#unfortunately i would go insane without it i think

[dylansfavwife]

cool tats

୨ৎ summary : you meet matt in the coffee shop when working

you cursed to yourself as you heard the bell ding, signalling someone had come into the store. the cold air from outside filtered in until the door closed behind them.

it was nearing the end of your shift and you were exhausted but you quickly put on a strained smile as you looked up to the customer who’d just walked in.

you’re voice faltered as you made eye contact, his blue piercing eyes hooked onto you. his hair was tousled and slight messy and his face was soft as he smiled at you. his cheeks and nose pink due to the bitter cold outside. he seemed to be in his early twenties just like you.

“wha- what would you like?” you questioned, cringing at the slight stutter in your words. he just sends you a sweet smile, filling you with butterflies.

“could i just get three pumpkin spice lattes?” he asked, his eyes having quickly flickered to the menu screen.

“yeah of course, is this to go?” you asked.

“unfortunately” he replied looking back over to the window where you could see the strong winds swaying the trees, you chuckled at his words, missing how his smile grew from your laugh.

“well uhh what’s your name” you questioned trying to hide your interest as he replied “matt”.

you smiled now much more genuinely than before, “well matt, just wait here a second and i’ll have your drinks” you explained as he simply nodded, he had just met you but something about the way you’d said his name left his heart racing.

you walked over to the coffee machine as you concentrated, all your movements precise as you made the drinks. making coffee was an easy job to you which meant you could get lost in your thoughts.

your thoughts were preoccupied with the man, matt, standing at the counter. he was insanely attractive and you cursed the world that he had to see you on a working day were you were filled with exhaustion, your eyebags prominent.

you walked back over to him, the drinks all on a drinks tray for easier carrying as you put his drinks down on the counter.

“three pumpkin spice lattes for you” you announced as he walked up smiling gratefully.

“thank you…” he paused as he read your name of your name tag, his hand coming up to push his hair out of his face nervously, you now noticed the tattoos which littered his arm and you felt entranced by them. they felt contrasting to his seemingly soft personality.

“cool tats” you complimented without thinking about it much, he laughed as he pulled out his phone to pay.

“thank you, have you got any?” he questioned his eyes flickering over your body, his clear intrigue caused you to blush as the payment transaction went through.

“oh just a little one on my hip” you explained, your voice so entrancing to matt as his eyes twinkled with intrigue. “oh yeah?” he smirked slightly as you looked away quickly, the eye contact leaving your skin burning with sensation.

“yeah, i really wanna get more though” you said starting to ramble as he chuckled again, his laugh deep and genuine.

“i think you would suit more tattoos” he complimented. you thanked him trying to hide the giant smile threatening to fill your whole face.

you both started at each for a moment, no words passed, he then quickly cleared his throat “well i should get going, my brothers are waiting for their drinks” he pointed out picking up the coffee you had now forgotten about.

“yeah of course, have a good evening” you spoke, your voice soft as he smiled. he bid you goodbye as his eyes looked you up and down once more before he walked back out into the freezing cold as snow began to fall.

as the bell dinged with his exit, did you realise you forgot to ask for his number much too caught up in the moment. you sighed unsure if you’d ever see him again.

a.n : i love writing some fluff

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[stergeon]

at some point i will figure out how to write the post-canon, post-empire edelgard autonomy fic of my dreams. it just feels like a very big task and maybe like with playing the dane, i’m simply not old and traumatized enough to manage it yet.

but my vision is thus: it’s set years (realistically, decades) after the end of crimson flower, when everything has gone as right as it can possibly go. fódlan is thriving. the social reforms have taken effect. the nobility system is nearly eliminated, if not entirely so, with titles made merely symbolic. social mobility, welfare, and prosperity are high. there’s an explosion in arts and culture and technology. brigid and duscur have gained independence; relations with sreng and almyra are much improved; heck, maybe they've even figured it out with dagda. in my most idealistic version, leicester and faerghus would eventually be ceded back to become autonomous regions, essentially disbanding the adrestian empire. rule is no longer hereditary, but merit-based. there's a roadmap for the future, and everything is on track—and more than that, people at all points on the power spectrum have already seen it bear fruit. with or without edelgard, it will be pursued. there's buy-in. they believe.

of course, it's not perfect—nothing can be—but edelgard's vision has been fulfilled. the people are empowered. humanity is free. fódlan has healed.

and somehow, she's had enough time to resolve her goals outside of politics, too. those who slither in the dark have been eradicated. edelgard and lysithea's second crests have been successfully removed, allowing them to live if not full lives, then substantially longer ones than they would have with their twin crests intact. who knows—maybe she finally gets around to having that wedding.

point for point, every item listed in edelgard's manifesto has been checked off. the ghosts of her past have been laid to rest. she can finally take off her crown. she can finally pursue the quiet, humble life she's wanted for so long. she can finally breathe.

... but can she?

edelgard is nothing if not driven. her intelligence, vision, and sheer willpower allowed her to plan and execute a revolution against two countries and the most powerful institution on the continent, all while she was still a teenager. as royalty, her life was never truly hers even before she became heir to the adrestian throne, with all the additional baggage of survivor's guilt and the desire for vengeance and her need to ensure nothing that happened to her can ever happen to anyone else, ever again.

so what happens when that drive has no outlet? what happens when someone who has been constantly in motion, constantly working and planning and preparing every spare second of every day since she was fourteen years old, suddenly has to stand still? what happens when someone whose hands have been bound for so long—first literally in the dungeons of enbarr, then by the weight and responsibilities of her crown—is set free?

being edelgard, she would step away from the throne, no matter how hard it was for her to give up control. she's always been focused on the endgame, and she knows that if she doesn't let go, she'll be setting the wrong tone for fódlan's future. she's too devoted to that endgame to cling to power much longer than she needs to, though i could see her making some excuses and trying to iron out just a few more things to buy herself some more time to mentally prepare before she's done for good.

but who would she be then? who is the woman without the crown? what becomes of a machine once it is no longer needed, when it has made itself obsolete? what about when that machine is a person with legs and arms and an innate unwillingness to gather dust on a shelf?

what happens when you get everything you want? what happens when all your wanting has been for others to thrive, and now you have to want only for yourself? how do you discover who you are when you've spent decades being everything for everyone else? how do you find meaning again? how do you find purpose?

after a lifetime of devotion and passion and movement, how do you learn to sit with yourself, and be quiet, and be still?

gosh, i would love to meet her. i would love to pick her brain. but boy, i do not envy the work that girl has to do.

[ghostzzy]

yk. i really have the emotional permanence of a fruit fly. every single week on monday i’m like “the weekend will never exist again” and then every single week on friday i’m like “i will simply act as if monday could never happen to someone like me”

[keeps-ache]

at some point i'll start recording while i draw. mostly cuz i want to see what i did to get to this point but it'd be neat... if i did it hvhsd

[catdammitjackie]

.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[capsi-cuminme]

Blowing Off Steam

summary: in which you're very stressed, and sparring is the only way you can destress. you're having trouble finding a partner though, so logan volunteers to help.

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mild swearing, fingering, some dirty talk, lots of horny thoughts, 18+ MDNI

author's note: ahhhh sweaty logan on a fighting mat is all i need. anyways, thank you guys sm for the response on my other fic, as a gift i bring you smut ;)

•──✦──•

You’re stressed. You’ve been overworking yourself, you know it, and you need to relax, destress. Your body feels wound up with tension and energy, and you’re unable to release it. It’s not like you have super complicated abilities that mess with your mind and make you lose your shit, no - that’s Jean’s set of troubles, not yours. Your ability is simple enough - super strength. 

So what is it that isn’t simple then? Right. Someone you can actually truly train with and exert yourself out with. There aren’t a load of people who can physically keep up with your strength, not except Colossus, and even he’s just a kid. So when, at times, you want to blow some steam by training, you have next to no one to do it with. 

Or, you didn’t, not until Logan came along. You’ve sparred with him a couple of times, but only for excessively short periods of time, due to you not being able to keep your shit together because of his overwhelming attractiveness. Honestly, you don’t think it’s your fault that you’re unable to focus; his arms look like he could rip apart logs of wood with them, his shoulders are so wide that they’re practically made for people to rest their ankles on, and his demeanor - his understated, wolfish demeanor makes you go insane. 

And as if all these things weren’t bad enough on their own, they tend to get exponentially exemplified whenever you guys spar. Obviously, fighting makes him breathe hard and stuff. So your life becomes even tougher. 

Really, you aren’t trying to be horny around him all the time. But that’s the thing. You’re pent up, stressed, overworked. Being a member of the X-Men means that it gets really hard to get laid due to several factors, and then when your coworkers are so hot? God help you. 

As you sit on the gym’s bench, staring at the sparring mats, you strain your mind to think of someone to spar with. You could ask Colossus, the kid’s always more than ready and could give you some competition on one of your bad days. But there’s too much of a risk. You’re already restless with energy, itching to let yourself go; in case the kid isn’t prepared or you get too excited, you’d end up hurting him, which is something you can’t risk. 

You could maybe go to Ororo and Scott, ask them to come at you together? The two of them together would successfully tire you out. Maybe they’d become a bit more than you’re mentally willing to handle. You don’t want to have to strategise at every step. 

God, you just need someone who can handle whatever you throw at them without having to think too much. Unfortunately for you, there’s only one person in the mansion who can do that. 

“Oh hey Bub, what you doing here? Got no classes to teach?” The somehow smooth but gravelly voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you turn to look at Logan, entering the gymnasium. 

Internally rejoicing at his choice of clothes - the white wifebeater under the oversized jacket - while simultaneously praying that he isn’t here to stay, you get up from your seat to speak to him. “Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to blow off some steam.”

“And you’re blowing off steam by… sitting on the bench?” He raises an eyebrow, looking at you questioningly. 

You sigh through your nose, smiling exhaustedly. “No, genius. I was confused about what I should do to destress.”

Your prayers go down the drain as you notice his eyes light up at the prospect of a sparring partner. Nodding to the mats, he asks, “You wanna go?”

Tongue in cheek, you review your options for a moment. Go to bed frustrated and stressed, or fight an extremely attractive man who’s also able to keep up with you. 

“Sure, let’s go.” 

And that’s how you find yourself attempting to elbow Logan in the face. He dodges and takes a step back, but not too far. Turning, you see the grin etched on his face. Taking it as a challenge, you feign a movement to the right, but attack from the left. Your arm aims for his face, but he deflects it by pushing your momentum to one side, stepping away and behind you and putting you into a headlock.

“What’s up?” he murmurs into your ear. “Can’t figure out what to do? Are you really that tired, huh?” 

You felt his chest heave from behind you, his warm breath tickling your ear. Body humming with excitement and mind buzzing with the thrill of finally being in an equal match, you grit your jaw, throwing your head back against his. As much as you enjoy the tone of his voice, you hope it hits him in the mouth just so he can shut up, because being aroused is not something you’re looking forward to. 

Yes you’re horny, maybe even a little perverted, but you truly don’t have any ulterior motives. 

Logan hisses as his grip on you loosens. Shimmying your way out of his grip, you lunge at him, arms ready to swing, but instead of throwing a punch when you get near, you use your leg to swipe at his legs, resulting in him landing on his back.

