#if someone's got a good briefing and/or explanation

[bad-traffic-smp-ideas]

Right then. Something happened.

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after prentiss leaves, someone has to take care of her cat. you decide to share the responsibility between the two of you, leading the people around you to some strange conclusions.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, mini absurd arguments, spencer texting her at 3 a.m. just to infodump about cats (theyre too sweet i cant), theyre completely in their parents era, proof that my sense of humor is silly, diva pov in the final scene!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: this idea was suggested to me in a comment when i asked for fic ideas for the marathon—basically i think two people mentioned something about the return of that little kitten 🫶🏼

marathon masterlist

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” she asked, turning her head toward him.

Reid, sitting in the passenger seat of her car (her wonderful car…), sighed and closed his eyes.

“You should’ve asked me that when we were still at my apartment,” he muttered. “Then I could have checked. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything—like the litter box, the food…”

“A silk pillow?”

“Since when do cats need silk pillows?”

“Well, maybe other cats don’t, but mine does. The delicate fabric is the best for her fur.”

“And she’s still going to sleep on the shelf in the bathroom. Or the fridge. Anywhere but there. It’s a cat.”

She hesitated for a moment, but decided not to push. A brief explanation of what it was actually about—a while ago, they had both saved a kitten they found on the street. Neither of them had the time or the means to care for it, so it ended up in good hands with Emily. But when Prentiss accepted the job at Interpol and moved to London, it became necessary for someone else to take care of the kitten. Her second cat, Sergio, was taken in by Penelope, but she couldn’t adopt both, so they came up with the idea of sharing the responsibility.

This meant the cat would spend a few days with Reid and a few days with her, depending on their plans, schedules, and simply the time they had. It was a fairly new arrangement, so Spencer was about to take the cat in for the first time, and he felt as though it was much more serious than it really was.

After the first night, she literally came over in the morning to check if all her precious one's needs had been met and if she was well cared for. As it turned out, of course, everything was fine, and since she was already there, they went to work together.

“By the way,” she began, just as Reid reached for the car door (her wonderful car…!), which made him turn back toward her, hand paused midair. “I’m not convinced about that food Prentiss was giving her.”

Spencer barely held back an eye roll. Most of her concerns (and there were a lot of them) were entirely unfounded.

“It was fine. The vet recommended it himself.”

“But it didn’t look very good.”

“That’s because it’s cat food. It’d be weird if you thought it looked appetizing.”

“We’ll come back to that. Last thing—I had a few things delivered to your place…”

“To my place?”

“Yep. A harness, a leash, a bowl…”

“She already has a harness and leash. And I have bowls at my apartment…”

“Yeah, but these are nicer. Red with gold accents. They’ll match her black fur.”

“I’m genuinely starting to worry about you.”

“Why? Is it so wrong that I don’t want my baby getting laughed at by the other kids for wearing outdated clothes?”

“She’s a cat. Cats don’t laugh at each other for wearing outdated clothes. That kind of mean behavior is strictly human.”

“Say what you want, but I saw those judgmental looks last time I took her out for a walk.”

“You should be teaching your child that her worth isn’t tied to clothes or material things.”

“She knows that. And soon she’ll also learn that her father’s a cheapskate who doesn’t want her to have cool accessories.”

Spencer ended the conversation with a wave of his hand, deciding the level of absurdity had officially gone too far.

“We’re about to be late,” he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

She gave him a wounded look, as if time were a concept he’d personally invented just to get rid of her. Still, the fact remained—they really were about to be late.

They stepped out of her car (her wonderful... ha! Not this time) (...her wonderful car...) and almost immediately ran into Morgan’s surprised stare.

His takeaway coffee cup froze halfway to his lips.

“Since when do you two show up to work together?”

They exchanged a glance. Spencer’s was mildly awkward; hers was completely unfazed.

“Good morning, Morgan. Nice to see you too. That’s usually how these things start,” she replied in a lecturing tone, to which their friend only rolled his eyes.

“Good morning and all that. So?”

Spencer decided to step in, offering his own explanation—he wanted everything to be clear, no misunderstandings, and most importantly, no two weeks of Morgan shooting him those suggestive looks from beneath raised eyebrows.

“She was already leaving my apartment this morning, so we figured we’d just come in together,” he said plainly.

Morgan did exactly what Spencer had hoped to avoid—he shot him a suggestive look from beneath raised eyebrows.

She, too, fixed her gaze on him, the corner of her mouth curling with mild pity.

“Leaving each other’s apartments in the morning…I’ve gotta say, you two surprise me, but I can’t say it’s unexpected,” Derek commented, completely ignoring Reid’s emphatic head-shaking.

Before he could get another word out, he was silenced with a wave of her hand.

“Better not make it worse,” she told him, then sighed and turned to Morgan. “We just have a baby together.”

Spencer stared at her, wide-eyed.

 “And I’m the one making it worse?”

Morgan shook his head at them with a small smile and simply walked off, calmly sipping his coffee.

Naturally, Spencer hurried after him.

 “A cat! We have a cat together…!”

*

Spencer barely noticed Hotch’s arrival or the fact that the whole team had gathered—he was far too absorbed in the book he was reading.

Alex had been a little surprised by his choice of subject, but he’d explained that lately, he’d been reading a lot about cats. That was just the way he was. He felt a constant need to expand his knowledge, especially in areas that directly affected his daily life.

It had been two weeks since they’d taken the cat in together, and while he had grown used to the added presence in his apartment on certain days, he was still learning fascinating things about these creatures—either from personal experience or through books and articles.

Whenever he came across something particularly interesting, he made a mental note of it to share with her later. That is, with his colleague in shared cat ownership. In shared responsibility for Marie. Since they were doing this together, they needed to be equally educated.

And since there was quite a lot to learn, he eventually started texting her things like:

The claws on a cat’s back paws aren’t as sharp as the claws on the front paws because the back ones don’t retract and, as a result, get worn down.

To which he would receive replies like (which gave him a strange internal delight he would never admit out loud):

really?? going to check wait

Only for five minutes to pass in silence—until a new message popped up:

can’t check, she’s sleeping. you should be too, it’s 3 a.m

Spencer mentally bookmarked the exact page and line where he’d left off so he could return to it later.

In the meantime, Penelope stood before the team, remote in hand, ready to brief them on their next case. But before she could say a word, someone else walked into the room—despite the fact that the whole team was already there.

Funny. He’d just been thinking about her.

“I looked into what you asked me about,” she said, her eyes focused solely on Garcia, not sparing even a passing glance in his direction.

Not that it was particularly strange. Even though they hadn’t seen each other yet that day. It’s not like he always looked for her face first, in every room he happened to walk into.

In any case, she handed Penelope a few papers.

“I adore you, I swear,” Penelope gushed, accepting the papers with heartfelt gratitude.

“I know you do. Oh—and I know you didn’t ask for this, but I figured it was worth looking into, and I actually found something interesting. Take a look…”

She launched into something connected to their new case. Reid reached for the case files, flipping through them quickly to catch up with what she was referencing.

His gaze moved in a steady rhythm—from her face, to the page he was reading, and back again—following the cadence of her voice.

At one point, she caught the look he gave her and tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful expression forming on her face. She didn’t say anything, just kept talking about the case, and their eyes didn’t meet again until she was already at the door.

With one finger raised, she spun on her heel, as if something had just occurred to her. That finger landed squarely on him.

Curious about what she was about to say, Reid straightened in his seat. And then…

“I hope you remember the castration appointment. Six o’clock. You better be there early,” she said briskly before walking out of the room.

Every gaze in the room—unified like a single entity—turned toward his now unnecessarily upright figure.

Spencer’s fingers fidgeted with the papers in his hands, one drifting to his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“We…have a cat now…”

*

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the test results spread out in front of you. Someone appeared at your side, and you knew exactly who it was—even without turning your head.

Over time, you had learned to recognize the people who regularly stepped into your lab—their footsteps, the way they moved, even the sound of their breathing.

This one was new. Quiet, almost shy. He’d only just joined your team, and he was young, with those perpetually shadowed eyes that always seemed to drift around the room in a distant sort of way. Judging by those eyes alone, one could assume he was constantly contemplating the essence of human suffering—and quietly mourning all eight billion souls, one by one.

But truthfully, he had the makings of a brilliant chemist. All he needed was a little more confidence.

“Um, you wanted to see me,” he reported, hands clasped behind his back. Or at least, that’s what you assumed he was saying—he usually stood like that until your stare reminded him he looked like a lost calf, and then he’d shift his posture in embarrassment.

“Indeed. Take these to Dr. Reid.”

You handed him the analyzed results, and he gave a simple nod. He returned ten minutes later, once again taking his place silently by your side, waiting to be noticed.

By then, you were already done with your coffee, fully immersed in your work, and you gave him only a brief nod—enough of a signal that he, too, should get back to it.

“Dr. Reid asked me to tell you…” Winchester began, looking even more awkward than usual. “That unfortunately, he won’t be able to take Marie this weekend.”

You sighed in frustration, and he nearly jumped, thinking it was directed at him.

“We agreed to take turns looking after her every weekend. Does he really have to change it at the last minute?” you muttered under your breath, mentally noting to call him and yell — just on principle. Because honestly, nothing was stopping you from taking the cat for the weekend.

But doing it this way was just more fun.

Winchester nodded and started assisting you with your work, occasionally swallowing nervously, as if trying to find a topic of conversation.

He seemed to live under the impression that whenever you were silent, you were probably planning to destroy the galaxy you all lived in — so he always tried to make awkward small talk, which, truth be told, he had no real desire for as a self-declared introvert.

“So…” he began hesitantly. “Her name is Marie? Is that after…?”

“Marie Skłodowska Curie? That’s right, point for you,” you replied, pausing for a moment as something crossed your mind, making the corners of your lips curl up unintentionally. “Although, at first, it was Albert. We thought she was a male. Blame Spencer and his bad vision,” you snorted.

Winchester looked genuinely shocked.

“How...how could you...what about the doctors?” he stammered, still trying to process the situation.

“What's wrong with them?”

“Didn't they tell you that you...have a beautiful little girl?”

“They did. But we thought it was a boy at first.”

“O-okay,” he muttered, suddenly opening his mouth like he had just realized something. “Oh, okay, now I get it. And, well, I admire you. A home birth must’ve been…tough.”

Only then did you look up at him, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he deeply regretted not keeping his mouth shut, but at the same time, had no idea where he had gone wrong. He scratched his head.

“Sorry if that's a sensitive topic.”

“Our cat would be a sensitive topic?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement because the sheer panic on his face was almost comical. It was reminiscent of Reid’s mortified expression when he tried desperately to conceal that something you did or showed him embarrassed him—though his cheeks gave him away.

“Your…your...I thought...I thought Marie was your and Doctor Reid’s child,” he stuttered, panicking. “And that...I don’t know, you’re divorced or something...should I just shut up now?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if he were battling with himself to close his eyes, as if that would make him disappear.

“Yeah, that’d be probably the best best”

Lmaoo Winchester = Whitaker from the pitt this is exactly what I had in mind while writing

[tfatwsbarnes]

don’t be tardy | tlou jesse

summary: jesse hates tardiness and you run late. you rub off on him and give him something to be late for.

pairing: jesse x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

trigger warnings: lil bit of bad language, jesse is kinda mean but not really, kissing, brief smut but not in great detail. reader doesn’t really take things seriously lmao

a/n: if me posting jesse fics keeps him alive i won’t ever stop 😤 love my diva. this is super choppy and short so i don’t expect enjoyment from it!

gif credit: @pedgito

      7:00am.

        You opened your eyes briefly to look at the red lights flickering on your alarm clock. The sun seeped in from between the thin, makeshift curtains, and you smiled into the duvet that covered you from neck to toe. For once, you felt serene, tranquility found in the Commune of Jackson. Survival a distant memory.

        You could do this forever.

        "Fuck!" Your eyes shot open, body upright as you read over the time once more.

        You were late. So fucking late.

You jumped into your clothes, swearing as you crashed into your cabinet when your foot got stuck in the leg of your pants. No time to fix your appearance, you slipped out of the front door, the profanities continuing to string along with you on your way to Main Street.

Feet pounded against the ground, wet mud flicked up behind you, chest heavy from panic when you managed to reach Main Street from your home in record timing. The building that held the Patrol meetings just adjacent to where you had skidded round the bend. Brass knob within your reach, you huffed as you grabbed and twisted it.

Door creaked to alert the compact group, you bared teeth as you cringed, boots tip-toed as best as you could above the old floorboards. As presumed, the meeting for morning Patrol had already started without you.

Familiar faces, Ellie and Dina, sat in amongst the older patrolmen, both offering a wave when you ducked your head in an attempt to conceal your lateness to Jesse who stood, arms crossed his chest, his eyes tracking you like prey for the taking.

"You're late." You winced at his deep tone.

Mottled hands from forgetting your gloves in a hurry, dragged the closest chair toward you. A concoction of embarrassment and shame crossed your face as eyes turned to you when Jesse spoke. Backside hitting the plastic chair, you felt the need to press your hands together; as if you were about to pray for his forgiveness.

OK. It wasn't near enough as good as an impression you could've made on your first patrol. It took months of arguments, pushing yourself to the limit and extra credit earned through mundane tasks that landed you the spot in the Jackson Patrol. And, now, you were late for your first meeting.

You had hoped it was Tommy or Joel Miller in charge. They'd have let it slide. You liked those brothers.

Jesse was your friend, if you could call someone you slept with on the regular, that. You met him by association of being relatively close to Ellie and Dina. He was a serious guy, little humour in duty-related situations, but you thought he was nice enough to engage in conversation with. And in turn, he showed you how nice he could be with your legs wrapped around his neck.

It was an added bonus that he was fun to look at.

You had wished he kept that momentum going when he stared you down, expectant of an explanation as to why you had tiptoed into the Patrol meeting.

"I'm sorry." You mustered.

Jesse puffed out, “Yeah—Sorry doesn’t cut it when you’re on duty. Thankfully, for you, your partnered with me. Otherwise, you would’ve cost us another Patrol member. A dip in our numbers, could mean we miss vital intel coming head-on to Jackson.”

“Alrigh’, she was late by minutes.” Joel Miller piped up from behind, “Give her a break.”

You didn’t dare move to mouth a ‘thank you’ to Joel. Mentally noted, you would buy him a drink at the Tipsy Bison later if Jesse hadn’t thrown you in jail for your tardiness.

Chairs creaked as people shifted awkwardly. Joel Miller was softened in his older years, but nobody dare speak out against him, especially Jesse — as much as undermining him set his internal anger ablaze.

“We’ll talk after.” He said. Which meant, we’ll talk when Joel Miller can’t defend you.

As he turned, you leant into Ellie, “Yeesh. Men are so touchy in Jackson.”

The meeting didn’t last long, or as long as you had hoped to avoid Jesse’s wrath in private. Every individual had an area to map out and scan to ensure there were no immediate threats to your Commune. There had been an increased sighting of the Infected in every direction, and this shook the infrastructure of Jackson. So, everybody was on high alert, observant of the grounds outside the confines of the walls.

You stood with the rest of the group, Ellie patted your shoulder for added sympathy for what you were about to face. She left you alone, head bumped with Dina as they spoke amongst themselves as the group bottle-necked at the entrance to the building.

An escape may have sufficed until you saw him later, but, that would’ve earned you an immediate dismissal from the Patrol Team and, you had a point to prove that you were worth the slot taken from others to maintain the safety of Jackson, Wyoming, whatever it took.

