#subconscious inspiration from but YE~

[mythvoiced]

@astremourante | 'I've killed for you, who else can say that?' for doe 😌😌😌😌

---

Doe wishes he could honestly claim he does drugs.

He wishes he'd be familiar enough with them to have more intimate ways of referring to it, having mastered both the art and the lingo of those who see control in the loss of control granted by the proper kind of intoxication, poisoning for the greater goal of forgetting one's alive.

But he can't lose what little control he has left.

Even if he gets drunk enough to laugh and lose the concept of what he's so upset about all the time, he relinquishes in the high of feeling like nothing matters... and in the atrocities awaiting him the next day.

Almost as though he drinks specifically for the hangover.

Maybe Amelia serves the same role.

Maybe drowning himself in her knowing he'll only end up looking back with nothing but regret and nausea is one of the many ways he chooses to actually maintain control.

The freedom of inebration, of a good high, those aren't control.

Being the one to determine how exactly and what will hurt, that is what true control is about.

Maybe he's just lost his mind.

Maybe he should have bought something comfier to sit in for himself.

He's slumped on his chair, his legs stretched away from himself, his back halfway on its way to slide down completely. His arms hang, limb and devoid of purpose, and he's staring at the same ceiling tile he stares at at least once a day.

He doesn't remember the name of the person this building belonged to.

Who else can say that, indeed?

He turns his head the way one might try to turn a heavy rock to show a different side of itself. The motion looks as though he and his neck weren't in total agreement of performing it, as though he is drunk right now or finally admitting to not being the real owner of his own body.

He looks at Amelia - he luxury he doesn't always allow himself.

She's the epitome of all he should show to hide everything as well as she does. The confidence in her movements and posture, the training that must have gone, perhaps privately chosen perhaps forced upon her, that allows her to move exactly as she intends to, to portray exactly the person she intends to be.

He can't fully believe she is the way she presents herself. It's not so much an instinct, as it is a grotesquely and deeply buried-alive desire that maybe, just maybe, there is more to whatever is going on here than the joy she portrays at getting on his nerves.

Tom and Jerry were supposedly friends too, pretending to fight to keep actual mouse-eating cats out of the household.

The comparison doesn't sit too well, they aren't friends, Doe doesn't know how to have friends, anyway.

Nor is there a bigger, meaner cat somewhere one of them must ward off to protect the other.

He can't imagine they are out to protect the other, anyway, he can't imagine either of them would even welcome that - would even know how to.

But she does kill for him.

He pays her to do so, sure. But she's skilled, efficient, renown, she doesn't need his money. She doesn't need him.

And frankly, one job turning into two, turning into three was never the plan, either. If he were to run things as he usually does, and make use of her con-artistry and intel instead, things might even runner smoother.

But she has killed for him.

And it fills a corner of the abyss inside him with rotten, blood-coloured paste.

A smile crawls tiredly onto his lips, stretches itself out there like a man done fighting for his life, lying down, ready to welcome death.

"No one," he shakes his head to underline his words, then nods to concede to hers. No one.

"Tell me, do you want me to kill for you, too? What do you want me to do? Should I burn the world down?" Doe-eyes were his allegedly as a child, always torn wide open, darting to and fro, like a doe waiting for the hunter to finally show himself. Now he holds them wide open in memory of that child, as if trying be genuine just this once.

"What should I do? What would you like me to do?"

[sysig]

Employee 416, with varying levels of bumpscocity (Patreon)

[artemismoorea03]

DPxDC Prompt: Who's Child Is This?

Inspired by an ICarly Clip. "Mr. Wayne, we have your son here."

Bruce blinked, then checked the number on the phone. It was from the police station. He then looked around the table which had fallen silent when Alfred had brought him the phone.

Dick, Jason, Tim, Duke, and Damian were all accounted for. Even Jon was there so they couldn't have misidentified him as his kid.

"Which one?" Bruce chose to ask.

"Tim Drake."

Bruce looked at Tim specifically as he tilted his head confused. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yeah, Mr. Wayne, we know your boys by now."

"Right... alright, I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Can I ask on why Tim has been taken into custody?"

Tim tilted his head even further while some of the others around the table started chuckling.

"He was found trespassing near the new Axion Labs at the edge of the city. The owner chose not to press charges so we're sending him home in your custody."

"I see, I'll be there soon. Thank you for the call."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne, we'll see you soon."

Bruce ended the call then looked at his kids. "Apparently, Tim has been arrested for trespassing near the Axion Labs construction site."

"And you didn't even invite me?" Dick chuckled at Tim, "We could have had so much fun together."

Tim scrunched his nose at the idea. "No way, that whole area is an OSHA violation. If I went there it wouldn't be out of costume, whoever that kid is was risking his life just walking within a block of it."

"Well, I'm going to go down there and see what 'Tim' was thinking." Bruce got out of his seat, "I'll be back soon."

"New brother?" Cass asked as Damian growled.

"We're going to assume no for now, but we may have another for dinner depending on what's going on."

"I will prepare another seat while you are gone, Master Bruce."

"Thanks, Alfred. I'll be back soon."

-

When Bruce walked into the police station he immediately noticed 'Tim' sitting in front of one of the officers desks. It was a newer officer and it was clear that neither Detective Montoya or Commissioner Gordon were in or somebody would have noticed that this kid definitely wasn't Tim.

Yes, the kid had black hair which was on the shorter side but his hair fell in front of his face more than Tim would wear it, and his eyes were unnaturally blue. He was pale in an old hoodie, blue jeans, and red shoes. The biggest difference though was that this kid looked like he was only pushing 15, not 17. Yes, he looked quite a bit like Tim but anybody who had spent more than five minutes with Tim Drake would know they weren't the same person.

"Mr. Wayne." The officer called as Bruce walked over, looking at the kid.

He was thin and pale, which a tired look on his face. He also shrunk away from Bruce when he walked over.

Bruce knew what a kid in trouble looked like. So he smiled down at the kid. "You know, Tim, when I said you could go to the lab to do your science homework I didn't expect you to go all the way to Axion Labs."

The kid looked at him, surprised then seemed to quickly catch on. "What can I say, I had to see what terrible science looked like. Sorry for making you come down here."

"It's fine, but are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, totally." He said, his hand subconsciously moving to his ribs as though he was hurt.

"Alright then you are grounded."

"What?!" 'Tim' squeaked, "Come on-"

"Nope. You are ground... for... 'til... college."

"FOR 'TIL COLLEGE?!"

"For 'til college!"

The officer cleared his throat then held out a clipboard. "If you sign the red x's you can take your son and leave, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce took the papers, quickly looking over it and signing it. It was strange to see that all of the handwriting on the paperwork was adult writing. Had they even asked this kid his name? Once everything was signed he passed it back over to the officer who nodded.

"Looks good. Thanks Mr. Wayne and you stay out of trouble. The whole city knows your face. You're just lucky Mr. Masters didn't want to press charges."

"Yeah, so lucky." The kid rolled his eyes, then stood up and looked up at Bruce. "Can we go now?"

"Sure thing, chum. Come on." Bruce said, leading the kid out of the station and to the car. The kid seemed hesitant as he looked around, his eyes narrowing when they landed on a gentlemen with silver hair in a ponytail, only when the man smiled at 'Tim' did the kid speak up again.

"Come on, Dad, let's get out of here before the stalkers find us." He said, climbing in the front seat and closing the door, much to the annoyance of the silver haired man.

Bruce climbed in the front seat, buckling in and driving away from the station. "So... 'not Tim' what's your name?"

"Danny. Just Danny... sorry about all of that Mr. Wayne. That guy took one look at me and started calling me 'Tim' and when I tried to explain that I wasn't 'Tim' hey called me a liar. But if I gave them my real name then... somebody else was going to come collect me and I didn't want that. So... I let them call me Tim. I'm sorry, I hope it didn't put you out..."

"Not at all. But... are you okay? Why were you at Axion Labs?"

Danny seemed hesitant, "I... it sounds crazy."

"It's Gotham, kid. Crazy things happen all the time..."

"Right... well um... I-I was kidnapped from my home and taken to Axion Labs. I-I escaped and when I was trying to leave the grounds the police saw me and thought I was trespassing. Since the cops were I decided to play along with it..."

Bruce frowned, "Kidnapped? Is... is there somebody I can call?"

Danny shook his head. "I have an older sister who is probably going crazy looking for me but other than her and a couple of friends there wouldn't be anybody. My parents... they were kind of involved. They... they found out something about me and tried to hurt me, I ran to somebody I knew I couldn't trust because I thought maybe he would get his head out of his ass but I was just being an idiot." Danny hugged himself. "You can drop me off anywhere though, you don't have to bother yourself with me or my shit."

Bruce pulled to a stoplight and reached over to the kid who flinched, Bruce waited until he relaxed before Bruce patted his head. "I'm not going to just leave you on the street. Besides, it's late and by now my butler has already dished you some dinner. So at least for tonight you're welcome to stay with me and my kids. We'll get some food in your belly, make sure you're not wounded, let you call your sister, and find a way to get you home. Sound good?" He asked, moving his hand away.

Danny looked at Bruce, seeming a bit untrusting for a moment before he glanced at something near Bruce and relaxed. There was nothing with Bruce, he wasn't carrying anything, but whatever Danny was seeing was enough to put his mind at ease. "Okay... but if anybody tries anything be warned, I bite."

Bruce chuckled, "So do most of the others. You'll fit right in."

'But just what the hell is going on with this kid? Does it have anything to do with that man outside the police station? I've got to get to the bottom of this before this kid leaves, especially if he's still a target.'

[rebeccccccaaa]

Too Sweet

______________

Spencer Reid x Reader

:: Practically at his beck and call, Spencer knows you’re too sweet for him. He knows he shouldn’t use you but he can’t stop himself when you’re also all too enthusiastic to fuck him ::

warnings :: smutttt, casual sex (kinda lol), oral (fem receiving), over stimulation, insomnia!spencer, spencer spitting facts (literally), reader is described to have hair length long enough to stick to your cheeks, obviously reader is described as afab, not sure what else i should tag so let me know what i miss :)

author’s notes :: hello, hello! honestly i saw this tik tok edit of spencer with this song (Too Sweet - Hozier) and felt a bit inspired by it and also loosely by lyrics too. please be kind as it’s been a couple years since i last wrote a fic and it’s my first one about dr reid too, so let me know if you guys like it, comment, reblog, all that jazz and critiques are more than welcome! Enjoy!

WC :: ~4k

_______________

It was pretty late into the night, it was the first weekend in weeks that the team was able to really enjoy. Spencer sat in a corner of his apartment, a glass of whiskey sat on the table as he flipped the pages of a book he’s read a thousand times before, albeit it was one of favorites. 

He was hesitant to call, he didn’t want to pull you away from enjoying your weekend but when it came to his pleasure, he put himself first. You were always too nice to say no to him and he knew that. It made him feel sleazy sometimes, but this was who he was now. Rugged, damaged, fucked up. He’d been through a lot. But in those moments where you squirmed and whined beneath him, he felt satiated. You were his drug now. 

“Hello?” he mumbled when the call picked up.

“Spencer,” your voice was a whisper as  you practically sang his name.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yes,” you responded.

“It’s a little late don’t you think?” he poked. 

“Then why are you calling?” 

You knew why he was calling. He only ever wanted one thing from you when the sky was dark. You didn’t mind it though. You basked in it. You kind of liked it. The feeling of having sex without commitment. Your job didn’t give you enough time for a commitment. You didn’t feel humiliated or belittled by Spencer’s desires. In fact, his lust for you turned you on in most cases. Most. 

Spencer was still a good friend to you. Regardless of sleeping with him, he was your closest friend. And recently, you noticed changes in him. Maybe you’ve kept a closer eye on him more than before but you were a little concerned. You had the right after everything he’s been through. He seemed more tired than usual, even though he was still punctual with work. Although you didn’t sleep in his bed after every time you slept together, when you did, you pretended not to notice his exits and long absences in between the long hours of the night. You could barely hear his ever so quiet footsteps roaming the living room. The clanking of coffee mugs in the kitchen and his quiet ‘Shit’ when he thought he was being too loud.

Three subtle knocks rapped his door, so quiet Spencer would’ve missed if he had breathed just a bit louder. A grin spread across his face subconsciously, glancing at the clock before taking long strides to the door. It was almost midnight. You stood in the doorway with heavy eyes, not the drunk kind, but the tired kind. He moved aside to let you in. Just like last time; and all the other times you showed up at his door for him. 

“I thought you went out tonight,” he questioned, rhetorically. 

“I did. For a bit,” you told him, “I just had one drink, then went home.”

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, you already know the answer. And Spencer knows you know too, though he tried at first to be more subtle in his nightly fixtures. He simply sighed with amusement. You set your things down on his couch, eyes adjusting to the dim lights that hardly lit the room. The glass sitting on the table in the corner caught your eyes though. 

“What are you drinking?” you asked.

“Uh, whiskey. Neat.” 

“Ew, why?” you joked.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugged. A whiskey wouldn’t exactly be Spencer’s first choice of drink but then again his first choice of drink wouldn’t even be alcohol. If it was, he would probably be content with a beer, or something of the sort. He was sort of going through a phase during nights. He was sleeping a lot less too. 

“I just didn’t take you for a whiskey kind of guy,” you teased.

“What kind of guy did you take me for?” he poked; he wasn’t really talking about drinks anymore though. 

“Water,” you joked, making him laugh. 

Spencer stood before you now. His hands were slightly hesitant this time to rest on your hips. 

“Is everything ok, Spencer?” you asked him. 

“Yes,” his voice was a whisper. 

You didn’t believe him, but you knew better than to press him. He was a stubborn guy and whether you did or didn’t you weren’t going to get an answer. You slid your hands up his chest before cupping the back of his neck with your hands. The kiss was chaste. You didn’t want to sleep with him if he was having second thoughts.

“Are you sure? If you’ve changed your mind I can head hom-,” you were telling him.

“No, don’t,” he rushed out. 

“I’m fine; I just haven’t been sleeping well,” he confessed. This surprised you, not because you didn’t know, but because you didn’t think he would tell you. 

“Well, then maybe I should go. That way you can finally get to bed before the sun comes up for once,” you joked with him, “Besides, you’re the one who's always telling people how important sleep is to the human body.”

Your words shocked Spencer this time. Admittedly, in the back of mind he suspected that you could sense him leaving his bed, or your bed sometimes, and that one or more times he’d been a little loud dwindling in the next room. But he didn’t realize you were fully aware of his nightly escapades. You knew him too well. You were too sweet to him. Spencer knew after all the fucked up things he’s been through he didn’t deserve your friendship; or anything more despite the fact.

“Did you know that elephants sleep the least of any other animal?” he told you, he doesn’t know why. Maybe to distract you, or seduce you. Both outcomes came often enough for him to make it a guessing game.

“You’re not an elephant.”

And then there were the ultra rare times when neither outcome happened; just now being one of them. 

“Sleep deprivation has been associated with reduced sexual desire and arousal,” he tried again.

“Well, I can help with that,” you teased. There we go.

He leaned down to kiss your lips but you pulled back in tease, smile on your face; you knew how pussywhipped you had this man. He didn’t want to fight it, he was growing desperate for you with every passing second. Rolling his eyes, he dipped his head in the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips, pulling you closer to him from your waist and lower back. Your hands began to unbutton his shirt, he was still wearing the clothes you saw him working in earlier that day. 

