#it was a bit of a struggle because I didn’t really have a pattern

[sweet-potatoo]

New project I just finished! Took around 20 hours of work but not bad for a beginner lol

[luvrxbunny]

little spider

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Innocence

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader knows nothing about sex or feelings of arousal, clothed clit-rubbing? cum in pants, small feelings of embarrassment (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: sorry im late but im kinda proud of this one so i hope it was worth the wait! <3

Miguel didn’t think he’d end up in this position, nowhere in his wildest, most perverted fantasies did he think that this would actually be the outcome of him recruiting you but… here we are. 

You were assigned by the higher-ups to learn from him, they thought you had potential, and honestly? Miguel hated you when he met you, he felt like they were punishing him for something, that assigning him this raw recruit was just a flaunt of power. You didn't even have a suit he had to make you one, a trial suit first, to make sure all your vitals were good, to track your movements and decide what suit material would be best- or if you would have a digital one like him. 

During the weeks of his monitoring of your vitals, he began to grow a bit fond of you. You were an adorable recruit and eager to please, you were thoughtful and always gave your all, something he really appreciates. One other thing he noticed about you… your dopamine levels were elevated around him, along with your estradiol and testosterone. He ignores it when he’s writing his reports, he tells himself that he doesn’t report it because the higher-ups don't need to know, not because he knows they’d make you transfer… He should’ve requested it the first time he noticed it but the thought of you, his sweet, innocent spider, all turned on just from being around him? It ignited something in him. 

He updated your suit, saying that the data he was receiving wasn't enough, he made you wear the suit as he replaced the chip and tried to hide the smile in his voice when your spine straightened under his touch. The new chip could give him real-time tracking of all your vitals, but he set his watch to alert him anytime certain hormones spiked… estradiol and testosterone. So he conducted a little experiment over the following weeks, he’d lean into you more when you speak, holding your eye contact, he even broke out the smirk he used to use on girls when he was younger, and it worked on you. 

His watch vibrated every time he was near you, if he walked up to you, it started being an alert to when you were near, it’d go off before you’ve even approached him, he’d walk into a room and it’d go off before he even saw you. It started to have an effect on him, he started to feel a spark in his stomach every time it went off, every time he’d meet your eyes and you’d have that expression he’d grown to know so well. That weak, almost pleading- yet confused look in your eyes and the sheer panic before tearing them away from his. He started having to grip whatever was in his hands as tightly as he could to control himself when you’re breathing would stutter after he complimented you on your work. 

He started getting hard reviewing your logs after spending the day with you, watching your heart rate stay elevated, spiking along with your hormones, he can see your breathing pattern, and how irregular it is compared to when you’re not with him. How high your body temperature was… the main areas of heat. On his more weak days, he’s gotten himself off to the diagram of you, with the burning red spot between your legs as the focus of his fantasies. 

Now you’re here, avoiding his gaze as his watch vibrates like crazy. “Miguel?” He looks at you again, trying to keep his gaze neutral, hopefully, to make this a bit easier on you… and him. “Yes?” 

His voice is smooth as cocoa butter and you can feel his gaze burning into you. He started this heat inside you, one you’d never encountered before. It starts when you see him in the morning and doesn’t stop until you struggle to sleep- or at least it used to. But recently it’s been non-stop, a constant distraction that you can’t pinpoint, it feels like it’s in your hips, stomach, chest, and thighs all at once. It feels like it’s in his breath when it fans over your face, it's in his eyes when they lock with yours, and somehow on his fingertips when they brush over any part of you. You’ve spent hours a night trying to figure out what you can do about it, you’ve thought about even asking Lyla but decided the risk of her telling Miguel was far too great.  

This past week it’s just been building on it’s self, almost unbearable with Miguel’s new immersive training. He takes you away to some deserted, closed-off place and trains you with no distractions, giving you nothing to focus on other than him and forcing him to give all his attention to you. Miguel’s attention, his gaze is what causes the most… pain. That’s what it’s become, a dull, numb, thrumming at the base of your stomach, like an itch you can’t scratch that just becomes a nuisance. You couldn’t handle it anymore and if you asked Lyla she’d just tell Miguel- so why not just ask him directly? 

So here you are, avoiding his gaze because you’ve spent the entire day with him, building enough fire inside you- you don’t need to add any more. “I think…” You take a breath and turn to him a bit before forcing the words out. “There’s something wrong with me.” He puts his clipboard down, his concern, and his thick, veiny hand that comes into view piles onto the heat over-taking your bloodstream. He takes his glasses off and sits back in his chair, reaching his leg out to pull a chair beside you closer to him. You dare a glance at him and try not to collapse at his gaze, at the way his hair moves over his face for a moment as he motions for you to sit in the provided chair.

You sigh and sit down, your legs pressed tightly together, your palms resting on your thighs and your eyes focused on the back of your hands. You stay silent, your mind racing, your body warming further at the feeling of his eyes on you. “What’s wrong, little spider?” You suppress a shiver at the nickname as goosebumps rise over your skin, it’s been a problem since he picked it. “I’m hot.” The words shoot out of your mouth before you can second-guess them again. Miguel chuckles a bit, sending embarrassment through your body, sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms, prompting you to go on. 

“I can’t fix it. There’s… someone.” Miguel pretends he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to him. “For some reason, something about them just- “ You pause for a moment, truly baffled by the way you feel, trying to find some way to explain it. “They just do something to me and it won’t stop.” Your words start to sound frantic, a bit panicked. Miguel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to examine your expression. “It’s like there's a low- like a low vibration- or a frequency? Like the ones that are so low you can barely hear but you can sorta feel them? It’s like that but- but deep inside me.”

Your eyes close and eyebrows furrow as you describe the feeling to him. He tries to keep his breathing even as he hardens uncontrollably under the suit. You don’t even realize what you’re confessing to him. “Like it’s in my bones, Miguel.” You add emphasis, your hands digging into the material of your suit before raising your head to meet his eyes, hoping he understands the state you’re in. He’s almost dizzy at the way his blood rushes to his cock. He holds your gaze and tries to convey a baffled, thoughtful expression as he tries to calm himself. 

“That’s- That’s odd. Yeah, um.” He takes a few deep breaths before sitting back again, unable to stay in your space any longer. “Do- Can you tell me who’s causing it? Perhaps it’s a side effect of their powers?” Your spine straightens and you shake your head at him gently. You twist your fingers in the fabric of your suit and your feet play with each other on the lab floor. “H-have you heard of any powers like that?” You ask him, a hopeful look in your eyes. 

Clever girl.

“No, I haven't.” He sits back, spreads his legs, and runs his hands down his thighs and back with a sigh. He holds back a smirk when his watch vibrates and he hears you take a sharp breath. “I- I don’t know what to do anymore. It- I can barely sleep.” You sound distraught, broken, and tired. He’d be the messed up one if he didn't help you… Right?

“I mean… I can try running some tests?” He offers, he keeps his tone light, trying to keep his dark desires off your radar. You perk up at his offer, already up and out of your seat, standing in front of him with a smile. He keeps his eyes on you, trying to ignore the way your scent is assaulting his nose, giving away how badly you need him. “You think we could?”

He nods and stands up, walking over to his lab table and clearing a few things. His head is already running wild with fantasies, ideas of what he could do to you, what he could teach you, how good he could make you feel. “Yeah, of course. C’mere, pequeña araña” You were already walking to him but your pace stutters and his watch vibrates when the nickname slips out. He truly didn’t mean to, he had gotten a bit too deep in his fantasies, and when your voice broke through he didn’t get fully pulled out. He’s never called you that in Spanish, not to your face at least, it’s fallen from his lips a few times before though, when he’s alone with his hand wrapped around his cock. But your reaction dissuades any fear that had shot through him before and he can’t help the smirk that makes its way on his face. 

You’re standing silently beside him, wringing your hands together and he doesn’t think you even notice the way your thighs keep clenching together. “Get on the table.” His tone is teasing, a grin on his face as you jump and scramble onto the tabletop. You lay on your back and look over at Miguel, feeling that heat rage through you at the look on his face. It’s dark and- wanting. It’s confusing. 

He takes a deep breath and your fingers try to dig into the metal table top as he walks to you. “Okay. I’m going to examine your body a bit, press into some muscles, some pressure points to see if maybe it’s a physical trigger. Is that okay with you?” Your chest is already rising and falling more rapidly at the thought, the promise of Miguel’s hands on you. You nod at him stiffly, trying to stay normal and calm as he holds your eye contact, nodding along with you. A small smile graces his face before he walks around and presses his palm into your hairline, pushing your head down to rest on the table as he stands north of you. 

His hands press into your shoulders and your eyes shut tight. He can feel all your muscles tense and his watch vibrates, he sneaks a peak at his and sees the huge spike in almost all your vitals. His cock twitches in his suit at your obvious need but he brushes it aside, if he rushes into this he might scare you off and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if that happens. He may lose his mind. He moves his hands to your biceps, massaging them tightly as little whines slip into your breaths, only audible to his ears. 

He walks back to the side of the tables and your eyes stay shut. He massages the softness of your sides and his breathing kicks up a bit once he gets to your hips. He takes his time with them, admiring the way you fit into his hands and how you subconsciously tilt them toward him. His thighs jump as his cock begins to leak, dripping precum down them. He takes a deep, shaky breath and forces himself to move on. He forced himself to move on, he was trying to take it slow, hopefully, you’d realize where you need him and ask for it. But your thighs spread open when he massages the outside and his hands dive for the inner before he can think it through. 

You gasp, you sit up with your eyes wide and your hands gripping his wrists. You don’t do anything though, he expects you to pull his hands away but it feels more like you’re holding him there, stopping- or attempting to stop him from pulling away. So of course he doesn't. He stares into your eyes as you search his, trying to figure out if he realizes the way that made you feel, if your cover was blown, if he wants to stop but he looks expectant, like he’s waiting for something. So you loosen your grip. “That’s- I think that’s- ” You’re nodding at him lightly, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say because for some reason your brain has stopped working. 

“Yeah?” Your heart stutters at his tone and the tilt of his head as he says it. Your thighs tense around his hand for a moment before you try to calm down, un-tense them but they can’t help the way they tremble with anticipation. You’re nodding at him more frantically and his eyelids flutter. “Okay.” He takes one hand out from between your thighs and rests it on your lower back as his other hand keeps massaging, slowly moving up your inner thigh and the sensations grow more intense the higher he gets. 

Your eyes shut and your hands grip his wrists again, not pulling away, just holding him. Your eyes shut and your hips tilt into his hand, getting him so close to your pussy that he can feel the heat radiating off of her. You feel some sort of shame twinge in your belly, dampening the more intense feelings that Miguel was causing. What if this was wrong? What if you aren’t supposed to feel like this with him, without him knowing… Maybe you should stop. 

Miguel moves further up and all those thoughts scatter from your head immediately. His watch vibrates again and a noise shoots out of your mouth- one you’ve never heard before as your body folds over and your head rests on his shoulder. You shut your eyes tight and take a slow, deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry, I-” He cuts you off. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here, right?” He’s nodding at you, comforting and reassuring as his hand leaves your back to cradle your head. “You’re okay. I wanna help you, cariño.” Another noise leaves you at the nickname and his hand grips into your hair for a moment before sliding down to your neck and pulls your head away from his shoulder. He pushes your head against his for a moment, letting out a soft groan before letting go and pushing his fingers against your plush lips. 

“How’s that, honey?” His hand settles back on your lower back as you whine and your hands move up his arm, gripping his biceps now and pulling yourself closer to him. “Miguel.” His eyes roll back at how you sound, desperate, breathless, and gone. Your hips are grinding into his fingers and they aren’t even on your clit yet. They’re pressing against your hole through your lips and your suit, he’s keeping his fingertips flat against you so he doesn’t slip inside. 

He’s trying to ignore the mess he’s making in his pants, watching your tense face change into a relieved one, your eyebrows pulling inward as your lips part beautifully, releasing a shaky moan as he reangles his fingers to your clit. His hands are shaking as he tries to calm himself down, one of your hands slides up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before gripping onto his shoulder and pulling him down, closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your expression, taking everything in, every twitch and quiver, the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips before a whimper punches out of you. 

You’re ruining him and you’re none the wiser. Your hand slides up to his neck and you push your forehead against his, like he did earlier. His eyes roll back before he forces them to you again, moving his fingers over you clit faster when your thighs begin to shake around his wrist. “I think-” Your voice comes out as a whimper and he groans into you. Your fingers grip into his hair and his cock cries against him. “Something… Miguel.” 