As the team filtered out, Jesse approached you with a mean-mug. No special chit-chat.

"Consider this a warning." Jesse was mad. Not the type of mad that would linger, but he had been on your side to convince Maria Miller that you were a good fit for the patrolmen. He didn't like his ass being shown.

You gawked, "A warning? Jesse, I thought we were friends—" You stopped following him when he turned sharply.

"—You want dismissed on your first day? If we weren't friends, that's where you would be. Shovelling horse shit and grovelling." He looked you up and down, "But, we are friends. So, you get a warning. Two more and I can't help you. Take your wins."

"OK." You kind of wished Joel stuck around to back you up. You twiddled your thumbs, reprimanded like a child. “Does this warning extend to tonight?”

You meant about having sex.

Jesse scanned his surroundings to ensure no eavesdropper had heard your invitation. He lowered his voice to a mumble, “No. Get to the stables.”

—

"You get the Appaloosa." Jesse informed when you reached the stables with the rest of the group.

You stopped in your tracks with your jaw slacked. There is one thing aside from the Cordyceps Outbreak that you loathed entirely and it was the Appaloosa stallion with a biting problem. Hoof battered against the stable door, the stallion whinnied in frustration from being contained — you presumed it craved human flesh.

He bucked when sat upon, you once going over the reigns and heavily winded when Jesse was showing you the ropes on how to properly guide a horse. After you had landed in the wet mud, the horse bit your arm for good measure.

That moment forward you both found enemies in each other.

Jesse was being cruel.

You followed Jesse to his selected horse, a gentle brown mare that liked you for your apples.

Throat cleared, Jesse turned to look at you innocently as you returned it with a plead, "Please don't make me ride that fucking Zombie—" You pointed to the stallion, "He has anger issues and, he's impossible to control."

Jesse threw the saddle over the mare and shrugged before swiftly straddling the horse, large hand smacked against the mare's neck as it stood grazing upon the hay in her stable.

"It's exposure therapy for you." He retaliated as he kicked the stirrups, his horse following the guidance with ease. He passed you slowly, a smile crept upon his face, "Teaches you how to deal with touchy men in Jackson."

He left you fighting the horse to get the saddle on its back, which in turn made you late to the gate with a grimace.

You had, surprisingly, survived the Patrol on Zombie, the Appaloosa. It seemed that you had breached through the stallion’s walls and managed to bribe him with soft-mints you stole from Jesse’s pocket when he scoped the land for any sign of an influx of Infected. In return for a mint after a handful of minutes apart, Zombie didn’t buck you off, or attempt to bite you despite your hand close to his mouth for the taking.

You returned to the stables, Jesse had taken the reigns of your horse, his private punishment over with as he guided it back into its area to rest. He came back, dusting his hands of the hay, a smile widened on his face.

“He didn’t kick you off.”

You threw him a petulant look, “Yeah. I know that broke your heart, you mean bastard.” Saddle in hand, you threw it onto the table, “And to think I was going to wrap my mouth—”

“—Enough.” Jesse warned.

“Sorry. Work hours.” You sighed at your brain’s disobedience to filter your mouth. From your peripheral, you saw Jesse shake his head in an attempt to hide his humour. You changed the subject, “Are you going to Maria Miller to debrief about the thirty dead?”

Jesse nodded.

“Can I come?” And he laughed. A genuine laugh in your face. If you weren’t on the receiving end, you may have begun to laugh with him because it was contagious for such a brooding man.

“No. You can’t” His laughter still sweet on his tongue, palm to his chest, “That’s called favouritism and we don’t need an uprising just because you’re pretty. Plus, I need to get there on time. Something you don’t know the meaning of.”

You blinked, “I’ve been on time.”

He spoke your name, “You have never been good at time-keeping. I’m pretty sure, Joel is still waiting for you for that one woodwork training session you organised last week—” Fuck! You knew you forgot about something, “It’s OK. I’ll keep us right for future events.”

Arms folded, you perked at his slip-up.

“Oh? There’s an us, now?” Stomach flipped, “I thought there was no blurring the lines, Captain Jesse.”

He said nothing more. Simply pecked your lips and exited the stables to his debrief with Maria Miller, and Tommy; they came as a package deal.

You went to go make amends with Joel before heading to Jesse’s for the night.

—

Jesse's workout chair had seen many workouts. It was sturdy, rattled a little when he was focussed on building muscle on his shoulders but all-in-all it was a good chair.

The bolt rattled at the base of the chair from the vigorous movement it was enduring. You were seated against the pleather, back hitting it with force as Jesse held your legs up by your ankles. Your knuckles were white from gripping onto the slim chair, mouth agape as Jesse continued his endeavour.

You hadn't meant to start this. It was a mere coincidence that you and Jesse were feeling some type of way the morning after you stayed for the first time, and you only encouraged it a smidge before caution was thrown to the wind and now, you were naked in Jesse's home, getting plowed on his workout chair.

"Oh my god." You whined which only spurred Jesse more.

He took both your ankles in one large palm, the other dove between your legs and your head hit the headrest, lids heavy as sweat followed the curve of your back. Jesse smirked at the vision he had created, the confidence built like a skyscraper in him for causing you that type of reaction.

        "Yeah?" He asked rhetorically and you nodded obediently. He went to open his mouth to let pure filth leave his tongue, only to jump from fright from the four knocks to his front door. His hips stuttered, "Shit. Hello?"

        "Jesse?" Ellie's voice called through the door and the pair of you looked to each other in panic. "I can't believe I'm about to say this—But—You're fucking late for patrol."

        Pinched brows, Jesse slowed his thrusts and craned his neck to look at the clock on his bedside table.

        Holy shit. Jesse was late.

        "Fuck—Yeah. Give me a minute."

        He unsheathed himself from you, a finger pressed to his lips when Ellie tried the door handle — both of you grateful that it was locked. Jesse threw his shirt on haphazardly, frustration shown in his hand gestures as he stumbled around the room, his patrol clothes unprepared which, again, was out of character.

        You stood from the chair, feet tiptoed to the door to grab his boots to unlace for him. Eyes squeezed shut, you could hear Ellie muttering to herself as she stomped the snow on her boots against the concrete of the steps. Jesse met you halfway, fully clothed compared to your bareness, a 'thank you' mouthed your way when he took the boots from your hands.

        "Will you hurry the fuck up?" Ellie called.

        Jesse swore under his breath, "Ellie, have a little patience."

        You and Ellie managed to scoff at the same time. A playful pinch to your budded nipple as retaliation, you swatted at his hand before he pulled you in for a chaste kiss.

        "See you later." He mumbled into your mouth, his willpower almost folded from feeling the hotness of your bare skin.

        "Mhm." You whispered. Quiet enough that Ellie wouldn't hear, "You deserve the Appaloosa today."

[nanenna]

This Conversation is Exactly as it Should've Been

Sleepy King AU Masterpost

Slight change in chapter title because with this brand new POV we finally have someone being reasonable!

🌟✨💖✨🌟

Duke was in the middle of his midday patrol when he got B's alert. “Come to the Watchtower, O will brief.”

Ominous, but not overly so. Nothing about the message said it was super urgent, so Duke turned back but kept an eye on the streets below as he switched to Oracle's channel.

“Hey O, what's the sitch?”

“Oh boy, do I have a story for you!”

Two attempted muggings and one long explanation later…

“So B wants me up there… to be the Ghost King's welcoming committee?”

“You guessed it!”

“What.”

“B thinks Danny will be more comfortable with another teenager, once you're up there just guide him to the hangar and wave as he and whoever's on the craft leave.”

Duke switched out his helmet for a domino, it would help not hide his age, and got into the zeta tube, “And where is this guy?”

“Let me patch you into the team's channel.”

Duke set his comms to listening only, he knew how B operated.

“Kal,” came B's deep voice, “where is Danny right now?”

“Why?” Superman asked. 

“So we can have someone nearby to guide Danny.”

“Wouldn't I be the best option?”

“No.”

There was an awkward moment of silence before some else spoke up. “Danny did run from you.”

“I have contacted an associate closer to his age, he's ready to go meet Danny.”

Superman sighed, “Of course you did. Anti-possession charm?”

“It's part of our standard equipment.”

That was news to Duke, he should ask about that later. Superman rattled off a floor number and directions to a storage room. Duke obligingly followed the directions.

“Danny spotted, he's out of the closet.” 

Duke couldn't help snorting at O's joke. “Good for him!”

“Shush, he's heading towards you, just keep heading down the hall. And remember, play dumb.”

Duke could do that. He rounded a corner to see a brightly glowing mass of shadows shambling down the hall. The figure themself was a slightly greenish white, like a glacier put through a color filter, hair face and all. Their eyes were two neon green flashlights, like the Lazarus pits or kryptonite. Their whole body glowed, like they'd been dipped in glow-in-the-dark paint. Their aura was dark shadows, writhing around them. There was a jagged blackhole floating over their head.

Duke blinked and instead found a pale teenager with black hair, intensely blue eyes, and wrapped up in Batman's cape with pale fingers clutching it closed.

“Oh I was not the best choice for this,” he muttered under his breath. He shook his head to finish clearing his vision, then smiled at the guy now standing a couple yards away, eyeing Duke warily. He pasted on a bright smile and waved, “Hi, I'm Signal.”

“Signal?”

“Yeah, I work out of Gotham. And from the looks of it so will you.”

“Huh?” The guy, presumably Danny, looked down to where his slippered feet were poking out the front of the cape where it parted to drag behind him on the floor.

“Batman's cape, looks like the adoption craze has struck again. B keeps bringing home new kids, there's like half a dozen of us.” Duke laughed along with the polite titters on his comms. Then he stepped closer to Danny and stage whispered, “Half of us have black hair and blue eyes, so you'll fit right in.”

Danny looked at Duke skeptically, “Do you?”

“Sure do.”

Danny didn't seem to know how to react to that.

“So, where you heading? I know the Watchtower can be pretty confusing at first.”

Danny's eyes grew big as saucers, “I'm on the Watchtower?!”

“Yeah, want a tour?”

“I… I …” Danny nodded eagerly, then hesitated. “My ride’s here.”

“Oh cool, where they at?”

“The uh… the hangar?”

“I can show you where it is.” Duke started walking, Danny fell into step next to him, still clutching B's cape. Duke let the silence sit for a minute because… 

“Marvel, Danny’s parents are ghost hunters,” B’s voice came over comms. Duke had no idea what was going on on Marvel’s end, O likely had him separated on that front.

“Are we sure sending the Ghost King home with ghost hunters is a wise idea?” Wonder Woman asked, trust her to ask the real questions.

“Yes!” Someone else said with heavy exasperation.

“They seem to have recently had a change in heart, they’ve denounced all their old work as flawed and outdated.” There was typing to go with O’s voice, likely showing everyone else said announcement.

It seemed the peanut gallery was calming down, so Duke turned his attention back to Danny. “So, you an orphan too?”

“No!” Danny sounded aghast.

“Ah, not as much a requirement as one might think. My sister, Orphan, still has both her parents, ironically enough. So does Spoiler and Batwing and Robin.”

Danny looked confused again. “Um… I'm pretty sure my ride is actually my parents.”

“That's cool, it's good to have supportive parents.”

Danny flushed, super obvious against his pale skin, but smiled happily. “Yeah.”

Danny seemed content to let the silence sit as they entered an elevator that would take them directly to the hangar. Duke wasn't done teasing yet. “So I told you my name, what's yours?”

“Oh um…” Danny looked down, “Danny.”

Duke raised an eyebrow, “Not got a code name yet,”

“No, I d- uh…” Danny's lips thinned. “Nope, just Danny. I'm not doing the whole,” a hand extended from the cape to gesture up and down Duke, “costume thing.”

Well that was an odd response, maybe Danny was the one steering the body after all. Then again, they had very little idea what Phantom looked like, and whether he considered himself a hero or was just being territorial.

“Well you don't have to if you don't want to. Lots of people with powers just lead normal lives.”

“Who said I have powers?” Danny asked defensively.

“Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. It's still true though, as metas become more common it's going to be less common for them to go into cape work.”

“Yeah well, I don't even wear a cape.” Danny looked away with another blush.

Interesting.

Duke nudged Danny with his elbow, “You're wearing a cape eight now.”

Danny looked down and blushed all the more. “Fine, I guess I am.”

“But good choice, I don’t wear a cape either. Capes are cringe.”

Danny cringed at that, the blush coming back. So Danny does have a code name, is wearing a costume, and that included a cape at least for a little while.

The elevator slowed to a stop with a ding. The door opened into the hangar, where a small, unfamiliar craft sat in the middle of the otherwise cleared off runway. There was Captain Marvel and some people Duke didn't recognize standing near the craft. The strangers, one of whom was waving around a safety green baseball bat, seemed to be scolding Marvel, who had his hands up in surrender. Danny let out a relieved sigh as he stepped out of the elevator, quickly heading for the group.

“Danny!” One of the group said. Everyone’s attention turned to him, most of them smiling.

“Danno!” A large man in bright orange grinned and waved cheerfully. “We’ve been worried about you!”

“Hi, Dad, Mom, Jazz, Sam, Tuck,” Danny said in quick succession. “Sorry about that, I have no idea what’s going on or how I got here.”

The woman in teal turned her attention to Marvel, “Well someone was about to explain the whole situation to us, weren’t you mister champion of magic?”

Marvel grinned sheepishly, “Of course, ma’am.”

[softtdaisy]

living the fantasy / Aaron Hotchner

summary. watching bodyguard with your bodyguard leads to you finally living your fantasy

words count. 2 011

what to expect. a very brief smut (not even sure we can call it that) but they have sex yes

a/n. this was absolutely not supposed to end like that but I got too involved with the scene so here it is (this was just a joke about the bodyguard watching bodyguard at first)

bodyguard masterlist | criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

Hotch had seen you angry before.

Because of something you had read online about yourself—or about him—you were even more defensive with him than when it’s about you.

Because your stalker made you change your plan—and you hated changing your plan, especially because of him.

Because things weren’t going the way they were intended—and it caused you some stress you clearly didn’t need.

So he wasn’t much surprised to see you like this. With a closed expression on your face, a look that could kill, and your fists tight and hidden under your crossed arms on your chest. Like you were ready to punch someone even though you weren’t the violent type. It wasn’t a first for him. 

No, Hotch was much more surprised by the fact the reason you were upset seemed frivolous to him.

“Are you really that upset?” he asked from the sofa, still watching you from there, preparing the popcorn. Poor Corn was paying the price of his mistake if he was listening to you.

You opened your mouth from the surprise and the shock that he was again acting like this was nothing. “How dare you ask? You have never seen Bodyguard!”

That was it.

The reason for your “fight.”

Your bodyguard had never seen the movie Bodyguard.

You learned this information through a very random conversation. 

You did an interview the other day where you had to go through a list of rom-com movies: the ones you had seen, the ones you didn’t, your favorites, and those you wouldn’t recommend. You were known by your fans as an expert on rom-coms, so it was no surprise that you had seen most of these movies and could give very detailed explanations on why you preferred one or another. 

When you came home, you made Hotch go through the same list just to tease him. He said he had seen Dirty Dancing at the theater because “I had dates when I was younger, you know,” Mamma Mia because one of his exes was a big musical fan, or Notting Hill with a British client who was nostalgic for home.

Yet, he hadn’t seen many recent ones—which you weren’t surprised to learn.

And then he confessed his betrayal. “Why would I have seen a movie that parodies my job?” He justified it very casually.

