a hand forward to shake yours with a small smile which you returned.

��Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“I trust that Penelope has already told you everything you need to know” he glanced to the blonde woman who had already filled you in on the walk over “You know what to do, yes?”

You nodded, having completed your training for the job prior to starting, you were confident. Penelope offered yo grab you a cup of coffee, which you obliged with a smile, and began to unpack you satchel. The desk was nice, nicer than any ikea flat pack you had anyway. Making it your own was easy and when Penelope returned to drop your coffee and offering to lunch with you in her ‘bat cave’ she left you to your own devices.

Suddenly, this had become very daunting. There were already a ton of emails waiting for you, as well as files that needed to be dropped off. Picking your slight technophobe side however, you pick up the pile of Manila files and begin to read the labels for agents names. Luckily for you, name placards seemed to be a big trend around this office. Separating the files for each agent before making your way around the desks. Each agent offering you a small thanks, some introducing themselves, others just grunting in acknowledgment. Finally, you made your way to the last agent, a thin man with shaggy curls. His eyes were furrowed with concentration as he scribbled quickly onto a note pad, you gently placed the remaining folders on the end of his desk hoping not to disturb him, when his head snaps up.

“Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you!” But he shook his head

“It’s no problem. Thank you. You’re new, right?”

You nodded “started about… 15 minutes ago?”

“13 minutes 53 seconds ago.” He corrected, caught of guard you stammered slightly to respond, which made him flustered too “not that I was counting! I just, notice these things!” There was a beat “I’m Spencer by the way.”

“I know. I read the name on the file” you smiled, now he was stammering “I’m y/n.”

He returned the small smile awkwardly after a moment and nods, you wave him goodbye before returning to your desk.

Since that, your interactions with Spencer have been short. Occasionally chatting in the kitchenette, catching eyes across the room and exchanging small smiles. You didn’t know much of his life, though you wanted to. But it was hard to get to know a man who spent half his time out of the office, so you often cherished any moments you did manage to talk.

This particular morning you were deep in thought. JJ seemed to notice when you came in, and came to your desk soon after you sat.

“What’s up?” She asked, sitting on the edge of your desk, breaking you out of your ponderous trance

“Oh it’s just exam season. I was trying to plan an essay in my head in the way here. I’m struggling to find a topic.” You admitted, feeling slightly awkward that you were thinking so scholastically this early in the morning. JJ quirked an eyebrow, intrigued.

“You do Literature right? The gothic? Isn’t that mostly ghost and ghouls, and damsels in castles with a candelabra?”

You shrugged “kind of, it’s a bit deeper than that. You see the gothic actually wasn’t a literary genre until about the 19th or 20th century. The term was actually originally used to describe a Germanic tribe, who sacked Rome. William of orange actually used them to justify his usurption of the throne during the glorious revolution. But what’s interesting is that it was used almost like a slur in the next centuries due to the revival of more classical styles like Roman and Greek-“ you cut yourself off before you can ramble more, by this point JJ’s face has dropped slightly in a mix of awe and a shock. You pull your lips into a right line and mutter a sheepish “sorry”

“You sound JUST like Reid” she chuckled, you flushed slightly, but unsure why, you tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your belly “But you know all of this and you’re struggling for a topic? How come?”

This you pondered for a minute. Before sighing and looking at her again sheepishly before asking “promise not to profile me?” Intrigued the blonde nodded “I kinda need to up my game because my professor really liked my last essay topic and I’m not sure how to top it… “you trailed, JJ nodded for you to continue, unsure of your apprehension

“What topic was it then?”

"…How Male and Female Cannibals differ from each other in modern literture… it was titled 'Desire Vs Destruction'… i got the highest grade I’ve ever gotren because of stuff I’ve learned here…"

That definitely took JJ back. She blinked at upu momentarily

"i was not expecting that… but thats definitely interesting…" she thought for a moment "You use psychoanalysis a lot?" you nodded "Well, im sure you’ll think of something, just wait until we have a case and there’s your inspiration.” JJ smiled and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "worst comes to worst, ask Reid. He’ll have insight, I promise you, you’re a lot more a like than I ever realised.” And with that, she returned to her desk.