Silently rejoicing, you straddle him, pulling your arm back to land a punch on his jaw, but unfortunately he grabs hold of your arms before you can do that. As a result, you’re left heaving on top of him, arms immobile, face right above his. You don’t miss the way he breathes, sweat trickling down his forehead, eyes glinting with something you can’t fully identify. You also don’t miss the dampness of your underwear, the electricity you feel where you’re sitting on him. You realize you’re playing a dangerous game. Just as you’re about to make a move to get up, Logan suddenly moves you by the grip he has on your arms, slamming you onto the mats with considerable force. He looms on top of you, looking down. You squeak in indignant surprise, but he pins your arms on both sides of your face, lodging his thigh between yours. You gasp, not expecting the sudden escalation of events. “Darling, you know I’ve got a heightened sense of smell, right?” he asks, drawling. “I can smell your arousal, practically feel how you’re soaking down there.” Eyes wide and mouth agape, you stare up at him, not sure what to say, how to apologize. “Logan, I- I’m sor-” “Don’t have to say a word, Darling, I’m the same as you,” he emphasizes his point by rolling his hips against yours. You whimper quietly, feeling his erection pressing against your clit. “If I’m not interpreting this correctly, you can stop me,” he hums, getting closer to your face. Waiting for your approval, he looks at you. You close the distance between the both of you, borderline moaning as you feel his tongue grazing against your lips, asking to enter your mouth. More than willing, you grant him entry freely, whimpering as his tongue explores your mouth. You break the kiss, short of breath, but your distance doesn’t last long. Logan is sloppily making out with you as he grinds against you. Your bodies move hurriedly, in urgent need of release. 

“Lo,” you gasp between the kisses, “need you so bad, please.” He complies, hands leaving your arms as he gets on his haunches and quickly unbuttons your pants, pulling them down. His hand moves to your pussy, thumb pressing against your clit, gauging your reaction. Your eyes widen due to the unexpected movement, and you gasp. Satisfied with your response, he rubs short, quick circles against your clit, stimulating you as he slowly pushes in one finger. You moan, hands reaching down to stop the sudden intrusion. It’s been a while since you’ve done this, so your body’s sensitivity is at an all-time high. Logan doesn’t care, swatting away your hands, slipping in another finger. He moves them in shallow thrusts, stretching you out while looking for the spot that’ll finally get you wound up enough for his liking. You bite your lip to keep yourself silent, staring at the way Lo’s fingers pump in and out of you, making a mess out of your cunt. Suddenly, his fingers press into that spot that you’re never quite able to reach yourself, making you let out a loud moan. “Lo, Lo please, right there please, don’t stop-” you break your own voice off with an even louder whimper, eyes closing due to the pleasure. Logan watches you with keen eyes trained on your face. He speeds up his fingers and thumb, enjoying your reaction thoroughly, as it ignites something deep within him. He palms himself lightly, hissing as he realizes how hard he is. “Shit, darling, you make me insane,” he mumbles, guiding one of your hands to the bulge in his jeans, making you feel him. Your mouth falls open with a little “oh,” as you feel him. You try to palm him to relieve some of his tension, but fail as his fingers pump in and out of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. “O- oh God, Lo, I’m cumming, please please please-” you moan loudly as your orgasm crashes over you, thrashing on the mat. Logan holds down your hips, continuing his languid movements, easing you out of the feeling in waves. As you finally relax, catching your breath, you look up at him, unsure of what comes next. Usually by this point, guys tended to take their own pants off. Logan’s were still very much on. Before you could verbalize your confusion, he speaks. “I think we’ve blown enough steam off in the gym,” he chuckles. “I don’t want Charles to gim’me looks the entire month. I say we take this upstairs bub, what d’ya say?”

You stare up at him, wondering why he’s even asking, when there’s only one possible answer you could make out through the haziness of your mind. “Yes, let’s go.”

[theeternalwombtarot]

your persons intimate fantasies about you (18+)

Message: you guys over here on tumblr have the nsfw covers and the covers for TikTok and Instagram are sweeter because unfortunately TikTok is sensitive and so is Instagram 💀 anyways, we’re in Scorpio season and I felt like it was time for me to do another 18+ reading, I hardly ever do these, they all make nervous 🙄✋🏾but for you, I will do it because who doesn’t want the tea on what their persons fantasies are about them let’s literally be for real. Stop looking at me I’m embarrassed 😞. Let’s just hurry up and do it.

***

pile one: The first card out was the sun card upright pile one, I've got some channeled messages as well that I've pulled out this person just wants to make you happy, they just want to please you. You're the top priority in their fantasies about you, I get the imagery of someone working extra hard, doing everything in their power to make sure you cum first if not multiple times, it's almost like they wouldn't even care if they finished themselves. They think you'd look pretty during sex or that your faces and moans would further push them to fuck you with their best effort. This person also may feel like you're a tough one or have a strong energy outside of the bedroom in your day-to-day life this person wants you to melt in their hands and submit to them, I'm also hearing they want you to be completely exhausted afterward, out of breath, or they want to be put you straight to sleep. Some of these people are masculine energies and have really heavy dominant traits or tendencies, care for you, adore you, may want to protect you, or be protective of you.

There's a lot of imagery of someone lying behind you or draping a heavy arm over you when you guys are finished or watching you sleep to admire their accomplishment or to make sure you're okay. I also pulled "acts of service (pleasure, aftercare, etc.) from my channeled messages so that kind of confirms the energy I'm getting from this person. They may be the type to run you a warm bath afterward, help you clean up, or make sure everything is to your liking afterward. This person is going to prioritize your needs every time, anything you do for them in the bedroom or sexually I heard "would be nice." but it's never their top priority. You may be really pretty or be someone who is really put together or would go into intimacy, makeup, and hair done, looking nice, I kind of almost get like an old school wifey vibe, the way beauty ritual for your husband/partner was a thing, like pampering yourself, putting on a little makeup, doing your hair, or putting on something your partner would like before they come home to you. This person imagines you looking good before sex with them and may even feel like you almost look your best but they fantasize about ruining all that, mascara streaming down your face, hair looking insane, lipstick swiped off, etc.

This person loves your face or your features either way though so you'll always be pretty to them or this person is really in awe of your physical appearance. Pulled "Cancerian features (soft bodies, curves, breast, soft features, etc.)" This person thinks your natural features are very sweet but also thinks that you're very sexy, you may have full hips, or a soft body shape, a nice waist or midriff, you may have big boobs or a soft or full butt too and this person is really obsessed with that, imagines themselves in between your thighs if you're a woman, imagines themselves caressing your skin or grabbing handfuls of your ass. I'm getting like doughy imagery, like a Greek goddess or even people who have similar body types to doja cat or someone with a south African body type or maybe even someone Somali. This person thinks your figure is the embodiment of a whole lot of woman. getting "this is a man's world, but not without a woman." This person is obsessed with you pile one, you're extremely desirable to them. I get a lot of pussy worship from this pile too, if you're a woman this person fantasizes about eating you out or lapping away at you or sticking their fingers in it.

Pulled "wet pussy." too, this person thinks you're hiding a slip in slide in between your legs and fantasizes about you being wet for them or fantasizes about what it would feel like to stick their hand in your panties or discover that you are aroused. which one of you are water signs, it's sticky in here. 😟. I haven't even gotten to the second row of cards in my spread, this person just has a lot on their mind, they dreams about you often, has wet dreams about you or fantasize about being intimate with you like clockwork, they should be getting paid for it due to all the time they devote to thinking of you. This person dreams of you desiring them though or being impressed with them, you being needy or them being the object of all your desires or someone you ache for or spend a lot of time fantasizing about. If this person is quiet about their desires or nonchalant about things like this, I hope you know they're pretending. This person fantasizes about you coming undone all over them, tearing up during orgasms or releasing high-pitched moans or making all types of outlandish vocalizations while they f*ck you. They want you all to themselves and if they're spiritual or are into spiritual thinking they fantasize about a soul-deep connection with you that makes your desire for them magnified and out of control.

I was just listening to "any time, any place" by Janet Jackson yesterday, and I had "my heart belongs to you" by Jodeci stuck in my head yesterday, I absolutely get 90s baby-making music vibes from this person. This person wants to worship you. This person wants to drag you around on the bed, pick you up and toss you around, or loves to be hands-on, this person likes to talk you through it, will tell you good job for squirting and creaming. LMAO nooo! the intro lyrics to "my heart belongs to you" being exactly how this person feels, go look at the lyrics immediately. This person also feels like you're a little shy about sex or are usually very quiet about your desires and like to keep them to yourself and this person thinks this is cute or this turns them on. I also pulled the king of cups but it landed sideways, this person is extremely sweet on you but the sideways position of the card leads me to believe this person is sweet on you and wants to cater to you romantically and be obsessed and cuddly with you but in bed sort of has a switch that they flip. This your man???? I don't know friend I had to stand up out of my seat and clap..

channeled messages I pulled:

"Relieving period cramps or menstrual pain through penetration"

"Favorite place? ; inside you."

"Cancerian features (soft bodies, curves, breast, soft features,,"

"wet p*ssy."

"exactly someone's type."

"finger f*cking (knuckles deep, rings on fingers,,)" yall need to be stopped.

"favorite positions/taking notes"

"eyes tearing up"/"coming undone."

special spots (g-spot,a-spot, erogenous zones on your body) this person knows what you like or will study you and wants to hit all the right spots repeatedly

"desire to please"

"wet dreams"

"sex after marriage or delayed gratification"

"acts of service (pleasure, after care, etc.")

"worship of eachothers divinity / divine feminine worship/ divine masculine worship"

"having sex in public , "any time any place"" (this person likes the idea of car sex with you, you being needy, or not being able to wait until you get home to sleep with them)

"obsessed with your physique"

"first to break celibacy or take virginity"

channeled music:

"any time, any place" -Janet Jackson (miss freak-a-leak supreme)

"Feenin'" -Jodeci

"My heart belongs to you" -Jodeci

"Just the two of us" - Bill Withers

"It's a man's world" - James Brown

"At Last" -Etta James

extras:

this person has sloppy or big handwriting

this person is a quick thinker, is witty, or pays close attention

this person has calloused hands or does a lot of work with their hands

"I will survive" - Gloria Gaynor (this song came on auto-play and was really distracting to me, I almost got up and did a back flip and put on an entire performance, you may remind this person of this song or something like it, I'm channeling a lot of 70s energy or 70s feminine energy, this person may think of you that way or you give them 70s sex symbol energy, think Pam Grier, big breasted and natural, supple skin, big hair, glamour, etc. )

beauty competitions or pageants or feminine displays of beauty like burlesque is the energy you give this person

Etta James or Beyonce in Cadillac Records (you really remind this person of vintage women in history or if you're a man vintage male figures in history, there's something this person picks up when they think of you that's very vintage, classic, romanticized or antique and valuable)

you remind this person of classic recipes or like angel food cake, classic vanilla recipes, homemade things or nostalgia specific to fragrance, touch, and auditory stimuli like music or melodies.

this person likes to eat, they're an eater and you might be as well, is a fan of fine dining but also is a fan of oral sex and likes it done to them as well, is a big fan of how you suck dick if you do oral is big in this connection. if you've never gotten good oral, this persons about to change your life or thinks of doing so, mouth wide open, chin dripping type of people.

blankets or bed being a mess, or like pillow feathers being all over the place

*****

pile two: there's a lot going on in this pile two but I feel like this reading is about to change your life or give you some huge take away, if this person is someone you're romantically invested with this is more than just a telltale on what they want to do to you. I immediately pulled the three of cups card and I was like ??? but there's a message here about this person's sexuality and sexual experiences being connected to their love lives or romance, this person has very heavy Scorpio energy, they're obsessive and possessive and heavily devoted in love but they want to make people fight for their love or fight for their commitment and devotion. This person may have third parties or like to keep their options open or may like a lot of attention and get a lot of attention but they fantasize about everything about you captivating them and making them change their ways, put their walls down, and commit/marry you.

They fantasize about you going out of their way to earn their love and devotion and then they fantasize about how they're gonna fuck and make love to you after you earn it as a reward. I pulled "best you've ever had" from the channeled messages too. This person is taken up by you and sort of admires your beauty and admires you like you're this persons "little love" I heard but they're about to turn you every which way but loose if you devote yourselves to them and prove that you truly love and care for them. This person is afraid of abandonment or has trouble with commitment but they don't really on the inside on an internal scale. this person has layers or is a complex individual but you're the one who understands them or you understand the interworking's of their mind.