You took that personally. 

And decided that this Friday night would be a Bodyguard watch night.

You finally came back to the living room, still ignoring Hotch as much as you could. Something that amused him. He loved watching you pretend you didn’t care when you cared so much. 

He noticed your quick looks at him and the way your mouth was going upward slightly before you contained yourself. Trying so hard not to smile at him because you were supposed to be mad. Your fist loosened up only for you to play with your fingers—a habit he noticed when you were trying so hard not to speak. 

And so he waited until you sat by his side. “Do I have to like the movie?” he asked, turning his head to you and stealing some popcorn from your bowl. There he noticed it too: the way your eyes went down on his chest, hidden by a very tight black shirt that made his muscles more apparent and his arms look bigger. It wasn’t your fault Black made his skin look so good and you couldn’t resist some vein apparition. Blame a woman for having desire.

Then your eyes moved to his face again. “Don’t be surprised if I ask to change my bodyguard.” 

His laugh filled the room, and this time you couldn’t contain your smile. That sound was definitely your favorite.

To your biggest surprise, Hotch seemed focused on the movie playing.

To your biggest ignorance, he was only doing that because it mattered to you.

If you loved it this much, then he had to give it a try.

It became very clear at some point that the story on screen echoed the one you were living too. The singer being threatened by a stalker, having a bodyguard to protect her, and playfully fighting like cats and dogs. Hotch could see it. And he knew you did too.

Because again, he could read you like an open book. And it wasn’t only the movie that made you move like that on the couch; it was the feeling of seeing your own life on screen. The fear of never having a normal life again—even if your days weren’t normal before the stalker already. But it was your life. And you deserved to have it back.

Hotch didn’t think much—and maybe he should have considered what you were watching—but he put a hand on your thigh suddenly. “Stop moving,” he asked, his eyes still on the screen and his fingers resting on your leg. You could feel the heat of his skin against you, even through your pants. 

And you listened to him. Oh, you listened. Mostly because losing his touch was the worst thing that could happen right now.

And when the first love scene played on screen, you certainly couldn’t move. Even if you wanted to. And neither could Hotch. 

Maybe the way his fingers slightly gripped your thigh was moving. But maybe the way your hands naturally moved above his, intertwining your fingers with his, was indeed moving. Or maybe none of you were to blame since in front of you was playing the fantasy you were both trying to fight against.

You felt some kind of jealousy at the idea that the character got what you were wishing for—even though you knew the rest of the story.

Hotch felt some kind of disappointment that his professional behavior was preventing him from listening to his desire.

“He is right, you know,” he whispered after Frank—the bodyguard—decided to break off their affair right after their first night. Saying it could compromise his work, making him too personally attached to his client. 

And that was the truth, what was scaring Hotch the most. That if he let himself fall for you for real, then he wouldn’t be able to protect you properly. Even if, at this point, he was only pretending he hadn’t fallen already.

And if he were your bodyguard, he would have a hard time accepting that he failed his job. As your lover, he could never forgive himself.

But you didn’t answer. Actually, Hotch wasn’t even sure you had heard him. He gave you multiple quick looks through the movies, but your eyes never left the screen. 

Even the excellent profiler he was couldn’t point out if you were truly absorbed by the movie or if you were focusing on it to avoid the reality. He knew the reason for his incapacity was that his feelings were taking the lead. 

By the end of the movie, he heard you sob. He turned his head fully this time, not hiding that he was looking out for you. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you said, pointing a finger at him and trying to hide behind a laugh why you wanted to cry. You always did that, hiding your true feelings behind a smile or a laugh. 

More than your romantic side that made it impossible for you not to cry, the movie was again hitting too close to home. The feeling that whatever you shared might never be enough. That reality might always bury your feelings and your relationship and make it impossible to keep it alive.

Without hesitating a single second, Hotch put his arm around your shoulder to bring you against him. “I won’t,” he added, and soon you felt his lips against your temple. A soft kiss that lasted longer than he intended to.

Because he needed it too. To feel you. For just a few seconds.

A few seconds. Something that encouraged you to slowly slip on his lap. Hotch followed your movement, his hands sliding on your back to your waist. Keeping you in place when you finally settle on him, your forehead against him. The song I Will Always Love You is playing in the back, like the echoes of your mind.

“Once,” you whispered. Your voice was trembling. Asking. Begging.

Hotch’s shaking breath was all you could hear. And feel it against your lips. 

He brought his hand to your hair, caressing it once, twice, before grabbing it slowly. “Once,” he replied in a whisper. 

He used his hand on your hair to bring your face closer, and closer, and closer, until there was no other choice for your lips to finally touch. It felt real and right to finally get to kiss Aaron Hotchner. 

You lived every single second of this kiss.

The taste of his lips—coffee and sweet from the popcorn.

The feeling of his lips—soft and a little dry—against yours.

The game of his tongue with yours—like a dance made only for you.

The softness of his finger on your cheek—caressing your skin.

The movement of his hips—moving unconsciously at your touch.

The acceleration of his heartbeat against you—letting you know he had the same desire as you.

To do more. To go further.

And so you weren’t surprised he followed your movement, letting him lay on the couch with you still on top of him. His resting hand on your back going under your shirt, caressing your naked skin like he needed to touch you. To feel you. To know you were real. 

And when you let your hand go under his shirt, when you felt his bulge grow against your thigh, you decided you couldn’t stop. Not now. Not this fast.

“Please” was all you said against his lips.

And maybe that was the hottest thing he had ever heard. You. Begging.

He tightened his grip on your hair, pulling your head so he could look at you. “Say it again,” he ordered. 

And you did it. You said it again.

You said please when his hand slowly moved from your back to your pants. 

You said please when you felt his fingers meeting your underwear, your skin, and your clitoris.

You said please, your head buried in his neck, when his fingers kept moving faster and faster.

You said please when he pulled away his hand before you could finish, only to get rid of your pants. 

He said please when you moved your hand to take away his jeans.

But you couldn’t say please no more when he finally got into you. Not when he was moving slowly first. Then faster, quickly. Harder, too.

And soon there were no words in any of your mouths except for both of your names echoing in the room. The silence from the movie being over and the noises made by your bodies meeting each other again, and again, and again.

You loved the way he was moving your head, like his grip on your hair, the way he needed to. 

Bringing your neck to his lips so he could kiss it.

Bringing your lips closer so he could kiss them too.

Or bringing your ear to his mouth so he could moan your name right into it. 

And when you both finished together, you thought that you might have found your new favorite melody. The way Aaron had a special way to moan your name. And the way he was so breathless under you now.

You moved your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. With his head slowly tilted backward so you could see his eyes closed, his eyelashes made him look like a soft man—certainly not the man who made you beg the whole way.

“Tell me,” you said in a low voice, your finger going up and down his chest slowly. “If I say please again, will we start again?”

He laughed. You felt it against you, in your bones and soul. 

He moved his head so he could look at you again. “Don’t tempt me.”

But the temptation was now too big to ignore. 

Tag List: @kiwriteswords @monzabee @raysmayhem-72 @kajjaka @pastelpinkflowerlife (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

[luvly-writer]

Basgaith: Eyes Up, Gamlyn

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

Later that afternoon, the sun was lower, casting long shadows over the training yard. The squads had moved into formation drills under the watchful eyes of the wingleaders, and Xaden Riorson—shirt back on, to Y/n’s great disappointment—was stalking the line like a general preparing for war.

“Positions should be tight,” he barked, sharp voice cutting through the air. “If your flanks are open, you’re already dead. Move with your squad like they’re your wings.”

His tone was clipped, commanding, and way too attractive for someone who was supposedly terrifying. Y/n tried to focus. Really. But her eyes drifted again. To the way his black rider jacket clung to his broad shoulders. To the effortless way he moved—calculated, sharp, dangerous. A shadow wielder wrapped in command and cold beauty.

Then it happened.

He turned.

Caught her.

And winked.

It was fast—barely a twitch of one eye—but it was unmistakable.

Y/n’s breath caught. Her entire body stiffened.

And then—

“Oh my gods.”

Rhiannon snorted it first, grinning like a devil.

Violet wheezed next. “Y/n’s blushing again!”

Sawyer whistled loud enough for the cadets across the yard to turn. Ridoc—ever the doting older brother—threw his head back and cackled.

“HE WINKED AT HER,” Sawyer teased. “I SAW IT.”

Y/n groaned and covered her face with both hands. “I will murder every single one of you in your sleep.”

"You can't do that, it's against Codex"

"Shut the fuck up, Ridoc"

“I think you just got promoted,” Rhiannon teased. “Straight to Riorson’s favorite.”

Xaden, from the center of the yard, did not comment. He didn’t look again.

But that smirk?

Yeah. It was very present.

Battle brief was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the flickering mage lights overhead and the massive map stretched across the central table. The Iron Squad sat shoulder to shoulder with other riders as Xaden led the briefing, his voice low, crisp, and authoritative.

Y/n sat between Rhiannon and Violet, braid tight, posture straight, trying to focus despite the way Xaden’s presence always seemed to pull at the edges of her awareness.

“Gamlyn,” Xaden said suddenly, looking straight at her. “If the enemy surrounds your flank while a forward ambush is in play, what’s your best counter?”

“Pull the center forward, redirect the flank into a crescent maneuver, then trap them in a false retreat,” she answered quickly, voice clear and steady.

He gave a small nod. “Correct.”

She barely had time to let the praise settle before she felt it.

A soft brush.

Not on her hand, not on her shoulder—but around her ankle. Cool and silken, like smoke wrapping around skin. Not alarming—just a tease. A caress of magic no one else would notice.

Her breath caught. Eyes flicked downward. A faint, wispy curl of shadow danced around her boot before dissipating entirely.

No.

Her gaze darted up, scanning the riders at the table—until she found him.

Xaden hadn’t moved from his position across the table, arms folded, voice still deep in explanation. But his eyes?

They flicked toward her—just briefly—and there it was.

The smirk. Barely there. Just the edge of his lips curving up, like he knew exactly what he’d done. Like he was daring her to call him on it.

Y/n straightened in her seat, pulse thudding quietly in her throat.

Rhiannon leaned in, whispering, “You good?”

She gave the smallest nod, lips twitching into a secret smile. “Peachy.”

Xaden continued speaking, cool and collected.

But the next time her eyes dropped, she swore she saw the faintest flicker of shadow curl beneath the table once more.

The Iron Squad was technically supposed to be studying.

Books were open, yes. Scrolls unrolled, quills in hand, the works. But the library table they’d taken over looked more like the aftermath of a strategy meeting and a bakery run—crumbs from stolen pastries, notes half-doodled, and Liam’s bored sketches scattered among actual information.

Rhiannon had her feet propped up on a chair, leaning back as she quietly bickered with Sawyer over the interpretation of some dragon battle formation. Ridoc was half-asleep with a book over his face, and Violet kept trying to quiz everyone, only to be met with groans.

Y/n, seated at the edge of the table, was dutifully scribbling notes, eyes down, posture perfect… until she glanced away—too quickly and too often—to the far corner of the library.

Where Xaden was seated.

Focused. Intense. Reading over something with Garrick beside him. He hadn’t noticed her gaze, too deep in thought—or maybe he was just good at pretending not to notice.

But Liam noticed.

And so did the rest of them.

Sawyer’s brows shot up first. Rhiannon’s smirk followed. Violet elbowed Ridoc without looking up. “Don’t,” she warned under her breath.

Ridoc smirked at her, lifting the book off his face just enough to peer at Y/n with a suspicious grin. “Y/n. Dearest sister. Something got your attention over there?”

Y/n didn’t look up. “Hm? No.”

“You sure?” Liam chimed in, barely hiding his grin. “Because it looked like you were studying a particular... shadow wielder’s form.”

“Must be a fascinating subject,” Rhiannon added, mock-innocent. “Very advanced material.”

Y/n lifted her head with the calmest expression imaginable. “I was not.”

“Right,” Sawyer said. “And I didn’t hear you sigh five minutes ago.”

“I sighed at your inability to do simple math,” she retorted smoothly, flicking her eyes back to her notes.

“Uh-huh,” Ridoc drawled, leaning across the table. “Just saying, for someone who isn’t looking at Riorson, you’ve got a very focused non-gaze going on.”

Y/n didn’t even blink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, princess,” Rhiannon teased under her breath with a wink.

Y/n rolled her eyes and flipped a page dramatically, trying to ignore how warm her face felt—especially when she looked up again, just to make sure he hadn’t noticed the entire thing.

Spoiler alert: he had. And he was definitely smirking.

Later that night...

It was late in the evening, the sky outside their dorm window glowing with the soft purples and oranges of twilight. The three girls were sprawled across Rhiannon room, a rare quiet moment between brutal training and even more brutal classes.

Violet was lying on her stomach on the bed, flipping through notes halfheartedly. Rhiannon sat cross-legged on the floor, braiding a piece of Y/n’s hair absentmindedly while Y/n lay back with her head in her best friend’s lap, staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression and a dreamy little smile tugging at her lips.

“Okay,” Rhiannon said, narrowing her eyes. “Spill it. What’s got you all floaty?”

“Hmm?” Y/n blinked. “Nothing.”

Violet lifted her head, immediately catching on. “Liar. You’ve been in a daze since sparring this morning.”

Y/n flushed and groaned. “No I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Rhiannon said smugly. “You tripped over your own feet walking back to the barracks. You never trip.”

“It was a loose stone!” Y/n squeaked.

“Uh-huh,” Violet said, smirking. “Was the stone tall, dark, and broody with a mark crawling up his arms and a voice like a war drum?”

Y/n shoved a pillow over her face and mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that?” Rhiannon teased, tugging the pillow away.

“I said—I might have a small... teeny tiny... barely-there crush on Xaden,” Y/n muttered, face bright red.

Rhiannon let out a triumphant gasp. “Knew it!”

Violet burst into laughter, falling back onto the mattress. “Girl, we’ve BEEN knowing.”

Y/na sat up, scandalized. “No, you have not!”

“Yes, we have,” they said in unison.

“Violet caught you staring at him three days into training,” Rhiannon added, grinning.

“You told me his arms were ‘so unfair it should be illegal,’” Violet added with mock innocence.

“I—I never said that!”

Rhiannon laughed so hard she nearly toppled over. “You absolutely did!”

Y/n covered her face with her hands. “I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t,” Violet said sweetly. “But you do like him.”

Y/n let out a dramatic groan, collapsing back onto the floor. “He’s going to know. He knows.”

“Good,” Rhiannon said with a wink. “He should.”

All three of them dissolved into laughter, their voices echoing into the twilight like the beginning of something wonderful.

Unbeknownst to knem...

The hallway outside the girls’ barracks was dimly lit, quiet except for the muffled sounds of laughter echoing from one of the rooms.

Xaden and Garrick were walking past, having just returned from a strategy meeting, when Garrick suddenly slowed down, one brow raised. “Wait.”

Xaden frowned. “What?”

“Shh.” Garrick tilted his head toward a door cracked just slightly open—Rhiannon’s room.

From inside, they could hear unmistakable giggles—and then Rhiannon’s voice, loud and teasing: “What was that?”

There was a pause, and then a flustered voice followed. Y/n’s.

“I said—I might have a small... teeny tiny... barely-there crush on Xaden.”

Xaden froze mid-step.

Garrick’s jaw dropped for a second… then his lips split into a slow, smug grin.

“Oh my gods,” he whispered, absolutely delighted. “She likes you.”