You stopped him, never been one to have sex anywhere other than the bedroom, taking his hand already knowing where to go after doing so many times before already. Although, it wasn’t like his apartment was a confusing labyrinth. He followed you like always. 

You reached the edge of the bed, sitting instinctively. Your hand went straight to his belt, undoing it with ease. Spencer pulled your hands away from his hips before sinking to his knees to the ground. He pulled your hips to the very edge, scratching the skin as he desperately pulled at your pants bringing them down your legs. Of course you let him.

He pushed you back and you fell on your elbows, still able to see him so clearly. See him dip his head and kiss the skin on the inside of your knee, his eyes lingering on yours. You let your head go for a second, basking in the feeling of his lips. They always made you feel so warm and tingly. One thing about Spencer, he loved foreplay. All the little things that lead up to sex. Most of the time, he craved the foreplay more than the sex itself. 

He moved your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hands holding your hips. His nose ran along your inner thighs. Your skin erupted in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath coming from his nose. His fingers fiddled against your hip bones and you wiggled a bit becoming desperate by the minute for something more than just this teasing.

“Spence,” you whined, looking back at him.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we do this, you’ll never learn patience will you?” Spencer bartered. 

“Spencer, I don’t come to you to learn patience,” you spat, not with any malice however.

“You won’t come at all with that attitude,” he snapped back, hiding a grin between your legs. 

“Spencer!” you gasped.

He chuckled lowly, bringing his hand between your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side to expose you to him. You were glistening, slick beginning to leak from you already. Spencer could feel himself getting hard. He precariously tried to not buck his hips into the bed like horny teenager.  

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. 

He stepped up quickly letting your legs drop harshly. His fingers curled over the hem of your underwear pulling them down and tossing behind his shoulder before returning to his previous position. He felt like he was possessed. Acting and moving like it was primal, instinctive. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to satisfy you. 

He kissed all the places except the place you needed the most. You curled your toes anticipating his next move, longing for his lips, tongue, fingers, anything to bring you pleasure. Just when you were about to sit up, ready to nag at him, his lips wrapped around your bud. 

Your shoulders gave out at the feeling. Your body electrifying instantaneously. Your eyes trained on the ceiling, focusing on everything about Spencer in this moment, the sounds, his touch, his tongue. His tongue dipping in you every now and then, making you moan feverishly. His hands spread out, pinning your hips down to the bed to try and get you to stop wiggling your hips, but he wasn’t too successful in that. 

“Knock it off,” he groaned, removing a hand wrapped around your leg to bring his fingers to your entrance.

“It’s not enough; I need more,” you whined.

“No, you want more,” he debuted, “You’re being greedy.”

“And you’re being mean,” you quipped, you always had something to retort.

“Ok, fine,” he stood up.

“Stop!” you whined, “Please, come back. Do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he sat on his knees again, instantly bringing his fingers up to rub slow circles that made your toes curl. 

He purposefully let them every now and then prod at your entrance make your hips jerk in surprise. He could see how wet you were, all of the slick telling him how needy you were. He looked up to look at your face. His eyes catching your nipples peeking through the fabric of your shirt from the pleasure already, smiling to himself. 

“Sexual arousal can cause an increase in blood flow to not just female genitalia, but also the breasts,” he told you, feeling your thighs squeeze ever so slightly.

“Is that your way of telling me my nipples are hard because of you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he stated before diving straight back between your thighs. 

His tongue did circles like his fingers, the wetness and warmth much more stimulating than before. His fingers slid inside you, curling when he couldn’t push them any further. You moaned out, reaching your hand down to comb your fingers through Spencer’s shaggy hair. The noises of everything bounced off the walls of Spencer’s shallow bedroom. It sounded vulgar but so sexy. Your heavy breathing practically syncing together. 

Your thighs squeezed more and more as you got closer to your climax; you didn’t care if you were suffocating Spencer. If he died, he died pleasuring you and neither of you minded it in this moment. Your hips grinding against his tongue chasing you release frantically. Spencer pumped his fingers in and out of you rapidly, leading you to ecstasy. 

Your breaths became shaking, as did your moans. You were overcome with pleasure as your orgasm hit you so suddenly. You could feel Spencer’s smile growing against you, you knew that he wasn’t going to withdraw despite reaching your climax. 

“Oh god, too much, Spence.” 

“First it was not enough, now it’s too much?” he taunted you, fingers still pumping in and out you strenuously. 

“Spence!” you wailed, your voice trembling embarrassingly. 

When he wouldn’t give out, you pulled at his hair as you sat up and pulled his mouth away from between your thighs. 

“Oh ow, ow, ow!” he whined. 

“Jesus, you were gonna give me a heartache,” you whined. 

“Actually the possibility of having a heart attack during sexual activity is exceedingly low. So you wouldn’t have had anything to worry about; if anything you would get a small headache,” he explained. 

“You’re giving me a headache,” you whined, making him laugh.  

You pulled him from the back of his neck, crashing his lips against yours. You loved to kiss Spencer. You always felt the closest to him physically when you kissed. Which is ironic since he was quite literally inside you most nights. Kissing, the art of kissing, was practically your love language. You always gave small pecks when you were together, privately of course. 

Spencer was worried at first, that kissing was too intimate that things would complicate fast and feelings would get hurt. But as time went on and things continued to stay normal between you, he just began to relish in it rather than worry about nothing. At least that’s what he’s convinced himself of. 

He suddenly remembered the first time you slept together. You were in his apartment one night going over some details of the case. Nothing so major, or frightening, but something wasn’t adding up. You decided to take a break, cracking open some beers and just talk. One beer became two, then three, then four and then suddenly bottles littered the pitiful coffee table in front of you. You were very clear with him, “I don’t just sleep with anybody.” But you were a woman with needs just as much as Spencer was a man, “Neither do I.”

“Things have to stay the way they are if we do this,” he told you that night.

“They will,” you assured him. 

You rested your forehead against his seeing his eyes seem different. Spencer always did this. Everytime, just for a minute or even a second, he would disappear behind his eyes, like he was reminiscing on a memory you couldn’t describe. 

“You did that thing again,” you said with a small grin on your face. 

“I know,” he blushed, “Sorry.”

“You ever gonna tell me what you’re thinking about when you do that?” you questioned.

“Nope,” he smirked, making you giggle. 

Spencer stood straight up shagging his shirt off before scrambling out of his pants. He crawled back over you settling his hips between your thighs as he dipped his head down to attach his lips to your neck. Your hand curled around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair as his breath and lips tickled your skin. Your hips fit together snuggly, grinding against desperate to chase each other’s highs.

Spencer reached into the drawer beside your head to pull out a condom. You snatched it from his hands with a devilish smirk on your face tearing it with your teeth. You spat the foil corner from your mouth, pulling the condom from its package before tossing it aside. You reached between your bodies stroking Spencer. His face blushing red, contorting with pleasure as it’s the first of the night to feel some sort of friction he needed from the beginning. The reason he called you in the first place. 

Spencer let his hands trace your skin. Though you wouldn’t react, your skin erupted in goosebumps. Feeling him prodding against your entrance, your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat. You always anticipated this part. No matter how many times you and Spencer spent the night together, you couldn’t ever get used to the flips your stomach made at this time. 

Spencer pushed his hips into you, his length stroking your walls making your hum in delight. Spencer’s breath became heavy as he pulled out just enough before rutting back in you with skill. Your face began to feel hot as Spencer began to find a good rhythm. You could feel the sweat building on your forehead, the air cold against your scalp. 

You looked at Spencer’s face; the veins bulging from his forehead and his neck. You cupped his cheek with your hand, catching his rhythm with your hips. Your breath became heavy, your hums became moans. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most vocal lover you laid with. Not that Spencer was your lover of course. That‘s not what you meant.

“What’s going on in that pretty little brain?” Spencer’s voice took you from your sudden trance; his pace beginning to slow. He brought his hand to your face, pulling the stray hairs that stuck to your cheeks from your sweat away.

“Nothing, just don’t stop,” you sighed, pulling his lips down to yours again. 

Spencer picked up his pace again, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. You felt overcome with an ambitious heat throughout your body. You pushed Spencer’s shoulders up trying your best to cool down without stopping your chase to your high. Spencer sat on his knees gripping your hips, practically ramming his hips into yours. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets beneath you. 

“Oh god, fuck,” you cried out. Your thighs squeezing Spencer’s torso as you began to get closer to your climax. 

“Shit, it’s like I can’t get enough no matter how many times I have you squirming beneath me,” he gloated. 

You could see Spencer's chest begin to get red, his knuckles however turning white. Your hands reached down gripping his wrists. Prying them away, before sitting up to straddle his legs, as they stretched forward, adjusting comfortably. You held on to his shoulders sturdily, finding an entirely new rhythm to chase your high. 

Spencer’s hands ran up your back, sliding under your shirt that you had yet to take off. No wonder you were overwhelmed with heat. He peeled the tight fabric from your skin, tossing it to the ground like he has so many times before. He unhooked your bra with ease, his eyes instantly trained to your chest. He couldn’t help his hands following, massaging the soft skin. Spencer looked up to you as you bounced up and down. Sweat dripping seductively down the valley of your breasts. 

“You’re so pretty,” Spencer whispered, staring up at you.

“I know,” you joked breathlessly, giving him a playful wink. 

Spencer let out a breathy laugh at that. The both of you were itching for a release now. Your bodies squirming against one another, aching to give the other the release. You leaned back placing your hands on his thighs, moving your hips faster and harder than before. 

“Spencer, I’m getting close, I feel it,” you whimpered, “Please tell me you’re close too.”

“I’m close,” he breathed out.

“Fuck,” you cried.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go,” Spencer mused, he reached between you two, fingers circling quickly between your thighs to bring you to climax even faster.

You gasped out, chest heaving as you felt the waves of pleasures wash over you suddenly. You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping from you as you threw your head back; arched back and thighs tensed. Spencer’s hand held your body close to himself, and you curled forward wrapping your arms around his head as you climaxed indefinitely. Spencer grunted below you, his legs stiffening and jerking upward. Curses whispered from his lips. 

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, relaxing and slumping your body over Spencer. 

“Treat me good, like always,” he whispered, his hand coming briefly to stroke your hair gently. 

He rolled you over, laying you lazily on his bed before climbing out of the bed swiftly. He stumbled his way to dispose of the rubber. He grabbed a small towel from a drawer along with something to cover himself. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, gently cleaning you as your eyes slowly blinked, telling him you were exhausted. 

“You want to stay the night? I can see how tired you are.” 

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning,” you quipped with a small grin on your face. 

Spencer laid beside you, covering your body with the blankets. You curled by his side, your leg falling over his hips. He turned the lights out, but the soft golden glow from the lights in the room next door streamed in. His arm wrapped around you, fingers softly stretching your back. Steady breaths against his chest gave him a sense of comfort. He was always a bit jealous how easily sleep came to you; how peaceful you looked when you did. Spencer tried to close his eyes. He tried to let rest wash over him like a blanket. What felt like seconds was an hour. And another hour. He peeked at his watch laying on the nightstand beside him, three o’clock the time read. 

Sighing, he sneaked out of bed, careful to not wake you. He skulked towards the kitchen, eyeing the small glass of whiskey still on the table. He couldn’t help smirk to himself over it. He opened the cabinet grabbing a mug, pouring a bitter liquid into it. He took a big swig of his favorite beverage, basking in all the flavors, when suddenly a beautiful figure stood before him. 

“Hey,” his voice was quiet. 

“I’m guessing you haven’t slept,” you tiptoed your way to him, you could hear him sighing. 

“Is there anything at all I can do to help you?” you whispered, carefully placing your hand on Spencer’s warm back. 

“No, but having you here is enough.”

You were beginning to blur the lines between your arrangement and your friendship. But neither you nor Spencer could muster up the courage to stop what you’ve started. Spencer indulged in your sweetness, the way you were always there to satiate his desires, the way you opened yourself to him like heaven’s gate. And you, well you would never admit it. Being in love with Spencer that is. You’ve known him for years; seen the best parts of him and helped him through the worst. You knew him the best of anyone you’ve known before. And he could say the same too. He’s never opened up to anyone as much as he has to you. 

You were perfect for each other. And yet, Spencer wouldn’t allow himself to bask in it. He truly believed he didn’t deserve you. That all the demons that haunted him in these dark hours were undeserving of your kindness, compassion, gentleness. Simply thinking about you was often enough to calm him in tense situations. But he would never tell you this. So here he was, standing in the kitchen with his coffee black at three in the morning wondering why you couldn’t see that he would never be enough for you. 

[mionemymind]

Give Me Another Chance

Summary: The five times Y/n asks Wanda to give her another chance and the one time Wanda says yes.

Warnings: Angst, No Happy Ending, Dying, No Part Two?

A/n: Was heavily inspired to write this angst after reading Marry Me by @just-aake Theirs had a happy ending to it so I highly suggest reading their lovely work.

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

“Give me another chance, Wanda,” Y/n pleaded as the two walked through the compound late for their meeting. It was 8:30 am. The group was instructed to arrive for the mission briefing at 8:15 am. Wanda barely had time to brush her teeth before she ran out of her room and immediately bumped into the last person she wanted to speak to, her ex. 

“Shut it, Y/n.” Y/n sighed as she kept her mouth shut. The headache coming from drinking too much poured into her head like a tsunami. “I blame you if we get the short end of this mission.” Before Y/n could respond, the two finally arrived at the conference room.

“You’re late.” Steve deadpanned. “We-” 

“No excuses Y/n, you and Wanda are on backup duty. Stay in the quinjet until asked.” Wanda groveled silently as she was handed the mission file by Natasha. Y/n stood behind Bucky and peered over his notes. 

“This was going to be a long day,” Y/n thought. 

“Give me another chance, Wanda,” Y/n begged through the phone. She was walking through the bustling streets of downtown New York to find Wanda. The girl had mysteriously gone out for the night and decided to tell no one about her location. This was nothing new to the team, even Natasha knew it was something that Wanda did to feel better about herself after their breakup.

But tonight felt different to Y/n. It was already past midnight and Wanda hadn’t come back home. Y/n called again only for the phone to go straight to voicemail for the 10th time tonight. “Watch where you’re going asshole!” 

“Sorry,” Y/n mouthed as she walked away. Realistically, Y/n knew that Wanda could handle herself even if she was impaired, her magic subconsciously protected her in situations like this. But the worry that pitted her stomach told her otherwise. 

“Where could you be?” Y/n thought out loud. Looking around the surrounding buildings, Y/n’s eyes settled on the Chrysler building. Like a light bulb, a switch flipped in her head. Running to the nearest empty alleyway, Y/n called for her suit and flew to the top of the building. 

In all her glory there was Wanda lying on the edge of the Chrysler building. Her cheeks were flushed as she held the near empty bottle on her stomach. The remainder of the six-pack lay waste on the floor. Wanda didn’t know how much time had passed since she started drinking. The near numbness in her lips indicated that it had been a while. 

Y/n landed with a soft thud, not wanting to scare Wanda off.  She checked her watch and it was already 2:00 am, a new record for Wanda. Leaving her suit behind, Y/n walked slowly to Wanda. Once she was within arm's reach, Y/n securely held her by the waist. 

“What are you doing here?” Wanda didn’t have to turn her head to know who it was. The feeling of sensing Y/n was something she used to enjoy. Now it was just a constant reminder of their failed relationship. 