The way you say his name fucks with him. It’s prettier than he ever could’ve imagined, he has to lean forward and press his throbbing cock against the edge of the table for relief. You’ve got him feeling like he could die, like he could implode if he doesn’t have you, if after this you realize what you need but get it somewhere else? It’ll be over for him. Your hand readjusts its grip in his hair, becoming more frantic as your spine straightens and your thighs close on his hands. “Miguel? I-” You cut yourself off with a moan and your head falls to his shoulder again, blocking your face from his view.

“No, no.” He brings his hand to the back of your neck again. “Let me see, amor.” He pulls you away from his shoulder and you moan at the nickname. Once again, it didn’t mean to slip out but you’ve got his head so cloudy he can’t help it. You’re moaning his name on repeat, like a warning and he’s pulsing at the thought, the promise of getting to see you cum, for him. His eyes can’t look away from you, he can’t see anything but your face, the way your brows furrow as you tense, and your nails dig into his arms, leaving reminders for later. He watches how you bite your lip before your jaw drops into an ‘O’ shape and his name falls from your lips one more time as a debauched cry. 

He keeps his eyes open, watching you cum for him, how your lips form around his name again and again. He wants to collapse, fall to his knees with how much you’re turning him on but he needs to watch you. He forces himself to keep his eyes on you, ignoring the way they want to roll back at how he’s flooding his pants. His hips twitch against the edge of the table as he cums for you, with you. His mind zeros into the way he can feel your clit pulsing underneath his finger tips, how breathless you sound, trying to keep up with the noises he’s forcing from you. His stomach tenses painfully as his cock unloads more cum onto himself. You sound like an angel, crying out for him. He can’t help the way he dives for you, pulling you in to kiss him and swallowing every moan you’ll give him. 

You whine into his mouth as his fingers slow down over your clit, your other hand meets the first in his hair and you keep his lips on yours. He keeps kissing you until you calm down and your breathing evens out. His hand comes from between your thighs and rubs your legs until you pull back from his lips. You have a bashful, embarrassed look on your face and it brings the largest smile that you’ve ever seen to his face. “Was that okay, pequeña araña?” You whine and pull him in for a hug, nodding into his shoulder as he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as you begin to giggle against him.      

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[bamboobooshark]

Hiiii I just found your page and omg I love your writing so much. I actually did get into an argument with my friend, and I deactivated one of my intas cuz of it (long and stupid story) but it was really comforting to read Logan wanting to coddle and comfort someone yk

You can ignore the request if it makes you uncomfortable, but do you think you can write something where the reader doesn't really know or understand what regression is or why they feel this way so they isolate when they feel childish or playful or start annoying people without realizing it and Logan who loves and cares for them starts to miss them and is like wtf and helps them.

Thank you for your writing I hope you have an amazing day.

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ☁️་༘ COMFORT & CONFUSION : 991 WRDS

<RATING : PG, VULENRABLE MOMENTS, CRYING>

A/N : Just a little note for Anon; I am so heavily greatful that my fic was able to bring you so much comfort. I hope you’re recovering well from what happened. Apologies for taking so long to get this out for you, I always get caught up in spilling and detailing my concepts that end up becoming full fics. I truly hope this fic is what you were hoping for <3 !!Warning for a pinch of angst and crying!!

You’ve been isolating yourself in your room since you woke up. You feel so confused with yourself, with your mind, with your feelings. You press your back against your headboard, legs crossed one on top of the other. You gently rock back and forth while struggling to understand how you’re feeling; why you’re feeling the way you do. Yeah, you’ve got a ton of energy right now. You feel like you’re letting your inner child express itself in your mind, yet you’re holding them in as best as possible. You’re terrified of annoying anyone by releasing those feelings, espically Logan. You bite and chew at your lips nervously as you rock a bit faster. Why? That’s the only question you can ask yourself right now. Over and over, your mind fills itself with nothing but confusion of why you feel like this, why you yearn to be so childish, why you’re scared of annoying Logan when he loves you unconditionally.

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts as the man knocks on the door. “Everything alright in there, kid,” he asks with his face pressed to the wood. God, the way he calls you kid only makes these foreign feelings harder to suppress. You choke back your tears before responding. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a little down,” you reply with a tone that’s involuntarily soft and childlike. Logan raises his brows at the way you speak to him. You’ve never kept yourself away like this, but he’s been noticing a pattern lately. You isolate yourself the moment you wake up, beg him to leave you alone, and then come out quiet and reserved. He continues to press because he misses you so damn bad. He’s willing to do absolutely anything to get you in his arms again. “Please tell me what’s wrong, bub. I promise I’m not going to be upset with you,” he pleads with the softest tone he can force out of his throat. “I mean, I’d be more upset if you didn’t trust me with whatever you’ve got going on,” he chuckles akwardly.

You wipe your tears before inviting him in. The second he realizes that you’re crying, his lips form a frown and his eyes give you a sympathetic gaze. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, baby. I’m right here. I’m not leaving, I swear,” he scrambles to reassure you, sitting on your bed and pulling you into his arms. You let your cries get thicker once you lean into his. He smells so fatherly. His large, calloused hands make your entire body shiver with comfort. Everything about him is sending an unknown, unfamiliar feeling that you’ve been yearning for. You can’t even begin to imagine what to call it, but your body allows you to relax under his touch. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out. Tell me what’s up once you’re ready to,” he coos as his hands rub up and down your back. You nod against his chest, letting the thumping of his heartbeat soothe you.

You pull back from his embrace, but hold his hands in your own. His touch is what you’ve been needing. Scratch that, you’ve been needing Logan in general. You attempt to try and explain things, but you end up stammering and stuttering. “I’m sorry, Logan. I just — I don’t even know what to say,” you apologize while looking away from him. He squeezes your hands gently and sighs. “You don’t need to apologize, kid. I’ll be here as long as you need me to be. If I have to wait here for hours for you to get your thoughts together, I don’t mind. You know that, bub,” he tells you sincerely. You look at him and give him the best smile you can considering the circumstances.

You take a deep, shakey breath after a few minutes of silence before attempting to describe your feelings. “I’ve just been feeling like a child lately. I’ve had so much energy and excitement and joy for no reason. It’s so confusing and it’s scaring me Lo, it really is. I just want an answer,” you explain to him. His thumb rubs against your knuckles lovingly before he presses a silent kiss to your forehead. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry. You’ve got such a big heart, kid. I need you to understand that you don’t need to be afraid to let those feelings loose around me. I’ll love you no matter what,” he promises while holding your face in his hands so you’re looking at him. You nod gently, eyes glossy and wide from the way he comforts you so paternally. “I understand,” you mumble back, letting that same childlike voice slip. Logan gives you a gentle smile, failing to hold back a snicker. “Well would you look at that. You sound so little, baby. It’s adorable,” he says while attempting to hold himself back from squeezing your face. You giggle softly and shake your head no. “It’s not adorable, Lo,” you protest. Your stomach knots as you allow yourself to slip into this pure, innocent state. As soon as Logan begins to coddle you further, that knot unties itself and becomes a flutter in your heart. “If you deny anything else I say, I’ll have to find a way to get back at you for it. You’re too damn cute to not accept that you are,” he playfully threatens. “C’mere you sweet thing,” he growls as he pulls you into his lap. “No! Let me go,” you giggle sweetly, squirming in Logan’s arms despite wanting to stay right where you are forever. “I’m not letting you go, kid. You’re mine. My sweet little thing that I’ll protect with my life,” he declares before starting to pepper your face with soft kisses. You can feel him smiling like an idiot against your skin from the sound of your giggles, the way you smile, and the warmth of your face caused by him.

[baeddel]

on the racist riots in Belfast

i made a post in 2021 titled "dispatch on the unrest in Belfast" (click) trying to provide some local-knowledge context for the sectarian riots in town. i have no such special knowledge to offer this time. it has been, to be honest, shocking to me how many people came to them and how well organized they were. we have seen an increasing prevalence of anti-immigrant racism in the north in recent years; graffiti saying "locals only" (simple meaning: "whites only") on council houses going to market has been reported on since 2014 (click, 2018 click, 2023 click), for example. and in 2022 the PSNI released a report stating that hate crimes of every kind, including racist hate crimes, had reached the highest of any year since they began counting in 2004/5 (click). according to the BBC as of 2014 "on average a racially motivated offence takes place at least once a day" in Belfast (click) and it has only risen since that. but it was obviously not organized at this scale before. my girlfriend remarked that this was the first time Northern Ireland has had a race riot and i think, assuming we treat sectarian riots as something else, that may be true? (the UK-wide 1919 race riots did not seem to affect Ireland from what i could find and anyway were a bit before partition; otherwise they are quite similar to what is happening today).

perhaps no further context is really possible to give; they are race riots and they are happening because of racism. nevertheless i will try and write down some things i've thought about it.

in the 2021 post i talked about the nature of the disorder, where if you looked at the footage mostly people stood on the pavement and watched while the professionals—loyalist paramilitaries—handled the direct action (hijacking and burning busses and such). that is because these demonstrations were organized by the paramilitaries and everyone must obey them. that is not the case here; the crowds attack people of colour and immigrants, their homes or businesses owned by them, wherever they can find them. if they were kicked out of one area they went somewhere else and did it there; or else they did it where they lived as on Sandy Row. so it seems to be genuinely spontaneous and not directed from above.

the paramilitaries claim they did not organize it (the Belfast Telegraph quote what they call a 'senior loyalist' saying "[w]e didn’t start this, we aren’t behind it" click—what a demonstrative article, by the way, the police asking the paramilitaries for help with population control!). they say that about everything, but i think i believe them this time for that reason. it doesn't look paramilitary. i suppose whoever organized it must be taking orders from England. however, we are aware of at least some involvement by paramilitaries. the rightists who travelled up from Ireland were identified by PSNI and Gardaí to be fraternizing with UDA men (click). blueshirts associating with loyalists is not really surprising but i am not sure it has happened before. PSNI also claim there is a "paramilitary element" within the racist riots but are reluctant to say they're behind them (click).

i have talked before about how loyalism has felt a bit of a transition from an armed struggle into something that looks like a popular movement, with demonstrations and direct action becoming the main source of spectacle. it's possible there is a gradual transition towards this point, where paramilitary hierarchy becomes secondary to a spontaneously organized reactionary movement.

it also fits into a pattern that i have talked about before (click, also here), which is that democracy in the north has undergone dramatic changes recently. whereas in the past the national conversation dominated politics, today ordinary issues of civil society are decisive. the DUP lost their monopoly on unionist voters because of how they handled COVID, the border, the cost of living and so forth—problems a normal political party is expected to solve, not a party holding down a sovereignty under siege as they were supposed to be—and that's why SF got the majority. immigration is one such 'normal' political issue, and racist violence breaks out in Belfast in a way that doesn't differ substantially to how it breaks out at the same time in a normal country like England.

speaking of the fracturing of the DUP, i felt that it was significant that we could name, as a precipitating event, the fracturing of the right wing parties in general. in the north of Ireland the DUP lost much of its support, but no single party could replace it; several unionist parties now leech its vote, while moderate unionists vote for Alliance. and in the recent election the Tories lost to Labour, but they also lost many seats to Reform. between SF and Labour we are in an era where for the first time in a long time the UK is governed by center left parties, meanwhile it is unclear what opposition has the mandate of the right-wing voter. this means that for a right wing person electoral party politics looks like an ambiguous, distant and unrewarding terrain of struggle. perhaps that is a background condition as to why racist propagandists have been able to mobilize so many people into joining these events.

something else that struck me as possibly a precipitating event is that for the better part of a year we've had extremely active and persistent organizing around Palestine in the UK, in terms of demonstrations, direct action and even in electoral politics (with several independent candidates who care about Gaza taking seats from Labour in the last election). thus, right-wing racists have seen news about pro-Palestine organizing almost every day for a long time. we know that here in the north when Palestinian flags are flown it isn't long before Israel flags are flown in response. i think it's possible to see the specifically anti-Islamic character of the riots as a kind of counter-revolution or reaction to Palestine.

those were the thoughts i had to share. on Friday 9th (today as i write this) there is a racist demonstration planned, as well as a counter-protest. the counter-protest is backed by NIPSA (a big NI union) as well as the Belfast City Council (! click), so perhaps it will be big. it starts at 4:30pm. stay safe.

[kachowden]

ok so i've just been reading a lot of stories on redit and by some freaking coincidence they all involve cheating.

to take my anger out i imagined a scenario:

You who just found out that your S/O cheated on you with a mutual friend are so angry you go to the first party you find because

1.free drinks

2.with loud music you can't think

then Loren sees you from afar and he's so happy because it's so unusual for you to show up in these kinds of places he walks over and starts a conversation you barely hear because all you think about is how identical he is to a dog happy with his owner and you remember the day you met he said he would do anything for you.