What did she mean you were were alike? He was essentially a walking super computer, an agent with multiple PHDs. Hell, he graduated from his second PHD by the time you even entered college, and he was only 3 years older than you. Your thoughts were interrupted by Hotch’s voice calling the team to the conference room. Watching as they all stood and gathered, your eyes trailed Spencer. As he walked, his sweater rode up slightly and gathered at his waist, allowing a slight bit of pink to peek through before he pulled it back down. Though, you still saw and blushed, shaking your head and trying to return to work.

45 minutes later the team emerged, most of the team exited, whilst JJ and Emily approached you.

“Y/N, we think we might need your insight on something.” JJ spoke, your gave her a surprised look, Emily continued for her

“You study gothic literature primarily in your degree, yes?” The woman spoke softly but direct, you’d never particularly conversed either her much before this. Confused, you simply nodded and followed them whilst they lead you to the conference room most of the team just left.

Inside you were greeted by Hotch and Spencer, who were stood next to a board. It was littered with pictures of bodies that made your eyes widen and turn quickly away, hiding In JJs shoulder. Spencer quickly pulled a shade down over the board as the group apologised

“Oh my god, were those people dead!” You squeaked, not asking really, you were aware what department you worked in. Hotch apologised once more before continuing.

“Apologies again, L/N. But I called you in here because I believe you may have some insight into our current case.” Slowly, you turned around again, confused once more, Spencer’s eyes were on you.

“Me? How?”

“This Unsub appears to be displaying a pattern pertaining to deaths synonymous with famous gothic works. So far he’s replicated the death of Lucy Westenra in Dracula, Carmilla the vampires death, And we believe he may begin to escalate. Your insight into the genre may help identify any patterns we may miss.”

A few beats passed. Looking around the room, all eyes were on you. Emily gave you a small pleading look, and JJ squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. Spencer’s eyes had never left you yet, when you look over to him, he gives you a small nod, encouraging you to say yes. You were sure that you weren’t as useful as you thought, but if they were the experts and they believed you could help, who were you to say no? With a deep breath of hesitation, you nod and take a seat.

Hotch briefs you on your role. No field work, of course, but you’ll join the team on the jet. He will give you temporary clearance to join them on scenes and other occasions you may be needed, your knowledge could mean you spot something the others don’t. Before you can agree, he explains the aspect that you forgot. The gore. Being a horror fan you were used to fake gore on screen, but real life was another story. The people on TV would go home, they’d see their family, and they’d continue on their lives, but the people in the photographs you saw wouldn’t. They’d never go home again. As if sensing your thoughts, Spencer spoke up from across from you.

“I know that it’s hard. It’s hard to stomach but, your insight might stop this from carrying on.” He paused thinking, looking to see if anyone would continue but they seemed to silently agree with him “Holding onto that thought. The thought that you’re helping someone truly and actively, then it helps you stay motivated past your own apprehensions.”

He seemed to know exactly what to say somehow. This man you barely knew, had somehow found the right words to say to get you on board, pensively you agreed. Hotch stood first.

“Ok we leave in an hour. Go home and pack a bag and meet the rest of the team at the airport. You’re doing a good thing, L/N.” As he left, JJ smiled and followed along with Emily. Leaving you alone, for the first time with the infamous Dr. Spencer Reid. He turned towards you to offer a small smile.

“I can give you a ride home if you like. I noticed you take the bus in, it’ll be quicker if I drive you.” He stated, surprising you

“Oh yeah that would be amazing thank you… but how did you know I took the bus?” You asked curiously, standing from your seat to stand nearer to him. He stammered for a second before collecting himself

“I noticed that you arrive mostly on time with the bus schedule, and the times you run late are in line with mornings with heavier traffic that causes the bus to take longer… I memorised the bus schedule when I first started.” He shyly looked to the floor, shuffling his feet, a beat passed before he looked up again to which you offer him a small reassuring smile. “Shall we?” He points toward the door, and you nod. You knew he was a genius with a quick mind but you’d never witnessed it first hand before.