“I’m here to take you home. It’s late Wanda.” Wanda sighed as she let Y/n gently grab the bottle from her hand. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“You’re drunk Wanda.” 

“And you’re the asshole that left me.” Y/n ignored the insult thrown her way and picked Wanda up bridal style. “You’re gonna get hypothermia if you stay out here.” Y/n looked down at Wanda when she didn’t respond back. The brunette was already deep asleep as she nuzzled her head into Y/n’s chest. 

When Wanda woke up the next day, she refused to ask who took her home. Not when her thoughts already lingered about Y/n. 

“Give me another chance, Wanda,” Y/n whispered as she held Wanda’s hand. The brunette was dressed in an all-black skin-tight dress with high heels. She even put make-up on to feel better for the occasion. 

“You don’t deserve me.” Wanda walked away from Y/n and to the open elevator. Their eyes met again as the doors closed. Once she was fully out of sight, Wanda let a tear fall. “Why must you make it so hard for me to move on?” 

“Give me another chance-”

“Are you serious right now?” Wanda was in disbelief. “You. Fucked. Up.” She poked at Y/n’s chest. “Not me. And now you want me to seriously give you another chance?

“I understand that I fucked up-”

“No! You don’t! You broke up with me and left me to sort things out by myself. And cowardly enough, you went on a mission just to avoid talking to me.”

“Let me explain-”

“Explain? What is there to explain? I’ve begged and begged so many times before for you to tell me the truth. Each time you would shut me out and disappear. You never had the decency to tell me anything. But now when it’s convenient for you, I suddenly am the bad guy for not hearing you out. “

Wanda shoved Y/n out of her room. “All you did was make me wonder why I ever deserved that type of treatment when all I ever did was love you.”

“I’m sorry I keep messing things up,” Y/n groaned. The bruises on her chest made it hard to breathe or maybe it was the blood she could taste in her mouth. Regardless, everything hurts. “I wasn’t really thinking when I broke up with you back then.” 

Wanda ignored the burning feeling in her chest as she continued to rip apart the indestructible chair Y/n was cuffed to. “Are you serious right now? Y/n please use your fucking smart brain and help me get you out.” 

Wanda concentrated back on her powers to try and rip apart one of the steel cuffs. When the cuff didn’t give, Wanda stopped in frustration. “Why isn’t this working?” 

“‘Cause they knew you would be the one to get me.” Wanda furrowed her brows, not understanding who “they” was. “What are you talking about?” 

A loud pitch echoed through the chambers as the intercom turned on. “Countdown commences. Ten minutes till detonation.” The large screen behind Wanda flickered as the countdown was displayed in bright red. 

“Tony! I need you to locate the bomb. Y/n is stuck in this chair and I can’t get her out of it.” Wanda looked around the room once more but the lack of controls and buttons made it feel useless. 

Wanda hurried back to Y/n at the sound of her coughing up more blood. “What did they do to you dekta?” Y/n tried her best to grin, not wanting to show Wanda how much pain she was in. 

“You’ve done worse to me in training,” Y/n joked but none of it sat right with Wanda’s conscience. Using her shirt, Wanda wiped part of the blood that came out. She used her free hand to locate the source of the bleeding. 

“Wanda,” her green eyes focused on the brown eyes she loved. “I think I’m dying.” 

“Shh shh - don’t talk like that dekta.” Wanda located a small tear inside Y/n’s organs and used her magic to pause the bleeding. “We’re gonna get you out of here.” 

“I’m sorry for all the times I’ve failed you.” 

“What-”

“And I’m sorry for leaving you.” 

“Now is not the time-” 

“We’re out of time my love.” Y/n glanced to the screen in front of them. Only five minutes left before it detonated. 

“Any updates Tony?! We have five minutes left!” Wanda yelled. 

“I’m trying my best here. We’re swarmed!”

“Wanda - I need you to listen-”

“No!” Wanda declared. She looked at Y/n with a deadly stare. “Stop acting like that - like this is our last chance.” Wanda refused to believe that the world would be cruel to let the love of her life slip past her. Not when they haven’t sorted everything out. Not when things are still bad. 

“I love you,” Y/n whispered with a tired smile. Wanda could feel Y/n’s energy draining by the second. The longer she went without medical attention, the slimmer her chances of survival grew. She gripped on Y/n’s shirt, trying her best to keep her cries at bay. 

“Don’t-” Wanda sobbed as tears fell down her face. “This isn’t how I wanted you to confess. I deserve a confession where dying isn’t involved.” 

“One minute remaining,” the announcement said. Y/n’s eyes started to droop. Her consciousness was slipping by the second. Wanda cupped Y/n’s cheek and lightly tapped her face. 

“Wake up dekta.” Y/n slowly opened her eyes. “Ask me again.” 

“What?” 

“Tell me you want me back.” Wanda pressed her forehead against Y/n’s. “Tell me to give you another chance and I will. I’ll give you all the chances in the world so just ask me.” 

“Wanda…will you give me another chance my love?”

0:00

The world slowed down as the bomb deep under the building blew up. Wanda could feel the blast reaching to them as she created a magic barrier that surrounded her and Y/n. And as it continued to explode around them, Wanda leaned in and kissed Y/n hoping that the last thing the dying girl felt was her love. 

Taglist: @halobaby  @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

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[rafedaddy01]

An: this is inspired by a TikTok I saw. Yes the TikTok was a passage from a smut book. I’m not taking credit for this idea! It just simply sparked my own twist on it. I’m not sure what the book was called, it wasn’t on the TikTok, but I remember the scenario and thought I’d share it with you guys

You were trying to make topper jealous. Ever since he broke up with you for your best friend Sarah you weren’t the same. And what better way to get back at the both of them than to date Rafe, toppers bestfriend and Sarah’s brother.

Although date would be a strong word to use. You utterly despised the man and he you, so the two of you came to an agreement. He also had his issues towards topper and Sarah so the two of you decided to fake date.

The deal was that while you were out in public you’d be the lovey dovey, perfect couple. And it worked. For the most part.

When the two of you were in private the bickering never stopped.

Tonight was another typical Friday night kook party, it had only been a week since topper dumped you and 3 days since you and Rafe came out as a ‘couple’.

“Just put your arm around me” you whispered, frustrated, as you sat in Rafes lap. He rolled his eyes but obliged. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. Your breath hitched.

You didn’t really despise Rafe as much as you showed him. In reality the only reason you started dating topper was to get to Rafe, but topper ended up being sweet and you fell for him and now you lost him.

“Quick, pretend I said something cute” you plaster on a smile and wrap your arms around Rafes neck, leaning in closer. “What?” He scoffs. “Do it!” You say through gritted teeth as you slyly nod your head in the direction of topper and Sarah.

Rafe smiles and leans closer, lips almost touching yours. Your breath catches as you feel the warmth of his breath fan your skin. “What’s wrong princess? This too much for you” he smirks as he notices your breathing getting uneven. “Not at all” you pull yourself together and mash your lips on his, moving your hips a little, subconsciously grinding on his lap.

Rafe freezes for a minute before kissing you back. The two of you get caught up in the moment before a throat clears behind you.

You pull away and look into each others eyes but someone speaks up and ruins the intimate moment.

“What are you two doing” you turn your head and spot Sarah and topper cozied up on the couch with kelce to their right lighting up a blunt. “When did you two become a thing” Sarah’s disgust is clear on her face almost as much as toppers anger is.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business” you fake a smile at the couple before turning yourself around and getting off Rafes lap, only for him to tug you back by the waist. So now your sitting facing the group, Rafes thigh in between your legs, pressed right on your clit.

“I was just waiting for this Jackass to dump her so I could have her all to myself, right baby?” Rafe glares at topper.

You never knew what they had between them, Rafe never shared that with you and whenever you tried bringing it up he simply shut you down.

“Right daddy” you drag out the last word as you turn your head and pull Rafes face towards yours. Your lips crashing over each other.

You pull away and smile, Rafes eyes scan over your face. Searching your eyes for something until he clears his throat and sits back.

You relax in his lap as the night goes on. A couple drinks in and a little buzzed from the blunt that was passed around the small group forming in the living room. Topper and Sarah were still on the couch. You’d catch toppers eyes in your direction a couple times but you tried to ignore it, not showing him how desperately you wanted him.

As everyone around you started chatting you felt Rafes hands move to your hips. He started slowly moving you back and forth as his leg lightly shook underneath you.

Your glossy eyes shot opened. “Rafe!” You turned your head in his direction, meeting his clear blue eyes. “What princess” he said the last word a little sternly and that’s all you needed to know that you had eyes on you. “Can I not have some fun with my girl” one of Rafes hands moved to your bare thigh, lifting the material of your skirt up and inch as he drew shapes on the bare skin.

You hated to admit it but you were soaked. You took control of your own body as you tried to casually grind down on his leg. Rubbing your clit over his muscular thigh and putting just the right amount of pressure to make a small whimper come out your mouth.

Rafe pushed your hair off your shoulder before you felt his breath against your ear. “Your such a good fucking girl.” The praise he gives you encourages you more and you forget that your supposed to be making topper jealous. Savoring the moment you start grinding harder, everybody’s in their own world either too high or drunk to notice you pathetically getting off on Rafes thigh. “I knew you would be” Rafes hot breath hits your neck before he’d kissing and sucking and that sends you into a spiral, orgasm hitting you like a truck. “She ever moan for you like that top?”

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @hoesindifferentshows @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv

[fadingdaggerr]

first off, omg I absolutely love your writing. You're literally my favorite author on here. Second, the pictures you choose for each one shot are *chefs kiss*

Moving on from that, I was wondering if you could do a melissa schemmenti one shot inspired by the song "casual" by chappell roan, and with a happy ending? or the song "red wine supernova"?

I've been meaning to do it myself but I so don't have the time or motivation right now😭

and now? (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa craved you, you craved melissa. what you crave from each other seems to differ depending on the season, based on both casual and red wine supernova by chappell roan. | 6.1k

includes: angst!!, fluff, no pronouns/gender mention for r, emotionally constipated mel and r, self sabotage from r, happy ending

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption (minimal), marijuana use (minimal), verbal fighting, afab reader (no mention of breasts in ref to r), smut throughout (oral, fingering, toy use, mel and r receiving), lots of praise

translations: sfigata (italian - loser), τουαλέτα (greek - restroom - pronounced too-ah-leh-tah)

note: on this episode of “sol complains about their inability to write under 4k words and then immediately writes 6k+” N E ways. the goal of this was to sort of have mel's perspective be carried by red wine supernova and reader's perspective to be more along casual. thank you for trusting me with your prompt/idea, i'm very honored <3

The moment she saw you, she knew she had to have you.

Tipsy at a housewarming party, uninterested in everyone around her, Melissa almost calls it a night. She only agreed to be here because Shauna said ‘a small get together,’ not ‘having half of Philly in the kitchen alone.’ Weaving through the room, she attempts to find someone she knows to say goodbye to, but her search is halted by yelling from the foosball table.

In the living room, Dominic is accusing someone of cheating. At foosball. Amused, she walks further into the room to watch, seeing Dominic miss the ball too many times to not be an effect of alcohol, and he groans towards the ceiling.

He angrily spins the handles he’s holding, jostling the table, “stop fucking cheating, dude!”

“I’m not fucking cheating, dude,” the other player responds, laughing through the answer. Hiking it onto her tiptoes, Melissa peeks over shoulders to see you, a little grin on your face that also drops the joint hanging from your lips.

“Bitch, yes you are!”

Without a second to even blink, you push the rods in your hands forward, hard, making the metal ends roughly hit Dom’s hip. Leaning over the table, you blow smoke towards his face with a sarcastic smile, “don’t call me a bitch. Thought you knew better, Domi?”

“Yup,” he responds through a wince, “yup, wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”

Through a chuckle, you take another hit from the near-roach, eye flicking up at the sensation of being watched intently. Red hair sticks out in the crowded room, green eyes sticking out more. Subconsciously, you do a once over of her, meeting her eyes.

Voices, music, the people around you, they all faded away. All you saw was Melissa. All Melissa saw was you.

Your whole body goes on autopilot, trying to get you to her as quickly as possible. Dominic tries to get you to play another round, an attempt to redeem himself, but you wave him off, not taking your eyes off the object of your attention as you snub out the joint against the game table. It takes borderline shoving almost everyone out of your way before you finally get to her. Any thought of leaving early flies out Melissa’s brain, disappearing as you enter her orbit.

It’s all a blur from the center of the living room, to the back of it, to the locked bathroom with you on the counter. How she got here, she doesn’t know, nor care. All she can focus on is your hand gripping her hair and the taste of you on her tongue. The blessing and curse of music beating through the wall fills her ears, thankful it covers the moans coming from you for any partygoers, but angered she can barely hear them.

Melissa can’t dwell much when your thighs begin to shake around her head, the hand not in her hair was nearly clawing the wall. From the whines that she manages to hear through thigh-shaped earmuffs and bass boosts, she can tell you’re close, the bucking into her mouth quickening with the motion of her tongue. Melissa’s alternating of figure-eights and sucking on your clit is your downfall, struggling to contain the loud groan that desperately wants to rip from your throat.

Languid motions slow, making you squirm from overstimulation before you’re pulling her back up to your lips. You almost give right back in when you feel her groan against your lips, tasting yourself on her as she dominates the kiss, all teeth and tongue. She was addictive, your new drug of choice, one you don’t want to let go of soon. 

Melissa leaves the party with your number in her phone, and your taste imprinted on her tongue.

—☽—

Melissa can’t even wait two days before she texts you, just saying it was her, chewing her thumb as she waits for a reply. Eight minutes and three seconds later, not that she’s been silently counting or anything, her phone buzzes.

hey beautiful. was wondering when i’d hear from you.

You were at her door within a couple hours, almost running over your coworker as the workday ended.

The first month of this arrangement, this is all it is. Melissa texts you a simple Are you free tonight? and you show up at her front door, grinning as she pulls you in by the collar of your shirt. She rarely takes her time with you, immediately sucking at sensitive skin and cupping your sex through your underwear, dragging her teeth down your throat. Moans and whining coming from you only spur her on. You barely make it to the couch before her fingers are working their way inside you.

It takes weeks before you can contain yourselves enough to make it to her bedroom, though your clothes are scattered from the front door to the stairs, Melissa’s black thong caught on the bannister. An altogether miracle you even make it onto her bed.

The redhead has a damn near obsession with eating you out, bold hands holding you down as you squirm, groaning into you as you grind into her face. It’s the first and last thing she does every time, before she kisses you goodbye, all soft and sweet. The two actions are so wildly different, rough and dominating followed by gentle and caring. How could one not become a fiend for the attention only she can provide?

Another month passes, and it’s almost routine. Melissa calls, you run. Melissa says jump, you ask how high. Melissa tells you to take off your shirt, it’s off before she finishes her sentence. Melissa gets you off, you leave before you’ve even caught your breath.

The expectation of you leaving drops one night when she catches the dazed, sleepy look in your eyes one night. For the first time, she lets someone spend the night. With her arm around your waist, you speak quietly into the air, “would you wanna go on a date sometime? A real one, I mean.”

Her arm retracts from your body, turning to lay on her back, “c’mon, baby. That’s not what this is, we agreed.”

Suddenly, you’re glad she’s not pressed against you anymore, breath uneven, “yeah, yeah. You’re right. Nevermind.”