"anything?"

"what"

"you said you'd do anything for me, did you really mean anything?"

Loren, with absolutely no hesitation: "yes"

I don't know going forward, my brain cycles between him murdering your ex or fucking in the bathroom of the party

Tw: NSFW themes. Kinda angst, mild exhibitionism.

His hands were shaking. Grasping at every exposed bit of skin he could, squeezing and massaging. His breath was heavy, labored and hot. It fanned the back of your neck as your body jolted with each thrust.

The toilet seat thudded dully under the massive jocks weight. His arms circled around you, hugging himself to your chest while he struggled to form any coherent sentences. Merely mumbles of adoration. Praise. Your name.

He sung your name like a prayer. He begged and begged and begged. You weren’t sure what for. He didn’t explain. You didn’t know if he could.

He whined deeply and gruffly, hips seemingly having a mind of their own as they smashed and squished against a your thighs.

In and out. In and out.

His lips were hot. Unbearably almost in combination of your sweaty skin, as he trailed hot and heavy kisses up your shoulders and neck. Sucking and biting and marking.

You let him, only to get back at the person who got you into this position. You felt a bit bad playing with the wonder boys feelings. What with the way he seemed to cry your name while bucking his hips into you so fervently.

When he finally started singing his I love you’s he made quick work to force your lips together and swallow any rejections on your tongue.

“Loren-“

“No no shh please, please let me have this. Let me have you just once. Just right now please.”

Your heart hurt hearing him, though with your foggy mind and recked insides you couldn’t pay much mind to the feeling. Only squishing his face to your chest and pressing deeper into his old.

Loren breathed sweetly at that, continuing his previous brutal thrusts, that only seemed to have groan more desperate, if that were even possible.

The more you felt his hands sweetly cupping and holding your own, tracing each bit of skin as he pumped himself into you, the more you felt your previous reasoning for doing this fade a way.

Why hadn’t you been dating Loren again? He had made his feelings more than abundantly clear before you were dating the jackass you were with now.

And loren was so…devoted to you. It was almost scary. He acted like he couldn’t breath without you. That this, what you were doing right now, was something he had fantasized over..craved for years.

Oh god if only you knew.

You blinked dazedly, sharply arching your back when a particular thrust hit your sweet spot, and Loren’s entire pattern switched.

His hips angled ravenously into your thighs, thrusting deeply and even at times stoping just to grind into you. You shuddered as he layered more wet passionate kisses against your skin, forming a small heart into your chest. You thought you peaked at initials too, but when you felt yourself being lifted and cradled fully into his sweaty chest, you didn’t bother to check again.

Your back met with the deliciously cold shower wall, and you marveled at the strength of the jock before you, who held you up by your thighs and continued thrusting.

“Y/n y/n y/n y/n”

It was a breathless whisper but it made your stomach flutter and your body clench, drawing out a low whimper and moan from loren, who slotted himself into the crook of your neck. Your arms circled around his head, holding him close and relishing in the feeling of your bodies sliding and pressing and grinding against each other.

“I love you…I love you..”

At this point you don’t think he was even saying it to you. It sounded more like a fact, something he was merely stating to the air in his own haze, as he hugged you so dearly. The weight of him inside you was intoxicating. Loren was nothing to sneeze at by any means.

“I-“

Loren didn’t let you reply. Not with the way he quickly fell to his knees in the shower, twisting you around and forcing you onto your own, bringing you back into a dip as he laid himself over you, lifting one of you legs to make sure he never once separated from you.

His thrusts were wild. So fucking desperate. Like he couldn’t control himself at feel of your body so sweetly warming and squeezing his cock.

Your eyes rolled back at the angle, and you barely had time to balk at the sight of his letterman underneath you, protecting you from the cold tile of the shower.

“Loren-“

Fuck would he not let you get one word out. He seemed hell bent on keeping you from talking, despite how typically he clung to your every word.

His thrusts grew erratic, chasing something you couldn’t see but prioritizing your experience over it all. He breathing was heavy, gasping, and at one point he dropped your leg gently and hovered over you, his shadow shielding you from any wondering eyes.

You weren’t sure why until the door unlocked and a drunk couple tried to wander their way in. Your eyes widened soberly, before they rolled back again when Loren kept thrusting, his hand covering your mouth gently, keeping your sounds to himself while he glared literal daggers at the couple who stared stalk still.

“Get out.”

It was a growl and tone you had never heard from the jock himself. Only whispers from people who had been there to witness it.

Fucking hell it was so hot. You gripped his forearm tightly, body convulsing when you came, though Lorne didn’t cease his pace, only cooing gently in your ear when the couple finally left and locked the door.

“Baby…fuck baby…thank you..thank you…you feel so good y/n..just one more please? Please I’ll do anything I’ll- nnnng…!”

Your body became play dough very quickly, only held up by the Loren’s strong arms that man handled you so gently, you didn’t think you could just call this sex anymore.

It was far too passionate to be just sex.

What with the way he so gently repositioned you on your back, hugging you deeply into his curving chest, his back hunched as he kept your legs locked firm around his waist, and as he continued to beg and cry and moan for you. Only for you.

Your finish was fast approaching and you finally regained the strength to hold onto the tall male, who groaned deeply and who’s hips shuttered when your nails dug into his skin.

“Loren…-“

“Y/n please…please…just let me have this..”

You paused, blinking blearily.

Then you sighed, gently. There was no disappointment in your tone, when you gently kissed the side of his neck and leaned back to stare the distraught captain in the eyes. You marveled at the flush of his cheeks, and the sheer desperation in his his shiny eyes. You brought your hands gently around his jaw and smiled.

“Okay..”

Your lips gently pressing into his own seemed to be the final straw for Loren, who’s hips grew violently and hard before he came thunderously, moaning deeply with your own high riding alongside his.

Your breath shortened and choked at the weight and heat in your belly.

He didn’t pull out when he finished. Only shuttering and shifting slightly, relishing in your warmth.

You peaked, out of breath, at his expression, and had you not been on the brink of sleep, you would’ve felt concern at the wide of his eyes, and the untamed smile that split his cheeks.

“I love you…so much y/n..”

“I know..”

“No…you don’t.”

[tempting-andromeda]

Can you do hcs for Eagle Flies, Javier and Charles sneaking into their s/o room in the middle of the night? Surprising her and all ;) could be nsfw and all ;)))

Hehehe i lobe this

Sneaking into their s/os room in the middle of the night

Characters: Eagle Flies, Javier Escuella, Charles Smith

Eagle flies

At first he tells himself he won’t visit you without permission but one day he finds himself in his in his tent missing you

He’s hot and bothered, he’s sad, he wants to hold you, and also he’s not thinking rationally at all

He makes his way to your house and awkwardly stands outside, not really wanting to yell and he can’t let anyone see him because…he’d be a creep looking into your window

So he climbs up to tree beside your house to get to your bedroom, grumbling the whole time about how he shouldn’t be doing this

But once he reaches your window he’s automatically forgetting whatever he was thinking before

He sees you and just immediately feels better though he’s still a bit nervous

Expects a chewing out for sneaking out to your house without telling you but he doesn’t care

Before you even start speaking he says a quick “please. I missed you.” And he’s giving you such a love sick expression

The moment he’s in your bedroom his main focus is you. He just wants to hold you because he’s missed you so much

Javier Escuella

He thinks it’s a little fun

Sure there’s the doubt in the back of his head but it’s too late. He planned everything. Sneaking through your window to surprise you with flowers.

Once he’s at your window he kinda gets self conscious and feels like a teenager trying to woo a girl

But nonetheless he knocks on your window and waits for you to open it so he can give you the squished flowers

It doesn’t matter if he’s been in your room a few times he’s always curious

will casually look through your Knickknacks and if he sees anything he gifted you he’s smiling so big and goofily

Insists he can leave before anyone notices him in the morning and he’ll be sneaky but you both know he’ll be too comfy to think about that

Spends the night in your bed holding onto you and traces patterns on your skin

Just likes the feeling of pretending he didn’t sneak into your room and he’s not supposed to be there and just acting like you always fall asleep and wake up together

Charles smith

Charles thinks he’s too damn grown for this.

Sneaking through windows? That’s childish?

But here he is. Outside of your window, pressing his lips together as he tries to think of a way to not look like a creep

Tries to find a way to get to you without humiliating himself so he just gently taps on your window and if you don’t notice him after that he decides to leave

But you notice him and he’s relieved

Places a soft kiss to your lips and honestly he’s content with just that but you urge him inside

He apologizes for not being able to tell you before hand and possibly messing up your night but honestly it’s in the back of his mind because he’s just thankful he gets to see you

You honestly have to convince him to come inside because he’ll feel a little guilty but once he’s inside he’s content with staying longer

Kinda follows you’s round your bedroom because he doesnt want to get your bed spread dirty or get dirt on your floor

Nsfw~

Eagle flies

The moment he’s in your room he tries to keep his hands off you but he’s only reminded by how much he missed you

He’s needy and his hands are wandering over you like he’s never touched you before and he’s taking it all in

Pushes you against you bed and sinks to his knees while pressing his chin into your stomach to as permission (he’s giving his best puppy dog eyes too)

His pupils are blown and he’s panting softly, quietly saying please and how he won’t make a noise or give you two away

He’s half right about it. He struggles at staying silent yet he makes sure the bed doesn’t creek or no one hears

Asks you to make eye contact with him or just keep your face shown so he can read your facial expressions

Javier Escuella

Originally you guys are cuddling but after a while his mind starts to wander and he feels himself getting worked up

He tries to be respectful and not do anything but he can’t control himself and slowly starts to grind into you

Pants in your ear about how he’s missed you and how he’s been imaging you every time he’s lonely

Holds your hips flush into him as he grinds into you

No matter what position you’re in he finds a way to hold your hand and bury his face into you, taking on your scent and placing kisses and marks against your skin

Struggles to keep a steady pace because he doesn’t want to make a sound

Charles Smith

Honestly the night starts pretty innocent but he just can’t stop kissing you

After a while the kisses get longer and he’s on top of you deepening the kisses like he’s been starved of your touch

He tries to keep it simple but after a while he just can’t stop kissing you and he’s quietly begging you to ease his needs

Takes his time

He needs to remember everything incase he can’t come to you and has to handle his needs by himself

Insist on taking care of you but if you even try to take over he’s not complaining

[crypticreid]

KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

masterlist

author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair. 

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder. 

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking. 

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs. 

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk. 

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers. 

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself. 

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.” 

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims. 

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers. 

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper. 

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid. 

“What?” You whip your head around to her. 

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.” 

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.” 

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?” 

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it. 

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.  

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.” 

“Or gambling.” Emily adds. 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.” 

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles. 

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk. 

“I do not!” 

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans. 

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly.  “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity. 

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly. 

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?” 

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own. 

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought. 

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared. 

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.” 

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –” 

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward. 

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?” 

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.” 

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you. 

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?” 

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.” 

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?” 

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.” 

“Of course, Doctor Reid.” 

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.” 

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked. 

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.” 

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?” 

“No, we just –” 

“Hooked up.” You finish for him. 

“For a couple months, yeah.” 

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?” 

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.” 

“What did you call her?” 

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs. 

“Wow, who knew.” 

“What?” 

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders. 

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away. 

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile. 

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?” 

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over. 

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt. 

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –” 

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily. 

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek. 

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back. 

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away. 

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss. 

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip. 

“What for?” You blink. 

“Kissing you.” 

“I kissed you.” 

“I kissed you back.” 

“And you should do it again.” 

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.” 

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer. 

“It’s inappropriate.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“There’s paperwork.” 

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.” 

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest. 

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?” 

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects. 

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair. 

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket. 

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot. 

“It’s kismet.” 

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.” 

“It is.” You say earnestly. 

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.” 

“Don’t apologize. I like it.” 

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?” 

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second. 

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.” 

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?” 

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.” 

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.” 

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.” 

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing. 

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you. 

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck. 

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core. 

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck. 

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin. 

“I want you.” 

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.” 

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.” 

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?” 

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly. 

“I’ll take care of you.” 

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own. 

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment. 

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?” 

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie. 

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.” 

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately.  “I don’t wanna go slow.” 

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.” 

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.” 

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?” 

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager. 

“How far?” 

“What?” 

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?” 

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?” 

“Spencer,” you plead. 

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.” 

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more. 

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece. 

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips. 

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.” 

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more. 

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more. 

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him. 

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom. 

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands. 

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?” 

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw. 

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.” 

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember. 

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him. 

“I thought of you too.” You confess. 

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.” 

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.” 

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts. 