This person fantasizes about exploring sex and intimacy with you or exploring each other's bodies. This person may need trust and emotional intimacy and connection to get it up for people or to even consider having sex. This person is used to being desired or people lusting over them but that is a surface level idea and they understand it's temporary unless it's built on the right foundation. They may be a virgin or be saving themselves but most people would assume the opposite. This person fantasizes of driving you wild or making you needy and crave sex with them or crave their touch, I'm channeling the energy of that scene in 40 days and 40 nights when he finally gets the girl and they don't have penetrative sex but he brings her to an orgasm with just a flower alone, like this person wants you to want them that bad. Tugging on their belt loops when you hug them, wanting to smell them, not being able to get enough of their embrace, like that!! I'm also channeling the song "Summertime" by Ella Fitzgerald and how gorgeous her voice is in that song and how in flow she is with the male harmonizer on the record. They're trying to fuse souls with you, they want to make music with you, the music being you moaning loudly.

This person imagines that you have really high-pitched moans or orgasms or they try to imagine what you'd sound like during sex by the tone or frequency of your voice, they love your voice. Thinking of you moaning drives them insane as well, one of their fantasies is to make you yell or have you be really loud to the point where other people can hear you but they don't care or aren't ashamed. If you're the type of person to cover your mouth or try to be quiet they're going to hold your hands back when they know you're close. This person is like a hopeless romantic at heart like they're badly hoping you'll love them through their setbacks or their issues to the point in which they grow, heal, and leave all that behind. You may be someone whose a little prone to loving unconditionally or loving people through rough times in their lives and you'll get your happily ever after through that energy of being exactly who you are.

this person knows how sweet you are or picks up on it when you have a hard time when they're away even if you try to put up facades or pretend, and they really like that you want them, that you crave their attention and quality time. If you're crazy and needy they love that about you. This person needs to be loved unconditionally within this lifetime. You're their person. This person is really into the idea of you guys both equally giving and receiving romantically but also sexually. This person fantasizes that you'd do anything to please them and they you. This person fantasizes about fucking you dizzy and making you forget about anyone else you've ever liked or cared for or ever wanted to be with. They see the whole nine yards with you too, the house, the marriage, the kids, the wealth!! PUT IT ON EM' MAKE EM' WANNA MARRY ME!!!

This person also fantasizes about little bouts of intimacy between the two of you especially if you guys are waiting for sex till after you're married or till after you're ready whenever that may be. they fantasize about sloppy kisses with you, getting hot and heavy and almost getting carried away and they fantasize about fingering you and the sounds you'll make when they do, they also know and think about how wet you get for them or how tight you are just over two fingers. They're obsessed with your face and your eyes too, you may have big eyes or eyes that catch a sparkle or a lot of light, and they're obsessed with your eyes and lashes, they also fantasize about messing up your lipstick or your lip combo or being covered in kiss marks by you or covered in your lipstick. lol or like kind of comedic vibe like them coming out a closet with you in public covered in kiss marks and your lipstick, looking crazy. A connection between the two of you will be very passionate and hot and heavy to the point where your friends will be able to feel the desire radiating off the two of you and after you have sex for the first time it'll be even wilder. You may even have an anonymous or faceless blog of your own when you're a little older or some years into your relationship or start writing a book to share about your sex experiences or romance.

channeled messages I pulled:

"worship of each other's divinity, divine feminine worship/divine masculine worship"

"exactly someone's type."

"Cancerian features (soft bodies, curves, breasts, and soft features)" Your person really loves your boobs and your skin, they feel like your boobs fit perfectly in their hands or they love your nipples.

favorite positions/taking notes. Your person is gonna study the way your body reacts to things, the sounds you make, if your breath quickens, what makes you cum the fastest, etc. They're gonna make it their lives work to know exactly what you need

"desire to please"

"acts of service (pleasure, aftercare, etc.) this person is going to be extremely obsessed with you, I just heard "whatever you'd like my love."

"relieving period cramps through penetration" I'm getting the energy that this persons going to do whatever they can to make you feel happy and comfortable like I feel like in early stages of your relationship this person would want to cater to you when you're on your menstrual cycle if you're a woman, buying you gifts, buying flowers, buying you food or sending food to your house, getting you a heating pad or making sure your water cup is full and you have the medication you need or the sanitary products you need after ya'll are done waiting they'll def be doubling all that plus sex for added relief. I'm hearing this person doesn't care if you bleed all over their sheets either.

"having sex in public. "any time, any place."

"finger fucking (knuckles deep, rings on fingers, etc.)" I feel like this person is going to live to have their fingers in your twat in early years of your connection, like they genuinely enjoy hearing your reaction to their fingers, watching your face and feeling you cum all over their fingers. But they'll be really quiet and respectful about the things you do like not telling their friends or dodging questions intending to pry on your intimate lives but will encourage you or really like it when you tell your friends about what you guys do or brag about your intimate lives to your friends.

"best you've ever had." ("and the only.") I heard them add. EEOOWWW! 😛😋 that's like their favorite thing ever, they love that.

"spending money/spoiling" prepare for Cartier and Hermes!!

"wet dreams" bros waking up in a puddle-

"medicine for the soul." aww, this person feels like you make them all better like spending time with you replenishes them of energy and optimism

"wet pussy." hasn't even had it, they clearly just knows intuitively.

channeled music:

"Smooth operator" - Sade

Tennessee whiskey - Chris Stapleton (the lyrics on this one are incredibly resonate, listen or look this one up, especially the lyric: "but when you pulled out your heart I didn't waste it.")

"back to black" - amy winehouse

"you know I'm no good" - amy winehouse

"there is something on your mind" - Big Jay Mcneely

"I only have eyes for you" - The flamingos

"I'd rather go blind" - Etta James

"A Sunday kind of love" - Etta James

extras:

nonchalant-like behavior or pretending to be nonchalant in the beginning

sweetheart

true colors

true love/heart/personality

devotion

scorpio!!!! / being testy in love

amy winehouse in general and her energy or music

"earn it." "how bad do you want me."

Mr. Grey Type or Fifty Shades of Grey being really similar to the connection

Jazz

blues music

red lipstick/lip combos

blankets being a mess, pillow feathers being all over the room

the wedding sex scene in twilight, longing for it, waiting for it, not wanting to hurt you during sex, the bed breaking, getting pregnant right away or not having to try very hard to get pregnant

"brag about it. / "telling the groupchat"

legs being sore, trying to get out of bed and immediately falling/not being able to walk straight

hair being tangled the morning after

turning you every which way but loose

"someone tell that man to get off of her."

big wedding

well endowed/big d*ck/big surprise

pent up frustration, "waited for you,"

bedroom being a mess the morning after (clothes on the floor, bottles, decorations all over if there was any, blankets on the floor, etc.)

jealous women or men, people wondering what about you has your person wrapped around your finger

"wifey. wifey. wifey." (future song trend on tiktok)

mad you left them in bed by themselves, will come to find you, carry you back

handsy/touchy

likes your perfumes or colognes or your taste in fragrances

likes your hair/likes it long, will help you do or style your hair or will help you with your hair

likes your eyes and lashes

"pretty face man"

Etta James and Leonard chess and their relationship portrayed in Cadillac records (him being taken up with her despite third party, the scene where he caresses her face AND YOU CAN LITERALLY HEAR HOW SOFT IT IS UGH!!, buying her stuff/going out of his way to do stuff for her, caring for her or sympathizing with her past/inner child trauma when she's in vulnerable states)

pile three: I'm starting off the reading upright with the "Death" card. I feel like this person is someone from your past or someone that you've departed from or since left or aren't in communication with anymore. This person fantasizes about immense change or some sort of full-force transformation that results in them being married to you and having the full ten of cups energy, everything they've ever wanted, the kids, the dog, the house, the fish, the luxury mommy SUV. everything!!! this person fantasizes about being everything you want and giving everything you want, both in general and sexually. If this isn't a current connection I kind of get the vibe that there was a huge ending or tower moment that resulted in this relationship or connection closing out altogether but this person has not yet let you go whether they've seemingly moved on or whatever!!! You're on their mind a lot as well and they sort of feel like you're above them or like they don't deserve you (and they're probably right) but they're obsessed with you.

The reading started with Creep by Radiohead on shuffle too! This person may have communicated with you a lot through music when ya'll were invested and connected or there were several songs that you resonated with or that they resonated with regarding their connection. This person may fantasize about making love to you to one of you guy's old playlists made about your relationship. Tennessee Whiskey could've been significant to you in this connection as well. ALL THE LYRICS!! This person may like to drink too or like whiskey themselves, be a smoker or be a person with bad habits and bad vices. I think this person fantasizes about your heart still being in this connection and your body too. Like they wonder and fantasize about you up late at night losing it over them both emotionally and sexually. they fantasize about you not being able to get off with anyone else or you thinking about their sex when you're with other people. They fantasize about you not wanting anyone but them or having a hard time dealing with the fact that they're away and can't have them. This person feels exactly like this over you and has a hard time getting aroused or getting it up for other people unless they think about you.

This person misses the way it feels the way it feels to fuck you, if they're a man they may like being deep inside you and watching you struggle to take it all or they like the sound you make when they put it in. Or they like when you rub on them or tug on them when you guys fuck. This person's hands may have been extremely attractive to you or something about hands and fingers are significant. I like hear them saying they didn't touch you enough or savor the feeling of your skin enough or your body or they didn't finger you enough. I don't know what's up with the collective and fingering today.. anyways, whoever you're with or whatever you're doing this person feels like they have a lot of competition or a lot of options or they've been watching you and you look really good and they're literally craving your touch and sex with you. This person really likes what your vagina smells like their idea of a good day is putting their face in between your legs and leaving it there. disregard that if you don't own a vagina but I don't know either way your smell both natural and fragrance choices turn this person on or they miss it.

this person is really is really turned on by your confidence and your magnetism they fantasize about being your man or your woman or your lifelong partner and people noticing how hot you are and being upset that they're the ones who get to fuck you every day or wake up next to you. Like this person wants to be the boyfriend mentioned in "teenage dirtbag" by Wheatus who has the hot girl, drives the hot girl and doesn't give a fuck about the people who eye their person because they're irrelevant to them. This person also feels nobody fucks you like they do or like you and them know how good they make you feel or they fantasize about you having that sort of mindset. they also feel like you were designed for them or made for them like they feel like they like the way you wrap around them or how your inner walls feel or flip that to resonate with you if necessary.

I'm totally getting "complicated" by Avril, this person absolutely feels like you spending time away from them is you acting like you don't care. they're so stuck on you. They miss your mouth too, whatever you do, whatever type of oral you give is like their greatest weakness, they reminisce about the way they feel in your hands or the way your fingers feel. This person is obsessed with everything about you and it drives them completely insane.

channeled messages I pulled:

"releasing period cramps through penetration" if you're a feminine energy this person may have knowledge of you having heavy intolerable cramps and fantasizes about being the one to take care of that for you or make you feel better. it's weird because it's like this person after whatever you guys have been through now wants to be the most considerate, the most sugary sweet, the most giving, etc.

"Cancerian features (soft bodies, curves, breasts, soft features)" I've pulled this for every pile but there's a lot of energy in this one, they envy whoever gets to feel you in their hands, their obsessed with the way your skin feels or the way your body or waist fits in their hands, you may have a smaller frame or be shorter, they miss the way your ass feels, they've always loved that about you, and they miss your breasts, they love to put your nipples in their mouth or want to motorboat you really bad lol!

"mocking/playfullness" this person may fantasize about making fun of your moans or this is something they used to do

"worship of your divinity/ divine feminine worship" you have a lot of divine feminine energy or this person feels like you're an earth angel or you're extremely magical and they want to tell you all about that while they're fucking you, I just picture someone talking to you, affirming you, talking you through it during the act

"sex after marriage or delayed gratification" I get the energy that this person really wants to marry you but that they're also in a constant energy of longing or craving you/feeling like they have to earn sex with you and your time and attention

"eyes tearing up/coming undone" this person fantasizes about giving their all to you and fucking you until you lose it and can't handle it anymore

"medicine for the soul" this person really feels like you make them feel extremely good/make them feel better like if they're feeling upset you always fix it or if they're feeling low they know exactly who to go to. or they feel like you have a healing/magic touch.