You don’t bring it up again. She doesn’t try to hold you again. Your visits include dinner and wine before she dines on you and coffee before you leave in the morning, but nothing more. It tastes bitter in your mouth.

Four months in, and you find yourself splayed across her couch with the redhead buried between your thighs, fingers making sparks roll through your core. Hard knocking broke through, both of you stare at each other with wide eyes. A second round of knocking throws you into motion, scrambling to put your jeans back on, Melissa hurriedly cleaning her fingers with her mouth. Just before she opens the door, you stop her to fix her hair, immediately turning back to throw yourself on the couch.

When Melissa opens the door, all you hear is, “took you long enough.”

“Fuck d’ya expect showing up unannounced?” Melissa matches the annoyed tone of whoever’s at the door, moving aside to let them in. Blond and tall with the same Schemmenti resting-murder face. This has to be Kristen Marie, the ‘sfigata ass sister’ Melissa mentions from time to time.

“The hell are you?” The blond looks at you, no attempt to hide the judgment behind her eyes. A quick glance to Melissa, who’s glaring back, tells you to lie. You introduce yourself only as one of Melissa’s friends, the mention of knowing Shauna, however, seems to make Kristen less defensive. A sigh of relief leaves the redhead, you hadn’t been caught. A sigh of disappointment leaves your own lips.

Weeks later, Melissa’s phone rings while you’re both chopping vegetables for dinner. She mutters an apology as she pauses your conversation, showing you the contact Mama on the screen. You pretend to zip your lips with a little grin, going back to chopping the bell peppers she tasked you with.

“Hey, Ma,” Melissa says into the phone as she puts it between her ear and shoulder, freeing her hands to chop the onion. “Nah, just making dinner. I can’t stay on long, I got company,” she bumps your hip with hers, laughing at whatever her mother says before answering, “no, weirdo, not that kind of company… I’ll ask, hold on.”

Putting her phone to her chest to cover the speaker, she asks, “my mother would like to know if you’re a complete freak?”

“Contextually, yes and no,” you say, reveling in Melissa’s bursted laughter, “but tell her no.”

“No more than I am, Ma,” she says when she brings her phone back to her ear, pinching your ass as she stifles a laugh while her mom keeps speaking. The hand around your heart has pink acrylics.

In the passing months, a change you weren’t expecting comes, and you hope that if you don’t acknowledge it, it will stay this way. An undercover Eurydice.

Most nights, Melissa barely let you get out a greeting before you were pinned against the door, lips on your, hands roaming under your shirt. Some nights she was slow, gentle, loving almost, taking her time and kissing every inch of you. Those nights made it hard to separate the feelings you have from the ones she dances around talking about.

There are other days though, your favorite days. Ones like tonight, where both of you are exhausted and just want to no longer exist to the world. Instead, you feel as though you’re in your own world out here on her back porch. You peek over at Melissa as you take a hit from a joint you packed before driving over, eyes closed, Melissa doesn’t see you.

Watching closer than you should, your eyes stay on her as she moves to take a sip of the Cabarnet you bought only for her. The way her lips kiss the glass, how she licks her lips to never waste a drop. If she asked, you’d gladly kiss away rogue droplets of wine. She’s beautiful, truly beautiful. She knows it, but she doesn’t really believe it, always rolling her eyes when you mumble it against her thighs. You wish you could tell her whenever the thought crossed your mind, every time you look at her. Exhaling, you turn away, mouthing a silent fuck to yourself. Bringing the J to your lips, you try to keep from being caught.

Melissa’s head drops, propping her chin on her shoulder with droopy eyes, “can we just sleep tonight? ‘M slipping into a coma over here.”

You chuckle, copying her pose, rose-tinted eyes flitting over her, “sounds great.”

For the first time in five months, Melissa holds you as you both fall asleep in the center of the bed.

You love these nights, ones where you can pretend Melissa is just as much yours as you are hers.

A cruel, ten month anniversary gift of sorts comes in the form of a friend in the hospital cafeteria.

Your phone pings where it sits in your scrub shirt pocket, your chest tightens.

Melissa: I’ll be home around 6, if you’re free tonight.

The grin on your face is not unnoticed by your friend as she sits back in front of you. Shauna taps the table to get your attention, “that your girl?”

“She’s not my girl,” you mumble, typing out a reply to Melissa.

when am i not free for you?

Shauna scoffs, speaking under her breath, “like you actually think that.”

You place your phone back on the table with a little force, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s just using you, honey,” Shauna blurts, “you’re at her beck and call, and all she wants is sex. And I know you, that’s not what you want.”

“And what do I want, oh wise one?”

“Her,” she replies. “I’ve known you too long to not know that you’re in love with her. I’ve also known Mel long enough to say that she is going to break your heart.”

You kiss your teeth, “what do you know about what Melissa wants?”

Shauna doesn’t appreciate your defensive attitude, so she gives you the hard truth, “she said this whole thing is just casual. Pretty stress relief, I think were her exact words.”

You are stress relief, nothing more. Another ping.

Melissa: See you then baby.

—☽—

When you arrive on Melissa’s doorstep, you desperately want to turn and run, save yourself before you feel any more. The equally desperate need to be near her knocks for you, but when she answers, you can barely meet her gaze. Green eyes flick from your face to your wringing hands, pink lips shifting to a frown.

“What’s bothering you?” Melissa asks gently, locking the door behind you. When you shake your head, struggling to kick your shoe off, her arms wrap around your waist, chin on your shoulder. She feels you stiffen, pouting to herself, “I know something’s wrong, you look like Eeyore in torrential downpour.”

You huff a laugh and lean against her, “just… stress.”

“Hmm,” glossy lips press to your neck, soft and slow, “want me to get rid of some of that?” The feeling of her hands on you is so convincing, it overrides what you know you should do. Turning in her arms, you press your lips into her and let her take control.

Her mouth wraps around your nipple, thumb slowly torturing your clit as her fingers work you through your third orgasm. From the twitch of your hips, she knows you’re at your limit, carefully removing her fingers from you. Greedy hands tug at her, pulling her to your lips as you flip your bodies, straddling her hips. Traveling down, you delight in her whimpers as you suck at her skin, leaving behind marks comparable to the wine she loves.

Your hands spread her legs, taking your rightful place between them. Sensual, slow, loving kisses down her soft stomach, all leading to where she needs you most. Her hips buck as you get closer to her center, breath tickling her pearl. With a flat tongue, you fulfill her wish, licking a stripe from the base of her slit to her clit, moaning into her. Hands harshly grip your hair, tugging when you suck on her clit. Your own hand slides from her strong thigh to her plush breasts, toying with her nipples as you devour her.

Husky pants draw from her throat, pitchy whines breaking through when your fingers begin to toy with her entrance. Neither of you care about the phone ringing from the nightstand. All you can hear is hoarse moans of oh god and please, faster, all you feel, taste, and smell, is Melissa. You both peer to the nightstand when it rings again, desperately trying to ignore it. A second finger enters Melissa as her attention falls back on you, her eyes meeting yours as she moans, fueling your desire.

A third ringing of the phone almost makes her scream, and tapping your shoulder with vigor to stop you before the phone is forced to ring again. You quickly, and gently, retract your fingers, allowing Melissa to shakily reach for her phone. The blood drains from her face as she looks at the screen, staring at you where you rest on her thigh, answering with a gulp.

“H-” she clears her throat, “hey, ma.” Your eyes almost bulge from your head. “I was in the middle of a shower, sorry,” she gets out quickly, nearly laughing at herself and you purse your lips to contain your own giggle, “well, the kids had a project with glitter, had to get it off.”

“Get something off,” you mumble quietly, pressing a kiss to the junction of her hip. Melissa playfully smacks your arm as she listens to her mother, pressing her finger to her grinning lips.

“Well, I got a friend over right now…” Friend. “Yes, the freak,” she chuckles warmly, patting your hand before her hand freezes on yours, “oh- I… can ask.” Her eyes leave her lap, now looking to you, “wanna go get dinner at Cirillo’s? My parent’s treat.”

Your eyebrows rise, “do you… want me to go?” You’ve met Kristen Marie, and only quickly ran into her cousin Vinny, but her parents were a whole other story.

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” it feels genuine. You nod.

Arturo and Giorgia Schemmenti are exactly who would expect Melissa’s parents to be. Giorgia shares suspicion openly on her face, Arturo, on the other hand, has a resting smile. You think in the moment, you’ve got them figured out, but the way they unblinkingly look when you speak terrifies you, as if they’re analyzing every breath you take and every twitch of your hand. Silent prayers from both you and Melissa ask they don’t realize you were forced to wear one of her shirts, having arrived to her place in an ancient sweatshirt from your backseat.

You answer every question they ask you, although confused on the need to grill you so closely. What do you do for work? How many siblings? Ever gotten a speeding ticket? How’s your relationship with your parents? Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases? Thoughts on Reagan? Ever cheated on one of your past partners? MRI technician, sir. Two brothers. Twice, one on my way to school, one on my way to the hospital for my grandmother. Not great, I guess? No, ma’am, I get tested every two months. Hope he’s in hell. No, God, no.

“Lord, you two, let up. We haven’t even gotten the tzatziki yet,” Melissa says, laying the drinks menu down on the table.

“Just trynna get to know your friend, Meli,” Arturo turns his attention to you, “swear, all the girl does is talk about you, and I still know nothing.” The ringed hand at the edge of the table clenches, knuckles white.

You just shrug, “afraid I’m not that interesting.” I’m just a friend. 

You miss how Melissa looks at you, brows turned up as she glimpses your sad smile. However, you feel a warm hand go to your thigh, squeezing gently. When her parents' attention diverts to a large party walking in, she whispers in your ear, “I don’t like when you talk about yourself like that, you’re very interesting. Should know, I’ve studied every inch of you for hours.”

It takes a deep breath and every ounce of strength to not wiggle in your seat. Reprieve comes in the shape of a definitely stoned server, lucky bastard, and reprieve is taken away when he tells you that food may be a little delayed due to the rush. Melissa’s parents nod with understanding, you nod with fear bubbling. A delay means longer here, with Melissa’s hand on your thigh with her parents speaking about everything and nothing from across the table.

It’s getting harder and harder to focus with Melissa’s fingers drawing little patterns over your jeans, skin burning beneath her touch. Peering over at her, you can see an almost-hidden mark from early, the easy smile on her lips as she talks to her dad, she’s perfect in your eyes. In this lighting, it’s hard to look away from her, orange-hued lights making her look golden.

Rising from your chair, you just give a quiet, “I’ll be right back.” You turn to walk towards the restrooms, desperate for space away from judging hazel and green eyes across the table. Melissa watches your direction, excusing herself too, following where you disappeared under the sign reading τουαλέτα.

In the short hallway, she grabs your wrist before you enter the door, pulling you to the family room to the right. Locking the door, she places her hands on your hips, “are they freaking you out? I’ll tell them to knock it off, or we can go, say you’re on call or something.”

“No,” you say, place your palms against her shoulders, “it’s just overwhelming, all the questions, your dad asking for my credit score, I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have to tell him,” she chuckles, hands dipping to your ass.

You shiver from her touch, leaning into her, “it’s a good score, though.”

“It is,” you barely hear her words as she presses her lips to yours, all the energy from earlier still running through her veins. Your hands slide down her arms to her hips, pushing her back towards the sink. We’ve been here before.

Hopping up, she settles against the porcelain and opens her legs to let you stand between them. Keeping your lips on hers, you quickly unbutton her jeans, forcing the zipping down. You know her like the back of your hand at this point, know how to touch her to make her writhe and release around your fingers, you’re utterly devoted to her pleasure.

The previously ruined orgasm comes back quickly with full force, her clenching around you quickly. Her lips leave yours, shoving her face into your shoulder to mute her moans. Lips brushing the shell of her ear, you circle your thumb over her clit and whisper, “God, you are so beautiful. C’mon, baby, cum for me.”

Teeth chomp into your shoulder as her writhing becomes erratic against your hand before slowing as she relaxes against you. Her breathing evens out, quicker than you expect, her face becoming unreadable as it lifts from its hiding place. Surprisingly, she stays silently leaned against you as you wash your hands, letting you fix her hair before you fix your own.

Arturo and Giorgia seemingly notice nothing, believing the excuse of a busy line, one visible from your seats. If they don’t believe you, they don’t give anything away, though their questions ease up once the food comes. It must be a Schemmenti thing to be quiet for the first few bites of food, taking in every flavor. It’s endearing.

Both Schemmenti’s hug you, to even more surprise, telling you how delightful it was to put a face to a commonly brought up name. Melissa pinches the bridge of her nose before hugging her mother, mumbling something to the woman before embracing her father.

The entire drive back to her house, you can’t find it in you to speak, too lost in thought. Melissa talks about you, often, often enough that her parents wanted to meet you. Why would they question you so much, especially if you’re just their daughter’s friend? Wanting to know about your ‘past’ relationships, as opposed to what, your… current one? It hits you embarrassingly late, as Melissa pulls into the driveway: her parents think she’s talking about you because she’s dating you, and think she just hasn’t officially told them. All you can do is turn and look at her, bewildered.

Hand on the key in the ignition, Melissa turns and looks at you, “I don’t know about you, but I’m exha- What?” When she doesn’t get an answer, her face screws with worry, “what’s wrong, baby?”

Blinking rapidly, you scan over her face, “you talk about me to your parents.”

“Well I’m with you a lot, it's natural to talk about you,” she says like it’s obvious, turning off the car.

“Enough that your parents wanted to meet me, know about my family and dating history?”

Her face hardens, and you wish you’d never spoken, her voice demands respect “well, they got the wrong idea. Being nosy is in their blood, being right isn’t.”

“Okay,” you’re exasperated. 

“You and I, this isn’t a relationship, no expectations, no attachments. Just good, old-fashioned sex between friends,” Melissa says slowly, brow raised, “capisce?”

“Yeah…Capisce,” you say, stepping out of the car, pulling your keys from your pocket.

“What are you doing?” Melissa says, realizing you aren’t behind her as she goes to the front door.

You turn and face her, standing in the open car door, “I’m going home. You want no attachments, I can’t give that to you anymore.”

She steps down from the bottom step, “Baby-”

“Don’t. I don’t want you to be in something you don’t want, you want casual, Melissa. Stress relief,” her eyes dart to you at the wording, your eyes look down to your feet, “what I feel for you, it’s beyond that, beyond what you want me to feel.”

“You don’t know what I want,” she gets closer, hand reaching for you, but you brush her off.

“I’m all you want until I want you.” When she doesn’t reply, you sit and close the door, pulling out of the driveway with Melissa staring where you’d stood.

—☽—

Two weeks of radio silence. This is the longest in the near year you’ve spent with Melissa where you haven’t seen one another. Last time it was four days after you brought up a date for the second time, six days before that when she found out that Kristen Marie called you when she was drunk and needed a ride home from God-knows-where, begging you to not tell Melissa, accidentally blurting it herself.

You wish you didn’t miss her, her laugh, the smell of eucalyptus shampoo, her touch, her eyes, her hands, her smile, her little dance when she takes food out of the oven. She was all that surrounded you for so long, it’s all you know. It feels wrong to be without her, but it hurts to think about her. Salt entered the wound when Shauna dared to mention Melissa going on a date with some vending machine guy, immediate regret when you got up and left soon after. You're thankful to not hear of him again.