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him. 

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.  

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest. 

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed. 

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you. 

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back. 

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear. 

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?” 

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action. 

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained. 

“You can. I want you to.” 

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word. 

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place. 

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.” 

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly. 

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles. 

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite. 

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit. 

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes. 

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.” 

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap. 

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.” 

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…” 

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”  

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” 

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him. 

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.” 

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean. 

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters. 

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you. 

“I want you.” 

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle. 

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it. 

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs. 

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.” 

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.” 

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.” 

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head. 

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.” 

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match. 

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.” 

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan. 

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm. 

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters. 

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you. 

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face. 

“Are you okay?” He inquires. 

“I’m perfect.” 

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.” 

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window. 

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases. 

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?” 

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps. 

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently. 

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.” 

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.” 

“Boo!” Emily exclaims. 

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!” 

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you. 

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns. 

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

[ink-n-shadow]

Hello!

Could I request a Ghost scenario where his s/o struggles with over-sexualization because of past events that happened to them? S/o Would struggle with their intrusive thoughts and self-worth, feeling disgusted with themselves, and Ghost can relate to them and would help them through it. Mostly looking for hurt/comfort. If there's NSFW, It'll be very soft and wholesome, nothing rough.

thank youuu

PS: I really love your writing <3

this ask really hurt me and made me whole all at once ;-;

MORE THAN JUST A BODY

𝜗𝜚 the one where simon reminds you that you're worth more than you think

𝜗𝜚 pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: annoyed!simon at the beginning, mentions of past relationships/trauma, oversexualization, sweet!simon, hurt/comfort themes, unedited (so sorry), allusions to smut (minors—DNI)

“c’mon—si, please?” your words are a breathy whine, lips pouting out and eyebrows pinched taut in the middle of your forehead. you squirm in the position you have in his lap, fingers squeezing at his shoulders, desperate for his fingers skirting up your thigh and under the hem of your shorts.

simon lets out a loud groan, one full of annoyance and frustration. his fingers grip onto your shoulders, albeit not hard, and gently push you off of his lap so you’re standing in front of his sitting form on the couch.

“jesus, darlin’—i said no, ‘kay? not in the fuckin’ mood right now.” simon’s annoyance immediately melts away once he sees the tears in your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing for a split second as his lips purse. before he can speak, you’re already turning away with hot embarrassed cheeks and teary lashes.

you’re almost to the bedroom down the hall by the time simon catches up with you, gripping your wrist and pulling you back around to face him. “l-leave me alone, simon.”

simon scoffs at your petulance, removing his fingers around your wrist to take both of your cheeks into the palms of his hands. “what’s gotten into you, huh? why’re you cryin’ because i won’t fuck you right this second?”

“because—” a frustrated sigh rocks your chest, and if it wasn’t for simon’s gentle grip on your face, you would’ve turned away and tried to compose yourself before speaking. instead, you’re forced to pull steady breaths in to avoid the looming panic attack threatening to seize hold. “—it makes me feel…like you don’t like me anymore.”

everything in simon’s face softens at your words, his fingers twitching at your cheeks before he pulls you into a warm hug. he lets you bury your face into his chest, one of his hands finding solace in your mess of hair and the other tracing soothing patterns into the base of your spine. his chin nestles on the crown of your head, dipping against your skull with each syllable he spoke. “lovie…y’know that’s not true. what have we talked about before, hmm?”

you and simon had talked about this very thing many times before. and it was always good conversation. simon wasn’t like the other people you’d dated or messed around with in the past, and you knew that, of course. but that didn’t mean that those old feelings and traumas didn’t still linger deep inside of you, like a dying hearth waiting to be stoked back to life.

your sigh comes out warbled and muffled against simon’s chest, arms tightening around his muscled abdomen as you shake your head a bit. “i know but—”

“but nothin'. you mean more to me than just your body, ‘member? just ‘cuz i don’t want to fuck you right this second doesn’t mean i won’t want to fuck you later.” the way simon runs his calloused hands along your upper arms sends a calming wave through your body, just enough to combat the anxiety coursing through you.

an almost defeated whimper falls from your lips, one of the arms currently locked around simon's abdomen coming up to swipe at the sticky tear stains covering your cheeks. you don't muster up any words other than a wavering apology, the barest and quietest 'i'm sorry, si' you could speak, eyes fluttering anywhere but up at his eyes above you.

"none of that, yeah? nothin' to be sorry about. i get it, lovie—a hundred and ten percent." simon presses the gentlest kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo and conditioner eagerly. "now—how about we put on a movie and have a little cuddle? maybe after you calm down a bit, i'll run my tongue between those pretty little thighs of yours and show you how much i adore you."

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[eunseoksimp]

Same Mistake ; Jung Sungchan

this is a super short throwaway from a story i started writing last month but had no motivation to finish tbh.

Pairings: Ex Boyfriend! Sungchan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst

Description: trapped in a cycle of love and heartbreak, you and sungchan navigate the complexities of a tumultuous relationship. as emotions flare and unspoken truths linger, both of you struggle to break free from the patterns that keep pulling you apart.

Warnings: none

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

it was late, and the world outside was quiet in that eerie way it always was just past midnight. the city lights still flickered through the thin curtains, casting faint shadows across the room. the hum of distant traffic provided a low soundtrack to the silence that had settled between you and sungchan. the air felt thick with unspoken words, heavy with emotions neither of you had been brave enough to confront until now. 

you sat on opposite ends of the couch, though it felt like miles apart. sungchan was staring down at his hands, fingers loosely threaded together, while you picked at the fraying edge of a cushion, your mind racing as it always did in moments like this. moments of quiet before everything erupted into chaos again.

“why do you keep doing this?”

his voice broke the stillness, low and tired. you flinched, not because you didn’t expect the question but because you didn’t have an answer. not one that would satisfy him, anyway.

"doing what?" you asked, already knowing what he meant, but stalling. maybe if you delayed the inevitable long enough, it would somehow get easier.

"this." he gestured vaguely, frustration threading through his tone. 

"you act like you don’t care, like i mean nothing to you during the day. you’re cold, distant, like you’re not even here, and then at night..." his words trailed off, but you could hear the weight of what he left unsaid.

and then at night, everything changes. 

you bit your lip, trying to find the right words, but they were slippery, like water through your fingers. you hated how true it was, how predictable you had become. how predictable this entire cycle had become. distant during the day, yearning for connection at night. it was like you were two different people, and the worst part was, you weren’t sure which one was the real you anymore.

"sungchan, i..." you began, but your voice faltered, a lump forming in your throat. 

you didn’t know how to explain that you didn’t mean for things to be this way, that you didn’t even know how they had gotten so bad. it wasn’t like you had planned for this. for the distance. for the constant push and pull that left both of you exhausted.

"i don’t get it," he said, his frustration rising, voice cracking. "i’ve tried so hard to understand you, to meet you halfway, but it’s like you’re never really here. you’re always one step ahead, or one step behind, never where i need you to be." 

you winced at the sharpness in his words, knowing deep down he wasn’t wrong. you could feel the tension between you growing, pulling tighter with every passing second. it was only a matter of time before it snapped.

"i never meant for it to be like this," you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

but even as the words left your lips, they felt hollow. you didn’t even know if they were true. 

hadn’t you? hadn’t you known, deep down, that you were incapable of giving him what he needed? hadn’t you always been aware of the fact that no matter how much you wanted this to work, you were always going to sabotage it somehow?

"then why?" sungchan’s voice cracked, the vulnerability bleeding through his frustration. "why do you do it? why do you pull me in, only to push me away again? do you even care? do i even matter to you?"

your heart clenched at the rawness in his tone, the desperation that you had heard so many times before but never really listened to. because to listen would mean acknowledging how deeply you had hurt him. how deeply you were still hurting him. 

"of course you matter," you replied, your voice trembling. "you matter more than anything, sungchan." 

but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t enough. words were just words, and they had lost their meaning long ago. every time you had said things would change, every time you had promised to try harder, to be better, had only led you both back here. to the same fight, the same frustration, the same heartbreak.

he let out a bitter laugh, leaning back against the couch, rubbing his face with his hands.

 “then why doesn’t it feel like it? why does it feel like i’m never enough for you? like no matter what i do, i’m always chasing after something that doesn’t even exist.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. there was so much pain in his eyes, so much exhaustion, and you knew that you were the cause of it. 

but what could you say? how could you explain that it wasn’t him, that it had never been about him? it was you. it was always you. 

you swallowed hard, your throat dry as you searched for something—anything—that might make this easier. 

"it’s not about you, sungchan," you finally said, your voice barely a whisper. "it’s me. i... i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to be what you need."

"and what exactly do i need?" he asked, his voice softer now, but still laced with frustration. 

you closed your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep your emotions in check. 

"someone who can give you all of themself. someone who isn’t afraid to commit, who doesn’t get scared and run away the second things get hard. someone who doesn’t make promises they can’t keep."

sungchan shook his head, running a hand through his hair. 

“you keep saying that like it’s some kind of excuse. like you can’t help it, but that’s the thing. you can. you choose this every time. you choose to stay half in and half out. and i... i can’t do it anymore.”

the finality of his words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was sit there in stunned silence. you had always known this was coming, always known that sooner or later, you would push him too far, but hearing him say it out loud made it feel real in a way it hadn’t before.

"so what are you saying?" you asked, your voice shaky. "are you... are you leaving?"

he sighed deeply, looking away, and for a second, you thought you saw his resolve waver. but then he spoke again, his tone steady, determined. 

"i don’t know. but i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep waiting for you to decide if you want me or not. i’m tired, and it’s breaking me.”

the words sent a shock of pain through your chest, like a knife twisting in your heart. you had known you were hurting him, but hearing him say it so plainly made it impossible to ignore. 

"i never wanted to hurt you," you said, your voice barely audible. 

"but you did," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "and the worst part is, i don’t even think you realize how much."

you swallowed hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. he was right. you hadn’t realized. or maybe you had, but you had convinced yourself that it wasn’t that bad, that it wasn’t irreparable. but now, looking at him, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, you knew you had been wrong.

"i’m sorry," you whispered, the words feeling hollow, but it was all you had.

he let out a breath, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. 

"i know you are," he said, his voice softer now. "but sorry doesn’t fix it."

you bit your lip, the taste of salt and regret on your tongue. he was right, of course. sorry wasn’t enough. not anymore.

"i don’t know how to fix it," you admitted, your voice trembling. "i don’t even know if i can."

sungchan looked up at you, his eyes searching your face as if he was trying to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay. but after a moment, he just shook his head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"maybe that’s the problem," he said quietly. "maybe you’re not supposed to fix it. maybe we’re not supposed to keep trying to make this work when it’s clearly broken."

the words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. this was it. this was the end, and you could feel it slipping through your fingers like sand, no matter how hard you tried to hold on.

"but i don’t want to lose you," you said, your voice breaking. "i don’t want this to be over."

"then why didn’t you fight for it?" he asked, his voice filled with pain and frustration. "why didn’t you fight for us before it got to this point?"

you didn’t have an answer, and the silence that followed was deafening.

he stood up, the movement sudden and jarring, and for a second, you thought he was going to walk out right then and there. but instead, he just stood there, looking down at you with a mixture of sadness and something else—something that looked an awful lot like defeat.

"i love you," he said quietly. "but i can’t keep fighting a battle that’s already lost."

the words shattered something inside of you, and you could feel the tears spilling over, hot and fast down your cheeks. you wanted to beg him to stay, to tell him that you would try harder, be better, do anything to make this work. but the truth was, you didn’t know if you could. 

and deep down, you knew that even if you tried, it wouldn’t be enough. not anymore.

he lingered for a moment, his hand reaching out like he wanted to touch you, to offer some kind of comfort, but then he dropped it to his side, his expression crumpling into something unreadable.