"acts of service (pleasure, after care, etc.)” this person really desires to give back to you or give you everything you’ve wanted or did want. I get the vibe that you guys relationship the first time around had a lot of you being the type of person to pour into this person and they feel like they owe you. They want to give back to you sexually and emotionally and prove to you that they care for you I feel like

“Oral sex (sloppy head or pussy eating)” this one is sort of confirmation I feel like this person is obsessed with your mouth or your oral skills and the way you go down on them and they miss it. I feel like they’re tired of going through life with people don’t know how to suck dick or eat pussy it annoys them lol

“Period sex” this person may have done some spiritual research or has educated themselves on soul ties or even just if women enjoy period sex or not and I feel like this person wants to try that with you or see how you’ll behave when your/their senses are heightened like that, they like they idea of fucking you year around, no pauses, not for anything not even blood

“Nobody fucks you like I do.” LMFAO yes!!! This person swears by this..

“Spending money/spoiling” this person fantasizes a lot about taking you places or going places with you, buying you gifts or giving you gifts or feeling like they’re spoiling you or giving you everything you’ve wanted desire and deserve. They may even think about sex after romantic gestures

“Appreciation/affection” this person may have a love language of physical touch, is touchy, loves kissing you, holding you close, grabbing on you or showering you with love and affection. I feel like they’re tired fantasize about that in general but especially about kissing you all over your body, kissing your neck, kissing places they know make you aroused, they fantasize about worshiping your body with affection

“Studies you/pays close attention to body language” this person may have grown up with you or has known you for a long time, I’m getting a message here about it having watched you come into yourself, having learned the things you liked over the years, in general but also in the sexual sense once you guys started being sexually active. I think that’s where this person gets this idea from that they know your body like no other or nobody can fuck you like they do, this person knows what you like, what you want, where to kiss you, where to touch you..

channeled music:

"Girl I'm Gonna Miss You" -Milli Vanilli

"Killing Me Softly" - Fugees

"Can't Take My Eyes off of You" - Lauryn Hill

"Creep" - Radiohead

"Tennesse Whiskey" - Chris Stapleton

"Complicated" - Avril Lavigne

"Ain't No Sunshine" - Bill Withers

"Don't Know Why" - Norah Jones (and this lyric especially: something has to make you mine)

extras:

nostalgia or reminiscing

never-ending longing

"fucking someone else to the thought of you."

stalking your social media/looking at your posts over and over

[lov-3-rs]

Let’s be Honest

Simon Riley (Bodyguard) x Reader!!

(mdni 18+)

Your father is an undercover investigator working a dangerous case on a human trafficking ring. Unfortunately, they somehow discovered his intentions, and now they're out for revenge. So, they’ve put a bounty on your head, claiming you’re worth millions to whoever is able to find you and sell you to the best bidder. Despite the danger, your father can’t abandon his mission as there were other lives on the line. He’s too close to cracking the case, rescuing the victims. To protect you, he hired someone no one would see coming for them and that was going to be protecting you. He hired a Ghost.

————————————————————————————

The moment you saw the brute, you couldn’t believe it. This 6’3”, 220lb, constantly masked man was supposed to be by your side for who knows how long. The sheer size of him was intimidating enough, but the mask? It kept you wondering what kind of man was beneath it.

You couldn’t argue with your father, though. He wanted you safe, and you weren’t about to be taken and sold off to some creep. So, you dealt with it. But now it’s been two months too long. Two damn months of constant monitoring, endless rules, and the same warnings: 'You need to listen to me Y/n,' 'Stay by my side,' or ‘It’s not safe.' It was honestly getting sickening at the fact he had complete control over your day to day life now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I was thinking of going shopping today, get some fresh air,” you say, taking a bite of your breakfast. He stands near the window, eyes scanning the street outside like he always does. “Maybe,” he says, his voice low, almost disinterested. You roll your eyes. “Jesus Christ, why not? It’s just us walking down the street, Simon.”

You started using his real name after weeks of pestering him to tell you. It felt weird calling him “Ghost” all the time—like something out of a video game. What good was being around someone this long if you didn’t even know their name?

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable behind the mask—if there’s an expression at all. Then, just as silently, he turns back to the window. “You never know.” You put your fork down and stop eating, “Simon, I can’t keep going days without stepping foot outside, i’m literally going insane”, he steps away from the window and pulls a chair out to sit beside you. “Everything I do and everything I say is to protect you, that is the whole reason I am here”. you looked into his hauntingly dead eyes. “Please you can’t keep me trapped in these walls”. You say with hesitation in your voice wondering if this will be another useless plea to let him agree for you to get out the house. He paused for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. You smile, “oh my gosh really? we can go?!” you say quickly standing from your chair in excitement. “yes. but the moment I feel something is off we leave, immediately” he says sternly. You were already putting your plate away and running to your room to get ready.

You visited a few of your favorite stores near your house, picking up small items here and there. Simon stayed close, as usual, walking silently beside you. As you stepped out of another shop, he leaned in slightly, his voice low. “We’re going to one more store, then we’re heading home. Do you understand?” You shot him a side-eye but nodded, not in the mood for another argument.

The last stop was the lingerie shop—you had been eyeing their new fall line for weeks. You grabbed a few panties and bras before something else caught your eye: the most stunning, sexy set you’d ever seen. You had to try it on. Walking into the dressing room, you slipped out of your clothes and into the delicate lace set. The fabric felt luxurious against your skin. You peeked your head out, only seeing Simon waiting, his posture as stoic as ever. You stepped out to check yourself in the mirror, admiring the way the set hugged your curves. From the corner of his eye, Simon caught sight of you. His jaw clenched almost immediately as he tried to keep his focus elsewhere, but it was impossible. He’d been around you every day for two months, and he had seen plenty—your tight shirts with no bra, shorts that barely covered anything. He’d always kept his cool, reminding himself that you were off-limits, and he took care of himself whenever you were asleep or when he took a shower. But seeing you now, in something so revealing, stirred something deeper in him that made his jeans tighten. He forced himself to remain still, but the tension in his body betrayed his thoughts. Respect for your father, the job—those were the only things keeping him from acting on what he felt. And he had to keep it that way, or at least he was trying to.

You caught Simon’s gaze in the mirror, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. His eyes were unreadable behind the mask, but you could feel something he wasn’t saying. You quickly looked away, clearing your throat. “What do you think?” you asked casually, but your pulse quickened. You didn’t know why you even asked—it wasn’t like you cared what he thought about lingerie. Or did you?

He blinked, caught off guard. “About what?”

“The lingerie,” you teased, crossing your arms. “I thought I’d get a professional opinion.” His jaw tightened more, but you caught the flicker of something in his eyes. “You don’t need my opinion.” You stepped a little closer, testing his boundaries. “Maybe I do.” He stayed still, but you could see the tension in his stance. His voice, when he spoke, was low. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” You laughed lightly. “What? Shopping?” His eyes met yours, and for a second, there was nothing but silence between you. “No,” he said softly, almost reluctantly. “This.” The weight of his words hung in the air. For a moment, neither of you moved. His response was a beat too slow. “You should hurry up,” he muttered, his voice deeper than usual. You rolled your eyes, but his tone made your skin tingle. There was something about the way he held himself that made you wonder—did he see you the way you were starting to see him? You slipped back into the dressing room to change, but the tension lingered, thick in the air. When you came out, dressed again, Simon stood up immediately, his shoulders tense. “Let’s go.” The rest of the walk home was quiet, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had shifted.

You walked into the house, setting your bags down and slipping off your shoes. Simon followed closely behind, immediately locking the door and heading to the windows like he always did, scanning the outside for any sign of danger. But your mind was elsewhere, replaying that one word—this—over and over again.

What did ‘it’ mean? You had to know.

“Simon,” you called out softly, still unable to meet his eyes. “What did you mean earlier?” He stiffened immediately, turning to face you. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but he’d been hoping you would let it go. He didn’t mean to let that word slip out, and now he was trying to think of a way around it. “What do you mean?” His tone was even, but there was a slight edge to it, a hint of tension. You swallowed, gathering your courage. “You said I was making this hard. I’m not sure what that means… I want you to tell me.” Finally, you looked up at him, meeting his gaze. For a moment, Simon just stared at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching like he was fighting with himself. His silence hung in the air, thick and heavy, as though he was weighing whether or not to tell you the truth. He turned back to the window, staring outside as if it would give him the answer he needed. “You’re making my job harder,” he said after a long pause, but there was something in his voice—a hesitation. But you had a smirk on your face knowing exactly what it was, “it was the set wasn’t it?” there was a pause, “you thought I looked good, too good right?” you stepped closer to him testing his limits wanting more reaction out of him. “I think you should keep this fantasy shit to yourself” he said quickly snapping back at you, but you kept pushing, “I don’t blame you Simon, I bet it’s been months since you got laid and I won’t lie it’s been a hot minute for me too with you being around me all the time, having me cooped in this house” you can see his brows furrowing. “you’re crossing the god damn line” that’s what he was saying but the raging boner in his pants said completely different about your attitude.

Before you knew it, he was stepping toward you, his hand gripping your arm firmly. “You’re pushing me too far,” he said, his voice low and rough. You met his gaze, feeling a mix of fear and excitement. “Maybe I need you to push back,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment was charged, and without warning, one of his hands let go from your arm to lift up his mask above his nose exposing his lips. your eyes widen never seeing anything but his eyes for the last few months. Before you knew it his lips were on yours, It was intense and consuming, leaving both of you breathless and more entangled than before.

He picked you up and put you on the dining table. the kiss became more passionate with his hands tangled in your hair, you could feel your core throb waiting to be touched. Simon pulled away from you and looked into your eyes, “you don’t understand how long i’ve wanted to touch you” he says breathing heavily. “all those times you walked around with no bra and I could see your fucking nipples through your shirt and the times you walked around with your ass out, god I wanted to bend you over, i’d fuck you right there and don’t even forget about the times I could here you moaning in the shower doing god knows what to that pussy, ya fuckin minx” your cunt was practically dripping at his words, your breathing became more heavier, “Then do it Simon, bend me over and fuck me” before you could say anymore he already was turning you over on the counter and pulling your pants down. “already planning on it love”. Simon pulled your pants down then slowly pulled your panties down revealing your wet pussy. he bent down to get eye level with it bring his fingers up to your folds and playing with your clit. You moaned at his touched, “fuh-fuck”. Simon pulled his fingers away and replaced it with his tongue, licking your throbbing clit and making you squirm.

He ate you out till you came on his mouth, “Si please”. Simon got up and looked at your bent over form while he started unbuckling his pants, “please what love?” he already knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. “fuck me hard” he smiled at your words taking his hard cock in his hand rubbing his pre cum all over the top of his head giving it extra lubricant. He aligned his cocked to your hole and slammed into you making you jump, “Shhhhhhhit” you hiss out the word from the painful pleasure. He started to thrust in and out of you hearing your moans made him want to cum already but he couldn’t, it felt too damn good to stop now. Simon bent down to your ear, “All those fuckin times you were playing with this tight cunt in the shower, who were you thinkin about huh?”. You didn’t want to answer out of embarrassment but you did it anyways, “y-you si, I thought about sucking your cock and you cumming all over my tits” that snapped something in him when you said that, his pace picked up he started fucking you harder, his balls slapping against your clit. “what would ya daddy think of the man he hired to protect you fucking your pussy raw?”. You could feel your self about to cum, “Si I’m gonna cum on your cock” his thrust became sloppier feeling himself about to finish too, “cum baby, cum”. Simon thrusted harder into your cunt making your back arch more and your ass jiggle against his hips the sight was pushing him over the edge, “god damn baby i’m gonna to cum” his hands gripped into your hips harder. “Simon cum inside me god please”. He busted a load in you, pushing his cock feel in you making sure nothing came out, “fuckin hell”.