Xaden was still frozen, expression unreadable—but the slight twitch of his mouth gave him away.

“You’ve been brooding like a lovesick idiot for weeks,” Garrick whispered, practically vibrating. “And now this? This is the best day of my life.”

“Shut up,” Xaden muttered, but he couldn’t stop the way his eyes darted toward the door, or how his jaw relaxed slightly at the sound of Y/n’s laughter.

Inside the room, Rhiannon let out an exaggerated gasp, Violet howled with laughter, and Y/n was protesting loudly.

“They’re adorable,” Garrick whispered like a proud mother hen. “Can I plan the wedding?”

Xaden rolled his eyes and tugged him away by the arm, muttering under his breath. “You breathe a word of this and I’ll have Sgaeyl drop you into the river.”

“Worth it,” Garrick grinned.

As they walked off, the door clicked gently shut behind them, the girls completely unaware that their secret had just made a certain Wingleader’s night.

Author's note: Because of her being a pretty girly girl, Ridoc constantly called her princess from an early age, which caused the nickname to stick with their friendgroup once they got to Basgaith.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia

To be added to the taglist, leave a comment <3

[matchatarot]

Lovely Bunny, I know life hasn’t always been soft to you. May this reading bring you clarity and light on your healing journey. To pick a pile don’t overthink it; choose the one that draws you in the most while thinking about the reading’s intent. Don’t force it, only take what resonates! Love, Matcha ♡

☆ masterlist

Pile 1 ₊˚.༄

tw: brief su*cide mention

This pile is for you if you struggle with depression or su*cidal ideations. You’re probably someone educated, smart and creative but life to you can seem extremely dull due to your lack of intellectual stimulation. You might have a lot of wisdom, but a part of you feel unfulfilled. To find healing, you’ll need to look at yourself and be realistic about where you are mentally. You might be procrastinating by claiming it was worse before or that others have it worse, so it’s probably good enough right now. Even if you’ve already gone a long way, you should still focus your self-development on where you are right now rather than in the past. Remember that life is difficult, most people are silently struggling. Find healing by opening up about it in a more detached or artistic way. You are advised to share about your struggles with humour and lightness, by sharing your weakness you’ll regain a sense of power. Make art inspired by your struggles, it’ll give them a sense of purpose in your life, you could even make money off of it in the future. Remember that this is part of your legacy, even the difficult things. This advice might be weird but see yourself like a saint in your life. Like you’re someone who’ll end up having a lasting impact on the earth because of their dedication to love and light and that your life story is just the original story of your spiritual path. A point of view more similar to that one will help to give yourself grace by reminding yourself of your path and intentions. You should also totally start meditating, do meditations where you focus on visualizing an environment that is pleasing and calming to you. You need to learn something new, you might have hobbies but you need to be a beginner at something again, it’ll help you to reconnect with your inner child, and life won’t seem so gray and all the same. Remember that you only have one life, no matter what happens you’ll die anyway but what you do of that life is up to you. Will you continue showing up for yourself?

2, 3, 4, libra, venus, zeus

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Pile 2 ⊹˚˖ ☆

If you chose this pile you’re probably already taking action when it comes to your mental health. However, you seem to be encountering blockages when it comes to working on your anxieties. Ordinary things can seem troubling and scary to you, you might be overthinking small decisions and interactions. You’re a perfectionist. You are patient with others but when it comes to you you’re strict and inflexible. Right now, you’re learning to express your boundaries and your needs. The most healing thing you could do right now is to look at the people you have around you and assess if they’re still helpful to you on your journey. You might be avoiding red flags. If you seem to always be failing to reach the expectations of someone in your life, maybe it’s not that you’re inadequate, maybe they just don’t fit in your life. You’ll know who to cut off because you’re already feeling somewhere in your gut that there’s something wrong you’re avoiding. It’s okay to not be liked by everybody. “If you got no haters you ain’t poppin’”… If people have strong opinions regarding you, some hating you and some loving you, it’s probably just a sign that you’re being authentic. You can’t be liked by everybody unless you’re an unauthentic people pleaser, sorry not sorry. Start being a little bit more cutthroat like that, you’re allowed to cut off anyone from your life with no explanations, you’re allowed to not look back and follow your path. I don’t mean you should be an asshole to loving souls but we both know there are some toxic people undeserving of the courtesy of explanation or closure. Don’t think that you’re too intense, your emotions are valid and continue processing them in a way that feels cathartic to you. Your spirit guides are protecting you and reminding you that this path is the one that’ll bring you your manifestations if you’re willing to put yourself first.

4, gemini, selenite, smokey quartz, snowflake obsidian, sodalite

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Pile 3 ‧₊˚ ♡

If you chose this pile you most likely already did a lot of shadow work and you’re seeing positive results when it comes to your mental health. You’ve overcome mental blockages and you're reconciling with yourself. You accept your flaws and your past. This healing journey brought you to a new sense of self in opposition to who you used to be. You learn who you are every time you make a new life decision. You’re working against toxic patterns, you can be proud of yourself. Don’t shy away from this new way of being, you’re allowed to be paradoxical, it’s okay that you changed, it doesn’t mean you’re inauthentic. It would be inauthentic to reject change and to remain chained to an ego-driven sense of self. You’re already doing the work when it comes to grounding yourself in your new higher way of being. However, the advice is to connect with your inner child. Recognize the part of yourself you’ve found again that was always part of you. You’ll realize that you didn’t become someone totally new but that you reconnected with yourself. Think about how you used to be when you were a kid, your temperament, the things that spoke to your soul. Your second piece of advice is to start making bolder moves when it comes to your career and aspirations. You’ve done the work and you’re now ready to embark on a new journey with challenges that are adapted to your new capacities. The universe is ready to give you your manifestations, know that as soon as you start taking action towards your goals you’ll see great results sooner than expected. Money and comfort are coming into your life Bunny!

2, 4, 5, 8, jade, pyrite, rhodonite, cherry blossom

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decks used for this reading: angel tarot cards by Radleigh Valentine, l’oracle du chemin spirituel by Valérie Defour & Valérie Saussez, art oracles by Katya Tylevich, oracle of heaven and hell by Travis McHenry

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 28)

Summary: Spencer and Bunny take the next big step in their relationship. Someone from Spencer’s recent past returns. A/N: I'm here. I'm sorry for the wait. Only two chapters remain. New chapter tomorrow. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Unprotected sex, penetrative sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), guns, gun violence, blood Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

How many ways were there to welcome the morning? After twenty five years, consisting of over nine thousand sunrises, I still woke to find that the world seemed a little bit different than when I’d closed my eyes.

It felt like a lifetime since the first time I’d woken in Spencer’s bed, yet there was still something new, something to be identified and expounded upon through the insistent internal monologue that so many people have told me to write down.

I’d considered it once upon a time. Then again, there are still some memories that seem too sacred to write down. It would be a shame for someone to misinterpret one of those defining moments.

That morning, though, did not seem at first like a magical moment. It hadn’t seemed like a morning that I would be interested in writing about, either. In fact, I hadn’t even wanted to open my eyes.

But luckily for me, Spencer could spot the safety of dreams fading away without me ever needing to.

“Good morning, Bunny,” he whispered.

While the low volume had been appreciated, I still couldn’t manage anything more than a groan.

The bastard chuckled. His fingers worked carefully to correct errant strands of hair that had knotted and fallen in unpredictable patterns. Even that kind gesture felt like sandpaper to overly sensitive skin. The little bit of light filtering through my eyelids was enough for me to finally understand why ancient cultures saw the sun as a vengeful God.

“How’s your head?” my very unhelpful boyfriend asked.

As I opened my eyes, I repeated my previous reply followed by an even more pathetic whine. But for all my complaining, I had to acknowledge that the sight of his smile eased some of the pain.

“I’ll get you some medicine, okay?” he offered along with an already opened bottle of water.

I accepted the kindness—as soon as I could see straight and sit up. Thankfully, within what seemed like seconds, he’d returned and handed me a savior in the shape of tiny gel capsules. Still, he seemed unsatisfied by my obvious state of displeasure.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked.

I knew that if I didn’t respond quickly, he would’ve found some reason to leave again. And no matter how brief and well-intentioned it would be, I would miss him more than whatever relief his absence might render.

“I’m okay,” I said through a lopsided smile. “Thanks.”

The longer he looked at me, the more his features betrayed the normalcy of the morning. Not unlike how it looked when he lied, Spencer’s eyes seemed scrutinizing and somewhat apologetic.

Memories of the night before came back like the haze of haloed taillights. I chased the meaning behind worn vocal cords and a sore stomach only to flinch at what I found.

Before I could apologize for the mess I’d thrust upon him, though, Spencer spoke.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

He didn’t have to, but I’d appreciated that he had. In my mind, there was no question as to why he’d felt like he failed. I already knew his explanations. I had understood his missteps the moment I’d seen his face the night before.

I would always understand the terror in his eyes. If not the cause, at least the feeling. But I let him speak because I knew how badly he needed to do it to let it go. In a way, I knew it would help heal something in me, too.

“I wish I had a better excuse for reacting that way, but… I-I just got scared. And I wasn’t as nice to you as I should’ve been.”

I opened my mouth to accept the apology, but he stopped me to say, “I never want to treat you that way. Not even when I’m afraid.”

The distant cry from another night came to mind. A night filled with accusations, tears, and bruises. It wasn’t until halfway through one memory that I recalled another.

But this time was unlike the others. This time, I had been the catalyst. I had been the one to try to hide information from him. I was ashamed about my inability to live up to my own expectations.

I had my own apology to issue, and I knew he wouldn’t like it.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t being fair to you, either,” I sighed.

“No, you didn’t—,” he started.

It only took one glance for him to retreat back into the silence. But as he pressed his lips together, I saw an almost imperceptible smirk. A little hint of pride at my willingness to insist over his objection.

“You were right. I was being insecure,” I admitted.

I hadn’t expected that concession to hurt him so deeply, but I saw how his smile dropped, and his eyebrows knitted with concern.

“Bunny, I—.”

“I know,” I chuckled, “I know you love me.”

“I really do,” he said, anyway.

His smile returned at the same time as mine. Our hands raised in tandem, reaching out to hold onto each other while we confessed to faults the other couldn’t care less about. In that quiet, fleeting moment, I remembered the way I had looked in the mirror. I recalled the rage and frustration and the girl who’d let it happen.

“I actually don’t think I was feeling insecure,” I corrected after much thought.

Spencer froze, seemingly out of fear and confusion.

Mercifully, I explained myself with the utmost confidence.

“I just don’t like her, and I wanted to rub it in her stupid jerk face that you love me.”

A laugh sputtered from his lips. Our bodies swayed closer together in the early morning light. We looked at each other with eyes and bodies still touched by sleep. Our hands roamed over heated skin and soft sheets and found security in the vulnerability.

Even through the laughter, he teased, “You had a different word for her last night.”

But I was deadpan when I answered, “I’m trying to be better about my temper.”

He was equally serious when he answered, “God, I love you.”

As deft as always when it came to loving me, Spencer pulled me closer and wrapped a firm arm around me. His crushing embrace was welcomed with the same enthusiasm as the kisses that followed across my brow and down the sides of my jaw.

I giggled and squirmed until he awarded me what I sought most. A simple, chaste kiss on the lips.

Spencer didn’t want for anything more. He seemed so content, pressing his forehead against mine and letting his eyes flutter shut. I allowed him a few heavy exhales before I faltered.

There was no real reason for it. I had no pressing need, no undying desire to know the fullest extent of Spencer’s wounds. As far as I was aware, he’d never lied to me before.

But there was something about that fear that made me feel as though I was fighting a ghost of a memory. Sure, perhaps his years of law enforcement had made him slightly paranoid, but…

‘I wasn’t in love with any of them!’ he had said about the last two women he’d been with.

But Spencer had been in love before.

Hadn’t he?

“Can I ask you something?”

Still caught up in the chaos, he was quick to confirm,  “I haven’t kissed anyone else since I met you, much less slept with any of them. And if the ‘stupid bitch’ is who I think it is, I’m afraid she might have misdirected her grudge against me onto you.”

The characteristically candid nature of the reply made me chuckle.

“Yeah. That sounds right,” I assured him before explaining, “but… that’s not what I was going to ask.”

“By all means,” he offered freely.

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Just like that, all confidence was lost. His eyes opened at the same time the walls began rising.

“I…”

He stopped before he’d even started.

I turned my attention away for a split second and Spencer was quick to grab hold of my hand to stop me from leaving.

But I hadn’t been leaving. I’d just shifted enough to grab hold of the plush bunny wedged between our pillows.

He released a shaky breath and half the pressure from around my hand. I smiled, and he reciprocated the simple action with relief.

“It’s okay if you have, or if you don’t want to talk about it,” I whispered. “I just… wanted to hear about it.”

Spencer’s ever-emotive eyes fell away from me for what seemed like the first time. I watched as galaxies spun like gears, recalling lifetimes since passed.

I realized in that moment how very little I knew about the women he’d loved. I didn’t know how they’d met or how he’d lost them. I didn’t know how long of his life had been spent with someone else, although context clues told me it hadn’t been much of it.

Certainly, there had been heartbreak. Even without his words, I could feel it in the way he kissed me. So gently, so reverently, like he was loving something he knew he could lose.

I braced myself as I waited because I was so certain that Spencer would tell me a story of his first love that I would forever envy.

But he didn’t. Instead, he just shook his head in disbelief, all while wearing a smile.

“You know, it’s weird. A few years ago, I would’ve answered yes without hesitation but… I think I was wrong?”

What a rare, terrifying sentiment to hear from the bona fide genius. Yet he hardly seemed afraid. If anything, he seemed freer than before—even when his brows knitted and his eyes filled with tears.

“There’s only one woman I would say came close but, in retrospect… I didn’t really know her at all.”

Unsure of what to say, or how deeply I’d wanted to prod into the tale of the mystery woman who’d managed to trick Spencer Reid into believing in love, I just nodded.

He seemed relieved.

So, naturally, I had to ask another question.

“Why did you break up with Max?”

Spencer sat up. His eyes darted away unlike before. There was no introspection; no need for complicated contemplation. He knew his rehearsed answer and shared it without hesitation.

“She already told you. I kissed someone else.”

But that wasn’t what I meant.

“Yeah, but… Why did you do that?”

Caught off guard by the follow up, Spencer let a dark secret slip between his defenses.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged indifferently, “I wanted to.”

I winced. He didn’t.

“That’s an awful reason,” I reminded him. For a moment, he almost seemed to feel bad.

It was short lived, however. As quickly as it had come, the apathy was swept aside by a rip current of rage and something else. That self-loathing was accompanied by… pride and pain that felt like poison.

“She was also threatening to hurt people if I didn’t. But… I’m not going to lie about how I felt. I wanted to do it, too,” he said with a sharp tongue aimed only at himself.

“I wanted to,” he repeated. A quiet whisper of defeat.

I had recognized the shame bleeding through each word and, when I winced that time, it had been for an entirely different reason.

What I had heard in his words was something similar to how I’d felt about myself when I’d admitted to kissing Kyle. I’d accepted his crown of thorns despite the fact he’d forced it on my head—tricked myself so easily into thinking that I’d somehow implicitly asked for the very thing I’d rejected time and time again.

It suddenly made sense to me, then, why Spencer was so quick to tell me that he wasn’t mad at me. A boy’s broken nose seemed less like an overreaction.

‘What happened to you?’ I’d asked him that night in the park. He’d dodged the answer then, but I saw what he’d wanted to say between bitten lips.