Another week passes, and as a month gets closer to passing, the hole in your chest has yet to heal over. Your phone buzzes next to you where you blankly watch the documentary that was playing.

From Shauna: i fucked up. apologies to ur door in advance

To Shauna: thank u for the context

From Shauna: i poked the ginger bear

From Shauna: by poked i mean chewed out

To Shauna: again, i fear the context has yet to appear

From Shauna: yelled at ur ex-mommy for treating you like a toy from spencers

To Shauna: i’ll pass on your apology to my door in my will

Comedic timing is a very real thing, hard knocking on your door, clearly both fists meeting the wood.

Ripping the door open, you stare down a tired-eyed, yet irate, Melissa, “unnecessary. I have a buzzer.”

“And I have a Cost-Co card,” she says, pushing her way into your home.

“What are you doing here?”

Hands on her hips, she turns and faces you, “your- I’d say our, but not right now- your friend just chewed me a new one about leading you on. Leading you on?! As if we didn’t have an arrangement, no feelings, just sex.”

“An agreement that I ended! Because I got feelings! It wasn’t just sex for me, it stopped being just sex a long time ago,” you never thought you’d be raising your voice at her like this, “I tried to tell you, all those dates I offered, everything I’ve ever said to you, I meant all of it. And what do I get? No, baby, we’re casual. So, I tapped out.”

“Because we were casual! There’s supposed to be no feelings here!”

“Then how’s that vending machine guy, huh? He’s been having conversations with just your tits for months, and he got a date, but where is he now?” She flounders. “Did you take him home? Or try?” She nods imperceptibly. “I would bet my whole life savings on the fact he probably couldn’t even get you wet, let alone make you cum. How right am I?”

Her lips tremble, “that’s not the point.”

“Just a question, needs an answer.” Melissa shakes her head, confirming your suspicions. “Why are you actually here, Melissa?”

Emerald eyes look into yours, emotion swirling through them as she asks quietly, “do you still have feelings for me?”

You won’t lie, you never can with her, “haven’t wavered once.”

Carefully, Melissa steps slowly into your space, hands coming to your sides, “I’m stupid. So fucking stupid. I thought all I wanted was sex, but when you left and I tried to just make myself… move on. It didn’t feel the same, being alone doesn’t feel the same. It’s so stupid and cliché and stupid that it took you leaving me to realize… Fuck, I feel like a Jane Austen character.”

Weary hands rise to her face, holding her with a special reverence, “I need to hear you say it.” The magnetic pull between you brings you into her, lips only an inch from her own.

Fingers grip your shirt, “I… I love you. I have since you told the Jehovah’s Witnesses to eat a bag of locusts and ass on Christmas Eve.”

The little smile that plays on her lips, clearly picturing the memory, it heals something in you. Brushing your lips against hers, you mumble, “I love you, too. ”

The kiss she presses to your lips is so different from any other you’d shared, but the desperation brings you back to that first night in the bathroom. Tongues graze, and a fire is ignited. Spinning her, you walk her back towards your bedroom, a place she’s only been twice in the last year.

Falling as her knees hit the bed, she takes you with her, and you gladly take your place. Just as the last time you were with her, you straddle her waist, continuing to kiss her with all the emotion you can express. Ringed fingers tug at your shirt, begging for contact. You don’t deny her, nor yourself, pulling her shirt off of her after yours, both lost on the floor. Jeans fly to meet them soon after.

Lips, tongue, and teeth clash as you fall into the feeling of each other’s skin. Moving down, you nip at her neck, sucking roughly on her pulse point to leave a mark. You continue your mission down her chest, leaving red splotches across her breasts. Always so sensitive, Melissa arches into your affections, groaning when your tongue swirls around her nipple, leaving a string of saliva that connects you to it as you pull away.

Shifting lower and lower, giving her abdomen attention, soft kisses trailing down. Your lips trail over silvery stretch marks, following as they lead you to her plush thighs. Teeth wrap around the waistband of her thong, eyes glancing to her as a silent request of permission.

“Please, baby,” her voice airy and whiny as she basks in the affection you so readily give her.

Pulling down her thong, tossing it to the side, your eyes fall to her pussy. Lips blooming in arousal, clit swollen, begging for a touch it hasn’t received in too long. You press a gentle kiss to her pearl, hearing another whine pass her lips, hips bucking slightly for you.

How you missed her. Your tongue licks up her slit, gathering the wetness that accumulated there, dancing up around her clit. A divine taste so feminine, so uniquely Melissa, you moan into her as you grip her thighs, working your tongue into her opening. Dusty purple nails dig into your hand, and you flip your wrist to interlock your fingers, feeling her squeeze tightly.

Your tongue leaves her, much to her dismay. Blown out eyes follow your reach to the nightstand, a clear bottle of lube procured. Your lips press to hers again as you spread the lube across your fingers and lower your hand to her entrance, replacing the contact of your tongue. Throaty moans leave her lips, more, please. Slowly, your ring finger joins the middle, allowing her a moment to adjust before quickening your motions, moaning yourself at the feeling of her cunt gripping your fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say against her lips, “so beautiful.” Teeth pull at her bottom lip, making her groan into your mouth, kiss going sloppy.

“I- oh- I love you,” Melissa answers through a moan, grinding against your thumb on her sensitive bud. A particular curl of your fingers makes her silently scream, soothed by your gentle mouthing of her neck.

Your index finger lines with her slit, “can you take more?”

She nods quickly, forcing your lips back to hers as a third finger stretches slowly, moans turning squeaky. All you can hear is the airy moans and the wetness of her pussy taking your fingers, sparking a warmth in your lower stomach. You can feel how close she is, how her walls refuse to let go, how her eyes flutter as they roll back.

In a sudden moment, your fingers stop, pulling from her. Her head snaps up, eyes immediately on you, “what are you doing?” God, the glassy look in your eyes almost breaks your heart.

“Hold on, gorgeous,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to her chest. Leaning over to the nightstand again, still straddling Melissa’s waist as her hands hold yours, you blindly reach into the drawer, searching for a familiar object. Finding the small, flat toy, you sit back against her, holding it to her eye level. Catching your drift, she nods, legs widening as she sits up slightly against the headboard.

Pressing the vibrator against her thigh, you turn it to the middle setting, feeling her jump a little at the sensation. Slowly, you slide it closer to her clit, using your free hand to slide one of her legs till it’s propped up. Lowering yourself, you press your clit against the top of the toy, keeping it pressed between your heat and hers, both of you moaning in unison.

Rolling your hips, a breathless moan leaves you, ducking your head as your eyes close in ecstasy. Sharp nails dig into your ass, pulling you down further, moans crescendoing. It feels like you’re too far from her, immediately dropping to press your lips to hers in open-mouthed kisses, whining against her lips as she holds you to her. Using her thigh for leverage, you use your own leg to press harder to her cunt, rolling against her in a way that forces her teeth into your shoulder.

The strong vibration against your clit and Melissa’s presence alone has you holding on by a thread, and from the way the redhead is holding onto you, you know she is too. Putting your weight fully on your right hand, your left grabs Melissa’s, tangling your fingers together. Her lips move languidly across yours, tongue dancing with yours rather than fighting for dominance, something she never did before. The emotions of it all and the coil snapping in your stomach, your forehead drops to her shoulder, panting as you feel your climax approach.

“Baby, ple-oh-please,” the hand creating crescent-shaped dents in your back shifts to your hair.

“I gotchu, let go for me,” your teeth tug at her earlobe, “cum for me, beautiful.”

A final, hard roll of your hips sets you both alight, moaning as you cum in tandem.

Both of you squirm as the toy works against you still. Lifting off her, you remove the toy from its place against her, turning it off and placing it on the nightstand to be dealt with later. Lowering yourself, you come face to face with her pussy, swollen and wet and beautiful. With gentle strokes, you lick her clean, taking your time to savor her taste.

Melissa’s husky moans spur you on, lapping up to her sensitive clit. Barely suckling on the nub has her tensing again, her grip on you doesn’t let you go far, not that you were planning on it regardless. She cums on your tongue, giving you a taste once more. Sweet decadence.

Easing your way back up with loving kisses up her body, laying on your side next to her, chest to chest. Your legs stay tangled together, no space exists between you.

The hand not in hers rises to her face, pushing loose, wild hair away, caressing her cheek. Melissa turns her head to press a kiss to your thumb, her own hand coming to your wrist.

“I love you,” she says, “I really, really do.”

You stroke her cheek again, “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you how I did,” her eyes water, “I don’t have any excuses. I’m just so sorry, baby.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time you want with me to make it up to me,” you say, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She smiles weakly, “I want all the time with you.”

Your lips press to her lips this time, “then that’s what you get.” Leaning across you, Melissa puts herself on your lap, her favorite place to sit. Face hovering above yours for only a moment, she tucks herself into the crook of your neck, keeping her weight on top of you.

Sticky with sweat, the scent of sex around you, the tracing of nails up and down your sides, dancing over your ribs. Nothing has changed and everything has. You have always been Melissa’s, she has always been yours, now you finally have each other. Warm breath over your neck evens out, the lost sleep and recently lost energy catching up to her. You, however, you are invigorated.

For the first time in a year, you get to hold your Melissa.

kudos to anyone that can find all the song references and the singular lisa ann reference that is so small u will miss it

as towa bird says: scissor your friends!

feed back appreciated as always <3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

warlock wizard Wally scribbles... Thinkings! oh and a bonus bard-ish Barnabys in the corner for flavor

outfit ramblings:

first of all that is a Terrible rendition of what Home looks like in my head. i just needed to fill empty space </3

the staff was the toughest part honestly. bc it Had to be paintbrush-themed, but then halfway through scribbling i was like "oh shit. there are only so many ways to draw a paintbrush-wizard-staff and Weevmo already hit it out of the park." so if you're seeing similarities! you're right! i tried to make it as different as i could! there is Inspiration from their marvelous design, however accidental or subconscious! Apologies!

he gets a pointed hood instead of a hat because a) it looks great on him! and b) it has less of a chance of messing up his hair! also c) it helps muddle the difference between Wizard and Warlock. typically hoods have evil/duplicitous connotation - blur the lines! i want his long gloves and forearm wraps to have the same vibe. his neckerchief is a big help in hiding Home's seal!

his layered (loosely apple-themed) capelet (which the hood is attached to) has a nice high collar & hides the details of his loose shirt - eye embroidery! and some flowers on the shoulders but yk, mostly eyes. on one side of the shirt buttons has open eyes, the other side they're closed! there's also one big eye on his back!

his belt buckle is two halves of an apple! he wears tall thigh-high boots w/ low heels to feel Taller! he has a book-holster hooked to the back of his belt, which holds his grimoire! and he has a lil thigh-bag that has been magicked to be Bottomless and warps size! he can fit pretty much anything in there! canvases! paint! apples!

his half-skirt thing (idk what the word for it is!) is really plush, like a quilt - his capelet is the same fabric. soft, cozy. sometimes he'll use the skirt thing as a blanket in a pinch, or as a picnic placemat!

is his outfit a little Complicated? is it annoying to replicate? yes and yes. but im a maximalist at heart and Nothing But The Best for the blorbo <3 layers my beloved <3

[the-returnofartemis]

/ASTRO OBSERVATION 1/

i'm excited to share my first astro observation! i'm still new to all of this but i’ve picked up on some things that i feel compelled to share. however, i do want to emphasize that my thoughts may not apply to everyone.

okay, so i recently remembered that as an INFJ, we are considered to be the rarest personality type. this got me thinking and i realized that most INFJ’s are either water dominant (cancer/scorpio/pisces), possess fixed sign placements (leo/scorpio/aquarius/taurus) in prominent planets or have prominent water houses (4H,8H,12H) in their big six. coincidentally, i happen to know to other people who are also INFJ’s, and we all have prominent cancer, scorpio and aquarius placements. 

✧ j-hope from bts is a well-known INFJ. although the accuracy of his birth chart is uncertain because there is no actual birth time, it revealed intriguing aspects. i mean, hobi’s chart indicates prominent water placements (scorpio and pisces stellium), alongside his aquarius sun!

yes, it is interesting to observe how neptune in the first house has a unique ability to draw in copycats but those with this placement were once copycats as well lmao.

‘the copycat becoming the one being copied’ trope is quite funny to witness actually

this behavior may stem from their struggle with their personal identity and appearance, leading them to shape-shift into the aesthetic or persona of someone they admire in that moment (this tendency is very short-lived by the way lmao). rather than taking the time to define their authenticity and discover their true selves, they find it easier to adopt the persona of another individual. sometimes, they rely so heavy and get caught up on external influences, that they lose the plot SO fast. but as individuals with this placement mature and come into their own, they come to understand that it’s fine to draw inspiration from others but recognize the importance of embracing their unique qualities and traits. it is this self-acceptance that allows them to become pioneers and set remarkable trends. 

✧ ariana grande: y’all can never make me hate her, i am so sorry lmao but of course, there is no denying that she has faced many accusations of being a ‘mariah carey copycat’ but it is important to acknowledge that she has now cultivated her own distinct singing style that has garnered widespread acclaim and popularity. in all honesty, she has become the epitome of having copycats, even to this day lmao. the sheer number of women/fans/people in general imitating her, from her hair to her fashion sense to her mannerisms, is just WOW. like, the way how she has garnered immense adoration needs to be studied (i mean not really because her scoprio midheaven + neptune 1H undoubtedly contribute to her appeal but still!) 

✧ kim kardashian + kylie jenner: when it comes to these two, there's not much that needs to be said lmao like their influence and presence in media speak for themselves. they have managed to create a significant impact, and it’s hard to ignore but let’s remember their roots and who they took their influence from.

✧ megan fox: she’s taken on MGK’s entire aesthetic. she has embraced his style and persona, and it’s interesting to see how it has influenced her own image, considering the fact that she is THE megan fox. even now, the timeless looks that she gave us in the late 00's are still being imitated!

in reference to my previous point, on astrology twitter, jade mentioned an interesting perspective that i completely agree with and feel compelled to share with all of you: having 12H placements can lead to losing the plot SO fast, so it’s crucial to be mindful. although the 12H is widely regarded as the most intuitive, spiritual, and governing the subconscious, it also represents the potential for self-sabotage and lose one’s sense of self. the influence of neptune, the ruler of the 12H, can create a distorted illusion and a tendency to view circumstances through rose-colored glasses. so, 12H placements, it’s essential to always stay grounded, and more importantly, maintain a strong sense of self to avoid losing sight of the goals and aspirations!

✧ an example of this is a 12H sun becoming egotistical and subsequently losing sight of their goals and aspirations, ultimately hindering their progress in life. 

(get well soon by ariana grande just came on and i dedicate this beautiful song to all, but more importantly to those with 12H placements. remember that you are strong and capable of overcoming any challenges that comes your way – you can conquer anything. stay positive and always take care of yourself. you got this! — sincerely, a fellow 12H 🫂) 

scorpio/8H moons are often labeled as “mysterious” due to their tendency to keep their emotions hidden from others on a daily basis. in truth, they rarely feel comfortable expressing their feelings, even to those they trust, as they fear burdening others. this tendency may have developed during their childhood, where they may have not felt safe or at ease in sharing their emotions, leading them to learn how to control and suppress them. however, if you manage to break through the walls of a scorpio/8H moon and they confide in you, it is significant sign that they felt truly seen and understood by you. this can lead to a strong desire to be in company of that person, as their energy provides a sense of comfort and less isolated. so, if you have a scorpio/8H moon in your life, they value you and treasure the connection you share. 

the infamous 22nd degree, commonly referred to as the “to kill or be killed” degree, is often associated with rare and extreme circumstances. being a capricorn degree, it genuinely has a favorable influence, especially in terms of one’s professional life. but, individuals with this degree in their chart may encounter ongoing challenges and be vulnerable to gaslighting. overcoming these challenges serves as a constant reminder to nurture their self-awareness and resilience.  