On the drive, you were calm up until you had realised you agreed to leave the city in the same week you were supposed to be writing the essays you may have accidentally on purpose put off till deadline week.

“Shit” you gasp, quickly clamping your hand over your mouth before scrambling to email your professors, hoping this counts as extenuating circumstances, however in this process you had alerted the FBI’s resident genius next to you to your panic.

“Are you okay?” He laughs out, after your outburst had subsided slightly. Without looking up from your phone you spoke

“I’m knee deep in deadlines and I forgot and now I’ve got to go to… where are we going again?”

“Texas”

“Texas! And I haven’t started some and oh god!” Your head is in your hands as you groan. Reid chuckles a bit, before pulling up to your apartment building.

“I can always help if you’d like.” He spoke shyly, you peeked your head up slightly.

“How much do you know about gothic literature?”

“A fair amount. I’m a big fan of Ann Radcliffe’s writing, her essays are insightful” At the mention of Radcliffe you perked slightly, and when he said essays you sat up fully, more happy that someone outside of your cohort was aware of radcliffes essays.

“I could probably use some help with psychoanalysis actually…” you thought “have you read Rosemarys Baby or The Exorcist?”

“I’ve read both actually, a few times they’re some of my light halloween reads. I’m sure I can help, what exactly do you have in mind? The demonic aspects? I think I could give you some good insight, I’ve read Creeds book with the essay on the exorcist recently and I believe that you could make some good observations of abjection in motherhood in horror-“

As he rambled on you felt another small flutter. Hearing him discuss your passion with such ease and knowledge made you flush, he spoke almost as passionately as you. Maybe JJ was right about your similarities. Before you could think more on your new blossoming feelings, Spencer interrupted himself

“Oh we have to be there soon, we can talk about this later if you want? We can discuss on the jet and start planning tonight? During our downtime at the hotel possibly?”

You agree before you can conjure any more butterflies at the thought of being alone with Spencer. Moving quickly out of the car and up to your apartment, Spencer in tow.

You left Spencer in your living room whilst you packed a bag quickly. When you returned you found him eyeing your bookshelf.

“You have a great collection here… would you mind if I borrowed this?” He held up your well worn copy of dracula. It was annotated thoroughly, with more additions each time you reread, it’s well worn and well loved totem of your literary love.

“you should probably get a better copy, that ones nearly unreadable.” Making your way to your bookshelf, you search to find a nicer copy you had recently purchased from a second hand book store. But when you tried to hand it to Spencer he shook his head

“I’d actually enjoy reading your notes. If that’s okay.” Spencer looked at his shoes, a habit you noticed already, you couldn’t refuse him.

The car journey was filled with vivid conversations about Dracula, and how you thought it was unfair that Dracula was the iconic vampire when Carmilla was written first. The jet ride however jarred your nerves slightly. This was the first time you fully took in the crime scene photos, and you could see how the team quickly linked these to gothic novels. The victim who replicated Lucy Westenra had wounds that accurately depicted the characters turmoil from her turning, the (highly medically inaccurate) blood transfusions, and finally her vampiric death. The same can be said with the victim who replicated Carmilla, though she obviously didn’t have her own tomb, so the unsub dug her mother up instead. There were clear links to the novels, but something didn’t sit right with you.

“They’re all novels with vampiric elements…” you muttered.

“We noticed that too. We belive the unsub may be trying to chronologically work through the vampire cult novels.” Spencer’s eyes caught yours for a moment before you quickly moved to look at the folder once more.

“But no male victims?” You sifted through the crime scene photos once more, not entirely used to the sight still, but echoing Spencer’s words in your mind.

You’re helping people, and that’s what matters.

“No. Unsubs tend to stay to the same victimologies unless they’re forced to change, or they begin to deteriorate. This particular unsub is organised enough to plan the crimes in advance and execute, pun not intended, them without letting his urges take control.” Spencer told you, leaning over the table to point to a note in the file. He was close enough to you that you could smell his cologne, mixed with the comforting scent of patchouli and coffee. A slight blush crept up your cheek, that made you loose your train of thought, stuttering your way through your next sentence.