Exactly what I deserved.

“Spencer…”

He snapped back to reality all at once, pulled from the darkness with a hard blink of his eyes and a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay.” I swallowed the sentiments I’d wanted to share but felt would be unwelcome at present. Instead, I smiled at him. “I’m not mad at you.”

He didn’t fight me on it any further. I couldn’t tell if it was because he’d believed me or because he simply wanted to move on, but I would respect it either way.

In typical Spencer fashion, though, he couldn’t let the story simmer unfinished.

“Some part of me does feel bad for what I did. Max is amazing,” he said with an increasing genuineness. “She’s strong, beautiful, clever, kind… but I wasn’t in love with her, and she wasn’t in love with me.”

“But you didn’t love the other woman, either?” I asked.

His eyebrows jumped and pulled the corners of his mouth up with them.

“Not even close,” he scoffed… then laughed. “Truth be told, I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone as much as I hated her.”

The past tense told me all I’d needed to know about the truth behind Max’s joke. That, too, gave me insight into the pride intertwined with the pain.

“Did you go to her execution?” I asked.

He hesitated before he answered without fanfare, “I did.”

“Did you say goodbye?”

“Yes,” he said just as simply.

 But when I asked, “Did she love you?” his breath caught in his throat.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “Probably not.”

“I think at least some part of her did,” I suggested.

At first, Spencer seemed to bristle at the thought. But then he looked up at me and returned to softness with a blink of pathetic puppy dog eyes. 

“Seems impossible not to love you at least a little bit,” I chuckled.

Spencer shook his head with a smile. He paused, then repeated the action with a laugh—almost as if he was saying goodbye to something. Or maybe someone. Either way, he was downright triumphant as he closed the already small space between us. Strong, impatient fingertips pressed into my cheeks and pulled me forward.

Our lips collided in the middle, tasting faintly of sweetness and saltwater.

The kiss made me think of the mourning dove. Spencer had told me all about that beautiful bird with her soothing coos. About how she could drink brackish water without succumbing to the salt. She was so in love with comforting that she’d even sought out the taste of tears.

But, oh, she was so beautiful. The way Spencer always said I was. The way it felt when he looked at me in that usually unpalatable moment, with my hair knotted and distant remnants of makeup and mess smeared over my skin.

Spencer beamed with delight at the sight. 

“I don’t have any doubts about how I feel about you,” he whispered. It was stated like a promise, but he asked for my assurance, anyway. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

The sun looked at the moon and he smiled even brighter before paying mind to the fact his affections could be blinding.

“I love you,” he said right before he kissed me.

The action had already been interrupted with laughter when I answered, “I love you, too.”

I’d seen over nine thousand sunrises in my lifetime, and I craved the warmth of many more exactly like this one. Ones where Spencer couldn’t pretend to be polite any longer, and instead devolved into a flurry of kisses and ticklish hands.

“I have something that might brighten your spirits,” he whispered in my ear like a secret.

The feeling of his breath made my body shiver. The words, however, brought a different kind of excitement with them.

“Oooh, a present?”

After taking a moment to bask in the joy of anticipation, he offered an uncharacteristically slow and vague explanation.

“Sort of. I received an invitation for a party tonight, which will undoubtedly be much, much better than last night…”

“Wait…”

Skeptical but oh so hopeful, I tried to remain calm as I whispered back, “Do you mean…”

He didn’t even need to hear it. He knew what I was asking and didn’t hesitate any further to confirm, “Yes, I do.”

“I get to meet the whole team?!” I screeched—without an ounce of decorum and hurting my own aching head in the process. I couldn’t care, I could hardly feel my body’s protests as I rambled off every name I could remember.

 “David Rossi? Section Chief Emily Prentiss?”

“Yep,” he nodded, “they’ll be there.”

The author, the phoenix, the legends. My mind was racing and my body was shaking until it ran into a conclusion with a record scratch stop.

I gasped, hoping the air would help with the buzzing in my fingers and toes. I grabbed onto his forearm anyway, holding onto him like a lifeline.

“Do I get to meet… Doctor Lewis?” I asked.

There was a flash of an almost imperceptible wince that I chocked up to my nails digging into his skin. But then Spencer laughed again.

“She’s very excited to meet you, actually,” he said.

“Really?!” I screamed.

“Careful, Bunny, or you’ll make me jealous,” he grumbled through a smile.

When it only made me wiggle more, my boyfriend sighed. He smoothed a hand over my hair and held me as close as he could despite my squirming.

He savored whatever was left of the moment because he knew what was coming next. In a flurry of frantic movements, I quickly came to a set of conclusions.

“Oh my god. I have to… I have to go take a shower. I smell like old beer and cigarettes,” I gagged. Playfully, I pushed Spencer away and rolled out of the bed with as little grace as could be expected.

As I scrambled towards the bathroom, I shouted, “They’re going to think I’m a hooligan!”

I could feel his eyes on me like I always could. Lovingly tracing my silhouette with a calm but unrelenting lust. The perfect, powerful combination of something innocent and something wicked.

Between the two of them I found a silent sentiment; the very same one I’d whispered to him earlier.

“They’re going to love you,” he promised.

‘How could anyone not?’

There are many legends about the hummingbird. The mighty, iridescent little bird with its fast-beating heart has inspired humans since the first time they flitted by.

The ancient Mayans even told tales of how one of those birds was the sun itself, frolicking through golden fields as a playful courtship for the moon. It was an understandable legend, considering how often we would gaze upon their feathers and confuse them for rainbows.

Hummingbirds were, undoubtedly, marvelous creatures. A feat of evolution that seemed impossible without some divine intervention.

Yet they seemed almost dull compared to my Bunny.

Perhaps, I posited, that was why the female fledglings didn’t bother with the colors. Perhaps they knew to trust the sun to follow them and kiss rainbows against their necks.

As my arms wrapped around her, she bubbled with laughter. She pulled her hair and soft fabric from my path to stop it from wrinkling, but her face crinkled with the hope that it would. Let it be another permanent reminder, a testament to how happy we were.

Once they were free to, my lips descended upon feverish skin that was already dusted with glitter.

My darling girl only continued to laugh, humming between the sounds until she’d near melted in my arms. She looked so beautiful like that. Perfectly preened and prepared to be presented as my most previous marvel.

There had been a time when I hadn’t felt it acceptable for me to hold her like this. But in that moment, I couldn’t imagine a fate where my hands hadn’t known her. They ran down her body but refused to settle. Instead, they continued to move as they guided her to turn to face me.

My Bunny beamed at me through painted lips. I was too afraid to kiss her the way I’d wanted to—too worried that I might ruin the efforts she’d so graciously offered to make sure that the night would be perfect.

So, instead, I traced along the side of her jaw with a careful finger that came to rest beneath her chin. And rest followed, coming to her and allowing her smile to fall to no more than half its previous brilliance.

Her hummingbird heart accepted the comfort of a familiar nest, and I realized all at once that I hadn’t wanted anything more than for her to come home to me for the rest of our lives.

The conclusion was so natural that the words tumbled from my mouth with no grace but a lifetime of yearning.

“Move in with me,” I begged.

Her eyes snapped open.

“What?” she asked.

“When your lease runs out at your apartment, come live with me instead,” I clarified, in case it hadn’t been clear.

It must not have been, because she asked once again, “…What?”

And I suppose if someone hadn’t been inside of mind, the request would have seemed a little out of nowhere.

But that was exactly why I knew it had been what I wanted. Because behind the minutiae, somewhere behind the self-hatred and shame, my heart was screaming for something within my reach.

Underneath the layers of scar tissue and aching bones was a heart that knew it was meant to love her, and only her, forever and evermore.

My Bunny must’ve known that already, but she deserved to hear it, anyway.

“I’ll buy you a house,” I said, “I’ll pay it all off and sign it over to you. I’ll keep two apartments, and you can leave the second you have any hesitation.”

With each passing second, her heartbeat grew faster and took my voice along with it.

“I don’t care how, I just know that I want to wake up to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night for the rest of my life. And I don’t care if that makes me sound insane because I love you. I love you, and I love you, and I want to be with you.”

So swiftly, I was silenced by her lips against mine. With her permission, I kissed her exactly how I’d wanted to. I held her so tightly that no air could pass between us. I drowned in the honey of her and didn’t care when the feeling of it all brought tears to my lashes.

It only stopped when she laughed. She laughed, and I followed until my bottom lip shook too hard to kiss her properly.

“You don’t have to buy me a house, Spencer,” she told me with an ecstatic sort of sureness.

“Well, I would!” I blubbered, anyway.

“My answer is yes.”

My heart yearned for something more, for her words to be in relation to a second question still making its way through the labyrinth inside my chest.

But for now, I just choked on tears so endlessly happy that I almost couldn’t stand it.

Before she could utter one more word, I kissed her again. I kissed her over and over, each time revolving into an even more brutal type of love.

Any concern about her appearance had vanished the second she’d told me yes. From that point on, the only thing I could think of was how to commemorate one of many moments where she was mine.

How could that be? I thought as her dress fell to the floor.

The glitter on her skin shimmered like the sun and I threw my arms around her, wax wings be damned. I held her the best I could before I began to lower her down against satin sheets.

How could it be? I thought with my heart leaping into my throat.

She’s mine.

I sat with the feeling for a moment longer. I let the full weight of the realization set into my bones. Bones that felt lighter yet more powerful than ever.

The confidence set in, my ego inflating as I smoothed a scarred palm over her body. She squirmed beneath me, displaying her chest to me while her nails dug into her thighs.

“I love you more than anyone could ever love anything,” I told her.

My darling girl just giggled, reaching her hands out to me until I could join her on the bed. She waited patiently while I shed my clothing.

“You are an impossibility that I hope to never be proven,” I continued to ramble. Each point was punctuated with the crumpling of fabric on the ground. “I want to be baffled by your existence until my heart stops beating and my lungs stop breathing.”

The longer I spoke, the more the laughter faded until there was nothing. Tears welled in her eyes, and I prayed they would be kind to her. Just in case they weren’t, I hurried the last few movements to close the gap. I kissed her lips first. Then I littered her with them, pressing harder against her temple.

As my lips lingered, I whispered with little breath, “I will be yours until the death of the last star and the universe as we may never come to know it.”

My Bunny’s hands were gentle but insistent. She pressed soft palms against my cheeks and pulled me back.

Universe-colored eyes burned into me, tore through all my defenses and left me trembling in her hold.

“I don’t care about the stars, Spencer,” she whispered with longing I’d never heard from her before. “There is no universe for me if you aren’t in it.”

I could see how much she felt it—the weight of the world. I looked into her eyes and saw a love that, beyond all odds, I could finally comprehend.

I’d nearly had the nerve to ask her right there. Bare and defenseless, I could’ve ended any potential of a lifetime without her.

But something told me that the time wasn’t right. Not yet. So, I trusted my heart, and I made myself wait. In the interim, however…

“I’m here, Bunny,” I assured her between tender kisses down her breast. “I would be a fool not to take full advantage of that, too.”

This time, teary giggles were surely from pleasant sources. As I made my way down her body, my Bunny’s hands twisted knots into my hair but never even tried to slow me down. If anything, wiggling toes helped urge me forward faster.

My heart ached, moans spilling from my mouth at the thought of her ushering me towards her defilement. She’d come so far from the green young girl who’d needed me to beg before she let me taste her.

But, oh, I would beg for it forever.

When my lips reached her navel, I slowed my descent. I savored the sweet taste of salt on her skin while I guided pliant legs over my shoulders. I kissed those, too, suckling on sensitive skin just to feel her shiver.

I gave her no warning before I turned to taste her. I had wanted to hear her cry out for me, to feel her nails drag over my scalp as she pulled me impossibly closer.

My tongue felt cold compared to the heat of her. I buried it further into her, reaching for whatever I could reach between honeysuckle petals.

Her body writhed harder the more I held her down. But I couldn’t stop myself; I wanted, needed to gorge myself on the sweet nectar now smeared across my face.

“S-Spencer,” she squeaked between licentious moans.

I wanted more. My tongue ran through her folds, lapping at the excess and seeking to make more. I focused my efforts on the small pearl at the apex of her. I lavished it, loved it as the most sacred extension of the woman that was mine.

At the same time, I released one of her legs while my other hand carved crescent moons into her thigh. My Bunny immediately utilized the freedom to squeeze her legs relentlessly around my head. I groaned with satisfaction at the feeling of her desire. I fought through the pressure so that my fingers could join my tongue.

While pressing two fingers between tight muscles, I smiled. I opened my eyes to see a frantic and ecstatic woman nearly thrashing on my bed.

“Professor,” she whined.

It wasn’t my fault. She made it so easy to tease her.

I moved slower, taunting her with the goal she sought but couldn’t quite reach. It hadn’t been out of cruelty—only selfish desires. I’d wanted to watch her, feel her whole body giving in to the exhaustion just before I thrust her over the edge.

Tense muscles twitched and rolled in my grip. I could feel how tightly her walls held my fingers. I felt how badly she sought something more permanent.

It was only then that I’d noticed how hard I had been grinding into the mattress beneath me.

She hadn’t been the only desperate one.

Out of selfish greed, I shifted my approach. All at once, I returned to my previous worship. I could barely breathe, but it hardly mattered. Oxygen would only get in the way. I hadn’t needed my mind to know how to love her. It was instinct.

The same instinct that told me to keep going, harder and faster until her muscles seized. She tugged hard enough at my hair that I could feel my heartbeat in each follicle.

My nose pressed harder against her pubic bone, my mouth salivating over an already soaked pearl while my fingers beckoned me closer from inside her.

Each twitch, each pulsing wave of her muscles called me home. I kept going until her body hung limp in my arms.

Only then did I allow myself to breathe. Oxygen-starved lungs greedily sucked in the heady scent of her bloom. I missed the taste of her immediately, but I could tell from her spasming that my Bunny needed a break.

I tried to be careful as I withdrew my fingers. She still whimpered from the loss. Those adorable noises continued when I cleaned them with an equally tainted tongue.

“You are made of ambrosia and honey,” I grumbled as I licked the last of her from my fingertips, “I could worship you forever.”

My Bunny wasted no time.

“But I miss you,” she whined.

The sound shot straight through me to the throbbing ache between my legs.

“So needy,” I chuckled, dark and filled with desire.

As I made my way crawling back over her body, I took note of the sated look in her eyes. Her body was visibly exhausted—to the point she could hardly keep her head all the way up. Yet when I’d finally made it back to her lips, she was quick to spread half-limp legs. The head of my cock bumped against her, and she sighed so dreamily that I barely managed to keep control.

I held my own burning heat, hoping that it might alleviate the impulse to sink into her without warning. I rubbed the head between soaked petals and I groaned.

“Is this what you want?” I managed to ask.

“Yes,” she breathed.

There was no waiting. With one smooth motion, I pushed myself to the hilt inside her.

My Bunny gave a small, silent scream from parted lips. Her trembling body still felt like home.

“Look at me, Bunny,” I ordered between heavy breaths.

Half-lidded eyes met mine without wincing. I withdrew slowly, watching all the while. I watched as the anticipation grew in her eyes. Then, as I slammed back into her, her jaw fell open with praise.

“Spencer,” she cried, “I love you so much.”

“I could never have enough of you,” I said just before I thrust into her even harder. “Even if I have you every day, I will always want you more.”

Each word was emphasized with a collision of burning skin. My blood raged in my veins, making me fuck her harder in the hope that evidence of our longing would be painted in bruises.