After the intensity of the moment subsided, Simon and you lay there in the aftermath, the room now quiet except for your shared breathing. He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender. “I didn’t plan for this,” Simon said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and affection. “I never wanted to cross that line.” You turned to face him, your own emotions swirling. “Neither did I, but… it felt right in the moment. I just want to know what this means for us.” Simon looked at you with a conflicted expression. “I don’t have all the answers. This situation is complicated, and I’m still trying to figure out how to balance my feelings with my responsibilities.” he says lowly “I understand,” you replied, taking his hand in yours. “I just need to know where we stand. Do you want to try and make this work, or is this something we need to move past?” There was a pause as Simon considered his words. “I care about you more than I should,” he admitted. “But I also need to focus on keeping you safe. We’ll have to navigate this carefully.” You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. “We’ll figure it out together,” you said, squeezing his hand.

“As long as we’re honest with each other.”

[supercutszns]

Hi!! Just had to drop in and say I LOVED your Luke fic and I can’t wait for more. I would love protective Luke with hurt/comfort, if that sounds interesting at all. Thanks for sharing your writing!!! 🌸

fighting chance; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 4.2k, luke castellan x daughter of ares! reader

synopsis: when an enemy takes advantage of your kindness during capture the flag, luke intervenes with a sword in hand.

warnings: a creepy boy👎, threats/harm to reader, she’s going through it, blood/injuries (nothing major), angry ANGRY luke, violence, lots of fluff/reassurance at the end<3

notes: thank you SO much for your kind words & your request!! hurt/comfort is my bread and butter my favourite fic genre of all time i think. & protective luke is just a bonus bc he’s already crazy so it can go as far as i want🤭 i’m not exactly sure what this turned into but if i fix it any more i'm going to go insane so hope you like it!

You’re not much of a fighter.

That alone is a normal thing to admit—plenty of people don’t like violence, the frisson of a challenge, the bruises that come with them. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.

Unless you’re a child of Ares.

People at camp often ridicule your gentle nature when they see you with your half-siblings. They’re all gritted teeth and sharp edges, born warriors that take up all the space they can get. You, on the other hand, are lousy with weapons and even lousier with your fists. You’re quiet, attentive. While your siblings charge into battle without second thought you stay back, flitting around to adjust armour, change out weapons, oversee the terrain. Planning isn’t Ares’ style so you’re pretty much useless but nobody wants to admit it. You’re usually mistaken as a child of Hephaestus or Athena.

Unfortunately, you are a child of Ares, through and through—just in none of the ways that matter.

There are rare times your father’s influence peeks through. Not with bursts of rage or fists flying, but with thoughts. And sometimes those thoughts turn into words. Well, not sometimes. One time. This one.

The evening before the camp’s Capture the Flag game, every cabin gathered around the bonfire past dinner. To burn offerings, to chat, or in Luke Castellan’s case, to admire.

He watches you laugh with Clarisse from a distance. The Ares cabin leader always had a certain fondness for you. When Luke first started dating you he had to ask Clarisse for her blessing beforehand just to be sure she wouldn’t kill him. He’d do it a million times over just for the moment you look back, your face warming when you catch his stare. He rolls his eyes at you to lessen his smile, but he’s not sure it works. You giggle and turn back to your friend.

He’s always loved your softness; your capacity to defend and not attack. Your body rejects any skill you could possibly develop for violence. Believe him, he’s tried to teach you sword fighting, but the last time he gave you a lesson you nearly impaled yourself thirty seconds in. He loves your wit and your tenderness, your proficiency at preventing conflict, your refusal to argue. But a selfish part of him loves the fact that he’s your protector even more.

The night wears on with the flickers of fire and friendly banter. One of the times Luke looks back at you, his brows wrinkle. There’s a guy talking to you. A group of them, actually, but there’s one clearly leading the pack. Some Aphrodite kid. Luke’s jaw twitches.

“Hey, princess,” the voice makes you pull away from your talk with Clarisse, but you’re confused. Luke is the only one that calls you that.

“Um, me?” You ask when you see the boy in front of you. He’s tall, chest puffed out. It’s not an endearing silhouette. “What’s up?”

“You wanna be on my team for Capture the Flag tomorrow?” He asks nonchalantly.

You laugh politely, “Sorry, but I don’t think we’re allied with Aphrodite tomorrow. That’s your cabin, isn’t it?” You feel bad that you can’t remember—his face is so … plain.

He chuckles back, but it’s a lot less nice. “No, doll, that’s not what I mean.” He steps a little too close, and even though you know Clarisse is behind you it feels like she’s a thousand miles away. “Well,” he drawls, a smirk drawn out, “you meet me in the forest after we start, and then we can … you know. Confer.”

“Confer?”

“Yeah. You get what I mean, pretty girl, don’t play dumb.”

A revulsion coats your gut. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that,” you say as firmly as you can.

“What, pretty or dumb? Why not both?”

It’s demeaning, the way he says it, and it stirs a temper in your stomach you know you inherited from your father. You’re not big on confrontation. Or embarrassment. But this weirdo is talking to you out in the open and people are starting to stare. He wouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it, right?

“I’ll pass on your offer. I have a boyfriend and I’m actually on his team tomorrow, so I’d rather confer with him, sorry.” Your hands wring together but you do your best to quell them, imagining it’s the string of Luke’s camp necklace, threaded between your fingers. You try to look for him out of the corner of your eye.

He snickers, even though it’s common knowledge you and Luke have been together for months now. “So you are dumb, huh?” He tries to smirk and you assume is supposed to be sexy, but it’s just gross. His hand tries to slide around your waist.

“Don’t touch me, please,” you hit his hand away. Your skin is crawling and the knot inside you tightens.“Just leave me alone. People are looking, you know.”

“We could go somewhere where nobody looks,” he sneers, and the grin on his face is so sleazy that you just can’t stand it anymore.

You pray to your father for strength. And to yourself for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid or something? I told you, no.” You snap. “Maybe you’re the pretty dumb one, but for a child of Aphrodite it’s shocking how little the first one applies.”

His eyes are wide, and the posse he’d assembled behind him has attracted quite the view. You almost feel like crying, all these eyes on you, but you’re so sick of people thinking they can walk all over you just because you’re not like your siblings.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m just trying to be nice—” He grabs your wrist as you leave but you yank it hard.

“Don’t. Touch me.” People are staring at you now, but the only one you care about is Luke, who looks equally ticked and equally proud, and all you want to do is kiss him. “Hope the only time we confer tomorrow is if somebody’s sword is at your throat.”

It’s the last thing you say to him. He starts to go after you but Luke is already at your heels. “Back off, man.” You can spot how all his muscles are already rearing themselves for a fight. You wrap a hand around his wrist, and he meets your eyes. Not now.

The altercation is lost the second the two of you leave the bonfire. Nothing matters when Luke has you in his arms, kissing you outside of your cabin, telling you how damn beautiful you looked.

You’re fixing a new Ares boy’s armour when Luke finds you. “Hey, angel,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. He relishes in the way your face heats up. “You ready for battle?”

You smile, “Always.” You pat the kid on the cheek and send him on his way. He gnashes his teeth and roars, joining his siblings at the front. Luke catches the longing in your expression.

“All good?” He asks gently.

It takes you a second for your eyes to meet his. “Mmhm,” you swallow. “Just hope his armour doesn’t fall off.”

Luke sighs for a moment, then wraps his arms around you. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Be safe, okay? Stay close.” He kisses your temple, rubbing circles on the nape of your neck.

“Yes sir,” you reply against his chest. His insides flutter.

He pulls your face up to his and kisses you, tender and wanting. “Let’s show these hooligans who’s boss,” he quips.

“You’ll show them. I’ll hide in the woods until some idiot comes along and tries to ambush you.”

Your dulcet tone has him wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. “You’ve always got my back,” he croons, kissing your brow.

“And you’ve always got our flag.”

You kiss him again and he lets you slip out of his arms no matter how badly he wants to keep you there forever. He watches you vanish into the trees, and his heart goes with you.

He gears up with his team and the horn sounds. Game on.

There’s yelling, sweat, adrenaline, and Luke embraces it all like a man starved. This is his chance to be ruthless, to let all his untapped rage cycle through him. This is why he’s unstoppable. This is why he’s the best.

Clarisse is unusually cooperative today, but competent as always, and whenever someone’s weapon breaks or they lose their team she just barks at them to go find you. You, the smartest person in Ares, who can mend a weapon with nothing but blades of grass and determination. Luke is pretty sure your cabin would be lost without you. He wonders if you know.

The groove of the game has fully enthralled him. He’s alert, his wrist nimble, his sword a living, breathing part of him. There’s almost nothing that can take him out of his victory path until he hears one of the younger campers tell Clarisse he can’t find you anymore.

Whatever nincompoop he’s dealing with is left groaning on the floor. “What?” He barks, hand flexing around his sword. “Where is she?”

“Probably just moved,” Clarisse grunts as she kicks back an opposing camper. “She knows where everything is. Maybe she’s—oof—safer.”

“But how am I supposed to fix my spear?” The kid frowns.

Luke runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, dry and laden with salt. He told you to stay close. Where would you go? “I’ll find her,” he decides, already sheathing his sword to walk towards the trees.

“Luke—”

“I’ll find her!”

He barely pays attention to the calamity going on around him. With a flick of his wrist he knows he can take out any person he wants. The second he gets to the trees, where the air is cooler, it’s startling how much quieter it is. No wonder this is your preferred hiding spot.

He thanks the quiet a thousand times over because if it had been any louder he wouldn’t have heard you scream.

It’s so short it’s almost indiscernible, but he knows it’s you based on how his body movies before his brain does. It snaps something in him, the adrenaline transformed into something acerbic, determined.

“Don’t fucking scream again.” A cluster of boys are stationed around you. You’re leaning back in the dirt. You barely feel the earth sticking to your skin. Just your heart jostling madly, your fingertips shaking in the ground beside you. “Okay, I won’t, just put the sword down—”

The snarling Aphrodite boy from last night takes a swing at you, and you scramble back just enough to avoid it. “No can do, doll.” His face is twisted with rage. The lackeys he had when you told him off are there too, cornering you against a cluster of trees like you’re some caged animal. There’s a dagger clenched in one of your dirt-ridden fists but you know it won’t do you any good. You can’t fight; you don’t have it in you. But these boys do. And they’re angry.

“Tell me where the flag is,” he orders. The tip of his blade comes under your chin, fogging up with the labours of your breath, your head pressed against the trunk of a tree.

You stutter, “You’re not—You’re not supposed to threaten like this—”

“You embarrassed me in front of all those people yesterday,” he cuts you off. “Thinking you’re so fucking smart. I didn’t even say anything that big a deal but you run your mouth to the entire camp and make me look like the idiot. I thought you were nice.”

The words are laced with poison. You know from the wild look in his eyes that this isn’t about the flag at all.

Tears sting your eyes and the sword grazes your throat. Of course this is happening to you. The one time you feel your father’s rage, when you exemplify the thing you’re told to be, you are punished.

You are never going to be the right kind of daughter.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you try to say it evenly, but your breath is so ragged it’s barely audible. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.” You mean it, but they won’t care.

The boy’s face looks pleased at your tears. It makes you inexorably ashamed. “Some fucking Ares kid,” he snorts. “Can’t even fight, can you? Can’t even pretend to.” His sword leaves your throat and travels up to your quivering jaw. You’re wordless, white-knuckling the dagger at your side, praying that Luke is somewhere nearby.

“No wonder they stash you back here. You’re useless.” His eyes scan every part of you, and the idea of him knowing what you look like forever is so revolting it makes you want to vanish. “Too bad you’re alone, though. Nobody’s gonna know I was here because nobody’s gonna hear you.”

Your eyes get wide, and something in your mind rumbles through you like an engine. An urge buried in your blood.

Your dagger tears into his leg just as his sword dashes your arm. The pain is sharp, stinging, but the boy winces and you know you hurt him too. It gives you just enough time to roll out of the way as he lurches forward. “The fuck is wrong with you?” He swears.

Blood drips onto your shorts, splotched with tears. You know you can’t go anywhere because his friends are here and you’re almost certain you’ll be maimed, but you tried. At least you tried.