“There’s a possibility the unsub could be a woman. One part of the gothic allure is the liberalism that it embodies, and for women that’s inviting. The idea of the monsterous feminie is being widely discussed at the minute, it’s why there’s so many horror films with female monsters that we end up rooting for. It’s a way to juxtapose the patriarchal constraints in soceity. Think Jennifer’s body, Yellowjackets, even historical figures like Elizabeth Bathory are all stories about monsterous women yet, somehow in their own contexts, we root for them. It could be possible that this unsub is a woman trying to take control, after someone wronged her. She could feel vindicated in her actions and see them as an expression of the monsterous feminine, and a man wouldn’t be so accurate. The fact that these are iconic monstrous women who were struck down by men could be symbolic of that anger she feels. The victim replicating Westenra had 4 different blood types present in her system, the character had 4 transfusions in the book. Her entire death is perfectly replicated, as described. They even sent her garlic flowers, like a warning.” After you were done you had noticed that everyone on the jet was staring at you. Glancing around you, started to feel that little blush that Spencer had induced, creep into a slightly brighter red of embarrassment. Did you do something wrong?

After a beat, Rossi spoke up.

“That’s some very insightful information, kid.” He looked around the jet, the whole team chimed in in agreement.

“Where did you learn that?” Emily spoke up with an aghast smile

With a relieved smile, your face began to cool down slightly and you, albeit sheepishly, admitted that you overhear them occasionally and have a tendency to research theories they mention, and that you may or may not have read Rossi’s books. The fact that you apply psychoanalysis to literature more often than not. They all seemed impressed

“Watch out guys, I think we’ve found a future profiler.” Derek spoke up from the row behind Spencer “Ever thought about going through the academy?”

“I don’t think I really have the qualifications to join you guys. I just like to read.”

“I reckon you could surprise yourself, baby girl.” Derek flashed a smile before sitting back in his seat. JJ gave you a proud smile before she turned back to continue her conversation with Rossi. Slowly everyone turned back to what they were doing before, leaving you in pensive thought as you looked out of the window.

Profiling was alluring. It’s just analysis on people, and with enough knowledge you can read anyone. Your thoughts were interrupted by a small voice

“I think you’d be a good profiler.” He spoke softly, giving you a grin before returning to his discussion with Hotch, expanding on your thoughts.

The arrival to Texas was a whirlwind for you. The team landed, drove to the precinct, and were quickly dispatched onto different tasks. Hotch had paired you with Spencer to go over victimologies to find a pattern in the victims lives and how they line up to those in the novels. The victim replicating Carmilla was an older Lesbian woman, u and alluring by all accounts, fitting the personality of Carmilla for the most part. Meanwhile, the victim who replicates Lucy was a known flirt. not promiscuous in a modern sense, but with the victorian ideals of Dracula, the fact she was dating two men at once made her fit well enough into the role for the unsub. It seems he is trying to figure out who she wants to replicate next.

Finally, hours later the team regroups for the night at the hotel. It doesn’t go without a hitch however, as it turns out that since you were technically not meant to be here, there was a shortage of rooms and, as though god intended to make things awkward, you had to double up with someone. Before any discussion could be had, just assuming you’ll be paired with JJ, Spencer surprisingly speaks up.

“I’ll share with her.” Was all he said, shocking both you and the team, but Derek spoke up

“Pretty boy trying to make a move on our junior profiler?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Soem et who was growing increasingly red.

“No- No that not what- no I mean we were goin- we were going to work- work on her assignment together.” He coughed and readjusted his posture, seeing him flustered like this made you smile “it’s logical if we share a room then we won’t be disturbing anyone travelling between rooms”

The team shared a look you couldn’t read, before JJ asked if you were okay with that, you nodded, you were honestly too tired and slightly overwhelmed and honestly? A bed is a bed, and you were absolutely going to fall into a deep and dreamless sleep once you got to the room. So it was decided, and it wasn’t until you got to the room it dawned on you.