I knew that it must hurt, to love someone like me. I knew that my love was a terrifying sort of violence. But I couldn’t hold myself back when she seemed so content to bear it.

“I love you so much, Spencer,” she mumbled. Even with tears streaming down her face from the unmuted pleasure of it all. “I wish I had more beautiful words, but I…”

My hand dropped to her hip, pulling her waist up so that when I thrust into her, there was nowhere left to go. I bumped against the end of her, shivering with satisfaction at the feeling.

“I know, Bunny,” I growled. I rut against that innermost point, making sure to hold her down when instinct told her that I was almost too close.

Her arms, albeit tired, scrambled and scratched her presence against my back.

“I’m almost finished, I promise,” I chuckled. I almost withdrew, but then groaned and fucked back into her when her walls tightened around me.

“Take your time,” she panted so sweetly, “love shouldn’t be rushed.”

With those words, her body begged me to find my release there. Every atom of our beings sought to end this the way it ought to be, with my desire warming her most intimate point; granting her the serenity of part of my soul in a permanent fashion.

Small movements were all I could make, too afraid to stray too far from that most special place, still untouched by sin.

I was on the verge of collapse. I lowered my weight down onto her while still making sure to hold her hips against me. My face found its way against her neck while I remained buried between her legs.

I made love to her, cradled her body against mine and begged the universe to let miracles exist.

“I love you,” I sobbed against sweet sweat-laden skin, “I’ll love you forever.”

And finally, I found my peace. With no space left between us, I let go of everything I had. The warmth surrounded me and burned its way back. I took my time, riding each pulse of pleasure without restraint.

Even when it was over, my limp body kept trying for a few moments longer.

Eventually, we settled into the quiet. Our hearts bounced back and forth between our chests until I could speak again.

“Thank you for loving me,” I said under my breath.

“You never have to apologize for who you are,” she answered with her whole chest. “I love every part of you, Spencer.”

I smiled. A simple, true testament to that moment.

“I know, Bunny,” I said.

For once in my life, I knew.  I knew how little I had known before. I knew the sweetness of love as clearly as I knew the lies uttered in its name. I knew the ways that the others have bastardized what is, always and innately, beautiful.

I knew that she was beautiful not because of purity but because she was human. She was perfect not for lack of fault but an abundance of it. She was, no matter her misgivings, shamelessly her, and somewhere between her being unabashedly, impossibly, wonderfully her… she loved me.

She loved me, and I knew.

All at once, I was invincible. A man made of hubris with his arms wrapped around the sun. I had made it with or without wings. No longer fallen, but full of hope.

As I opened the door to usher her indelibly further into my life, the soft summer sun bathed the world in a honeyed hue. I watched as she basked in the light. So innocently unaware of how brilliant she was.

If she hadn’t been holding my hand, I would’ve fallen to my knees and worshipped at her feet. Instead, I squeezed her hand harder. I pulled her back half a step; clung tighter to this moment before it would be overshadowed by another.

In my pocket sat a ring made of rarities like precious gems and metals and a promise for forever.

Yet a simple glance over her shoulder far exceeded its value to me. Even when she knitted her brow and huffed, “Shoot! I’m sorry! I must’ve left my wallet upstairs…”

“So forgetful,” I scoffed sarcastically.

Her jaw dropped, her mouth agape with astonished laughter and a similarly sarcastic defense. “Well, I got a little distracted by my boyfriend threatening to buy me a house!”

I nodded in thought before I shrugged.

“He sounds like a keeper,” I suggested.

“Mhm. He sure is,” she begrudgingly accepted.  “I love him to death.”

The familiar phrase sparked thoughts like fireworks. It was so strikingly similar, so seemingly fated, that I was even confident enough to ask, “To death or til death?”

My clever, darling Bunny bristled the same as she’d done the last time I made a joke about proposals. Sternly, she reminded me, “You still have to ask me, you know. It’s not a given.”

An adorable attempt at a lie.

I recalled my earlier promise to her and the accompanying promise to myself.

“When I ask you, I promise you that there will be no doubt.”

And there was none. No doubt that after four decades of waiting, I’d finally found the fated end. The light at the end of the tunnel, the other, better half of my heart.

I had made it to her, to that wonderfully impossible hummingbird-hearted lavender girl. To my Bunny, forever and evermore.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her with a gentle smile to hide the excitement in my veins, “I’ve got a plan.”

For the third time that day, her mind got caught on the thickets of a pleasant surprise.

“What?” she asked, “What do you mean?”

“Go get your wallet,” I said in lieu of an answer she likely already knew. “We’re already late because of your stupid boyfriend.”

After the briefest pause, she shook off the suggestion of another question waiting in the near future. Her normal exuberance returned, revitalized by a new realm of possibilities.

“Hey, be nice!” she scolded, “I love my stupid boyfriend!”

“He loves you, too.”

Forever and evermore.

I had been so sure of it—the inevitability of our end.

But fate always had a funny way of reminding me why certainties are never as sure as they seem.

The winter was almost over. It was only when the sun disappeared behind the night sky that the dying breaths of the frost could be noticed. Any plants too quick to search for the summer sun would wilt before they could bloom.

As I approached the car, I truly thought nothing of the chill in my bones. The only thing occupying my mind was her, the young woman flitting about my home—what would become our home—and how I hadn’t wanted her to feel Winter’s cruel bite any longer than necessary.

I should have done more, should have thought and fought with fate.

But I didn’t. I kept my eyes forward as I climbed into a familiar seat and was greeted by an even more familiar feeling.

The frozen kiss of a gun against my temple.

“Hey there, stickbug.”

My skin burned with the heat of a blue flame. I didn’t move, barely breathed as tightened my hands around the steering wheel.

It was a dizzying instinct. A mixture of every possible response to adrenaline. My mind recalled every time I’d ever seen, felt, smelt, tasted gunpowder on my skin.

“Don’t worry, I already took your gun out of your glovebox,” the man assured me, “No need to go looking for it.”

I turned my face towards him without an ounce of emotion present in my features. I faced with him all the apathy he deserved.

“Thanks,” I sighed.

He looked as miserable as the last time I’d seen him, still covered with the stench of methamphetamine and sewage. It had been so long that he’d been forced into the shadows, I could see them etched into his skin.

In a strange sort of way, I pitied him more than I hated him.

“You had to know I was coming for you,” he chuckled like an old friend.

“Yeah. I did,” I conceded without a fight. “Just hoped I’d have a little bit longer.”

“Fate waits for no man,” he drawled.

What an odd voice for fate to choose. What a cruel twist of its knife, to have my company here and now.

Although I suppose it never was going to be anything different.

“No, it doesn’t,” I whispered back.

That quiet admission had been the first sign of my resistance, and the only indication of fear I planned on providing.

Looking back, I almost wish that I’d fought him harder. But I hoped, perhaps foolishly, that if I trusted fate, it might forgive me enough to show me mercy. Despite its having made its opinion on my union obvious over the past year, I hoped that even the universe could allow me happiness—just this once.

There was no fight left in me, I suppose. As I faced the inevitability that I’d almost convinced myself I could change, I turned my cheek to return to the one thing I hoped never would.

I could see my Bunny’s shadow through the window curtain. I saw her with a clarity unlike ever before.

She was so beautiful, so innocent, so pure in a way I could never be again. It was what drew me to her and what had kept me away.

Maybe it made me a chauvinist to hope that I could preserve pristine petals for a few minutes more. But I didn’t care.

“Could you do me a favor?” I asked.

He pressed the metal harder against the side of my face. I greeted its embrace with a familiarity and understanding.

I waited until the light flickered off and her shadow disappeared back into the night. Then, I took a deep breath and allowed my voice to shake.

“She’s coming back soon. Just… don’t make her watch,” I begged the devil, “Please.”

“You’ve got a gun leveled to your head, and that’s the favor you ask for?” he returned.

“Yeah,” I said, “It is.”

After a moment, he shrugged.

“Suit yourself.”

Briefly, and with a deafening sound, the world went black.

From somewhere far away, though, I felt the cold hands of fate take hold of my heart and whisper in my ear.

It’s not over yet.

“Spencer!”

A blood curdling scream, a horrendous sound of snapped violin strings and wildfires ripping through the forest.

“Somebody, help!” she screamed at the same time I felt her hands on my burning cheek.

“Spencer, can you hear me?!”

The angry sound of sirens roared in the background, broken with periodic cries.

“Somebody, help!” quickly followed with, “Spencer, please, please wake up.”

I’m so tired.

The smell of her perfume cut through the gunpowder and made me think of spring.

I could almost see her at Elysium. I could see her among frost bitten fields and and two thoughts occurred to me with a gut wrenching blow.

The first was that I hadn’t been able to love her through the spring yet.

Perhaps that was why I had to go—perhaps the only way to allow her to bloom was to do the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do.

Let her go.

The second thought, by contrast, was nothing but a product of my own selfishness. My foolish hope that they were all right when they’d said that your life flashes before your eyes when your time has come.

Because I saw her. I saw her in the spring.

Open your eyes.

Yet no matter how much I wished for it to be true, I could see the light in her. I could hear the desperation from the universe in her screams, not asking me to stay, but begging me to let her go.

“Spencer, look at me,” she urged me, turning my head and letting the blood fall over her fingers.

The crimson stained her dress the same as it had in my dream, and I hoped that she would still find a way to sprout lilies in my wake.

“Bunny…” I mumbled.

Please don’t cry, sweetheart. You’re breaking my heart.

“Yes!” she cried, a wavering smile appearing beneath the tears, “That’s me! Your Bunny! Stay with me, Spencer.”

“So beautiful,” I breathed. Burning iron covered my lips that trembled with every breath. Still, I croaked, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she blubbered. “I love you, just—just keep your eyes open, okay?”

I swore I did. I used every ounce of willpower left in me to fight the inevitability. It wasn’t until then, until she called my name again that I realized this wasn’t fair.

“Spencer?”

No.

The cruel hands of fate covered my eyes with a curtain of darkness.

No, wait, please.

“No. Spencer, no, no, no,” she cried in tandem with my pleas, unknowing that she was begging the wrong person when she yelled, “Don’t leave me, Spencer, please!”

I didn’t want to, but I hadn’t been given a choice. With eyes seemingly still open, I focused only on the feeling of home I found in her hands.

“I love you,” she sobbed, and I allowed myself to find a modicum of peace within the sound.

“You promised.”

I did. And it hadn’t been a lie.

I love you, I had promised.

And oh, had I loved her. Too much for the universe to allow, I thought.

Then again…

Over and through the sound of sirens, I heard a familiar melody. A haunting but familiar song from the radio; one that I’d heard a million times before.

My baby never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

In some nearly lost memory, I could almost hear her singing along as it lulled from staticky car speakers.

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold dark earth

Fate always did have a funny way of proving me wrong.

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her.

| Part Twenty Nine |

[cacartoon]

Um i am new to your au but question whats is pirate cove?? From what i understand is that it takes place before the Octonauts fully became a team but what is it exactly about??

So there’s a brief explanation of that in this part of the master post

But I’ll explain here as well

“The Octonauts and the Pirate Cove”, a.k.a how Kwazii became an Ocotnaut, takes place back in the early days of the Octonauts before anything we see in current octonaut lore (so the main series, movies, and above and beyond).

I place this not long after the first Octopod crashes and Tweak builds the new one.

To summarize events:

The new octopod began experiencing a few little errors and malfunctions so they stopped so tweak can repair them easier.

The Octonauts docked the octopod near an island in the Caribbean, and begun fixing their new ship.

While doing repairs and generally taking in the environment, Captain Barnacles became aware that they were being watched and he instructed Tweak and Inkling to go back to the octopod and stay hidden while he checked things out.

His instincts were on point because soon he got ambushed by a group of cat pirates. Not wanting his crew to be discovered he lied and said he was alone. The pirates capture Barnacles and take him to their own captain, Captain Chimera.

Captain Chimera and her crew were on this particular island in search for a lost shipwreck in a hidden cove which is said to hold an amazing treasure, and they assumed Barnacles might have also been searching for it as well; he wasn’t.

Chimera put one of the lower ranked crew members in charge of keeping an eye on Barnacles while she and the rest of the crew searched. That crew member? Kwazii

Kwazii was pretty disappointed he couldn’t join in the search, but obeyed and kept guard of their new prisoner. He acted very tough and tried intimidating Barnacles but wasn’t very successful, and Barnacles tried to convince Kwazii to let him go. The conversation began trailing off into Kwazii ranting about how he’s always left behind and treated like he’s not capable of being part of the adventure. Captain Barnacles listened to all of this and realized Kwazii wasn’t some hardened mean spirited pirate, but was someone eager for adventure and wanting to help where he can; Kwazii demonstrated his kind heart further by helping a little snail onto a leaf to avoid accidentally stepping on it. Kwazii’s ranting stopped once he realized Captain Chimera left the map she was suppose to use for the treasure hunt, and Barnacles decided he’d help Kwazii find this ship wreck and earn Chimera’s respect. Kwazii was hesitant about this stranger being so willing to help, but thought about it and knew he’d need muscle in order to traverse the jungle safely so he agreed. He was still in charge though, and warned the captain not to make any sort of funny moves. Captain Barnacles swore on his honor as an Octonaut and the two began following the map.

While traveling they did come across a few troubles, but with the captain’s polar bear strength and Kwazii’s cat-like-quickness they got through just fine. Kwazii was in awe of Barnacle’s strength and was even more taken aback when he got complimented for his speed. The two started opening up to each other, even to the point Barnacles talked about the Octonauts, the rest of the crew, and what they did. Kwazii didn’t divulge much about his past but did share some tales of the adventures he got to be part of.

They’d even help each other while traveling.

One of those moments when traveling in a small cave that triggered Barnacle’s claustrophobia, and once again Kwazii demonstrated just how good he was and helped the captain through his episode. Then there were spiders and Kwazii was visibly nervous, but didn’t admit to his phobia. Barnacles recognized it though and didn’t pry, instead encouraged Kwazii through it all.

Soon they discovered the hidden cove that had the abandoned ship wreck, and there was indeed treasure. Kwazii thanked the captain for helping him and Barnacles praised Kwazii’s abilities. Kwazii was about to go gold crazy when he spotted the most precious treasure of all, a golden shell a snail was using for its home. In fact many little creatures were using the treasure for their home. Kwazii was conflicted about taking any of the treasure, but before he could make a decision Captain Chimera and the rest of her crew appeared with Tweak and Inkling as hostages. The two grew worried when Barnacles hadn’t returned and after some time they went to search for him, only to be discovered and captured by Chimera. Captain Barnacles tried to save his crew but was recaptured too go Kwazii’s horror. Chimera praised Kwazii for his trickery and was happy her test proved his skills as a true pirate. She ordered the Octonauts to be locked away and to take as much gold and treasure as possible. Barnacles pleaded with Kwazii but it fell on deaf ears, at least sorta deaf.

Back at the pirate base camp the crew were celebrating their treasures and Chimera promoted Kwazii for his deeds.

Kwazii wasn’t happy though. He thought about the little creatures whose home was torn apart, and the look on Barnacle’s face was tearing at him. If he was uncertain about his position, he was certain now. When the partying died down and many were asleep, he raced to the Octonauts.