✧ example a: according to her birth chart, beyonce is believed to have three planets (neptune, pluto and chiron) positioned in this degree. in her latest film, “renaissance: a film by beyonce,” she courageously shares all the moments that highlight the constant challenges from those around, particularly her production team, who questioned her credibility and knowledge – she expressed that she always had to prove herself and felt undervalued in terms of her opinions.

i also just want to say that bey became artist that she is today by perfecting and learning every aspect of her craft throughout her extensive career. she has taught herself everything there is to know about showmanship, and to discredit her knowledge, especially to her face, is just crazy to me. her success is a testament to her hard work, dedication, and talent and she deserves all the recognition she has received.

✧ example b: chlöe (chloexhalle) has the degree on her lilith. unfortunately, chloe has faced relentless scrutiny and gaslighting since she entered the public eye. the placement of the degree on her lillth has made her a target for heavy negative judgement and projection, particularly in regard to her expression of her sexuality and individuality.  

i mean it when i say that it is truly remarkable to witness her immense talent and undeniable beauty, along with her incredible kindness. i honestly feel like the public wants to keep her in a box, hindering her from fully blossoming into the person she aspires to be. she needs that space and freedom to embrace her own journey of self-discovery and personal growth.

✧ example c: jungkook from bts has the degree on his sidereal venus – the degree on his venus suggests he might face challenges related to low self-esteem and lack of confidence in his own attractiveness. also, this placement can also indicate that he may experience situations were power dynamics within his relationships come into play. while details about his personal relationships are scarce, as they rightfully should be, it is evident that he faces an alarming level of compromise to his safety due to the actions of obsessive fans and stalkers. the behavior exhibited towards him, like, being mobbed at airports or these fans intruding his personal space by sending food to his house and even going as far as issuing death threats. as a relatively new fan, i can sense that this issue is more serious for him compared to other members. these fans seem to lack an understanding of personal boundaries and persistently push the limits, even after he has politely requested their respect, which is truly disheartening. 

it's quite likely that jimin and namjoon (other members of bts), also have this degree, given the challenging circumstances they have encountered and continue to face. 

i also learned that this degree can also symbolize power and the ability to have immense influence over others. those who possess this degree in their natal chart often hold positions of power and occupy the highest echelons of the social structure (hence the name, ‘to kill or be killed’). this degree is found in numerous royals, politicians, and highly influential celebrities natal charts: justin bieber, donald trump, kendall + kylie jenner, kim kardashian, barack obama, the british royals and more. here is a post that delves deeper into the theory behind the placement!

gemini placements 🤝 wearing different hats (exploring various interests). they cannot for the life of them confine themselves to a single pursuit, as it tends to become monotonous for them. this may seem unpredictable to others, but, for gemini's, it is a way of truly embracing life and ensuring that they savor every aspect of it, just as they should! 🤭

also, the gemini venus slander in the astro community is so ????? like, yes, an undeveloped gemini venus may struggle with indecisiveness and inconsistency, but it is important to know that a well-developed one can be an incredible partner and asset in a relationship. developed gemini venus partners are known for their unwavering commitment to nurturing a strong bond in their relationships. they will consistently strive to contribute in every way possible to ensure a lasting connection, thanks to the influence of their sidereal taurus venus (may not always be the case though). they value stability and security, and above all, understand the importance of forming meaningful relationships, especially when they feel like they share a profound intellectual bond with their partner – like, they would not take it for granted because they know that not everyone has the capacity or desire to engage with them in that way lmao. they will be there for you until they are convinced, based on their rational thinking (which also depends on the influence of other placements), that they have thoroughly explored every option and exhausted all potential outcomes. even then, it may take them some time to reach that conclusion because they will need to make sense of it all, so, they will make a point to have conversations with their partner to ensure mutual understanding before moving forward. building a strong and fulfilling relationship requires dedication, and a devoted gemini venus will their offer support in all aspects – whether it be physically, emotionally, or notably, mentally. honestly, they will go the extra mile to ensure that they’ll do right by their partner!  so, i beg, please, love us! 😪 lmao – sincerely, a gemini venus  

 also, a gemini venus + strong water placements (house/sign, especially in cancer/scorpio) … oh baby, just sit down and make yourself comfortable because you not leaving until there is a deep understanding of both the emotional and intellectual aspects 😭

the 3H, 6H, 10H and 11H are known as the GROWTH houses, where continuous effort is required to achieve meaningful outcomes.

3H → one must acquire skills, engage in learning and exploration, and find avenues to express the knowledge gained

6H → the importance of daily practice and consistent work on said acquired skills

when these houses are in alignment, they pave the way for recognition in 10H and 11H.

10H → gaining recognition

11H → benefits and influence that comes from being recognized

by pouring constant dedication into these houses, one can expect significant growth and positive outcomes!

jupiter aspecting ascendant/sagittarius rising/jupiter in 1H 🤝 bootylicious + hourglass curves! this can also manifest in having bigger than “average” features (example: big eyes, big smile, prominent thighs).

the “BODY SO TEA” phrase was literally made them lmao

capricorn moons often tend to be the ones who frequently disappear without a trace. they carry a heavy burden of responsibility for all aspects of their life, and often possess a strong desire for control. when faced with a situation beyond their control, they can become overwhelmed with anxiety and allow their fears to take over, resulting in the ghosting. also, i noticed that they find it challenging to find any glimmer of hope in any given circumstance. even though it is widely believed that having the moon in scorpio is the most difficult, capricorn moons may have them beat. 

moon in 8H synastry is not for the weak—it is truly life changing. for this overlay to work, both individuals must have developed the ability to harness and channel powerful energy. without this, the relationship can feel unstable and unpredictable, with both individuals feeling like they're being pulled in different directions but haunted in love, in the best and worst way possible. it is worth noting that this overlay tends to have a strong impact on both individuals involved but it primarily affects the moon person.

✧ positive aspects: creates a deep emotional and psychological connection that allows both partners to truly understand connect with each on a profound level. this bond is so intense that it defies words and creates the desire to explore and uncover the depths of each other’s being. for instance, the 8H individual may possess an innate inclination to understand the moon and their innermost self, initially overwhelming the moon but ultimately embracing because of the sense of comfort provided by the 8H energy. this mutual willingness to explore and understand each other nurtures trust, openness and above all, an indescribable love within the relationship.

✧ negative aspects: gaslighting and power imbalance. the desire for control can create an unhealthy dynamic where both are constantly vying for power, leading to a breakdown of trust and emotional well-being. can also lead to being possessive toward one another that will result in the individuals feeling trapped. the possessiveness can stem from a deep sense of longing for each other, which will only further perpetuate the cycle of unhealthy dynamic (lovers to enemies trope + make up/break up). 

one comparison that comes to mind is the tumultuous relationship between olivia pope and fitz in scandal. if you’re unfamiliar with these two, i recommend checking them out on tiktok (despite their toxic tendencies, their relationship was a guilty pleasure for the viewers because of the intensity and undying love they had for one another. like, i don’t know anyone who watched the show that wasn’t a fan of olitz lmao) 

i also had this overlay with a former partner, and my goodness, was it something. he was the only partner i’ve had who could evoke such intense emotions in me and i found myself completely vulnerable to his touch (in a good way). the chemistry was so powerful, i really believed he was the one for me. but like i mentioned, as with any intense relationship, there were both positive and negative aspects to the connection. while the positive side was truly otherworldly, the negative ultimately won out and caused the relationship to come crashing down. i plan to delve deeper into this experience and share the do’s and dont’s of this synastry in a future post.

understanding astrology can be a valuable tool in gaining insight into your true self. to get a sense of the practice, i feel like it is essential or to at least explore “traditional” western (tropical + sidereal) and vedic astrology. each chart offers a unique perspective on your personality and life path, and by studying them, you can gain a more comprehensive understanding of your place in the world!

i have so much more to share but i’ll save that for another post. please remember that this only for entertainment purposes only and based on my observations! i’ve also linked the findings in case you want to read for yourselves. thank you so much for reading!

sending all my love, 

artemis x

[rileyslibrary]

Since Ghost forgot readers birthday, let's maby turn it around? How is the lieutanants big day celebrated on base? I know he scolded reader for not telling him that it's their birthday, but I really can't see him running around with a party hat, giving out cupcakes and demanding birthday wishes either to be honest...

Birthday?

What birthday?

He hasn’t celebrated in a long time—the days passed, and he treated that special day just like any other.

What was there to celebrate anyway? He took lives. How audacious it would be of him to celebrate his own.

He buried that day deep within his subconscious, alongside all the other memories he wished to forget.

But occasionally, the memories would blend together and manifest themselves as nightmares in his sleep. He was a little boy in them, blowing birthday candles on a pile of corpses while other soldiers on the battlefield were running for their lives.

Price was the only one who knew Ghost’s birthday. After all, he was the one who removed that date from his file.

You asked him about it one day when Ghost wasn’t around. You and the rest of the team were joking about Zodiac signs and wanted to know what Ghost was.

But the captain clicked his tongue and told you he couldn’t disclose such information. You asked why he was so secretive about it, and he smiled. It was unlike the smiles you were used to seeing from him. It was a smile of pity—like the one you give to a stray cat who’s curled up on your car’s roof on a cold night.

He said he had wished the lieutenant a happy birthday a few years ago, and it didn’t go well. So Price kept trying to find more indirect ways to celebrate with him—ways that would make him feel more comfortable.

He remembered that one time when he invited Ghost for a couple of beers at the pub, but Ghost became suspicious.

“Why today, of all days, brother?”

Price acted shocked as if it was a coincidence and Ghost rejected his invitation. He had something else to do.

On that day, every year, the lieutenant would go to his mother’s grave instead. He would take a few flowers with him, sit in front of her grave, and think. His mind often wandered, and other painful memories threatened to resurface—memories unrelated to war, engraved in his mind from an earlier stage in life when a child’s only job was to have fun. And he did anything but that.

Inspiration struck you then, and you came up with an idea.

You decided to create a card for the lieutenant. It was a plain white sheet folded in half—nothing special on the outside, but its beauty lay within.

You all wrote him wishes and expressed gratitude for his guidance, teachings, and the countless times he came to your rescue. You placed the card in an envelope, sealed it shut, and handed it to him on a random day. You told him that, even though you didn’t know when his birthday was, the card was there, and he could open it whenever that day arrived.

He took the card home and left it on the coffee table. Sometimes we’d look at it, and other times he would use it as a coaster, hoping it would get ruined so he wouldn’t have to confront his feelings.

And that day came, and he followed the same routine: he went to work, visited his mother’s grave, and then returned home.

But there was something else waiting for him at home; that card. It was stained and warped, but it was there for him, just like all of you were.

He opened a fresh bottle of bourbon. And then he opened that card.

He smiled. Yes, he rolled his eyes and facepalmed himself, but he smiled.

He hid it in one of his nightstand drawers, and every now and then, he would revisit it. Lying in bed, he would pull open the drawer, retrieve the card, and read it like a bedtime story.

It was just like his mother used to do every night—his mother, who gave birth to him that day and tragically passed away.

But, within the card, he found another kind of family—a silly group of Zodiac sign-pestering nuisances, but nevertheless, his family.

———————————————————————

A/N: I didn’t expect this to turn out that way. But I’m glad it did.

[mintaikcorpse]

Why Blitzø Likes Stolas

I've made jokes about Blitzø liking Stolas bcuz his type is tall, rich, powerful demons with musical talent, and that's probably kinda true, but I wanna talk about the real reasons Blitzø likes Stolas. Tldr at the end.

I think one of the major reasons Blitzø likes Stolas is how kind, sincere, and affectionate he is. Stolas is always making sure he is okay and is very passionate about litterally everything he does (dramatic little bitch, lol). And while he's ignorant ("my impish little plaything"???), he does mean well. Taking Octavia to Looloo Land to make her feel better, Going full demon mode to save IMP, his attentiveness to Blitzø during his mental breakdown in Seeing Stars, him absolutely adoring Octavia, him helping Ozzie when he gained no real benefit, etc, etc.

Also, expanding more on the affectionate part, Blitzø is shown to not get much affection or love in his life at all. His family situation was a giant mess (his dad literally sold him for 5 bucks and a condom Jesus Christ-), and Stolas is a very loving and affectionate person. Obviously, this is shown with Blitzø, but also with Octavia ('my precious little starfire', always staying patient with Via, even if he can be a bit dismissive, going full demon mode when Blitzø said he lost Via), and even his plants (he raised the flesh-eating plant since he was a kid, he pets the plant, on his insta he called a puprle rose "a handsome little rose"). And yeah, he's going to be affectione with Via, that's his daughter, but in Hell, (or maybe just from Blitzø's perspective, it'a hard to tell honestly) that's shown to be a rarity. So obviously, he's going to admire that about him.

And also, compare that to Blitzø's life. His dad saw him as less than, something happened that made his sister hate him, his mom seemed to be a good parent, but she's dead, his best friend and former crush hated his guts for 15 years, his daughter does care about him but she also mostly just shows anger and annoyance with him, and even Moxxie, who'd I'd argue is his best friend, gets annoyed with him constantly (I would too tbh but this isn't about that). Stolas just being his loving and affectionate self and being so happy to see him and always being so sweet to Blitzø is like a breath of fresh air to him.

Another thing is that Stolas shows clear interest in the things he likes. Take horses as example, bcuz we all know Blitzø is obsessed with them. Most of the time, his friends are pretty passive about it, but Stolas actually indulges him. Some of this is from their instas, but Stolas got him a horse Hoodie, he draws horses with him, and Stolas even got inspired to draw because of Blitzø.

(Also, plz note that in another post he commented that it smells like Stolas, and I want everyone to appreciate how happy he looks in this photo while smelling it again)

Blitzø probably admires Stolas's theatrics as well because despite growing up in a Circus where you were supposed to be dramatic and showy, he was still always taught to ignore or hide his true emotions (Cash ignoring that he didn't want to go to the Goetia Palace because "MONEY"). And while Stolas was raised the same way, he still wears his heart and emotions on his sleeve and is always showing them, whether it be positive or negative

And we all know thst Blitzø has major self hatred issues, but Stolas was genuinely interested in Blitzø as a person. Laughing at his jokes, asking how his day went, and with all of this, you can't help but wonder if Blitzø was figuring out that he did too. I think that's why he was so heartbroken about Ozzie's. Because to him, Stolas hiding his face was just proof that Stolas didn't care. That he was just a little plaything. But, Blitzø liked that Stolas liked him for who he was, and that he didn't have to pretend to be someone different.

Yes, ik Blitzø wasn't here for some of them, and he thinks that Stolas is just faking all of this. BUT, Blitzø can notice things subconsciously, and the stuff that Blitzø wasn't there for was to talk about Stolas's character as well. That's why I wanted to talk about this, to talk about what Blitzø sees in Stolas and his character.