The Aphrodite boy picks his sword back up, stalks towards you, and then freezes.

Because Luke has just spotted you. And he’s spotted the boy that has you on the ground.

And he’s the best fucking swordsman Camp Half-Blood has seen in three hundred years.

“If you don’t get away from her right now I’m putting this through your skull.” He emerges from the foliage, his sword raised, sweat dripping down his face. You have never seen anyone look angrier. He has never felt angrier.

The boy blanches, and Luke sees how easily his lapdog friends shrink in his presence. Good.

“Woah, easy,” the boy holds his hands up in mock surrender and tries to flash a smile but it’s just fucking pathetic. His arms are shaking and his throat bobs about a million times. “We’re just playing the game.”

“Like hell you are,” Luke spits. “You gang up on my girlfriend and you expect me to believe this is fair play? Want me to tie you all together and push one of you off a cliff to keep the spirit going?”

“Didn’t know she was yours,” the boy tries to shrug but again, it’s a miserable attempt that only makes Luke feel stronger.

“Not that it matters but yes, you do,” Luke chuckles thickly. “I beat your ass in sword training last week. You know exactly who I am. And I’m sure you know who you are, so it’s obvious you’re playing out of your league here.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you still cowering, blood dribbling down your arm. He wants to tear the world apart. “Apologize and maybe I don’t send you to the infirmary.”

“We just want the flag, man,” the boy swallows.

“And I want your head on a stick. Want to see who gets what first?”

It’s too provocative an insult for a moron like this to ignore, so soon Luke has the pleasure of disarming five bitter boys that have clearly never been good at a single thing in their life. He tears through them like sheets of paper, knocking them to the dirt, ripping their clothes. He thinks of you, just you, your honest heart and patient hands, and it’s enough to fuel him for a millennia.

The last boy, the leader, is at Luke’s mercy, and he has none to give. The flat of Luke’s blade is pressed horizontally against the boy’s neck, an angering similarity to the position he had you in earlier. “If you ever do this again, I’m going to kill you.”

“You’re—fucking—crazy—” The boy wheezes, the length of the blade squeezing his throat against a tree trunk. “I’ll—I‘ll tell Chiron.”

Luke has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep him from doing something he regrets. “Oh yeah? You want me to tell Chiron how you harassed and terrorised a girl in the middle of the forest all in the name of play? Want me to tell him what you said to her last night at the campfire? Because I’m sure it won’t take much for him to get rid of your ugly face as it is, and I’m a camp counsellor.”

He knows it’s not the most morally correct use of his title. He knows he might be stepping over the line. But he also knows you’re always being ignored or trampled over and he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t give a damn. He’s tired of people trying to force you into something you’re not. Of you crying in his bed at night because they’re trying to drag a violence out of you that isn’t there. Always in the name of fucking play.

Luke takes the sword off the boy’s neck and shoves him backwards. His calf is bleeding, not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless, and Luke is full of pride when he realizes you did that. The boy’s bad leg makes him wobble and fall at the force of the push. Luke enjoys watching the scramble. “I—I was just trying to be nice, it’s not my fault she took it the wrong way!” The boy flails his hands in the air, rising to his feet again, and Luke shoves him down twice as hard. A piece of his shirt tears off in Luke’s hand.

“You’ve gotta stop talking or I really am going to kill you,” he seethes. “Don’t touch her ever again. Go.”

Luke is sure he looks homicidal right now because the guy finally tumbles his way down the hill. His body fades into the distance, swallowed up by shrubbery and sweat.

The second he’s gone Luke tosses his sword and armour and gets back to you. “Shit,” he mutters, kneeling down. You’re still shaking, your head in your arms, and all his hatred morphs into a love so desperate it terrifies him. “Angel, come here. Let me see.” He lifts your face with his hands and scans you rapidly. “Did he hurt you anywhere else? Anywhere?”

“Just my arm,” you whimper. “My arm.”

He knows it’s not the cut that’s hurting you; it’s long, but thin, and it’s not bleeding too thickly. He takes the cloth from the Aphrodite boy’s shirt and wraps it around your arm, knotting it at the end. “All right, that should be better.”

You look at him with watery eyes, and he knows all you need is for him to hold you. He folds you in his arms and leans against a stump. You can’t get close to him fast enough. The tip of your nose buries itself in his neck and he feels the dampness of your cheeks on his skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Guilt swaths over him for a brief moment; he wonders if he shouldn’t have done all that, if he should’ve been more sensible. Then your lips form a ‘thank you’ against his skin and all is forgotten.

You feel so small. The shock is still running its course, so all you can do is cry it out. Your hands still shake when you thread your fingers through Luke’s necklace to steady them. He soothes you the best he can, running his hand along your spine, all the sharpness of his voice softened just for you. “You’re all right, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

You stay like that for a while. The sounds of the forest return to you; leaves in the wind, birds chirping, Luke’s breath tickling your hair. You crane your head up to nuzzle your nose against the faint stubble of his jaw. “My hero,” you murmur, and feel his skin shift as he smiles.

“Couldn’t have done it without you. Saw the cut you gave him on his leg.” He kisses your temple. “I hope it gets infected.”

You giggle weakly no matter how you try smothering it in his chest. “Gods, you’re awful.”

“He deserves it! I probably should have killed him!”

“You came pretty close, didn’t you?” You mumble. Luke’s expression is wary, but you smile to yourself and it dispels everything. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“Good. Serves them right, messing with you like that. Fucking idiots.” He kisses your face again for good measure, “You sure they didn’t get you anywhere else, princess?”

You nod but you know you look wounded. You nudge into the crook of Luke’s neck again. “They … you know, it’s just … the usual stuff.” Every word weighs a pound as it comes out. Your heart feels sore.

Luke tenses again instantly. “What usual stuff?”

“Um, just—” The shame gets caught in your throat. “They all think I’m useless, Luke. Why can’t I do this right?”

You start to cry again, but he just holds you closer. Sometimes it surprises you how much patience he has. He prides himself as the harsher one between the two of you, but you don’t know who he’s fooling with the way he always knows how to comfort people.

“I don’t know what to do,” you continue, blinking back tears, “I’m not—I’m just not good at this, I don’t know why I’m in Ares, I don’t know why I can’t … be that. Why is he my father? I’m no good at being angry. I want to be angry.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment. Nothing changes except his hand rubbing circles on the nape of your neck again. Then he sighs deeply and says, “You don’t owe your father a damn thing. You don’t owe anyone anything.” He’s resolute, firm, a sharp contrast to his gentle kiss on your hairline. “You’re the smartest, most generous person I know. You need those people in battle. You’ll lose if you don’t.”

The warmth of his skin prompts you to look up at him. He looks different so often, the way he can shift between so tough and so gentle. Sometimes, like now, he’s caught in the middle, the remains of a furious sweat hardening his face, but his eyes are nothing but tender. You think it’s how you like him best.

“Besides, we’re not our parents, right? Who cares about Ares anyway?” Luke shrugs.

“Luke! Don’t say that!” your tears turn into a giggle. “The Gods might punish you!”

“I’ll handle it. There’s enough fight in me for the both of us.”

“Okay, tough guy,” you mutter with a weak smile.

You’re still sniffling. He runs his thumbs across your cheeks, and his gaze softens. “You’re an Ares kid because you are a fighter, angel. You just fight a hell of a lot smarter than the rest of us. Best one I know. Well, other than me.”

It makes you smile. “So second-best?”

“Tied for first.”

He kisses you with that stupid roguish smile. It’s salty with tears and sweat, but it mends your heart anyway. There is nowhere in the world you’d feel safer.

“I love you,” he says against your cheek. “Be as sweet as you want. If anyone has anything to say about it I’ll mess ‘em up good.” Your face warms as his voice drops to your ear, “And I know you’re an Ares kid because you’ll encourage it every time. You might not have a violent bone in your body, but you sure don’t have a problem with me using mine.”

“Diplomatically, Luke. Diplomatically.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you want.”

You can’t help but kiss him again. You’re not entirely sure why he loves you so much, why you love him so much, but you never feel quite as secure as when you’re with him.

Cheers boom from the other side of camp. Luke’s head perks up like a dog, and you turn back to search for spots of red or blue. “Did we win?” You ask, craning your head to get a better view.

“Don’t care,” Luke says.

You look back at him. His anxious face says it all. “Yes, you do.”

“Okay yes, I do, and I need to see if those douches found our flag so I can choke them out with it.”

You laugh, standing so Luke can jog off to see the state of your team. But before he goes, he picks you up and smothers you in kisses, holding you like you’re his prize.

You are not a fighter, but your boyfriend sure is. And you’re perfectly okay with that.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! I hope your doing well while you read this request! May I ask for HSR Men (Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Welt and maybe Boothill) their reaction when after 2 weeks of disappearance from their s/o because of a mission, they came back to them all exhausted and slightly injured. If I can be more precise, can you describe how they acted when they had no news of their s/o et their reaction when they came back please?

Thank you for the attention you’ll give to this request ! I hope you’ll have a great day/night!

-🩵✨

This is a long one, so brace yourselves! And have a great morning/evening/night! 🦦🐿️

Blade

‘Where have you been?’ Blade hissed, anger laced his voice as he drags you to the nearest surface and eased you on it, keen to avoid worsening your wounds.

‘I was on a mission.’ You sassed, not wanting this to be your first conversation back from a near death experience.

‘I know that,’ he barks as he rummaged through the cabinets for a first aid kit, uncaring do the mess he was making in the process, ‘you’ve been on a mission for two fucking weeks and not once did it come to mind to keep in contact during that time?’ He adds, looking at you with a look that wasn’t angry but instead scared.

Blade had spent the past two weeks going utterly insane form the lack of communication on your end. At first he didn’t think much but by day 12, Blade was more or less ready to included himself in your mission. Unfortunately according to Elio, this wasn’t apart of the script and Blade was made to stay on the sidelines and await your return.

It wouldn’t take long before you came home but you came home in the worst of conditions that Blade had ever seen you in recent memory, and that made him extremely upset. Not at you though, more or less at the person or thing that made those wounds on you.

Communications were down, I had no way of telling you anything.’ You replied, having already grown annoyed at his constant pestering and prodding.

‘Well you should’ve.’ Blade muttered gruffly as he gently took your arm into his hand and examined the wound and had to bite his tongue from saying anything else, but found that task to be a bit too difficult for him. ‘Then I could’ve stopped them from hurting you.’ He added.

You groaned and punched your brow with your free hand, all you wanted to do was go to sleep but couldn’t help but feel warm on the inside at the idea of Blade getting revenge on your behalf. ‘That’s not necessary.’ You told him, trying hard not to wince as he cleaned your wound.

‘And why not?’ He asks, noticing your attempts and wordlessly tries a different approach in cleaning your wound.

‘They’re all dead.’ You replied nonchalantly and Blade couldn’t help but smile. ‘That’s my partner.’ He says but the smile soon falls as he finished patching your wound and looks you dead in the eyes. ‘However the next time you’re sent on a long mission I’m coming with, no excuses.’

You groan again, there was no winning with this man.

Jing yuan was trusting in your abilities to keep yourself safe but the longer he went without update of you nor progression of the mission, Jing Yuan grew worried that something had happened.

He already lost a lot, he didn’t need your loss on top of all that. He lost hope on appreciating that he was living once, he knew that if anything happened to you he would relapse into those old ways but with no chance of recovery.

He would try and fail many attempts of making contact with you, only to be met with static as a responses which didn’t exactly help his hope in seeing you that slowly began to dwindle the longer he tried, until he stopped trying all together.

In his mind you were gone a long time ago and he should start his grieving while he could.

However you did come back, but not exactly in the best shape…you were wounded and exhausted but to Jing Yuan you never looked more alive in that moment as he was quick to get you medical attention. Not once did the general think to leave your leave your side as you laid out on the bed, wounds patched up and fast asleep from everything.