Locked away in the pirate ship’s brig, Barnacles Tweak and Inkling were trying to figure a way to escape and rescue to the creatures who got swept up in the treasure collecting. Kwazii appeared with keys and freed the Octonauts, begging for them to help him save the creatures. Barnacles was proud of Kwazii and pleaded his case to Tweak and Inkling. They agreed and the four of them escaped the pirate ship with the creatures. They were returned home but the pirates discovered their treasure gone and their prisoners gone. Chimera and the pirates chased down Kwazii and the Octonauts, causing much damage to their own supplies and such. Chimera was able to trap Kwazii and cursed him for betraying her. Before she could do anything Barnacles saved Kwazii and they all escaped into the now repaired Octopod. They left the island and Chimera vowed to take revenge among her destroyed camp and lost treasure.

Barnacles, Tweak, and Inkling thanked Kwazii for rescuing them and praised him for helping save the treasure creatures. Kwazii thanked the captain for saving his life as well and not leaving him behind. The crew let Kwazii spend the night while they discussed something very important.

The next morning Kwazii was prepared to be dropped off at any port and find a new pirate crew, but was surprised when Captain Barnacles and the others offered to have Kwazii join the Octonauts. Barnacles saw how brave and selfless Kwazii was and how well they worked together, and wanted to make Kwazii the official lieutenant. Kwazii wasn’t very knowledgeable about scientific stuff, but his knowledge on the sea, his bravery, and his spirit of adventure made him a perfect fit. Kwazii accepted the offer.

Kwazii swapped out his old pirate getup, minus his eyepatch and sash, and now sported an official Octonaut uniform and position.

He may still have the heart of a pirate, but he was an Octonaut now.

And he’d have many new adventures, only now they were below the waves with a crew who brought him along.

And that’s the basics :D

[reinbouxsworld]

Hey so like sorry if you're the wrong person to say this to but I love Jamil's character so much and it makes me so mad that the fandom takes Kalim's side in his ob when they're so much more sympathetic to everyone else's ob situation. Like all the ob's are caused by trauma so no olympics but Jamil was Kalim's slave??? He was literally fighting to stop being his slave? To the son of a rich merchant family that could decide the fate of his whole family?? The stakes were so fucking high. Kalim not knowing says everything about his relative privilege and nothing about his innocence. Kalim's saving grace was his willingness to change when he learned, but that slave-relationship was multigenerational and Jamil had no guarantee it would happen if he "asked for his freedom". I think the fandom has some real inner reckoning to consider about why Kalim crying is more upsetting than Jamil's (and his family's) life.

OKAY I HAVE A LOT TO SAY ON THIS ONE.

﹙𝑡𝑤𝑠𝑡.﹚ ─ WHY JAMIL TRAUMA IS (BUT SHOULDN'T BE) DOWNPLAYED

﹙ or why i support jamil viper rights and wrongs﹚

──────────────────────────────────────

٬٬ I think the most obvious reason is that Kalim, by being a very kind and often naïve person, wins people over quickly (myself included). He’s sweet, kind, and honest. He just wants to have a good time with his friends—he’s easy to be around and talk to. More often than not, a "happy person" is easier to forgive than someone you’re not as close to.

But what do I mean by that?

Jamil is not used to being himself. He always has to manage and calculate his every step to ensure he doesn’t overshadow Kalim’s presence, even though, by merit, he could be in the spotlight (which, at this point, I see as an unspoken Viper family tradition). And it’s not just when Kalim is around — even when Jamil is alone, he’s still under pressure to maintain his facade. We do see glimpses of him sometimes, especially after the overblot, where he's a little bit more acidic, smug and sincere, but the reality is that his entire life has been shaped around a forced role. The most frustrating part of his story is that when Jamil got to NRC, he had a brief moment of freedom—only for it to be taken away again by Kalim’s overwhelming presence. And the worst part? He wasn’t even chosen to be there. Kalim literally bought his way into NRC just to be with Jamil. I don’t think people fully realize how hopeless that must have made an already frustrated teenager feel. He had no choice but to start over, once again masking himself under Kalim’s shadow.

I won’t go into the nuances of his initial actions leading up to the overblot, but they clearly show his frustrations, especially when he hypnotized Kalim to do his own work as a housewarden.

And then, right after all the resentment and fight, we get Kalim crying over his friend. Of course, as you said, Kalim’s willingness to change is a big reason why the fandom takes his side. It makes sense— he genuinely wants to be a good friend. But the frustrating part is that people still reduce Jamil to just "the scheming servant" while ignoring everything else we see in the chapter. Kalim’s willingness to change is important, but it doesn’t undo the years of pressure, resentment, and lack of autonomy Jamil has endured. At the end of the day, Kalim can change, but Jamil? He’s still bound by the same expectations, the same role, the same system.

If you don’t look deeper into each chapter, it’s easy to sum up an overblot with a simple explanation: "Riddle is acting like his mom," "Leona is throwing a tantrum because he’s not king," and so on. I think we are often drawn more to the breaking point than to the underlying cause of it. But in Jamil’s case, the most obvious problem is also the one people tend to overlook: Jamil was — and, by definition, still is —Kalim’s servant. More than that, all Vipers still are.

The reason Jamil seems "fine" is because, unlike the others, he can’t change the very thing that made him feel this way in the first place. To be clear, I’m not downplaying any of the other boys' trauma—I’m speaking from a storytelling and borderline objective perspective. Most of the other characters could change their circumstances if they wanted to (again, i'm not saying it is easy or simple). Many of them have the resources and/or support networks to do so. But Jamil doesn’t. Even after his overblot, while Kalim gets to grow and change, Jamil is still stuck playing the same role. He may have a little more space to breathe, but his reality remains the same—his life is still controlled by the Al-Asim family.

────────

[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude Jazza’s 2nd Birthday: “The Cursed Moon Within His Merciless Arms” Chapter 1

MDNI. This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy cannot be guaranteed. Please expect grammatical errors and lack of nuance. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not repost or claim my translations as your own. Thank you for your support! ☾⋆

In these crazy days, it’s impossible to remember everything that occurs.

A week ago, a month ago, a year ago….I don’t think there are many who remember exactly what they were doing.

….But, everyone should be able to remember a piece of something that stood out to them.

Just as the moon waxes and wanes, so its’ brilliant face gradually changes.

If I could choose which part of each day I’d want to illuminate and etch it into my mind…..I’d illuminate it’s happiness.

That feeling becomes even stronger on the birthday of someone precious to me.

Kate: Mngh….

When I woke up in bed that morning, I saw Jude sleeping next to me, and I couldn’t help but melt.

I’d heard that he’d be busy at Raven company last night, and might be unable to come home….

I’m so happy he came back during the night and slept next to me.

(Today’s Jude’s birthday)

(I wanted to say “Happy Birthday” before anyone else, so I’m glad you came back.)

Jude: …..

Jude breathed peacefully in his sleep and showed no signs of waking.

(….He seems exhausted, I’ll let him sleep a bit longer.)

Careful not to make any noise, I started to sneak out of bed.

Despite that, Jude pulled me back from my waist and locked me in arms.

Kate: Jude….?

Jude: Cold.

Even with that limited explanation, it’s clear that he’s holding me back….

Kate: Do you want me to keep you warm?

Kate: Or maybe it’s just an excuse to cling to me?

I was so happy that Jude wanted me that I ended up teasing him without meaning to.

Kate: ….Oof!

Immediately, his arms squeezed me so tightly that my joints creaked, and I let out a groan.

身体が軋み “Shintai ga kishimi” = body creaks, changed to joints creaked

Jude: Must be half asleep for sayin’ such thin’s aintcha?

Kate: Ugh, that hurts…..! I just woke up, so please overlook my groggy comment….!

When I slapped Jude’s constricting arms as a sign of surrender, they finally loosened.

Jude: Woke up early this mornin’ hearin’ yer stupid comment.

Kate: …..It’s invigorating to wake up to the sound of your beloved’s voice. Good morning.

Kate: Oh, and Happy Birthday!

Jude: ….Yeah, thanks.

Jude replied disinterestedly as he sat up.

Kate: By the way, are you free today?

Even though I told him ahead of time that I wanted to spend his birthday together,

Jude has to pencil things into his schedule, so I asked him again.

Jude: Gotta business meetin.’ But….another employee can handle it.

Jude: I can take off work ‘n spend time with ya.

Jude: On the other hand -

Jude grabbed chin and pierced me with his provocative amethyst eyes.

Jude: — Can ya satisfy me ‘nough for the whole day, princess?

Kate: ….That’s what I plan to do!

After a light breakfast at a restaurant, we headed into town.

On his first birthday since becoming Jude’s girlfriend, my heart brimmed with excitement and my steps felt light.

However, the happy feeling was brief…..

Tanned Man: Where’d he go?! Jude Jazza!

Neurotic Looking Man: We have him cornered, he shouldn’t have gone far. You lot hurry up and find him!

Neurotic Looking Man: Don’t think you’ll get away…..I’ll kill you!

Although it was his precious birthday, we were hiding in the shadows of an alley.

Kate: ….Jude, who are they?

Jude: Buncha marine insurance guys runnin’ a shady business.

Jude: Even if an accident occurs, they’re known for not payin’ out, claimin’ it ain’t covered.

Jude: It was interferin’ with business ‘n an eyesore, so last month I dug up information ‘n sank ‘em.

Kate: And so that’s why they’ve got it out for you….

Kate: ….We could more or less escape. That house over there belongs to an older woman I was close to as postwoman.

I pointed to a house with a red roof on the other side of the wall.

Kate: I think if I ask, we can enter the back door and exit the front door onto the main street without be detected.

Jude: Then enterin’ the main road, we can blend into the crowd ‘n make a getaway.

Jude: ….What? Seems like ya wanna say somethin’ else.

(Naturally, Jude knows what I’m thinking.)

Kate: Even if we do get away, your enemies will likely target you again Jude….

Kate: The other option is to meet them head on.

I pulled up my skirt that I bought to wear specifically for Jude’s birthday.

A small gun was strapped to my thigh in it’s holster.

Kate: Don’t you think they should be held responsible for ruining your birthday?

Jude: Ha…such a dangerous woman.

Kate: The person I fell in love with is dangerous.

At my retort, Jude’s lips curled with amusement.

Jude: ….Oh yeah. Well then, whatcha gonna show me?

[Story Master List] [Chapter 2] Dividers: @.natimiles

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely

[gem-de-lune]

Ahhhhh!!!!!

YOU GUYS

I have done a flipped pyramid reading today.

1 How Seunghan's situation is going

2 How SM is feeling regarding his return to Riize

3 Final Outcome

To keep it brief, on the physical realm level Seunghan seems a bit worried or scared. The 5 of cups was the first thing I pulled so I was a bit worried at first but this seems to be dramatics lmao. He seems to be thinking that the chance is gone at the moment, but there is something very clearly approaching him from behind that he doesn't realize yet. Someone in a position to do so will be helping him by making a decision based on their own moral compass and will. Female. This could be the female we have been talking about. She is and has been working very hard up to now.

For SM- I was very pleased. This is the first time I have EVER pulled clear affirmatives for them in regards to Seunghan's return. Thoe outlook is good. The Ace of Wands makes it seem like they are ready to continue a story, and the 10 of Cups speaks of proper unity and resolution. The outcome is set to be favorable in every way, and they are taking action to ensure that it remains untainted and celebrated this time.

The outcome being Justice is very, very telling. Whatever happens, it will be fair and balanced. This is a good indicator that there is intention to set things right and do the right thing. People and entities will be standing their ground when the decision comes to light.

I see this happening very soon, though I cannot say when- I feel that it's in preparation. When I asked for an indicator that the time is HERE i pulled the King of Swords-

So feathers, silver shiny things, claws, and the colors white, black, TEAL and red stand out. Look for those in regards to Riize promotions or any related media or posts ahead of announcements.

Notes

I have done this lil reading today as I woke up. I am still waking up as we speak lol. I miss Riize very much and needed to check in personally.

The reason I took some time away was not only because i was busy with school and work- (as usually I manage well) but in my passion and drive to do readings every day not just for yall, but for me too- I had a bit of an energy depletion. I was not well for the holiday season up to this point as I had overdone it, which I did realize but did not understand to what extent until I suddenly couldn't do my readings very well anymore and the answers were getting extremely fuzzy. So I stopped for a bit altogether. I got too excited 😅 These are just excuses, but I do feel that I owe you all some explanation for distancing a while. Thank you to everyone who checked up on me 🩵 I am well, and hope you all are too. Please hang in there. Whatever happens it is divine timing and all the fairest outcome for Riize.

THE TIME IS NIGH!!!!

[foxy-eva]

Snow Angel

Summary: Reader really knows how to get Spencer in a festive mood

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, Smut

Content Warning: (18+, minors DNI) a hint at Spencer’s sad childhood, food mentions, heavy kissing, oral (fem receiving), handjob, unprotected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: This is my gift for @drgenius-reid ! I wrote it as a part of this year’s Criminal Minds gift exchange @cmgiftexchange

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

Spencer’s hand kept mine warm as we walked along a snow-covered path in the park. Seeing everything covered in a soft, white layer really got me in a festive mood, excited to have someone to spend the holidays with this year. 

“So, Christmas is in a few days. Do you have any plans?” I wondered while gently squeezing his hand. 

He turned his head to find my eyes as he cooed, “I was hoping to spend it with you.”

“I would really like that.” 

He smiled at me for a brief moment before he averted his eyes to look at the snow beneath his feet. After taking a deep breath, he asked, “Can I tell you something?” 

“Anything.”

Spencer stopped his movements to be able to fully look at me while he said, “Growing up in the desert with a sick mom, Christmas always felt like any other day to me. I never understood what people meant when they talked about how magical this time of year is. That was until I met you. I can’t wait to celebrate Christmas with you.”

I placed my arms around his neck to find his lips in a chaste kiss before whispering, “I love you.” 

His breath felt hot against my face when he breathed, “I love you, too.” 

It was then that I decided to make it my mission to show him how magical Christmas could be. There was so much about this time of year that he probably never got to experience and I was adamant to change that. 

“Let’s make snow angels!” I chirped and was met with a surprised look. 

“What?” 

Without further explanation I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the ground with me. He watched my motions for a moment before he lay down in the snow himself, mirroring what I was doing. We both couldn’t hold back the fit of laughter falling from our lips. 

When we got up from the ground, we took a moment to admire two perfect snow angels before rushing back to my apartment. Spencer’s cheeks were rosy when we got back into the comfort of my home, signaling that he was just as cold as I was. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the cold,” he muttered as he took off his damp coat. 

“I know a way to warm you up,” I told him. “Why don’t you take a blanket and wait for me on the couch.” 

When I returned to him with a mug of hot cocoa, he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “I thought you had had something else in mind.”

“Naughty boy!” I laughed as I sat down beside him. “Don’t you know that Santa only brings presents to good boys?” 

He just shrugged as he took the mug and said, “I’m okay with that, I already have everything I could wish for.”

I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before I turned on the TV to put on the corniest Christmas romcom I could find. 

“Snow angels - check! Next on my agenda to experience the Christmas spirit are hot cocoa and terrible Christmas movies,” I announced. 

Spencer playfully rolled his eyes but I knew that he was enjoying my enthusiasm. He took the blanket to place it over the both of us before wrapping one arm around me to keep me close to him. 

When a scene of the main characters decorating a Christmas tree came on, I decided that we should do that, too. “We should get a Christmas tree for your apartment,” I let him know. “We could decorate it with purple ornaments.” 

“That sounds really nice.”

I adjusted my position inside his arms until I could fully look at him to tell him, “And we need to bake cookies! I have a recipe for the best chocolate chip cookies you’ll ever taste.”