You’re sharing a room with a work acquaintance, albeit a cute one, and you never questioned the bed situation. Entering the room you were greeted by your worry, and that was the lone bed in the enter of the room. You looked up to Spencer to assess his facial expression, he seemed to have forgotten to question the bed situation too. You started

“I can take the couch-“

“We can share” Spencer interrupted. Looking around the room. “It’s logical and hygienic, with the amount of germs on a hotel floor would get us both a lot sicker than any off of a human.” He cleared his throat, almost trying to convince himself. You simply nodded and put your things down and preparing for bed.

Half an hour later you were sat, crossed legged, on one side of the hotel bed whilst Spencer showered. You tried not to think about it and tried to focus on the paper you were reading.

Sure, you knew he was cute. That was just obvious. But you’d never really interacted before today, not in any meaningful way at least. Yet here you are, waiting for him to finish showering whilst you sit in bed. It was strangely domestic, but you shouldn’t dwell on the thought of making a nice life with Spencer Reid. He is a collegue. Without you noticing, Spencer had finished in the shower and had emerged, dressed in plaid pants and an oversized MIT shirt. You looked up from your screen to him as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard and looked over your shoulder.

“That’s a good read, I read that last week actually.” He broke the silence between the two and you shot him a smile

“I’m really enjoying it… do you want to read it together?” You weren’t sure if that was a normal thing to ask anyone, you know people read books out loud to each other but reading an authors essay on Abject womanhood off of a laptop screen didn’t seem particularly as appealing. Spencer however nodded, and you shifted to be closer to his side. The tension palpable between you both

“Is this okay” you asked quietly. Your thighs were pressed together, laptop balanced between. Your arms were pushed together awkwardly and Spencer shifted. Unexpectedly, he wrapped the arm closest to you around your shoulder. This took you by surprise, taking your breath away momentarily and reawakening those pesky butterflies again. Somehow you managed to stutter out a yes before you continued to read. Eventually you both relaxed more into each others touch, loosing yourself in the words of the essay. You hadn’t realised that Spencer wasn’t reading, but looking down at you, watching how your eyes flicker between words between your eyelashes, and the small pout of concentration on your lips as you tried to take in the information. His long fingers were slowly tracing delicate lines on your skin, causing goosebumps to form in their path.

Eventually, you finished the essay but hesitated to shut the laptop. Your eyes lingered on the final paragraph, hoping to stay in his touch longer, yet you had to admit defeat, finally closing the laptop and shift slightly up right. Spencer’s arm lingered for a moment before he half heartedly moved it behind you. There was a silence as you both let the tension of what had just occurred sink in. Surprisingly, it was Spencer who broke the silence once more.

“You know many animals cuddle at night for safety, otters hold hands so they don’t drift away from each other.” He trailed, you quirked a brow at him, probing him to continue silently “what- what I’m saying is… if you want we- we can stay. Like this tonight… only if you want!” He couldn’t look at you properly, looking mainly anywhere but your face. Your heart was beating so fast you weren’t sure how to reply, so silently you just nodded. Spencer let out a small relieved breath before moving to lift the covers over you both, and opens his arms to let you in. You oblige gingerly, and slowly he wraps his arms around you. There’s silence as you both settle into each others breathing in the dark.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah Spencer?”

“Do you… think that maybe we could do this more?” His question caught you off guard. You lifted your head to try and make out his features in the dark, he was already looking down at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Can we… do this more?” He squeezed you against him to emphasise his thoughts, he meant cuddle. Slightly surprised you cocked your head to side.

“Do you not do this a lot?” Curiosity overcame you as you detached his eyes in the dark. There was a sadness that was palpable even through the darkness.

“No. I don’t really like people touching me” you try to move away, thinking you may have overstepped but he simply holds you against his chest tighter. “But I like this.” He mumbled into your hair.

Unsure how to process this, you simply nodded. Sometimes people need hugs and, you knew from JJ that Spencer was someone you could trust. So you allowed yourself to melt into his touch for tonight.

“Of course Spencer.” You muttered into his shirt before drifting off into the deep sleep you predicted, yet it wasn’t so dreamless.

Part 2 soon.

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