“goodbye,” he whispered, turning away before you could respond, leaving the room and you sitting alone with the wreckage of what was left.

the door clicked softly behind him, but the sound echoed in the stillness of the room, final and absolute.

you sat there for a long time, staring at the spot where he had been, trying to make sense of the emptiness that had settled over you. this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. not like this. but deep down, you had always known it would. you had always known that no matter how much you tried to hold on to the fragments, they were slipping through your fingers, one by one.

and now, it was over.

you didn’t move for what felt like hours, your mind replaying every argument, every promise, every moment of hope and heartbreak that had led you here. you had loved him. you still loved him. but somewhere along the way, you had lost yourself. and in trying to hold on to him, you had let go of the pieces of yourself that had once made you whole.

you thought back to all the times you had promised things would change, that you would be different, better. but no matter how many times you made those promises, the patterns always repeated. the same fights, the same hurt, the same cycle of pushing and pulling until neither of you could breathe.

and now, you were drowning in the consequences.

you moved towards the window, your feet heavy as if each step carried the weight of all the things you never said. the city was still alive out there, vibrant and uncaring, the world going on as if your heart wasn’t breaking into tiny pieces.

 the lights blurred behind your tear-filled eyes, and you wiped them away with the back of your hand, frustrated at yourself for feeling so small. for feeling like a part of you had just walked out of that door.

but the truth was, sungchan hadn’t just left tonight. the two of you had been drifting apart for months now, maybe longer. it had started out so beautifully, with everything seeming to fall into place effortlessly, but somewhere along the way, the cracks had begun to show.

you leaned against the cold glass, memories flooding your mind, uninvited. 

the first time you met, at a party you hadn’t even wanted to go to. you could still see the way he had looked at you from across the room, his eyes bright, curious, like he had seen something in you that no one else had. and maybe that was what had drawn you to him in the first place—the way he made you feel like you were someone special. like you were worth looking at, worth knowing.

it had been exciting, new. you were young, full of hope and potential, and he had been so different from anyone you had ever known. taller than everyone in the room, with a quiet intensity that was disarming. you had felt a spark between you that night, a gravitational pull that made everything else disappear. 

the early days were like that—magnetic. you couldn’t get enough of each other, and you didn’t want to. you stayed up late talking, sharing pieces of yourselves that you hadn’t shown anyone before. you talked about your dreams, your fears, and in those moments, you felt seen in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

but as time passed, that intensity, that pull, began to shift. you couldn’t pinpoint when exactly, but slowly, the closeness you once shared became stifling. what had felt like comfort turned into something heavier, something that made you feel suffocated. maybe it was the pressure of trying to live up to who he thought you were, or maybe it was the way you had started to lose yourself in the process of trying to be everything he needed. 

and then there was sungchan—always so sure of what he wanted, always so certain about everything. he wanted you, wanted a future with you, and while that should have been enough, it wasn’t. because you weren’t sure of anything, least of all yourself.

you closed your eyes, feeling the sting of tears again, the memories of your past arguments playing on a loop in your mind. there had been so many nights like this, where things started out calm, quiet, only to end with one of you walking away, leaving the other in the wreckage of all the things unsaid. 

you hated fighting with him, but somehow, every conversation seemed to turn into a battle. no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, you always ended up here, locked in this endless cycle of push and pull, of wanting him close but also needing space, needing to breathe. 

you thought back to earlier tonight, when he had sat across from you, eyes filled with the same frustration you had seen so many times before.

"you don’t even know what you want, do you?" he had said, his voice low but sharp, cutting right to the core of you. it was a question he had asked before, and you hated it, because he was right.

you had tried to respond, to defend yourself, but the words got tangled in your throat. it was like every time you tried to explain how you felt, it came out wrong, twisted into something you didn’t mean. so you stayed silent, letting the tension grow, waiting for it to snap.

"it’s like you’re always one foot out the door," he had continued, his voice breaking, and you could see the exhaustion in his eyes. "i’m tired of wondering where i stand with you. i’m tired of waiting for you to make up your mind."

and you had sat there, frozen, knowing that he deserved better. knowing that he was right, but not knowing how to fix it. not knowing if you even could.

his words echoed in your mind now, the weight of them settling over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating in their truth. you had always been afraid of commitment, of giving too much of yourself to someone and losing who you were in the process. and with sungchan, that fear had become a reality. 

you wanted to love him, wanted to be the person he needed, but you didn’t know how. and every time you tried, every time you made a promise to change, you fell back into the same patterns, repeating the same mistakes over and over again.

"god, why can’t i just be normal?" you muttered to yourself, pressing your forehead against the cool glass. it was an endless loop in your mind. you wanted to love him, but every time you got close, you pulled away. 

you wanted to be better, but every time things got difficult, you found yourself slipping back into the same habits—pushing him away during the day, only to crave his touch at night. it was like some part of you couldn’t handle the intimacy, the vulnerability of being loved, and so you sabotaged it before it could get too close. before he could get too close.

you turned away from the window, the weight of your thoughts dragging you down. your phone was still sitting on the coffee table, silent, mocking you with its stillness. part of you wanted to call him, to apologize, to beg him to come back. but another part of you knew that it wouldn’t change anything. you had done this dance too many times before, and no amount of apologies or promises could fix the brokenness between you.

the sound of your own footsteps seemed too loud in the quiet apartment as you paced back and forth, trying to make sense of the mess in your head. you had wanted this to work, hadn’t you? you had tried. so why couldn’t you just let go of whatever it was that kept pulling you away from him?

and then there was sungchan—always so patient, always so willing to wait for you to figure things out. but even he had his limits. you had seen it in his eyes tonight, the way he had looked at you with a mix of frustration and resignation, like he was finally realizing that no matter how much he tried, you were never going to be the person he needed you to be.

he had always been the strong one, the one who held things together when they started to fall apart. but tonight, for the first time, you saw the cracks in his facade. you saw the weariness in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. and you knew, deep down, that you were the cause of it.

you sat down on the couch, your legs folding under you as you stared at the empty space where he had been. your mind wandered back to the first time you had fought. it had been about something small, something so insignificant you couldn’t even remember the details now. but the way he had looked at you afterward, like he couldn’t believe that this was who you were, had stayed with you.

he had been so confused, so hurt, and you had been unable to explain why you had reacted the way you did. it had been the beginning of the pattern—the pushing and pulling, the way you would shut down whenever things got too real, too close. 

you sighed, leaning your head back against the couch, your eyes staring up at the ceiling. you had never been good at vulnerability. even as a kid, you had learned to keep your feelings tucked away, hidden from the world. your parents had never been the type to show affection, and you had grown up believing that love was something distant, something earned through achievement rather than freely given. 

and so, when sungchan had come into your life, with his open heart and his unwavering belief in love, you hadn’t known what to do with it. it had felt foreign, like a language you didn’t understand, and your instinct had been to run. but he had stayed, even when you pushed him away. he had stayed through every fight, every moment of doubt, believing that you were worth it. 

but now, you could see that belief starting to fade. 

the silence stretched on, the minutes ticking by, and you wondered what he was doing right now. was he as torn up as you were, or was he relieved that he had finally said the words that had been weighing on him for so long? 

you wiped at your eyes again, the tears coming slower now, but the ache in your chest remained. it was a dull, constant pain, one that you knew wouldn’t go away easily. 

"what the hell am i doing?" you whispered to the empty room, your voice barely audible. you had asked yourself that question so many times, but tonight, it felt heavier, more urgent. you had spent so long trying to protect yourself, trying to keep your heart safe from the pain of being fully known, but in the process, you had pushed away the one person who had been willing to love you anyway.

you stood up, your movements slow and deliberate, and walked to the small bookshelf by the door. there, tucked between a stack of books was a small box—a collection of mementos from your relationship. you hesitated for a moment before pulling it out, your fingers tracing the edges of the worn cardboard.

you sat back down on the couch, the box in your lap, and opened it slowly. inside were small tokens of your time together—movie tickets, polaroid pictures, handwritten notes.

you stared at the contents of the box, a flood of memories washing over you, each one a snapshot of the life you had shared with sungchan. the polaroids caught your eye first—moments frozen in time. there was one of him laughing, his eyes scrunched up and his mouth open wide in a way that made you feel warm inside, back when things were still easy between you. you remembered taking that picture, teasing him for being so serious all the time. 

"you’re always in your head," you had said, holding the camera up. "smile for once."

and he had—because you asked him to. because that’s who sungchan was, always giving a little bit more than you deserved.

your thumb brushed over another photo, this one of the two of you together, arms around each other, smiling in front of a beach sunset. your faces were flushed from the summer heat, and his hair was a mess from the wind, but you both looked happy. genuinely happy. 

you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears, but it was useless. they spilled over, and you let them fall this time. the weight of everything—the good memories, the bad ones, the regret—it all hit you at once. there were too many things left unsaid, too many chances you hadn’t taken. all the times you could’ve been honest with him but chose to stay silent instead. 

why was it so hard for you to love him the way he needed? you had asked yourself that question a thousand times, but no answer ever came.

as you sifted through the box, you found a note, folded and tucked away at the bottom. it was one of the first letters sungchan had written to you, back when he used to leave little messages for you to find. you unfolded it, your hands trembling as you read the familiar handwriting.

you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

the words were simple, but the meaning behind them was everything. it wasn’t just a declaration of love—it was a promise. a promise that he had kept, over and over, despite how difficult things had become. he had believed in you, in the two of you, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself.

but now, as you sat here alone, holding onto fragments of what once was, you realized how much you had taken that for granted. sungchan had been everything you had ever wanted—patient, kind, understanding—and yet, it still hadn’t been enough. or maybe *you* hadn’t been enough.

the thought made you sick to your stomach. how had you let it get to this point? how had you let someone like him slip away?

the weight of your regret felt unbearable. you had always told yourself that you didn’t need anyone, that you were fine on your own, but the truth was that you were terrified. terrified of letting someone in, of letting them see all the parts of you that you didn’t even want to look at yourself. and in trying to protect yourself, you had pushed away the only person who had ever truly seen you.

you pressed the note to your chest, closing your eyes as more tears spilled over. you had been selfish, hadn’t you? always running from your own emotions, always pulling away whenever things got too real. and now, it was too late. sungchan had finally reached his breaking point, and you couldn’t blame him for it.

as the minutes passed, you began to replay the countless arguments in your head. the way you’d get defensive, shutting him out whenever he tried to dig deeper, to understand what was really going on inside your head. the way he’d always try to smooth things over afterward, his voice soft as he asked you to just talk to him. 

"tell me what you’re thinking," he’d say, his eyes searching yours. "i don’t want to guess anymore."

but you never did. you never let him in. and now you were paying the price.

suddenly, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, startling you. your heart leaped in your chest for a brief moment—maybe it was sungchan. maybe he was calling to apologize, to tell you that he wasn’t really leaving. maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance.

but when you looked at the screen, your heart sank. it wasn’t him. just a notification, something meaningless. you let out a shaky breath, the hope that had flared up inside you quickly extinguished. 

he wasn’t going to call. this time, he was really gone.

you stood up, feeling restless, pacing the small living room as your mind raced. what were you supposed to do now? you couldn’t undo the past, couldn’t take back the things you had said—or the things you hadn’t said. and the worst part was, you didn’t even know if you deserved another chance. you had hurt him, over and over again, with your indecision, your fear of commitment. 

was it selfish to want him back now? or was it just another one of those moments where you were chasing something you couldn’t have? 

you sank down onto the couch again, your head in your hands. maybe you didn’t deserve him. maybe this was just the universe’s way of telling you that some things weren’t meant to be. 

but even as you tried to accept that, the ache in your chest refused to go away. because the truth was, you loved him. you always had. you just didn’t know how to show it. 

and now, maybe you never would.

the minutes stretched into hours as you sat there, lost in your own thoughts, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you like a physical burden. you thought about all the moments you had shared, the laughter, the late-night talks, the way his hand had felt in yours. you thought about the future you had once imagined with him, the life you could’ve had if things had been different.

and you thought about the mistakes you had made, the things you would give anything to take back. the promises you had broken, not just to him, but to yourself. you had wanted to be better, but somehow, you always ended up falling back into the same patterns, the same destructive habits.

why couldn’t you just be enough?

the thought echoed in your mind, over and over, until it was the only thing you could hear. you had spent so long trying to protect yourself, trying to keep your heart safe.

but in the end, all you had done was build walls that no one, not even sungchan, could break through.

and now, you were alone.

[janeyseymour]

hellooo i hope you’re well!

i would like to make a request, a melissa x reader. where they’re married and the reader has always struggled with sleeping. they’re on meds but sometimes they honestly don’t work or help. so mel has gotten into the routine of staying up with reader and eventually r will fall asleep on the couch, in mels arms etc.. one night ava decides to have a sleepover at the school for teachers and the students (like the field trip ep in abbott). the r freaks out a bit because they won’t have the routine with mel like they usually do.. after what feels like hours of fun the r passes out in mels arms as they are in the floor with the rest of the staff (telling story’s to each other).. mel goes into loving wife mode (basically saying to everyone to be quiet so her wife can sleep). SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE I JUST THINK THIS IS SO CUTE.

lots of fluff, lovey mel, overprotective mel..

I intended on writing a different fic tonight, but this one just started writing itself so... as always, not edited in the slightest.

Insomniac's Lullaby

WC: ~2.5k

You’ve always struggled with sleep. It was just a part of who you were. Insomnia haunted you late at night, and you would be lucky to get three hours of sleep most nights. You had tried melatonin early on into these sleeping problems, and it didn’t help. You didn’t feel like going to the doctor about this though- not when you were perfectly functional with the amount of sleep you got.