Feel free to add anything if you want! I'd love to hear your guy's opinions, takes, and thoughts on the ship. I'm probably gonna a make a post on why Stolas likes Blitzø at some point, lol

Tldr; Blitzø likes Stolas because he's kind, sincere, loving, affectionate, passionate, caring, dramatic, and likes Blitzø for who he is.

[dreamlifebunny]

a better way to affirm (and make any method more effective!)

every desire we could ever want has already been said "yes" to and everything is possible - this is the beautiful truth of the law of assumption. a very popular method for manifesting is affirming for your desires: with affirming, we tell ourselves "i have money, my sp loves me, i am safe, etc." attempting to conjure up the feeling that the affirmations are true. however, when we don't actually believe in the affirmations, repeating them over and over can feel vapid, yucky, and even make us feel like we are lying to ourselves, causing us to feel the opposite of the affirmations we were using.

when talking about imaginal acts and imagination, edward art has often said that it's not the details of the scene that matters, but what the scene implies about us that is important. it was after listening to his "though false" lecture that i realized, in order for affirmations to be effective, we must first believe they are possible for us at all and they must tell us something beautiful about ourselves.

yes, it is true that mindlessly repeating affirmations over and over again without feeling them can manifest just as effectively as feeling your affirmations and only repeating them once, but the reason why either of these methods work is because you believe that they will work. if repeating affirmations mindlessly 10k times gives you the same feeling that your manifestations are yours, then please keep doing that method! but if you struggle to believe that mindless affirming will actually bring about your desires and you find the repetition boring, this post is for you.

i would like to repeat: the law, in all of its beauty, reminds us that every single thing that we desire has already been said "yes" to. with this beautiful concept in mind, let us create affirmations that feel softer, easier, truer, and give us the peace of mind that we are seeking.

inspiration:

this post is inspired by and at some points directly lifted from edward art's "though false" video. i take zero credit for the ideas that he originally shared, i just wanted to add on my own interpretations and share it with the community so that more people could be inspired!

this post was also inspired by @alilarew23's post "what if god said yes?" i can't believe when i first wrote this that i didn't realize how deeply it was inspired by her incredible post, and only now after reading it again did it dawn on me 😭 i wanted to make sure this post of hers was linked because it is SO good; please give it a read if you want to feel wonderfully validated, safe, and comforted in the knowledge that your desires are YOURS!

steps:

decide what it is that you desire and let the daydreams begin - what do you naturally imagine happening? what do you hear? see/hear/feel/etc. the imaginal act that naturally comes up when you think about your desire (don't worry that you're not doing it right, it's simply a sweet daydream about what you desire)

next, ask yourself: if this desire manifested and really came true, what would that imply about me? what does the manifestation of this desire tell me about myself? get to the core of what the manifested desire says about you. for example, if you wanted wealth and you naturally visualized travelling the world with all the money you have and imagined that the scene was true, the core belief could be "i am free to do anything i want without barriers." if you wanted wealth and you naturally visualized seeing your bills paid off and imagined that the scene was true, the core belief could be "i am always safe and looked after financially."

we have now figured out what our desire says about us, and our next step is to ask god if what it says about us is true. since WE are god, we go within and ask, "God/Self/Subconscious, am I (insert the answer we found in step two)?" the example could be, "god, am i lovable? am i safe?" etc.

because we know that every desire we could ever want has already been said "yes" to no matter what, answer yourself as god: "yes!"

feel the feeling of relief - you now know that a) your desire will manifest, and also b) that you are everything that your desire implies about your wonderful self and that you now know that your affirmation of choice is true! how beautiful is that? repeat these steps however often you need peace.

as you can see, this takes you right to the feeling that you are trying to get achieve by manifesting your desires. we manifest to feel loved, happy, successful, wealthy, so why not feel those ways while we wait for our manifestation to show up? it gets us to the core of the belief and helps us figure out exactly what it is we are wanting to feel about ourselves. it makes the affirmation feel a lot more powerful and personal, and a lot more "guaranteed" knowing it is coming to you from yourself as god.

example:

lets say i have decided that i want to manifest a partner back, who ghosted me with no explanation and who chose someone else over me, and that it left me feeling worthless. the imaginal act that comes to my mind when i imagine him coming back and choosing me is my partner holding me tight, crying and apologizing for the pain he has caused, and telling me how much he missed me, loves me, and how badly he wants to rebuild trust and cherish me for the rest of our lives (💅)

if my desire came true, it would tell me that i am irreplaceable, lovable, obsess-worthy, worthy of affection and love, unforgettable, irresistible, etc. (how lovely that would be to feel!)

"bunny (god), i know that everything that i want has already been said yes to. does this mean that i am irreplaceable, lovable, obsess-worthy, worthy of affection and love, unforgettable, and irresistible?" (i would probably just use one hehe but you get the point).

knowing that i am god and that my word is law, i tell myself the beautiful "yes!" that i know is true! i feel the reality that i am lovable, i trust that god (myself) knows the truth and is powerful.

i relax, knowing that the inherent nature of god is a resounding "yes," and that that means i am already lovable, irreplaceable, etc.!

i hope that this exercise can bring you peace, remind you of your incredible worth and of how truly lovable and wonderful you are, and ensure you of the guarantee of your desires manifesting. if you have made it to the end of this post, please consider watching the "though false" lecture and ali's post "what if god said yes?" for even more validation and love!

love and hugs, bunny 💕

[dulc3vida]

bunny!reader

only daughter of a ranch owner who is always away on business and may or may not be a narco. moved to the obx when she was really young. she misses home a lot, mostly because she had a pet tiger. dad taught her how to use a gun and she even has a couple of her own porque una nunca sabe. was called "conejita" or "little bunny" growing up bc she was always hanging out with the bunnies.

best paired with rafe because she's such a niña fresa. her dad's a narco (ALLEGEDLY) so it's safe to say that she has been spoiled her whole life. has never heard the word no and immediately fell in love with the luxury and class of figure 8. bunny is preppy, high maintenance and expensive. her dad has always showered her in money and expensive things to makeup for his absence so when rafe is giving her that AND his undivided attention, she's in love. is it freudian as fuck? maybe. is it real as fuck? yes.

rafe does step into the dad role a lot for bunny, especially once he moves her into tannyhill. its definitely freudian for him as well bc it makes him feel important and needed especially in season 3. season 1&2 she's like a trophy to him and she doesn't know where she stands because he's beating up all the guys she likes but he doesn't want to be her boyfriend (subconsciously knows he isn't good enough for her). season 3 is when he looks at her and decides that that's his girl, forever. whatever means necessary.

bunny lets rafe take the lead most of the time, but she's very calculating. friendship is transactional, which is why she's not really friends with the kooky girls. she has a few friends but she's very cautious and curious about everyone she encounters. they want something from her (some of the attention she recieves) while they offer nothing in return. bunny is shy and timid but people misunderstand her and think she's a bitch. she's not mean, but she can be. she's possessive and especially hates when rafe, or anyone for that matter, touches/moves her things around.

she and rafe both first fall in love with the idea of each other (rafe sees her as the divine feminine and bunny sees him as the american dream) which is why when they both display "unsavory" characteristics (i.e. rafes actual insanity vs. bunny's temper) it catches them off guard. they keep each other on their toes. like when rafe finds one of her guns in between his couch cushions.

she's upstairs doing her makeup and he's looking for his vape, damn near tearing the couch apart. then his hand hits familiar, cold metal. he calls for her once and she bounces down the stairs, a pout on her face.

"you made me mess my eyeliner up."

"what the fuck is this, hm?" rafe sets the gun on the coffee table between them.

"it's called a gun rafe."

"hey, hey. don't get smart with me, where did this come from?"

"it's mine." bunny takes it from him and shoves it back between the couch. "don't worry, the safety's on."

rafe studies her for a second. "where are the other ones?" she rocks on her heels and glances to the side before shaking her head.

"just that one." she plays with her fingers and he knows she's lying.

"okay." rafe chuckles, wiping his mouth with one hand before swiftly grabbing the back of her hair, tugging her through the house to collect all the guns bc he doesn't want his bunny to get hurt.

another moodboard inspired by @princessbrunette and @starfxkr (aka two of the sexiest blogs on tumblr.com)

[eamour]

feeling is the secret.

the saying "feeling is the secret" is another phrase that neville goddard coined. now, when speaking of "feeling" it to be true, neville did not talk about an "emotion" but rather "knowing" things to be true. but what's so important about "feeling" anyway?

thoughts come from feeling.

your thoughts come from your feeling. to simplify it for you: your feeling can also be reffered to as your belief in something or your state of mind concerning something. therefore, feeling is the cause of thought. first you have a feeling, then you generate thoughts coming from that feeling. your thoughts determine what state you are in or what your underlying belief/feeling is.

change feeling, change self.

your feeling is the root. the origin. the beginning. it's the only thing you need to change in order to see change be reflected back to you. when you do that, you change self — because self, again, is what you feel to be true.

since your thoughts are not the cause of your manifestation but your feeling is, we need to change that first. your feeling or your belief/state is where you think from. it's where thoughts come from automatically. if you change your feeling, your thoughts have no option but to follow in regards to that state.

change the feeling of "i".

how do you change your feeling? in your mind. you don’t change your outer self but your inner self. a belief or a feeling isn't hard to change. there are no blockages of your subconscious, there is no resistance that has to be dealt with. the only reason why you think that there might be obstacles you need to overcome is because you create them in the first place. you yourself are complicating it to change your state and make yourself believe in the difficulty or the idea that your mind needs to be "fixed". but you can uncreate those beliefs the same way you created them.

thoughts hold no power.

since the thought is created, it has no power of its own and no truth in itself. this is why you don't have to worry about thoughts or if you are thinking "good enough", having the "right" thoughts or micromanaging everything. don't try to think perfectly in your mind. the thought is not the root, the feeling is.

that's why "flipping" aka changing thoughts often doesn't do a lot. it does not change your feeling to begin with. and since you keep the feeling, you will also keep reproducing thoughts coming from that state. yes, today you managed to calm down by flipping thought A — but what if you get anxious again tomorrow because you get a thought B?

feeling is the end.

you know the term "live in the end"? this is what we mean we say it: when we want you to live in the end, we want you to feel as if you had your desire. we want you to go to the very end where you have it. we don't want you to worry about the how, the when, the circumstances or the bridge of events. we want you to feel. because once you do, you will also start to think from feeling aka from having your desire. just like edward art said, "change your feeling to what you want to feel. feel everything and the thoughts will come".

just feel it.

you waste so much time not doing what you should be doing. no, you don't need to firmly do sats every night before going to bed and attempt the void and make sure to write down all 100 affirmations in the same order and meditate for exactly 15 minutes... you need to feel. you need to be. you need to experience it in the mind. you need to give yourself the time to just have it. you need to allow yourself to get a taste of it. you have been forcefully and desperately trying to "do to get". just be it for a moment. give yourself the feeling you have been longing for. because you keep feeling what you don't want to, you just end up manifesting things you don't want. and you do things to get and not to change self.

this post was greatly inspired by edward art

with love, ella.

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

three taps (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.

or

the three times it took jesper to realize that three taps were something more than a meaningless habit.

warnings: violence, blood, implied se*ual as*ault (not detailed at all and very brief)

a/n: did i write this in less than a day? yes. did the inspiration come to me at six am? also yes. what about your other 50 wip, anna? did you write anything for them? nope.

hope you enjoyed reading this one as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

i. tap, tap, tap

Jesper had seen him do it more times than he could count. It was Kaz’s thing. Three taps, index finger hitting a wooden table, thumb brushing against a map or cane harshly meeting the floor. Most times they were fast taps, like a subconscious action, coming and going before anyone could give it any mind. Other times, however, they were slower, more emphasized, as if trying to make a point. Jesper was used to the taps, as he imagined (Y/N) and Inej also were. The sound came prior to every heist, prior to pronouncing the words of luck (no mourners, no funerals).

It was Kaz’s habit, something he probably did without even realizing, and Jesper couldn’t help but find it oddly comforting, a routine that somehow eased his nerves. (The world could be going to war, Ketterdam could be crashing down in flames, and Kaz would still tap three times. There was a sense of safety in that.)

It wasn’t until Jesper had a closer look that he realized the action was perhaps not as meaningless as he believed.

ii. cane meets ground three times: come back to me, i’m here

(Y/N) had known Kaz the longest out of all of them. Jesper hadn’t known the Slat without her, he hadn’t known Kaz without her. She’d always been there, a person in which the Dregs often found solace and always obtained an ear to listen without judgment. (Y/N) was a walking contradiction, soft around the edges yet powerful enough to bring the toughest people to their knees. She was everything Kaz wasn’t, maybe that was the reason they complimented each other as well as they did.

In a place where kindness was rewarded with death (Y/N) was unusually good-natured. Stray kids in the Barrel knew to find her if they were ever in urgent need of food or shelter. To outsiders she might’ve looked frail, her kindness might’ve made her seem weak, but the people of the underworld knew better than to be fooled by her selfless actions and innocent appearance. (Y/N) had an innate talent for causing people’s demise and there wasn’t a line she wasn’t willing to cross. The gentleness in her eyes would immediately harden at the sight of any threat, like molten lava hitting cold air. People who double-crossed her didn’t live to tell the tale.

Jesper wasn’t quite sure how Kaz and (Y/N) had met. From the whispers he’d heard around the Slat he figured it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. (Y/N) didn’t really discuss her life before joining the Dregs, not even when some of them would gather around to drink and curse the ghosts of the past.

Only once had Jesper gathered enough courage to break past the personal boundaries she’d clearly set and ask.

(And he’d only done it because he’d been almost drunk and really really curious.)

Kaz had been there, quietly observing as he often did, when the words had fallen out of Jesper’s mouth. He’d frozen in place, even when the question hadn’t been directed towards him, jaw tightening. Jesper had noticed Kaz’s instinctive response— because he might’ve been careless and drunk but he was also keenly observant —and that had him sobering up enough to know he was treading in dangerous territory.

No one had ever asked her directly, he’d realized at that moment as he held his breath and awaited a response. Many gossiped and guessed but no one had ever walked up to her and asked her about her past.

The softness hadn’t left (Y/N)’s face, but it was evident that the question had taken her by surprise because she’d frozen mid-action for a split second and something in her features broke. For the first time since he’d known her, Jesper saw the exhaustion and affliction in her eyes. The glint had disappeared as soon as it’d come, (Y/N) had regained her composure lightning fast, and Jesper had wondered if it’d ever been there at all.

She’d looked behind his shoulder at Kaz and they’d shared a look, one that Jesper couldn’t quite decipher. Something must’ve been telepathically said because the grip that Kaz had on his cane had lessened. His eyes, however, didn’t lose the murderous glint in them. Whatever he was remembering had fury roaring through his mind.

(It was only then that Jesper had understood that Kaz hadn’t been angered by his question but rather by the memories that had resurfaced. It must’ve been really serious because the only other time Jesper had ever seen that look in Kaz’s eyes Inej had been hurt and a guy had lost his eye.)

“I was a slave, Jes.”

Jesper did not know what he’d been expecting but that certainly hadn’t been it. As (Y/N) had pronounced the words a shadow crossed her face. It was the way she’d looked away from him, in discomfort and embarrassment, that had realization striking him like lighting. The weight of her words had settled in and Jesper understood, somewhat suddenly, what type of slave she’d been; the type to be used and discarded for the pleasure of rich men, sold and bought as if worth nothing more than an object. The burns and scars on her chest had suddenly made sense.