“Cookies sound great-,” Spencer agreed before finding my lips to mumble against them, “- but I’d rather have you right now.” 

The movie playing in the background was quickly forgotten as we deepened our kiss. His lips felt soft and demanding at the same time and when his tongue met mine it was as if we melted into one another. It only took a few moments until I noticed a familiar warmth rushing through my body, making me eager to feel more of him. My hand wandered to the hem of his sweater, dipping beneath it to feel the heat of his skin. 

“Are you still cold?” I breathed into the kiss. 

“No.”

I broke the kiss to smirk at him as I purred, “Good. That means you can take your sweater off.” 

Spencer chuckled at my words but did as I said. Slowly we helped each other shed each layer of clothing until there was nothing left to separate our bodies as we lay beside one another on the couch.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he purred as he kissed down my neck. 

His hands began exploring the curves of my breasts and I felt him smiling against my skin when I answered his touches with the sounds of my pleasure. His fingertips were soon replaced by his lips as he kissed every inch of my skin within reach. Gently, he pushed apart my thighs and lay down between them before he began nipping and licking along my inner thighs. 

I knew that I was dripping with desire at this point but Spencer took his time to tease me. I was sure he didn’t do it on purpose. It wasn’t the first time that he lost track of time worshipping me, his eyes always filled with wonder when he kissed along all the curves and dips my body had to offer.

“Please…,” I finally whimpered. “I need you.” 

It was as if my words had snapped him out of a trance. He mumbled, “Sorry,” against my thigh before his mouth finally focussed on my center. My hands flew to his head, my fingers intertwining with his curls as he brought me closer to my breaking point. I dared to look down at him and moaned at the sight of half of his face buried between my thighs. It looked downright sinful. 

It took just a few more moments of his skillful motions until I entered a state of pure bliss. Spencer’s hands grabbed my hips to keep me steady as he guided me through my high. When my body began relaxing underneath him, he placed a few more soft kisses against my folds before finding his home inside my arms. 

I was quick to reach down to find his hardness, making him shudder at the sudden touch. My fingers wrapped around him and began moving just the way I knew he liked. My motions were immediately rewarded by his sighs and groans. When I let my thumb brush over his leaking tip, he whined my name against my neck. 

“Tell me what you want, love,” I cooed as I kept stroking him. 

“I–,” he whimpered as he locked eyes with me. “I… wanna be inside you. Please.” 

“I’m all yours, Spencer.” 

It took him a few seconds to process my words. The thought that I had the ability to make the smartest and most eloquent man I knew forget everything else but me made me smile. He repositioned himself until he was kneeling between my legs, taking a moment to let his eyes wander over my body. 

“I’m so lucky,” he purred as he leaned over me. “So lucky to have you.” 

I reached between our bodies to guide him to my entrance. He took his time entering my body, a sigh falling from his lips with every inch that disappeared inside me. When he was fully inside me, he leaned down to kiss me. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him even closer against me until there was no distance to be found between us. 

Slowly we began moving, our hips grinding against one another in perfect synchronicity. We got lost inside each other’s arms. As our bodies merched there was no way of telling where my body ended and his began. Together we chased the sweet relief with heavy breaths and accelerated motions until we fell over the edge together. 

Each of the pulses of my walls around him was answered with him throbbing inside me, sharing his warmth with me until he had nothing left to give. He collapsed into my arms and buried his face into the crook of my neck as he tried to even out his breathing. Our bodies stayed connected for as long as possible but we had to let go of each other eventually. 

After cleaning up I found my home inside Spencer’s arms, my head resting on his chest. His heart was still beating faster than usual but it slowed down after a few more moments. 

“I can’t wait to spend Christmas with you,” he whispered. “And every holiday after that.” 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @castiels-majestic-wings @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @purpledsky @super-nerd22 @r-3dlips @evvy96 @torigorie

[callme-holly]

𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧: this is a p2 to this fic here but it can also be read as a stand-alone. i'll tag those who requested it at the end :)

The living room was deathly quiet, the tension hanging over the room so thick that it almost made it hard to breathe, or maybe that was just the anxiety building in your chest with each passing second.

Dallas sat beside you, lounging back against the couch casually, his arms slung over the back of the cushions, and it frustrated you how he could act so cool when you had your brothers glaring at you with heated expressions. 

None of them had spoken a word, not since Darry had finished chewing your ear off, and that was about five minutes ago. Now they were just waiting on your answer, waiting for a good and reasonable explanation for why the hell you were hanging around someone like Dally.

Pony was looking everywhere but at you, and you noted with a slight sense of satisfaction that there was something akin to guilt shining in his eyes. It was him who had snitched and told everyone, him who had tattled on you and gotten your name straight into Darry's bad books, right alongside your boyfriend's.

Dallas shifted beside you, letting out a long breath, drumming his fingers against his denim-clad thigh in a momentary rhythm before going to stand.

"Well, as social as this had been, I got places to be, man." But before he can even think about heading towards the door, Darry has advanced towards him, standing in his way and crossing his arms.

"Sit down, Winston." The look in his eyes sends a shiver through you, and there really is no arguing with him. Dallas might be tough, but Darry was ten times bigger and, in your opinion, a whole lot scarier. 

He sits back down slowly, his arm returning to its spot on the back of the couch, and you find yourself leaning into him slightly, earning a strange look from Sodapop. 

"So, let me get this straight—" You watch Pony tense up as Darry goes on, "You were in Dal's car; you both got caught in a more than questionable position by Johnny and your own brother," he narrows his eyes at you, "and you're trying to tell us you didn't do anything wrong?" You shrink back into Dallas slightly, shrugging halfheartedly.

"It was only kissing." You argue quietly, and Darry scoffs, shaking his head.

"Just kissing, huh? You think that's my issue? My issue is, you told me you were out with friends, kiddo, and now I find out you were with your damn boyfriend, who is also Dallas Winston!" Your stomach sinks, and you look everywhere but at him as Dallas clears his throat.

"What are you so worked up for, Darrel, huh? You'd rather her be with some random soc who isn't going to treat her right?" 

Your cheeks heat up, and you elbow him sharply, effectively silencing him and stopping him from digging you both a deeper grave. Darry's eyes darken.

"And what makes you think you're any good for her?" He asks coldly, and that catches your attention, your head snapping up sharply.

Anger floods your veins, and you suddenly sit up straighter, a defiant look flashing in your eyes.

"Will you stop acting like you know every little thing about us?" You snap, and his expression falls away immediately, morphing into one of surprise. "Dallas treats me just fine. I don't need you pretending you know what's good for me!" You push yourself up from the couch in one harsh movement, ignoring the shouts of all three of your brothers as you storm off to your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

Darry watches you go with a guarded expression, his eyes dark, and after a few brief moments, he turns back to Dallas, eyeing him warily, though something in his face has shifted.

"Don't make me regret this," he mumbles, shaking his head slowly.

Dallas gives him a simple, easy grin. "I wouldn't dream of it, Curtis." And with that, he stands and follows after you, down the hall and towards your room.

The sound of the door opening and closing cuts through the quiet, and Sodapop sighs softly, sitting down in the armchair.

"We tried." He mutters, resting his chin against his hands.

Darry nods, his gaze fixed on the closed door of your bedroom. "They're impossible."

And, yeah, maybe he's right. 

[tags: @goingdelux18, @creepzyxcute333]

[troublerats]

Tell me more about hotdog

hhHOh boy, okay, I'm just gonna start this off with a brief recap.

TL;DR: "Hotdog" Aka. Damara Lalonde, or "Mara" for short, is the adoptive daughter of Roxy Lalonde.

She is the same Damara raised by Doc Scratch who would later become The Handmaid, but was spared this fate when Roxy plucked her directly off the meteor using her void powers.

But I take it you're explicitly not here for a tldr so-

LONG AS FUCK EXPLANATION BELOW

Due to the bizarreness of her situation, a lot of the surviving cast post-game had some part in her upbringing. But most prominently were her mom's (Roxy and June), and Dirk, who served as an uncle of sorts. The latter being where she gets all the Stridisms in her design.

Personality wise: She's still extremely crude like Beforus Damara, but it's from a more direct ironic place meant to catch one off guard or to be absurdly overdramatic, rather than attempting to scare people away. A lot more snarky and confident, but not jaded or mean unless given reason to be.

Her interests include: Godzilla and similarly campy kaiju franchises. Practical effects in general, but mostly anything big dumb and explosive. Any Shonen slop Dirk showed her. Parkour and any reckless dangerous physical activity that would nearly give her friends a heart attack seeing her attempt. And starting sudden random indie projects in a medium she never returns to once she's finished.

Mara lives life fast and doesn't take time to dwell, especially as she's well aware of her own lifespan in comparison to her peers and her family. After highschool, she didn't want to bother with anything academic or to pursue some grand project to leave behind in her wake. Aside from flings, she doesn't really want to pursue a committed relationship either, as the last thing she wants is someone else fussing over her being careful, or bemoaning her short life in the last years she has of it.

It's her's, and her's alone. And she intends to live it to the fullest.

As for the concepts behind her character and creation-

In the shortest terms, Mara is a direct foil to the faults in Rose and Dave's upbringing. As well as an optimistic look to who Alpha Roxy and Dirk could have become despite who they were in the Beta Universe.

Both getting a chance to take supportive parental role's in Mara's life, Roxy more directly in being her mother, and Dirk more indirectly as someone Roxy could depend on to look out for her daughter, and who saw himself in another "out of place" kid.

Mara never had to wear the scarf of her dead mom, or mourn the fact they never truly got to know eachother due to her addiction. She had a loving mother who she knew for a fact supported her interests, and didn't keep things from her.

And instead of a shadowy violent figure that made her feel like she was never good enough, and without Cal's influence, she had someone to teach her to protect herself and who felt more like a trusted friend than another parent.

The parallels continue when brought back to her original upbringing under Scratch, a fate she narrowly avoided in this timeline due to Roxy pulling her off the meteor.

The idea for the whole AU actually initially came from the fact that Damara and Rose have a lot of direct parallels:

-Both use Needle-kind.

-While Rose would threaten suicide, Damara has a parental figure that actually would push her to suicide.

-John makes a comment about Rose seeming more "witch-like" in comparison to Jade, being a Seer and Witch respectively. However Damara actually is a Witch of Time when looking at her role in Beforus.

It makes it almost seem like Scratch will directly fit anyone he manipulates into a specific mold, but that's beside the point.

There are also parallels in Hal/AR being a piece that makes up Scratch/English, despite his initial role being one of sacrifice. But instead of knowing a sliver of Dirk that got ultimately corrupted and morphed into something cruel and unrecognizable, she got to know Dirk in full who never mutated into some kind of sick beast.

Lastly, though this is more of a side note:

Initially, I actually planned Mara to be raised by Scratch for a brief period, but taken before she could serve English. I.E. Instead of spawning green boxes, Roxy pulling a girl out of a green box.

I'm still mulling it over, but me and my wife most of the time lean towards her never having to suffer under Scratch bc Roxy with her stupid hotdog baby is nice fluff. But the narrative of a kid narrowly avoiding a grizzly fate and having severe repressed trauma she can't remember despite her currently good life, is a story element I still gravitate to as someone with DiD, who also headcanons Dirk as having DiD.

So it's sort of up in the air at times whether or not, Troll named Hotdog. Ever actually was. Hotdog shaped.

At least under Roxy's care.

[fastboatsmojito]

Jordan li with sex pollen + “❛ you look good like this. ❜ (perhaps reader is riding them)

GODDDD this is crazy, thank you anon <3

Sex pollen from this smutty prompt list + “you look good like this” from this smutty dialogue list for my 100 followers party !!

| a/n; Jordan Li my beloved, I have never been more jealous of someone in my life and wanted them at the same time

| cw; 18+ smut btc !! Established relationship, she he + they pronouns used for Jordan, afab gn reader, usual sex pollen level stuff, brief strap mention, PnV - no condom mention, Will I Ever (be safe !)

| wc; 818

You were walking in a field behind the school with Jordan to look for some weird plant you had no interest in finding out what he had to do with.

If you knew Jordan it was just something for one of her classes, surprised enough that she asked you for help that you didn’t feel the need to interrogate about it - yet, at least.

“Is this it?” You asked, crouched down to inspect a suspiciously yellow plant, some sort of powder blowing in your face from the wind as you got closer. He sighed and walked over to you, rolling his eyes before he saw what you were looking at.

“No that’s-“ He started before shoving your hand out of the way suddenly, noticing the wind and guiding you away from whatever was now making you cough.

“Shit, try not to breathe that in.” He suggested, patting your back before you rolled your eyes at him.

“A little late for that, thanks. What the fuck is that anyway?” You asked, catching your breath as she cautiously crouched down to take a picture of the plant.

“It’s part of some weird research Indira was doing I guess. I’m not completely sure what it does, Marie just said not to get too close to it.” She explained, sending the picture to Marie along with a cautious feigned curious question about the plant before tilting her head at you.

“Are you good?”

“I mean I just breathed in some weird powder we know nothing about, how am I supposed to feel?” You asked both sarcastically and sincerely, worried it was beginning to get to you. Your body suddenly heating up as Jordan’s phone pinged, earning a weird look you couldn’t quite place from them as their eyes moved over you.

“Okay so, good and bad news; you’re not going to die. But,” He started, hiding a smirk to his greatest abilities - not at all.

“But?” You interrupted, annoyed with his casual all too slow explanation.

“But, you might get really horny, like, worse than your usual level of-“ He put his hands up in defense when you shot him a mean look, deciding to leave the sentence unfinished.

“That’s what Marie says anyway. Hey, now you might just be on my level.” He retorted, trying to ease the tension.

“Great.” You groaned, avoiding her gaze and dutifully trying not to stare at her arms as she crossed them over her chest, walking away as you felt yourself growing more desperate.

She followed you to your avail, watching as you walked back, uncomfortably removing your coat as your body heat rose.

“Baby, come on. Let me help you.” She called after you, sighing when you ignored her and kept walking.

You tried to fight it, some weird, possessive force convincing you to turn around and pounce on them, but you weren’t giving up that easily - not in the middle of the courtyard at least.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It was over the second you got to your dorm room, tears nearly welling up in your eyes at the exhaustive need that had come over you, all for them.

As soon as your door was open you grabbed his arm, dragging him in and pressing your mouth against his own like you need it - because you do.

“Jordan-“ you whined into his mouth when his hands moved to your waist, pressing you up against the wall and holding you there while he pressed his knee rough between your thighs.

It was embarrassing how wet you were already, breathlessly grinding down onto their thigh as their tongue enveloped your own.

“Jesus, you feel that? Fucking soaked already.” He crooned, string of spit still connecting your mouths as he gripped your waist harder, bringing you to your bed. You could just cry from the loss of contact, hastily removing your pants and poor excuse for underwear while he busied himself with his own.

You crawled into his lap when he settled, wasting no time in sitting on his dick as soon as he took it out, boxers still around his hips as you sunk down on him.

The moans falling from both of your mouths were pure filth, ignoring the nagging voice in your head saying something about a noise complaint as you scratched your nails over his chest.

Strap, dick, even just her fingers stretching you out always felt like heaven but this felt different, like you would just fall over and never get back up again if she wasn’t connected to you somehow.

His hands moved to your ass as you moved over him, lifting his hips to thrust harder, deeper, as you rode him.

“You look good like this, prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He panted into your ear. It still made heat rise to your cheeks even while he was currently bouncing you on his dick, horribly filthy and sweet. What a combo.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