He even slept in the chair next to your bed, making sure your sleep went undisturbed and had a familiar face to wake up to as to not feel misplaced somewhere foreign. Jing Yuan didn’t feel entirely comfortable in leaving you alone during this time, especially when you’re vulnerable and susceptible to a plethora of things.

Not when he barely avoided a possibility of never seeing you again. He didn’t care for the reasons why you couldn’t contact him, those can wait for another time, he only cared that you were back by his side and alive.

So he’d fall asleep with his hand laced with yours and his head resting on your lap, acting like your personal guard dog as he kept his body facing towards the door in the instant he had to protect you.

No one would take you from him again, mission or not, you were staying by his side from now on, generals orders.

Dan heng didn’t think much when you didn’t reach out and tell him about the things you’ve found that he might like whilst away, however that didn’t mean he didn’t have a bad feeling about all of it.

He did but he couldn’t prove why as it was too early into the mission to say why he felt that way. Dan Heng always trusted his instincts when it came moments of uncertainty as they’ve always been proven correct. However this was the one time where he really didn’t want that to be the case.

Yet the longer he went without the regular flow of communication between the two of you during missions, Dan Heng felt himself break out into a cold sweat during the night and out of breath from experiencing another nightmare where you didn’t come back from this mission, leaving him utterly heartbroken and lost for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t close his eyes for a single second without the nightmare flooding back to haunt him of a potential future without you, his other half.

He even had nightmares where you were calling out to him for help but he couldn’t hear them and was forced by an higher power to ignore your soundless cries and walk away unbothered. Those were the nightmares Dan Heng hated the most as there would never be a moment in his life where he would ever leave you to such a cruel fate; He’d be more than gladly suffer with you than ever abandon you.

So the moment you came home wounded and exhausted, Dan Heng didn’t waste time in getting you to medical, taking everything the doctor told him to help you heal seriously as your newly appointed caregiver. Some of the time he came across as strict but he meant well as all he wanted was for you to get better and soon, seeing as how you gave him the biggest fright of his life.

He doesn’t let anyone else near you.

You can blame it on his dragon noodle side as it grew overprotective of the fact that you -his mate- were in seemingly left in a vulnerable state. He didn’t care to listen to the reasonings as to why he should let anyone else come near you, not without knowing their intentions in descriptive depth, he could take care of you himself perfectly fine and without any outside help.

He was your partner, you were his responsibility but this was all just an excuse to hide the fact that Dan Heng was genuinely scared of letting you out of his sight, even if it was for five minutes because a lot could happen in five minutes. So now he stays close to you from then on as a precaution, holding your hand in his and squeezing it as thought he was trying to convince himself that you were actually with him weeks afterwards.

Boothill didn’t like the idea of you being so far from him and much preferred for you to stay in contact if you were going to be so far away from him for so long.

However nothing seemed to want to go the way he wanted as soon as he found that he couldn’t contact you. None of his messages were going through and neither were his calls, as he read and reread the message that said you were out of the area for his messages to get through to you.

Boothill grew more and more restless the longer his texts didn’t go through, still claiming you were out of the area, whatever the hell that means and had to actively find ways to de stress because of how often he found himself on the verge of blasting anything and everything that moved.

You were his anchor, his partner in crime and his voice of reason, without you Boothill was teetering on the brink of becoming everyone’s problem should you spend even another hour more away from him.

So when you did come back with wounds scarred across your body and looking as though you were on the brink of collapse, Boothill was made more worried than before. Your wounds weren’t very deep nor life threatening but Boothill didn’t care, you were hurt and he wasn’t made aware of it for the past two weeks.

He wanted to hunt down the bastards who made those wounds on your body and make them pay, regardless if they had a bounty on their heads or not, he’d gladly hunt them down just to set an example as to why you don’t fuck with Boothill’s loved one.

‘Don’t.’ You croaked, grabbing his hand. ‘Just stay with me and make everything okay cowboy.’

Boothill, not one to argue with you, especially not in your current state, obeyed your wish and stayed by your side as you slowly but surely recovered from your wounds with scars left behind as reminders.

Though that didn’t stop him from going off behind your back to hunt the bastards down, he never could let go of a grudge after all.

Welt basically worried himself sick when he didn’t hear anything from you the first couple of days, but was soon talked down from doing anything rash that could potentially put you in even more danger, regardless of his intention of being by your side.

Welt was restless for the remainder of the two weeks, double checking his phone for anything that could push him over the edge and force him into acting.

What happened to you?

Why weren’t you responding?

Were you hurt?

Were you in danger and he didn’t know?

So many thoughts floated in welt’s mind as he was left feeling powerless as he was forced to await your return, hoping that all his thoughts were just that, meaningless thoughts that had no real affect in reality.

He was wrong.

You did come home but you came back with some new wounds and a face that screamed exhaustion. You barely took one step before collapsing into Welt’s arms as he got you medical help.

‘What happened out there?’ He’d calmly ask one day as he held your hand, thumb rubbing the back of it reassuringly.

‘Communications were down,’ you told him as you squeezed his hand, just happy to be back home and with him, ‘then the mission went south as I found myself out of my depth on several occasions, I’m sorry Welt.’ You finish weakly.

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’ Welt reassures as he presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘Not all missions go according to plan and all that matters right now is that you’re safe, so please don’t apologise for things beyond your control.’ He adds as he watched you slowly drift to sleep, still feeling a little exhausted from the mission and everything that happened.

Welt stayed awake for a little while longer to commemorate this moment to memory, to treasure it during the moments when you were to be apart from one another again, but until that time Welt would hold you as close as he possibly could and keep you safe to the best of his abilities. Your safety meant a lot to him and he’d rather jeopardise his own safety if it meant that you’d never get hurt again, he’d do it in a heartbeat because that’s just how much you meant to him and todays events only solidified that.

[konigslilcumslut]

Ghost didn’t really know what jealousy was originally.

Given his standing as Lieutenant the most you’d get out of the dry ass humour having man was orders barked out and that same cold gaze.

Safe to say he never treated you any differently from his other soldiers so there would be no risk of jealousy right?

However…

The first time jealousy seemed to creep up on him, was when he spotted you with Gaz. At first it was just passing, not really understanding why or even how he felt the way he did.

But then it became a constant.

Any time he saw you too close to another soldier he’d grow stiff and irritable. Any time he’d catch you leaving the mess hall with a group of men he hated it.

Yet eventually you also became fed up with his behaviour…

So without thinking, not realising the consequences of your own actions (same) you burst into his private quarters, yelling “what the hell is your fucking problem?!”…unfortunately for you though…

You seemed to catch the Lieutenant at a bad time.

He’d just gotten out of the shower, in the process of pulling his mask back on but you saw a small glimpse of his face, water dripping down the chiselled lines of hard earned muscle and a towel tightly wrapped around his waist.

And when he locked eyes with you, you could’ve sworn there was something a whole lot more…feral to his cold gaze than just anger.

“The fuck did you just say to me soldier?” His rough tone would ring out, stepping closer as his gaze would remain locked with yours.

“What is your fucking problem?” You’d stand your ground, clearly a little too proud to stand down at the challenge you now faced.

There was a thick silence…heavy as the air around you both seemed to shrink until your chests heaved to get some oxygen to your brains.

“You.”

It came out clear and cold. Yet so undeniably heated.

“You are my fucking problem. You’re driving me insane. I see you with another soldier and the only thing running through my fucking mind is putting them in the ground love. You have no idea what you do to me.” His tone would grow lower, stepping towards you as his chest heaved and his eyes never waver from your locked stare.

“I look at you and I want nothing more than to shove you into the nearest room, rip that damn uniform off your body and fuck your pretty cunt till you beg me to stop.” He almost snarls his own words out, as if hating the fact he was even thinking it.

“I am a soldier. I am a Lieutenant, I have a duty to uphold but god damnit if you keep looking at me like that I am going to lose my fucking mind.” He was barely inches away from you, so close you could almost taste the self restraint coming from him.

“Either walk away or get on the fucking bed love.”

___________________________

To be continued….? If ya’ll want….?

[discotitsposts]

strawberry lipgloss🍓

spencer reid x reader (this one’s for my strawberry lovers)

spencer can’t keep his senses off reader when she wears a lipgloss that drives him insane (wrote this since i got a new strawberry lipgloss today)

-🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—🍓—

It’s 8:04 am when she walks into the BAU.

Spencer’s working on some files when he notices you are 4 minutes later than your usual time of arrival. He furrows his brow at this strange abnormality but shrugs it off quickly. Maybe you just had woken up late. Your alarm didn’t go off perhaps. Or maybe there was traffic. No, that couldn’t be it. Not from the route you go or at that time. That area doesn’t get congested at all, if ever.

In any case it wasn’t Spencer’s business. Hotch’s yes. Not Spencer’s. You had no need to explain yourself to him. He wasn’t your boyfriend no matter how much he wished and hoped he could be.

He hadn’t been one to believe in wishes but his last birthday it was what he’d wished on the candles while you’d smiled at him sweetly. You were doing that now. You smiled when you saw him every morning. He adored it.

As you approach his desk you chime, “Good morning Spencer!” in a sing-songy voice per usual.

You get closer and drop a small bag on his desk. That’s when he notices. You smell like a fresh baked strawberry pie. He knew you normally wore a sweet vanilla perfume. You were wearing it today, he could smell it. Something was different though, there was a hint of strawberry.

Unfortunately for him, you walk away and sit down at your own desk. You scent disappears with you. Spencer frowns and opens the bag you’d given him. The smell of the contents immediately hits his nostrils.

A chocolate strawberry donut!

You notice him pick up the donut. A smile forms on his face.

“Thanks!” He takes a bite.

“Delicious!”

“I knew you’d like it. It’s both of our favorite flavors!”

Spencer smiles at you. You were always doing kind gestures like this for him. You did kind favors for a lot of people, but for Spencer it felt so special when you did things for him. It’s why he was so in love with you. He goes back to his files happily eating.

Minutes later, you’re staring at him debating whether or not you should ask him a question. You decide to ask. You stand up and walk over to him. He smells the sweet strawberry scent radiating off of you and looks up.

“Yes?” He’s happily staring at you with those big brown eyes. Getting lost in the sight of you.

“Could you please do something for me, Spencer?”

“You can do whatever you want to me…” He says without thinking. He quickly corrects himself with, “I mean what do you need me to do? For you.” He clears his throat. “Anything.”

You reach into your purse and pull out a small red tube. “Could you put this on for me please?” You open the tube. “I lost my mirror.”

“Of course.” He takes the tube and his hand shakes a little. He squeezes the tube a little so the product comes up and presses the applicator onto your lips. He spreads the product over your mouth being careful to not get it anywhere but your lips.

The scent was just like strawberry jam.

When he’s done, he can’t stop staring at your shiny lips. He can see his reflection in them.

Oh, how he’d like to press his own to yours and never let go. The strong scent of strawberries, now dominating his nostrils, wasn’t helping.

Unconsciously, he leans in ever so slightly. You notice and start to lean in too. Following his movements. You’re just centimeters away from touching each other.

You would have too, if JJ hadn’t walked in and announced a new case.

When you meet in the conference room, Spencer sits next to you. He keeps inhaling your scent.

When you’re on the jet you’re reapplying your perfume, you spritz it behind your ears, on your wrists, and your ankles.

Spencer watches in awe. You put the perfume bottle back in the bag and pick up the strawberry lip balm again. He’s awaiting you to ask him to reapply it for you since you’d told him you’d lost your mirror. You reach for something else inside your purse. You pull something out.

A small pink mirror.

You hadn’t lost it. Spencer smiles to himself.

“Just me or does she smell extra good today?” Morgan observes and motions his head towards you. Spencer nods in agreement.

“Yeah…”

You’re curled up reading a book when Spencer sits next to you. You look up at him and give him a warm smile.

“Nice mirror you got there.” He smirks. Confidence was spewing off him all of a sudden.

“So why did you tell me you lost it?” He asked, he knew the answer but wanted to hear you admit it. He suddenly had the urge to make you squirm.

“Um, you’re a profiler shouldn’t you know?” You retort.