“It was a long time ago,” she’d added, eyes slightly glazed over, like she was physically there but mentally elsewhere. “And those men,” her eyes had flickered to Kaz before settling back on him, “they’re dead.”

More than dead if Kaz had something to do with it, Jesper had imagined.

Jesper had no way of knowing of the images flashing through her mind (pain, blood, and filthy hands. moans, tears, and screams) but he had recognized the unfocused gaze and the shaking fists by her side as her body’s response to reliving the trauma.

Jesper had never wished he could take back his words more than at that precise moment.

He’d opened his mouth to say something, anything to make the haunted look on her face dissipate, to lessen the burned he just had realized she carried, but Kaz had beaten him to it.

Tap, tap, tap. 

Gently, he’d poked the floor with the ferrule of the cane. The metal had hit the ground heavily, the thud resonating. Kaz’s eyes, Jesper had noticed, remained trained solely on (Y/N), eyebrows furrowed in something that might’ve been concern.

The sound had somehow snapped through the haze of memories and had managed to bring her back to them. (Y/N) had blinked the stupor away, once again in a surprisingly fast manner, before offering Jesper a smile that had every word dying at the back of his throat.

It was small and unbelievably sad, but genuine. It was enough for him to know that she didn’t resent him for asking.

“It was a long time ago,” she’d repeated, almost to herself. Then, she’d tapped the table three times, softly. Jesper wouldn’t have noticed the action if he hadn’t been hyperaware of his surroundings.

At the moment it’d seemed like a coincidence, like (Y/N) had mimicked Kaz’s habit to anchor herself back, but as Jesper laid awake later that night he’d realized it hadn’t been just that.

She’d turned to briefly look at Kaz after doing it. If Jesper had been soberer maybe he would’ve realized that Kaz had said something and (Y/N) had responded.

iii. foot meets floor three times: i’m worried, be safe

Getting shot at was always a nuisance, so it was a true inconvenience that (Y/N) appeared to be a bullet magnet.

Really, the girl had more bullet wounds than Jesper could count. (There were two on her left shoulder, close enough to overlap, and one on her right one. There was one on her upper thigh— which Jesper had never seen but Inej said was almost unnoticeable —and the graze on her left side). Despite her bad luck Jesper reckoned (Y/N) had some sort of Saint looking over her because, somehow, the bullets always missed any important organ.

(“I’m saving you for getting hit,” she’d once joked as Inej changed the bandage on her shoulder. “So, really, you all should be thanking me rather than worrying.”

Jesper would never admit it, but sometimes he thought about her words in a serious manner. Sometimes, as he gambled and his mind slipped away, he believed that (Y/N) somehow deflected the bullets off them and ended up unwillingly pulling them towards her.

It was insane and improbable, Jesper knew that, but he still believed it.)

None of her injuries, however, had ever been as bad as the one she’d suffered two months ago. It’d been a close-range shot and the bullet hadn’t pierced cleanly through the skin but rather had settled inside. It’d missed any major artery, by some sort of miracle, but the wound had gotten infected which had resulted in (Y/N) running a high fever for almost a week.

Kaz hadn’t said a word but Jesper knew he’d been restless, especially during the worst days of the infection when (Y/N) dying was more likely than not. Jesper had seen him pacing back and forth outside of (Y/N)’s room, cane tapping thrice against the wooden floor, never going in but peaking through the door whenever Nina or Inej left. It was odd to see their unshakable leader looking somewhat distraught. Maybe that was why he seemed so on edge now. It was (Y/N)’s first heist after the injury.

Jesper would lie if he said that he wasn’t worried. With her luck, she might end up getting shot tonight, again. He kept on looking at her from the corner of his eye, half expecting her to start bleeding out like she’d done all those months back.

(The image of blood slipping past her lips and her wide eyes was burned in the back of Jesper’s mind. He could still feel the blood soaking his shirt as he’d held her together with his bare hands.)

But (Y/N) remained excitedly rocking on her heels, twirling the gun in her hand the way Jesper had taught her. She caught his eye and winked.

She’ll be alright, Jesper reassured himself.

“Let’s go over it one more time.”

Kaz’s voice broke through the silence of the night, low enough to not startle the birds that slept in the trees above but loud enough for all of them to give him their attention.

Jesper stifled a groan. They’d been over this at least three times before. (Y/N) noticed his dramatized grimace and chuckled, nudging him with her elbow.

“Inej…”

The Wraith slipped out of the shadows, “I’ll enter through the back to the control room and disable the alarm. As soon as it’s done I’ll signal you.”

She nodded towards Jesper.

“Distraction as soon as I receive the sign,” Jesper continued.

Kaz assented. “The alarm deactivation will give us a ten-minute window for the theft,” he said it as if he hadn’t been reminding them of the small span of time they had ever since he’d devised the plan. “So the distraction has to last at least seven minutes.”

Jesper knew that, it gave enough time for (Y/N) to slip in and out without raising much suspicion.

He whistled and offered a self-satisfying smirk, “I’ve got it.”

Kaz stared at him for a second, as if trying to pick his mind apart with the power of his eyes, before turning to the girl by Jesper’s side.

“(Y/N)…”

She met his eyes with a grin. “I’m off the moment Jes begins to work his magic. Go in through the second window, safe is on the second floor, third room to the left.”

“And you’re looking for?”

“Pink star diamond, 60 carats,” she responded with ease. “And if something else catches my eye-”

“No,” Kaz cut her off, tone firm and resolute. Both Jesper and Inej snapped their gaze towards their leader, it wasn’t often that he limited just how much they could steal. “In and out.”

From the corner of his eye Jesper saw the smile fall off (Y/N)’s face, arms coming to cross defensively over her chest.

“But what if-”

“In and out,” Kaz repeated, always inflexible once he made up his mind. He jutted his jaw as if daring her to argue. Jesper half expected her to do so, after all (Y/N) was never afraid of disagreeing and questioning him— she was one of the few who could do it without much repercussion —but she didn’t.

If Jesper hadn’t been looking closely he would’ve missed it, the way (Y/N) eyes trailed down to Kaz’s feet, only for a second.

Tap, tap, tap.

The point of his boot tapping against the muddy floor, his eyes not once leaving (Y/N)’s.

Her face softened instantly, shoulders deflating. She tapped her index finger against her bicep thrice in return before uncrossing her arms.

She relented with a sigh, “In and out, okay.”

As they wished each other good luck (no mourners, no funerals) Kaz did it again and this time Jesper was waiting for it, the tap of the leader’s cane against the leaves.

Tap, tap, tap.

Comfort swept over him.

Everything went as smoothly as it can go when one is robbing a millionaire.

iv. finger meets wood three times: i’m sorry, i love you

Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason, Jesper had heard that saying being whispered more times than he could recall and he could vouch for it. It was, perhaps, what made Kaz so formidable. There was no knowing when he would strike because there was no why, and without a why one couldn’t forestall his actions.

Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason, but they’d given him one the moment they’d taken (Y/N). Their death sentence had been signed the moment they’d laid a hand on her.

As Jesper watched (Y/N) in silent concern he finally understood why people feared when they whispered that saying.

(Dirtyhands didn’t need a reason.)

“Find her,” Kaz had instructed Inej and Nina as soon as they’d arrived at their destination. The girls had disappeared into the night, focused on the rescue mission.

The hand with which Kaz gripped his cane had been shaking with anger all night.

The truth was he’d been seething ever since some rouge Dime Lions had taken what was his. (They’d been rouges, Kaz was certain. Pekka Rollins had sworn to him, after a few broken fingers, that he’d never ordered them to take his girl.) Everyone in the Slat had been on edge for the last three days, expecting their leader to snap at them at any moment, but Kaz had managed to keep a tight rein on his emotions.

The control had slipped from Kaz’s fingers the moment he caught a glimpse of a man on the deck of the rusty old boat, laughter-filled voice talking about how he’d made a mess of the Bastard’s bitch. The tremors in Kaz’s hands had come to a sudden stop. Before Jesper had the opportunity to even blink Kaz had fired his gun, hitting the blond straight in the forehead.  

(For someone who favored his cane over every other existing weapon, Kaz had a deadly aim. Jesper would never say it out loud, but he reckoned Kaz’s ability might come close to rivaling his own.)

“I’ll deal with them.”

Jesper had known what that meant; come with me, cover my back, but let me make them suffer.

Kaz Brekker was only one man but the murderous wrath in his eyes had let Jesper know that Kaz had no intention of leaving any of them alive. He was going to make them pay, he was going to destroy them.

Brick by brick.

It’d been carnage after that. Jesper had watched, in some sort of horrified awe, how Kaz had taken down every single one of the men. He’d shot some of them too, but it’d been mainly just Kaz. There’d been screams and the smell of blood had tainted the air.  

Then there’d been nothing but silence and a pained whimper.

(It was in moments like these that Jesper was struck with the realization that he knew nothing about Kaz Brekker. Because, if anyone had ever asked him about Kaz’s anger prior to what he’d witnessed that night, Jesper would’ve answered that Kaz’s anger was hot and sharp and acid, a searing rage that couldn’t be controlled once unleashed. Kaz’s anger knew no boundaries and crossed all limits, he would’ve said, it burned fiercely as it destroyed everything in its path. But that night Jesper had seen another side to Kaz’s rage. His eyes had looked downright homicidal, dangerously violent. They’d contrasted the lack of emotions in his features. His anger wasn’t fueled by emotion—not anymore, it’d gone past that —but rather by the innate need to protect what was his. It wasn’t loud or visible, but rather quiet and lethal. Cold anger that Jesper had found even more terrifying.)

“I know you planned all of this,” Kaz had walked closer to the man who laid on the ground, hands gripping a bullet wound in his kneecap and whimpers falling from his lips. “You thought taking my girl would make me falter, didn’t you?” The man had tried to scramble but Kaz had only tsked before swinging his cane against the man’s injured leg. He’d let out a pained moan, tears dripping down his cheeks. “You just made me angry.”

“Please, I’m begging you…”

“Oh, you should beg.” The heel of the cane had come down on the knees again, the snapping sound indicating a broken bone and the wail letting Jesper know just how bad the pain must’ve been. “I would shoot you in the face, but that would be too merciful of me.” He’d used the head of the cane, the prideful crow, to lift the man’s chin. “If (Y/N) was here she’d tell me to be gentle,” a shadow had crossed Kaz’s face, terrifying enough to make a chill run down Jesper’s back, “too bad for you she isn’t here.”

The head of the cane had been swung back and it came in contact with the man’s jaw. Blood had trickled down the man’s chin, a scream leaving his mouth.

“You took something of mine, you hurt something of mine, and for that, I’ll make sure you suffer.”

Kaz had used his cane after that and no more words were spoken.

Now, as Jesper watched (Y/N) flinch away from Nina, he wondered what would’ve happened if Kaz had seen her state before killing all those men. Maybe it’d been a blessing for them that he hadn’t.

Jesper had never seen (Y/N) so worn down. She sat by the stairs, knees to her chest, holding herself close. It was a strategic position, a place where she could watch all of them and no one could sneak from behind (part of Jesper’s heart had shattered when he’d come to that realization.) She’d only spent three days with the Lions but that’d been enough to cause cracks in the impenetrable wall she’d spent the last years building, past trauma slipping through. So far she hadn’t let anyone close to her, not even Inej who was her closest friend and who’d spoken in gentle whispers about treating her injuries. Her face was a mess, the beauty not gone but tainted with purples and blues. One of her eyes still bled. Under her nails and across her fingers there was dry blood but her arms held no injuries. Jesper just knew she’d given one hell of a fight. He wondered if this was what she’d looked like when Kaz had found her all those years ago, he wondered if maybe it’d been worse. He didn’t ponder long because the pain it caused in his chest was unbearable.

Her eyes snapped towards the door before it was slammed open. Jesper turned around just in time to see Kaz walk in.

(He’d changed and showered after arriving at the Slat. Jesper somehow knew he’d done that before seeing (Y/N) to prevent the blood— that’d covered his clothes and face —from triggering any unwanted memory.

It was (Y/N)’s first time seeing him after she’d been taken. Jesper knew that Kaz was their last hope of bringing her back to them.)

Jesper saw the moment Kaz’s unwavering gaze met (Y/N)’s face and he could tell, without a doubt, that anger was consuming him once again. His jaw clenched at the sight of bruises, and his hand clenched itself by his side.

He looked ready to burn the city to ashes in retribution.

Somehow, Kaz managed to control the rage. The frigid anger in Kaz’s eyes, the one that had frightened Jesper to the core, melted as he crouched in front of her.

“Are you with me?”

She blinked once, twice, thrice. Then, she nodded, and Jesper couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left his lips. She was here, broken and damaged, but here with them. That was enough.

Kaz’s gloved hand reached forward, stopping inches away from her face, ghosting over her bruised cheek. Careful not to touch any skin, he moved some of the hair out of (Y/N)’s face before fisting his hand and returning it to his side.

Jesper looked away, something about the act felt more intimate than it looked. Nosy as he was, he listened in.  

“They touched me,” the voice was weak and shaky and so unlike the (Y/N) that Jesper knew.

A sharp intake of breath. “I made them pay for that.”

“Did they suffer?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” It was barely a whisper but the words were surprisingly firm.

Jesper couldn’t see but he heard the taps. Three times. Kaz’s finger against the wooden railing of the stairs.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Jesper frowned, unbelievably confused by the words the girl had just uttered.

Tap, tap, tap.

Gentle and genuine, “I love you, too.”

Everything clicked at that precise moment, the confusion faded away. Jesper was left dizzy with the realization that Kaz’s taps meant absolutely everything. They were his way of telling them he cared. No one knew, no one understood the action, and maybe that was why Kaz kept on doing it.

But now Jesper did, now he understood.  

From that day on he found himself twirling his guns thrice before going out and causing mayhem.

[lemmilemura]

Yooo did I just write for someone who isn't Simon :000000 Yes I did. This is inspired by this specific image, but doesn't necessarily play during this moment. I might make this a regular thing but I can't promise anything!

All kept gender-neutral

Your eyes scan across his face, over the cuts and bruises that are slowly beginning to heal, the black eye that’s starting to disappear, barely visible in the darkness of the room. Some of his hair is falling into his face, and you debate moving it away, but decide against it, not wanting to wake him up. It’s the first night in a while that he’s actually getting proper sleep, and you’d hate yourself if you messed it up. He deserves a break for once, some peace and quiet. You watch as his chest rises and falls slowly, if you concentrate enough you can even hear his breath. It’s a quiet, peaceful moment, something that’s sadly grown foreign ever since the start of you spending time with him. 

One of his arms is outstretched a little, and you subconsciously reach for his hand, but catch yourself just in time. It’s not that you don’t want to get closer, you just don’t want to disturb him is all. You decide that it’ll be much easier if you turn around, facing away from him, and it is, for a few minutes at least, because soon after you’ve turned around you can feel him move behind you, then he slings one of his arms over you, the other going beneath you, caging you against him as his head rests at the back of your neck. You can feel his breathing, the rhythm still the same, signaling that he’s not awake. Your heart is racing and you don’t know what to do. You take a deep breath and try to force yourself to relax, which proves to be easier than anticipated, because not long after you’re already drifting off yourself.

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