Melissa, your wife, has come to understand this about you, and with a little pestering, convinced you to go to the doctor for it. They were able to officially diagnose you with insomnia, and they were able to prescribe medication for you.

The first day that you were supposed to take it, you flat out refused.

“Mel, what if it really knocks me out and then I’m not up for work tomorrow?” you asked her hesitantly.

She sighed. “We’ll try them over the weekend, okay?”

“I really don’t think I need it to begin with,” you told her.

“Amore, it’s rather unhealthy the lack of sleep you get, and I would like to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t need the rest of your life to be cut short because you don’t get nearly the proper amount of sleep,” she pulled you into her arms. “Please, just try them over the weekend.”

So you did. And they worked magically. You took your medication religiously for about two months before it stopped working its magic with 100% efficiency. 

On those nights where the medication doesn’t work, Melissa has made the habit of staying up with you to let you know that you aren’t alone. Or at least, she tries.

“Babe,” you sigh. “You really don’t have to. I know you’re tired, and you deserve to sleep.”

“I am a dedicated wife,” she tuts as she settles into the couch with you. “If you’re up, I’m up. If you’re heading to bed, I’m heading to bed.”

“I can just watch tv in bed,” you tell her.

“But I know that isn’t super comfortable for you,” she rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine. We have a big couch, and we can sprawl out.”

“But your back-”

“Will be fine,” she raises a brow. “Don’t call me old.”

“I said no such thing,” you raise your hands in surrender.

“Just lay down,” the redhead huffs.

You lay down, and she lays down and holds you to her chest. You turn on the television, and you lay there for hours. You know Melissa is still awake because you can feel the way that her right hand is lazily tracing your hip bone. So you start to feign sleep.

“I know you’re still awake,” she mumbles into your neck.

“I am,” you admit. “But you need sleep.”

“So do you,” she mutters. “How can I help you relax- without sex? I’m too tired for that right now.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper and turn to face her. Her eyes are half open, and she’s clearly fighting the sleep that wants to take her so desperately.

“Roll over,” your wife tells you as she helps you lay on your stomach. Before you can ask what she’s going to do, you feel her warm hand start to draw patterns on your back. It lulls you to sleep rather quickly, and as soon as she’s sure you’re out for the night, she too gives into her slumber.

That becomes a habit, but even then, that doesn’t always work. On those nights, after seemingly forever, you can convince her that the two of you can lay in bed so she’s more comfortable. She begrudgingly agrees, but she insists on carrying you.

“I can walk, Mel,” you roll your eyes as she fireman carries you up the steps and gently lays you on the bed.

“But then you’ll wake your body up, and we’re so close to getting you to sleep,” your wife tells you as she turns on the overhead fan and crawls into bed with you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you chuckle softly.

“Yeah, and you love me,” she huffs as she starts to spoon you. Her arms find their way around your waist, and you feel as her fingers trace delicate patterns on your stomach. Melissa kisses the back of your shoulder, and lulls you to sleep with her gentle humming.

Nights like this continue, and the two of you are set in your routines. Get to sleep however you can, and if it’s a particularly late night, you’re in charge of making sure the redheaded teacher has enough caffeine in her system to keep her going through the day.

The two of you are rather content in these routines- even if it means your wife can be testier on days where she isn’t as well rested as she’d like to be. You apologize to both her and the staff for her cranky attitude on those days. None of them know you suffer from insomnia and just assume the two of you had a wild night the previous night. Melissa’s stupid smirk does not help put these assumptions to bed.

But it all changes one day when Ava comes sauntering into the staff room during the lunch period claiming that she has a foolproof way to get everybody to bond. A staff sleepover with the students. 

Your eyes widen, and they meet Melissa’s. She can immediately read your mind and understand that you’re internally freaking out because your routine will get messed up, and you thrive on routine. The second grade teacher also understands that you won’t be able to take your medication because that usually knocks you out pretty well, and you have to be somewhat coherent if something happens in the middle of the night with your students. She lays a gently hand over your thigh and rubs her thumb back and forth to soothe you until the two of you can get home and talk it over.

“I don’t think I can do it, Mel,” you mumble tearfully that night. “I just don’t think I can handle our routine being messed up.”

“I’ll figure it out… Ava owes me a few favors,” the redhead tries to assure you.

Unfortunately, she can’t deliver. She tells your wife regretfully that they can’t have substitutes stay in overnight, and she’s already sent out the school wide newsletter announcing this plan. So the two of you are stuck doing this lock-in. She promises you’ll be taken care of.

The day of the lock-in comes quicker than you would have liked, and you’re beyond nervous. The two of you head home quickly to eat dinner and pack your things before returning to the school. The kids are beyond happy to see you, and you’re able to forget about your worries for quite a few hours as the students participate in activities with you. It’s all laughs and smiles, and you can tell Melissa is thrilled to see that you’re having a good time.

At some point, a few of the students who had Melissa in second grade and you in third grade flock around you, giggling.

“What?” your wife rolls her eyes. “Oi, I thought I got rid of youse years ago,” she teases them.

“Mel,” you playfully smack her arm. “Be nice. They’re just saying hi.”

“Actually, we have a question for you two,” Jada giggles.

“Oh good lord,” you mumble before looking to her. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“How did you and Ms. Schemmenti get together?”

“Mrs. Schemmenti, now,” your wife corrects.

“How did you and Mrs. Schemmenti get together?” Jada repeats her question. 

You tell them the child-friendly version of your love story, and by the end of it, the kids are giggling with glee.

“Thanks, Mrs. Schemmentis!” the group of girls hug the two of you before running off and sitting down in a circle a few paces away. They’re clearly talking about their own love lives, and you can hear one of them say that they hope they find a partner like the two of you.

Eventually though, the students start settling down, some in the gym and some in the cafeteria. A few of the other teachers have volunteered themselves to stay in the different rooms with the kids, and your usual crew somehow gets hallway duty together.

Your wife was smart enough to bring one of your blowup mattresses from home and gets it set up while you make sure that your kids are settling down well enough to not give the other third grade teachers a hard time. When you get back, your bed is made, she’s in her pajamas, and she’s propped up by the wall as she chats with Barb. The two of them are watching is Janine lays out a sleeping bag, telling the two of them that she’ll actually be fine sleeping on the floor because the tiles are cold and it’ll help her sleep better.

“Yeah kid,” Melissa laughs. “Don’t complain when your back is killing you tomorrow.”

You grab your bag from next to Melissa before heading into the bathroom to change. When you’re finished, you settle on the bed next to your wife, but she has different plans. She gestures for you to sit in between her legs and prop yourself up against her. The two of you take up this position at home quite often, but you’re shocked she’s allowing you to do it at school in front of your coworkers.

The teachers that you’re sitting with all trade stories and reminisce about their years at Abbott. Every once in a while, you put in your own little quip, but you mostly let your friends do the talking.

You feel Melissa’s arms around you, her right hand tracing patterns on your hipbone like she does at home, while she uses her left arm to hold you up, her left hand finding it’s place to rest on your stomach. 

Barbara is telling some story about the first year that her and Melissa started, a story that you had heard hundreds of times between the two, when you feel your eyelids get heavier.

“And then Melissa-” and that’s the last thing you hear before you fall asleep in your wife’s arms.

It takes a bit for your wife to realize that you’ve fallen asleep. She had noticed your breathing start to even out, but she just assumed that you were relaxing for once.

“Aw,” Janine coos. “Y/N is so cute when she’s sleeping.”

“She’s asleep?” Melissa raises a brow as she looks down at you. Sure enough, you’re sound asleep in her arms. “No more stories. Goodnight.”

“What?” Jacob asks. “But we were just getting to-”

“I said good. night.” the redhead silently challenges him to argue back.

“Melissa dear,” Barb says softly. “We’re all just having a good time, and Y/N has been asleep for the last fifteen minutes. Surely, us continuing to chat won’t wake her.”

“Barb,” Melissa grits out.

“What’s the fuss?” the kindergarten teacher asks.

Your wife bites her lip before glancing back down at you and kissing your temple. “None youse better tell Y/N I told you this.”

They all cross their hearts silently.

“She struggles a lot with sleep. She takes medication to help her, but sometimes it don’t always work. On nights where she really has a hard time, the only thing that can really get her to sleep and stay asleep is me.”

“How cute,” Jacob says softly.

“Y/N was pretty nervous about tonight, knowing she couldn’t take her medication with the kids being here and having to respond to something if we have to. We also have routines for when she can’t take her medication or when it just isn’t working.”

“Sex?” Ava chimes in.

“No,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “But she really thought tonight was going to be a sleepless night for her. So if she’s sleeping, youse need to shut up so she can stay asleep. And if she wakes up, there will be hell to pay. Woman needs it after only getting two hours of sleep last night.”

Barbara nods and starts to get herself comfortable on her own mattress.

“Is that why she always comes in looking exhausted?” Gregory asks.

“On days when she can’t sleep, yeah.”

“And you come in looking exhausted too?” Janine clarifies.

“Yeah. I stay up with her and try to find ways to get her to sleep.”

“Damn,” Ava sighs as she lays down. “I just thought y’all were freaky.”

There’s a chorus of a hushed, “Ava!” before everyone else lays down and gets ready to sleep.

“If any of the kids need anything, Y/N is last resort,” Melissa warns as she gets you to lay down. She curls up next to you, kisses your temple, and lets her eyes flutter shut.

You wake up the next morning feeling absolutely refreshed. There’s no chatter around you like you thought there would be.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Melissa whispers as she brushes a few hairs away from your face. You blink your eyes open, and there is your wife looking as gorgeous as ever holding her coffee mug. You glance around- there’s no students.

“Everyone else is up with them, and they’re all having breakfast in the classrooms,” she tells you as she hands you your mug.

“Crap,” you mumble as you go to sit up. “I guess I gotta get to my room so they can-”

“Mr. J has our classes handled,” your wife tells you.

“How did the kids get around me?” you ask as you run your fingers through your hair.

“Silently,” she chuckles. “I pretty much told them that if you woke up, everybody would get a demerit, and the offender would get a detention. That kept them quiet.”

“Mel,” you sigh.

“You needed sleep.”

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you guys last night,” you sigh as you take her mug out of her hands and take a sip. The coffee tastes perfect.

“You needed it. The others knew you needed it too, so they told me they would help wrangle the kids back to the classrooms for breakfast.”

“They knew?”

“They see the way we walk in here sometimes… after long nights,” the redhead clarifies. “I kind of had to tell them when I threatened that if anyone woke you up, there would be hell to pay.”

“Oh good god,” you mumble.

“Jacob already gave me an herbal tea recipe that supposedly helps with sleep, so we can try that tonight,” your wife rolls her eyes in good nature.

You nod and take another sip of her coffee. “Okay, let’s go deal with our kids.”

“Mr. J has it.”

“I don’t need Mr. J telling my kids that Illuminati runs the world,” you roll your eyes as you climb off the air mattress. The two you get into the room just as Mr. Johnson finishes writing the word.

[philistiniphagottini]

HIIII!! found your blog recently in hsr tags :3 and I also saw your talks doing for P5!!1

Akechi Goro with 🚿 ?

Hi Anon. I'm curious which fic you found me through :)) And thanks for the request. This was a little self indulgent for me because my stupid foot has been acting up the past couple of days cause of the cold weather. I hope you enjoy.

cw. fluff, bathing together, gender neutral reader

Domestic Bliss

A contented sigh blew past your parted lips as you let your body sink further into the warm, relaxing waters of your bath. You struggled to keep your eyes open as the scent of expensive soaps curled in your lungs with each deep breath you took, bubbles clinging to your skin as the suds danced along the rippling surface of the bath water. Your mind swirled in a blissful haze of serenity and your body threatened to drift off into the sweet embrace of velvety sleep. That was, until you felt someone lightly squeeze your foot and snap you out of your stupor. 

You jolted lightly as a soft noise rumbled in the back of your throat and you snapped back to attention. A warm chuckle breezed past Akechi’s lips as he watched you on the other end of the tub, cradling your foot in the palms of his hands as he continued to rub his fingers along your sore muscles. 

“You were drifting off” he said with a soft hum. “It’s dangerous to fall asleep in a bath.”

A lackadaisical smile graced your lips as your shoulders dropped and you relaxed once more. You wriggled your toes as Akechi worked the knots out of your tired muscles, the smooth touch of his hands a soothing balm against your heated skin. A flicked a stray bead of water out of your hair, tussling your frizzy locks as the tips of your fingers started to prune from how long you had both been soaking in this bubble bath concoction. 

“I can’t help it” you replied with an airy tone to your voice. “You’re really good at giving foot rubs.”

Akechi’s lips twitched into a small smile as he pinched your big toe between his fingers, hands holding firm as laughter bubbled up your throat and you tried to jerk your foot away from the ticklish brush of the tips of his fingers. A thoughtful hum stirred in his chest as he kept his eyes trained on his task, thumbs drawing repetitive patterns into skin as he paid extra attention to the scars around your ankle. You tried to contain the grimace when he pressed his fingers into the round ball of your ankle, fingers pressing into the scars until he could feel the metal that lay just beneath the skin. Another soft noise drifted past his parted lips. 

“Have you been moving around enough lately?” he inquired. “You know how sore your ankle gets when you don’t.”

A puff of air blew past the seam of your lips, flicking a stray strand of hair out of your eyes as a small pout tugged at your lips. 

“It’s hurting because it’s cold” you replied. “Did you know metal and cold weather don’t mix?”

You lightly pushed the heel of your foot into his chest, tapping on his skin as a warm smile lit up your features. It touched you that he was so concerned for your health but you had been managing just fine this winter. Although, he wasn’t wrong about moving around. It would help lessen the pain if you were a bit more active and stretched your muscles a bit more. But most mornings, you didn’t even want to get out of bed. 

“Yes, I know” Akechi replied. “You tend to remind me. You complain that you can feel the rain coming with all that metal in your foot.”

You rolled your eyes playfully in response. “Enough about my bum foot” you announced. “Just keep talking or I might fall asleep again. How’s work?”

Akechi ran his thumb over your ankle as he pondered. “It’s the same as usual. You know I cannot go into too much detail about the cases.”

You waved your hand idly through the air. “Yeah I know. Confidentiality and all that.”

Akechi chuckled softly as he squeezed your foot. “And how about you? Tell me about your day.”

“Trying to change the subject?”

“Is it wrong of me to ask about my partner’s day?” Akechi shot back.

You huffed loudly. “Just keep rubbing my foot and I’ll let you know.”

At this rate, you’d both turn into prunes before you even got the chance to wash your hair. But, neither of you seemed to mind and continued to bask in this simple piece of heaven as long as you possibly could.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Maybe Xavier with a reader who bakes/cooks really well

Ignore this if you'd like

A/n: Slight projection on Xavier’s part as I am guilty of not keeping myself feed whilst doing stuff.

Xavier tends to forget to keep himself well fed when preoccupied by his artistic outlets down by the shed he had yet to step out of since earlier that afternoon as soon as school had finished.

Worried, you decided to put your culinary skills to work by utilising Nevermore’s kitchens and making a plethora of sweet treats, including some of his favourites, such as; white Chocolate chip and raspberry infused cookies, apricot shortbread bars, mini blueberry muffins, small portions of lemon cakes, Blackberry & Almond buckle.

All of which you had safely stored in tupperware boxes after they had cooled down and then placed in a bag that you kept on hand for when you baked an excessive amount for your own two arms to carry on their own. Plus you didn’t want to walk through the woods in the pitch black of night where you could potentially trip over an upturned root and ruin all your hard work on the basis that you weren’t spatially aware of your surroundings.

So when you made it safely to the shed, having not bothered to inform Xavier of your surprise visit, you knocked in a specific pattern that you had made prior to when you and Xavier had started to become close to signify to him that it was just you and not some teacher on night parole.

“I thought you would be asleep by now.” Xavier said as he lead you inside the shed, closing the door behind you though not before checking the perimeter first for certainty that you weren’t followed. “And here I thought you would’ve kept to your promise about keeping yourself fed whilst you were cooped up in here but I guess we’re both mistaken.” You retorted, arms crossed over your chest as you stared at him disapprovingly.

Xavier grimaced as he rubbed the back of his head, knowing that he had forgot to do something but lately he has found himself on an creative high that he completely ignored the fact that he has a stomach to satisfy. “Did you…by chance…” Xavier trails off, his eyes seemingly too shy to meet your own as a small smile crept on his face, making it extremely hard for you to stay mad at him.

“Yes”, you sigh but a smile broke out on your lips when Xavier dove for the bag and took it to his desk where he carefully pulled out the tupperware boxes. Opening the one containing the white chocolate and raspberry infused cookies, taking one out as he took a bite and heaved a heavenly sigh as he closed his eyes at the textures attacking his tastebuds. “God I fucking love your baking sweetheart.” He says, reaching over to press a kiss to your lips where you could taste the white chocolate and raspberry on them.

“I swear you do this just to get free treats out of me.” You said between bites of your blackberry and almond buckle. “Or maybe I just need an excuse to see you?” Xavier attempts to sweeten you up but is met with a scoff. “Don’t start flattering me, Thorpe because it’s not going to excuse you from the fact that you haven’t eaten all afternoon.” You replied, watching as the hopeful look in his green eyes were dashed to bits.

He was acting like a kicked puppy dog and you hated the internal struggle you were having about whether or not you should smother him in love or just smother his for making you worry. So instead you came up to hug him tightly, burying your face into his neck as his arms naturally came down to your waist. “Im just trying to look out for you Xavier, I know how you get sometimes and I don’t wanna risk you coming down with something that could’ve been easily avoided. I get that your passionate about your art projects but you can’t complete them if your running on an empty stomach.”

Xavier understood where you were coming from and he hates himself for making you worry but it was moments like this where his insecurities began to fade to the back of his mind as he was reminded of how much you did care about him. Putting him in the forefront of your mind as you made him your delicious treats that he could gorge on forever if he could and making sure that he was taking care of himself both mentally and physically. You were as sweet as your treats that he swore he was getting cavities just by being in your arms.

He presses his head against to top of your own, planting a plethora of kisses there as he held you tighter against him as you both stood in his art studio within the comfort of one another. “I can’t promise that I’ll take better care of myself.” He started, “but I can however promise that I’ll never allow you to worry about me this badly ever again. For I don’t know what I do without you sometimes and I’d rather like to stick around for the long run. If you’ll let me of course.”

You tightened your grip on him, “you fucking dumbass, of course I want you here with me for the long run because,” you pulled away just enough to stare him in the eyes, “who will be my lab rat for when I attempt new recipes?” Xavier deadpans as you laugh at his expression but he doesn’t let you go from his arms. Instead they tightened. “This is your prison now until feel as though you served your sentence for saying that shit.” He said as he waddles with you in his arms. “Good because I don’t plan on escaping anytime soon.” You chirped, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

[dilfl0v3rss]

CAN WE PLS GET A onyankopon X BLACK READER FANFIC IDC IF ITS SMUT OR FLUFF PLSS

i gotchu boooo. i decided to do the fluff about the reader’s hair not cooperating bc as a black girl ts get real stressful😒

hair struggles

summary: ony comforts you when you struggle to recreate a hairstyle.

cw: fluffff

word count: 678

“cmon baby we gon be late” onyankopon sighed in irritation as he watched you try to redo your hair for the third time today. “if my hair not right we not gon be going nowhere” you were trying to redo a hairstyle you saw on tik tok a couple days ago. the first time it was attempted you looked perfectly fine, but of course that was on a day you had nowhere to go. now that you have this barbecue to be at, it seems like god thought it was the perfect time to play with you.

“ma dukes said she got plates for me and i’m not ‘bout to let them get cold cause you don’t like your hair”

you rolled your eyes at your big ass boyfriend, continuing to fix your hair. it’s not like the style was hard. it was a simple half up half down with a swoop in the front. this should be easy compared to the other styles you’ve tried, but your hair refuses to cooperate today and your swoop just won’t slick down.

“just leave me. i’ll take my car to the house okay?” you mumble as your eyes began to water. ony knows that when you feel your hair doesn’t look right you start to get so frustrated to the point where you’d give up on whatever plans you have for the day, but he seen no reason for the both of you to take separate cars to the same place. he was also really hungry and refused to let your moms great cooking go to waste.

“mama it don’t gotta be slicked all the way. if it waves up a little who really gon care.” ony remembered what you always told him about your curls so he added a lesson you taught him “you told me that wearing slick styles all the time can mess up your curl pattern anyway so what’s the issue wit just leaving it a lil wavy?” he says with a smirk, using your own facts against you. you knew he was right and didn’t really feel like driving so you wiped the tears from your face. you loved how ony always listened when you would talk about your hair whether it be about the products you used or just random facts.

“you right boo lemme finish up so we can go. i know you hungry as hell.” you sigh as your boyfriend smiled. he began to walk out of your shared room to go put his sneakers on at the front door. ony was wearing grey nike shorts with a white tee and his gold chains. it was a warmer day so he decided to throw on a his black fitted to hide from the sun and his space jams . it was the typical barbecue fit and you were expecting to see your brothers and cousins wearing a similar, if not the same, one. you decided to wear a grey romper with black sandals. a simple outfit since you could expect that you’d be walking around a lot and didn’t want to get really hot.

as you finally finished your hair you seen that it still wasn’t slicked down all the way, but you decided to just leave it after you remembered what your man reminded you. you smiled to yourself as you noticed that you didn’t even look bad and you overreacted a bit, walking out of your room to meet your boyfriend by the door. “you ready?” he said nervously, hoping you weren’t still upset. “yea baby let’s go before we late.” ony smiled, happy that you listened to him. he actually thought your hair looked better than the tutorial and began thinking about how your waved up hair kind of reminded him of the waves he had when he was younger. he was going to tell you that, but decided against it, knowing that you’d probably look at him crazy. “good because you look beautiful princess. now let’s go before all the food gone.”

[shutupineedtothink]

Ok so my friend and I just recorded 4 HOURS of raw audio breaking down the OUAT pilot, season 1 finale, and discussing the show in general for our new podcast where we make each other watch episodes of our favorite shows and talk about them together. It’s exactly as fun as you would imagine. :)

But even after all that, I still have things I forgot to say or didn’t get to. So here’s a few of them:

1. “Evil” as addiction: the OUAT writers treat the concept of being evil like addiction/substance abuse which is really interesting and kind of a bold choice for a 2011 show about fairytales. Then within that structure they show basically the two choices you have when facing addiction: choose not to use and become a better, healed version of yourself (Regina) or keep using and stay stuck in your patterns and hurt everyone you love forever (Rumple). As a child of an alcoholic who has chosen the latter, I loved watching Regina’s journey in this context and while she stumbles a lot, she keeps striving to be good even though she gets the short end of the stick most of the time. And her North Star is always Henry, which I think is important to show that you don’t just change because you feel like it, there usually has to be the threat of something worse happening if you don’t change (in this case, losing Henry physically and emotionally).

2. Regina Mills might be the most psychologically complex and interesting character on prime time tv in the 2010s? Period??

3. I rambled a good bit in the podcast about the costumes and color symbolism but here’s a bit more for you: Once Regina is on team heroes she often wears some kind of red top (the hero’s color) with a black jacket/coat over it showing that she’s changed on the inside but she still *looks* like the evil queen on the outside and can now use that persona/power to her advantage instead of being consumed by it. By the end of S5 this contrasts with Emma who wears her signature red jacket but a black/white/gray sweater underneath, showing that she’s a little more of a mix of good and evil these days post-dark one. In a color sense, they’re almost mirror images of each other at this point, and it’s really cool.

4. I know a lot of people are really salty about how Emma’s light kind of dims toward S4, 5, 6, and I’m right there with you. Her character feels flatter, and honestly kind of depressed. Now idk if this was a real choice on the writers’/JMo’s part, if she was going through some stuff at this time and it just showed up in the character, or what. That said, it does track for me in a way, especially post-dark one. She should be kind of thrown off by everything that’s happened! She should be changed! I just wish they had done something with it instead of pretending it was normal. If Regina’s struggle with evil is analogous to addiction, why can’t Emma’s struggle with evil be analogous to depression? It would have been an interesting take. Somebody write the fic.

I could keep going but I’ll stop here for now. Stay tuned for the podcast!

[broken-clover]

(Over)Analyzing the Cards in Johnny’s Joker Trick (Part 2)

Part 2 of 2. Here’s the original post for the sake of a more fleshed out explanation and for the Joker/King cards, but to keep it simple this is just for analyzing the cards used for every character in Johnny’s Joker Trick Overdrive to see if there’s any sort of symbolic or spiritual meaning that might be behind the use of that particular card. A lot of this uses cartomancy, which isn’t always as straightforward and clear-cut as something like tarot, but this is jus all in good fun

-

Queens

Queen of Clubs- Shared between Sol Badguy, Ramlethal Valentine, and Bridget. And, first of all, let’s be real, Sol’s was first and foremost made for the reference. Queen is about 80% of his personality, if they didn’t use a queen card I’m sure he would have come to life and burned down the office. Outside of the Jacks, Sol is the only character who has a card that doesn’t match the character’s gender. Character-wise, Sol and Ram do have a bit of an overlap, being aloof, struggling socially, and having their interests fixate on a few things, but Bridget is a bit of an outlier here. The symbolism varies a lot, but generally is appears to lean into themes of self-confidence and self-reliance, as well as change. That is something that fits all three quite well, being powerful, independent and experiencing life changes (Sol attempting to settle down, Ram discovering more about being alive, and Bridget’s transition). In the Paris pattern, the Queen of Clubs is the only one not directly modeled after a historical figure, only being a generic queenly character. This may indicate a bit more open-endedness, as all three do care about identity and who they really are. In a more literal suite motif, Sol and Bridget do both primarily fight with blunt weapons, which could be seen as a metaphorical ‘club,’ and while Ram has swords, they often remain sheathed in battle instead of revealing the sharp ends.

Queen of Diamonds- Curiously, no character appear to be assigned to this one? Perhaps it is being saved for someone in the future.

Queen of Hearts- Shared between May and Jack-O Valentine. This is one of the more commonly-seen cards in this sort of motif, likely due to its inclusion in Alice in Wonderland. Because of this, it can have some dual symbolism, being a heart card that’s associated with a cruel, loveless, domineering figure. In a more general motif, both characters fit as being associated with romance and tying a lot of their character and plotline towards love and relationships with men (Johnny and Sol, respectively). The Paris pattern has the Queen of Hearts designed after the biblical Judith, a widow who saved Jerusalem by charming and killing a general that had previously sieged her city. Both characters have attempted to take the initiative to save a group of others (May running away from home in Xrd to keep her family from getting sick and Jack-O attempting to stop I-no at the cost of herself in Strive) which may also contribute. Both also command underlings in battle, which may contribute to the overall ‘queen’ motif

Queen of Spades- Shared between Millia Rage and I-no. This card has some symbolism directly from card games, as it is often viewed as being unlucky. It’s also given such flattering names as ‘the bitch’ in seven card stud poker and is often used as the old maid card as well. Both are characters who are frequently commented on for their beauty, yet have complicated issues with relationships in different ways. As a card it also tends to lead towards level-headed intellectualism and practicality, but is often less associated with emotions than the other queen cards. Both characters are often seen as cold and distant, intelligent and capable but lonely and closed off. The Paris pattern is designed after Pallas (Athena), goddess of war strategy and wisdom. In Greek mythology, the ‘Pallas’ epithet likely referred to the goddess’ battle proficiency, as it can be translated as ‘to brandish (as a weapon’) and while it is a fighting game, the two of them narratively encounter a lot of conflict with others

-

Jacks

Jack of Clubs- Shared between Axl Low, Anji Mito, and Sin Kiske. Jack cards, in general, tend to have less symbolic meaning, but the Jack of Clubs tends to mention witty intellect and memory. All three characters are defined by personal memories that they treasure, though to varying degrees, and have a playful, trickster wit to them at times. It can pertain to luck and charisma that may also prove dangerous, and, at the very least, Anji does tend to his his glib words to cause trouble. On a note of consistency, Sin is of the same suite as Ky and Sol, making them collectively a three-card straight flush

Jack of Diamonds- Shared between Nagoriyuki and Giovanna. Curiously, both are newcomers to the series. This card tends to have an association with messages and messengers, which in a meta sense may refer to the newness that they bring to the game. There also seems to be repeated mention of a lack of loyalty and an unfaithful assistant, which could fit both in Giovanna’s blase attitude towards her work and Nagoriyuki’s role as an unwilling underling to Happy Chaos. 

Jack of Hearts- This card has the most people sharing it, being a four-way appearance between Faust, Goldlewis Dickinson, Testament, and Asuka R. Kreutz. This one also has a lot of heart-based themes similar to the King and Queens, often mentioning traits like kindness, good intentions, and sincerity. Though all four of them vary in many ways, their characters tend to involve sincere intentions towards others, though it might not always pan out the way they would have hoped (especially for Asuka). All four are definitely willing to show their emotions, especially when it comes to trying to bond with others, such as Faust with Ramlethal, Goldlewis with Bridget, Testament with Dizzy and Johnny, and Asuka with Raven. There is also a poetry motif with the card that depicts the Knave of Hearts as a trickster, and while all four are not necessarily trickster figures, Faust is known for his peculiarities, Goldlewis for his alien causing mischief in fights, Testament for being unpredictable in earlier games and mysteriously surviving several near-death instances, and Asuka being a mysterious and indecipherable problem-causer for most of the series. Also, in another consistency of the suites, Testament shares the heart suite with Johnny and May

Jack of Spades- Held solely by Baiken. Spade cards in general seem to veer towards more aggressive interpretations, and that definitely suits her just fine. It often mentions violence, though there is also mention of intense passion and ruthless determination, which also fit pretty nicely. It also tends to mention riskiness, either in the form of violence or unhealthy habits like drinking. Aside from the Joker and the King of Diamonds, Baiken is the only character to have a card all to herself, which may reflect the solitary nature she held onto for many years. Though, similar to the club and heart suites, she has a connection with Bedman and Delilah in the spade suite.

[yunaloona]

Aonung x Sully!reader

reader is an amazing weaver And it’s Aonung’s of age ceremony and he asks Y/N for help with his ceremonial clothing cause he waited too long to make it and they stay up all night together making it…

~~~

It was late at night, you were drifting in and out of sleep in your separate marui because you finished your off age ceremony weeks ago, and you were finally getting used to being by yourself.

Obviously you missed you family, but it’s not like you won’t see them everyday. Lo’ak and Neteyam left months ago and that left you Kiri and Tuk.. well now just Kiri and Tuk.

Spending time in the Metkayina you got aquatinted to many of the people, a lot of them knowing you due to your amazing craftsmanship and skill in weaving.

Your mother calls it a gift from Eywa due to how diligent and fast you can get even the most difficult patterns down.

~~~

Being half way asleep you hear steps outside of your mauri. Ears perking up to the sound you grumble a bit.

Someone knocks on the outside whispering your name

“Y/N..? Hey wake up”

You groan recognizing the source of the voice.

“Go away Aonung, I’m trying to sleep.”

The boy rolled his eyes and let out a huff.

“Listen, I really need your help right now, so can you please get up?”

The genuine sound in his tone took you aback, maybe he really was in trouble and could use some help.

You raise up to see him standing in the middle of your Mauri, rubbing your eyes you yawn

“So what do you need help with?”

He seemed to liven up a bit at your willingness to assist him.

“Well.. tomorrow is my coming of age ceremony and.. I waited to long to make my ceremonial clothing.”

You deadpanned turning to lay back down

“Wait wait! Y/N I really need you to do this for me, it would be a dishonor to have not made them, I just need this one favor then I’ll leave you alone for like a week, promise”

You let out an exasperated grumble, but him not bothering you for that long sounded like heaven, plus you were lonely in your pod. Having company when you were already struggling to sleep doesn’t sound too bad.

“..mm fine”

He put on a pleased smile and set the materials next to you.

“We’re going to make an armband, a necklace, and a loincloth” he looked pleased with himself and the materials he gathered.

“Alright. Let’s get started”

You take the material

“I’ll make the jewelry pieces, you work on the loincloth.”

He nodded in agreement

~~~

It’s been hours. You both were dying of exhaustion. Weaving the materials was a lot more difficult in this state. Things that you could make easily in 30 minutes are now taking an hour do. Aonung wasn’t much help either, he didn’t really know what he was doing. You have had to stop and help him multiple times. Though you can be too hard on him, there is a lot that goes into these pieces, you were just upset he started so late.

“Why did you not start until today? Why wait so long?” You brought it up and we’re met with his eyes, he looked embarrassed to admit the reason.

“I thought this would be the easy part, I needed to gather the materials which seemed harder, I thought I could finish in a day, but… as you can see” he smirked at you pointing out the situation you both were in.

You rolled your eyes, going back working on the pieces.

~~~

You were finally done. Your fingers stung and your head throbbed. Aonung finished an hour ago and passed out on the floor, he tried helping but he ended up not being able to make it, which left it up to you.

You looked down at him, seeing how peaceful he looked, and warm.

You were used to cuddling with Tuk when you slept, she used to get scared at night so she’s always come to you for reassurance, and it became a habit of her to fall alseep in your arms.

The thought of being next to him made your heart race, but you quickly disregarded the thought,

How could you think of something like that. Especially with him. He was rude, cocky, mean, well you did like his smile, and his hair was nice, his body was very toned….

You sighed knowing that it was your tired drunken state making you think like this. You lay down closing your eye drifting away.

~~~~

30 minutes after you feel asleep, it wasn’t a good sleep though. You felt restless and anxious, something wasn’t right, you missed having your family around you, having someone close. Suddenly you feel something or rather someone against your backside and swing their arm around you.

In your state of tiredness you couldn’t comprehend what was happening but it was something that you were used to when you lived at home, you assumed it was Tuk not realizing she wasn’t there.

You drifted off again.

~~

Waking up you noticed a rather large hand covering your torso

You freeze realizing who it is and start to panic. Slowly turning you see that he is still asleep

You let out a relived sigh, but he opens his eyes, your mouth slightly agape when you see this.

“You move a lot in your sleep, you looked really uncomfortable. But you slept just fine in my arms hm?” He was smirking down at you

You lightly pushed him back sitting up.

“Don’t Aonung.” You were embarrassed, but in all honesty that was the best sleep you had since you got here.

“Well, say that it’s me repaying you for your help.. if you ever need me back here I’ll do this little sleep thing with you.” He sounded kinda genuine, you didn’t know how to feel. The guy that was kinda a pain in your side but also very protective, confident, amazing on the eyes… your mind trailed off again while staring down at him.

“Like what you see?” He was of course looking back at you, but his comment made you snap out of the trance.

You roll your eyes

“Whatever.. go get ready for your Ceremony. You have a big day today, so go.”

Your words were not harsh and you didn’t shoot down his idea, so he took that as a maybe to his suggestion.

~~~

Him leaving the mauri he wave and thanked you again “Thank you yawne” with that he left leaving you speechless.

The Olo’eyktan’s son called you yawne.

You, not even originally from this village, pretty average.. you thought there was plenty of other women in this village that could suite the requirements of his mate… but you? Obviously you’ve thought of the possibility, but your relationship with him was kinda off. Seeing him almost daily when you talked to each other it was like bickering, your friends like to say you both sound like an old married couple. You’d always find him catching glimpses of you, when you did he’d always smirk or pretend like he wasn’t. You did the same though, mapping out his features, memorizing the patterns on his skin… but that doesn’t mean you like each other.. right?

~~~~

-mini time skip-

The ceremony was amazing, the pieces you made suited him very well and they looked great on him, and he got quite the few compliments from them.

After there was a party to celebrate. You were by kiri, talking to her about ewya knows what when a guy from the village comes up to you.

“Hello Y/N” You know him as Nash’vi, recently he has been trying to talk to you more and more but in the past Kiri has said that he’d pick on and never apologized and makes her uncomfortable

“Hello..?” You’re used to him coming up to you from time to time but unless he apologized or owned up to his mistake, you would keep conversation short.

“I was wondering if you wanted to dance?” At this point Kiri had left, leaving the two of you alone

“Oh I don’t know I’m not really-“ you were cut off by someone wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Sorry but she already agreed to dance with me.” It was Aonung, your saving grace. You gave him a thankful look and Nash’vi walked away.

“Tsk” he looked aggravated at the boy walking away. You squeezed his hand catching his attention.

“So, we’re dancing now?” You gave him a smug look that he’s usually give you.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes

“Yeah, you know you want to.” You sighed smiling.

“Maybe I do?” With that he took your hand and lead you to the dance circle.

You both danced till you were tired and your feet burned. By the end of the party you could barley walk.

~~~

Going back to your mauri, Aonung offered to take you back, which you agreed.

You were leaning against him while he semi-held you up.

“Are we even now” he broke the comfortable silence. “Hm? What do you mean?” You looked up at him and he paused for a second, getting caught in them.

He thought about it for a second “..never mind I’d spend my whole life repaying you if I had the chance.” Again his words got you and your face started heating up.

“Y/N… may I court you?” Your skin was a light purple hue and you didn’t know what to say to his forwardness. He really did liked you.

You think about his request for a second.

“No” instantly he looked disheartened, but you weren’t finished. “No courting Ma’Aonung I’d love be your mate for life.. I see you.”

Now his face was heated, looking down at you he put his forehead to yours

“I see you Y/N”

With that you leaned into each other closing the space, and kissed.