Spencer stares at you for a second, unsure how to respond. The corners of his mouth curl into a smile when he thinks of something.

“Well then, I’ll tell you why, you wanted me to notice that wonderful scent of strawberries. You wanted me to look at your lips and want you so badly my bones hurt. Anyone who knows you, knows, you never leave home without your mirror.” Spencer innocently smiles.

“Why did you play along if you knew?”

He leans in closer and whispers in your ear, “I can’t resist you. Or your lipgloss.” He smiles and goes back to where he was sitting before. You stare at him in shock.

Morgan pats his arm and says, “My man!”

Then Spencer does the unthinkable and pulls out his cell phone, a very rare occasion. You feel a twinge of jealously at the thought he might be texting someone else, when your phone dings with a text.

Spencer: Would you like to have dinner at Tony’s with me this weekend? Like as a date?

You: I’d love to, but why didn’t you just ask when you were over here?

Spencer: Look up.

You look up and see Morgan teasing Spencer about whispering in your ear. He’s pretending to hump a pillow while Hotch is holding his face in his hands in disbelief.

“Ask her out kid! Strike while the iron is hot!” Morgan then motions spanking. Hotch looks like he is on the verge of tears.

You laugh and go back to your text thread.

You: I am so sorry.

You look over again and see Spencer smiling at his phone.

Spencer: Can’t wait for our date! Make sure to wear that strawberry lip gloss.

You: Of course, xoxo💋

the end, for now

-

i might do a part two about the date not sure yet

update part two is here

-

tags 🍓-

if you’d like to be tagged u can comment a 🍓

@whoisspence

@starshinegarcia

@fictionalobssed

@exoticisles

@in-another-april

@gallifreyan-idiocracy

[dj-of-the-coven]

trigun 1998 episode simulator

[3 minutes of guitar solo]

Vash the Stampede: hi my name is Vash the Stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love. all I really want to do is have a sandwich and a morning coffee without getting chased by bandits

some bandit: (gunshot) absolutely not. square up faggot

Vash: rats.

[gunfight]

Vash the Stampede: my name is Vash the stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love.could I please have a sandwich

Meryl from the Bernardelli Insurace Society: how long are you going to sit on your ass doing nothing but playing games with children and doing chores for the elderly and disabled and looking after lonely youths and cooking dinner for the homeless

Vash: I've been here for like 2 days

Milly Thompson: Hi Vash!

Vash: Hi Milly

[exit left pursued by bounty hunters]

Vash the Stampede: (panting, entering a bar) my name is Vash the stampede.... I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Good L*rd what is going on in here

Hostage: mphdsfhapff!!!! mffmpphhf!!!!

Villain of the week: well if it isn't the elusive Vash the Stampede! you see it all started when I was 4 days old and you kicked me like a football and then exploded my parents to death with a laser canon and killed every puppy in a ten ile (translator's note: this is the No Man's Land equivalent of the American Mile) radius

Vash: I don't remember doing that but well I suppose you can shoot me if it'll make you feel better

Side character of the week: Are you insane? Just shoot him instead???

Vash: but my mom told me not to be mean to people

Villain of the week: (still going) And as I am now 47 years old I have finally decided to get my revenge. Say your prayers, Vash the Pisshead

[Wall explodes and reveals a motorcycle with a sexy priest on it]

[sfx: guitar with a hint of electric distortion]

Vash: is that..... Wolfwood?

Meryl who was in the background this whole time: the priest?

Nicholas Dickolas Wolfwood: (brings his fingers up to a pair of luscious lips to grab the cigarette from right between them, taking one more slow inhale before crushing the cherry red underneath his heel)(sensually cocks one of his 8 guns) Are you just gonna let this guy talk down to you like that needle noggin?

Vash: I g-

[guitar riff bumper]

[guitar riff bumper]

Vash: -uess not, since you're here to help now... (slow, warm smile) Wolfwood

Nicholas D. ranged Wolfwood: Vash

Milly who was also in the background this whole time: Hi mr priest man! isn't this lovely, I haven't seen you since the last time you spoke with mr Vash yesterday evening when you were helping him buckle all those silly belts on his pants after he had lost them somehow

Vash: On a cactus

Milly: On a cactus! Oh it must've hurt so terribly; how fortunate that Mr Priest man was there to help you

Wolfwood: Hi Milly

[gunfight]

Villain of the week: ohhhhh curses!!! CURSES!!!! I have spent my whole existence getting ready to fight Vash the Stampede but he's just too good at swallowing all my bullets!!!!!!

Vash the Stampede: my tragic dead mother would be sad if I didn't swallow everyone's bullets so I've trained diligently every morning at digesting gunpowder without dying immediately

Wolfwood: [internally: I can't believe it. All this time I've spent walking the path of darkness, reaching to a pure light that I could never grasp, and yet here is a man who's dedicated his life and his body to the pursuit of Peace. I wish he were a woman so I could fuck him romantic style. I've got a whole plan for it and everything. Whiskey, sunset, a bed with no sand in it, 6 hours. This would be fully and completely possible if only he were a woman. Unfortunately he's not, but I can still think about the what-ifs. platonically of course. Maybe if he got some good dick he'd stop being so annoying. And maybe he'd stop making me rethink my morals. I wonder if the seven drunken handies meant anything to him. Platonically]

Wolfwood: Well anyway it looks like my job is done here

Vash: (teary) Will I see you again?

Wolfwood: I don't know. And besides, whenever I look at you, I'm reminded of everything I hate about myself. You know, it hurts.

[exit Nicholas D. Wolfwood pursued by repressed homosexual desires and immense catholic guilt]

Vash the Stanned Peat: (looking out the window like a widow whose husband was killed in action) Nicholas... D... Wolfwood.......

Meryl who was in the background that entire time, yes, the whole time: shut the fuck up already

Vash: when will it be my turn Meryl. When

[roll credits]

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

Established relationship (married), hurt/comfort

You and Jason have been married just for a year now. And tonight was your 2nd anniversary. And unfortunately, instead of staying home, cooking you all your favourite meals and desserts, and maybe some extra private time alone, like Jason wanted, the two of you were here. In Wayne Manor. For another charity gala.

Bruce hadn't known your anniversary was today. Therefore, he was unable to reschedule. In addition, the billionaire had forced Jason to come since he hadn't made an appearance in a long while.

So, here the two of you are now. You trailing closely behind Jason as he cringed, scanning the crowded ballroom.

You walked up beside him, holding his bicep and giving it a squeeze. "Hey, it's okay," you quietly said to him, trying to soothe his nerves. "It's just a couple of hours."

Jason just hummed, only imagining the things he could do instead at home to celebrate your anniversary.

You tiptoed up, placing a lingering kiss to his cheek for extra reassurance. Jason then tensed. He wasn't a fan of PDA. He was a private man and wanted to spend his affectionate time with you alone.

"No kissing... please.." He muttered, bending down to your ear level.

You pouted. "Aww, c'mon!" You cheekily said. "It's just one kiss. It's not like we're making out or anything."

Jason sighed, shrugging your hands off him, then cupping your cheek. "Baby, you know one kiss will lead to making out." He said as you huffed in feigned annoyance. "Can you wait til we get home for kisses?" He softy asked, petting your head.

You basically purred as his hand rested on your head as you nodded per his request. Jason lightly smiled, appreciating your understanding.

As he was about to walk further into the hall, you tried to hold onto his hand, though, oddly enough, he pulled his hand away. It broke his heart to di so, but he knew if he held your hand, Jason would want to kiss you and hold you and hug you and tell you how much he loves you. But he simply couldn't find the comfort to do that in front of so many people.

"I.. I know you said no kissing," you chirped behind him. "But can I at least hold your hand?"

Jason's heart ached at the question, his skin just itching to touch you. "No." He said firmly.

"But—" Before you could say anything else, he walked further into the hall, mingling with the other guests and patrons, as Bruce ordered him to.

Jason sighed as he talked to one of the guests. A young woman with a clean cut dress and naturally flowing hair. His mind was going insane, thinking that a few inches behind him was you. So close and so easy to just turn and grab your waist and smash his lips against yours.

You understood Jason had to talk to the other guests. So you thought it wouldn't hurt if you just stood quietly beside him, holding onto his arm.

Jason's body involuntarily tensed up when he felt your hand on his arm. Normally, he would've been relaxed and felt happy, ecstatic even, to feel your fingers on him, your hand grasping onto his arm was practically a habit. But he needed you to not touch him right now.

He looked over at you, and as tempted as he was to just pull you in to hold you against his chest, Jason bit back a grimace and looked away. "What are you doing?" He hissed under his breath.

Your brows scrunched together in confusion. "What do you mean?" You quietly replied.

"Stop holding onto my arm." He muttered. "Go talk to the other guests or something." He hadn’t realised how harsh he sounded. All he wanted to get through this night, focusing on politely talking to the guests without any distractions. Unfortunately, including you.

As your shoulders sagged in disappointment, Jason's heart ached. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his embrace, telling you how much he adores the ground you walk on. But he couldn't. Not now. Not with the hundreds of eyes in the ballroom. He always hated his relationship, his privacy, his life with youxto be the center of attention.

You looked around the ballroom, not recognising anyone except Jason's siblings in the ballroom. But, like Jason, they're preoccupied talking with other patrons.

You fiddled with the fabric of your outfit nervously, feeling your hands getting clammy. You wanted to try again. Try to hold onto Jason. A habit that you've picked up when you get nervous.

So, you tried to hold onto the hem of his blazer. He tensed up as he was trying to talk to this woman who was clearly keeping a keen eye on him. Your hold made Jason feel even more awkward and uncomfortable, even though somewhere in his mind, he knew you needed to hold onto him.

Jason tried hard to focus on the conversation, but your silent, yet obviously upset presence behind him was eating away at him. After a few more minutes of the awkward and painful interaction with the girl, he excused himself, turning around to glance down at you.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his scowl as he turned, “Can I talk to you for a minute. Alone?”

You raised a brow. "Okay.." You quietly said, following him to an isolated corner.

Jason led you to a secluded spot, away from the crowd and the chatter of the gala. Once you were alone, he let out a long, tired sigh and looked over at you.

"Are you intentionally trying to get a rise out of me?" He said, his voice low. "You know I can't let you just hold onto me like you normally do when we're in public."

His words made you tilt your head in confusion. "What? Why?"

"Why?" He echoed. "Baby, you're driving me insane. You know I hate PDA, and you keep clinging to me like a damn baby." He hissed.

He quickly scanned the room to make sure he was out of earshot before turning back to you with a low voice. "Please. Just for tonight, I need you to lay off a little." He said firmly.

You looked at him with wide eyes as you slowly nodded. "Okay, okay.. I'm sorry.." You muttered.

Jason sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "No.. No, don't apologise.." He said, bending down to your eye level, his hands resting on your shoulders. "Just one night, okay?" He softly said.

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat as you nodded slowly. "Yeah.. Yeah, just one night. You can go back." You said

Jason walked back to where he had left the woman and quickly picked the conversation back up. He did his best to focus on what she was saying, but his brain was still preoccupied by thoughts of you.

No matter how much he tried to engage in polite conversation, his mind was stuck on you. On the way you’d clutched onto his arm or the hint of disappointment in your voice when he’d told you to stop. He couldn’t stand it, feeling like an asshole for hurting your feelings.

As Jason left, losing himself among the sea of people, his words replayed in your mind. 'Clinging to him like a baby'? 'Driving him insane'? He's never acted like this before. He usually accepts your affection with open arms. You knew he wasn't a fan of PDA, but.. He wouldn't even let you hold his hand.

The thought of him being embarrassed of you crawled into my mind. No, it couldn't be. It's your anniversary night. People are bound to know of your relationship. Though.. It was our first appearance at a gala together..

The thought of him being ashamed of you made your heart ache as you stared back at him talking to the pretty woman. You didn't even notice you started crying. You quickly wiped the tears away, making sure no one noticed. Before Jason could see, you quickly walked out of the hall.

You climbed up the stairs of the manor, sitting at the balcony that hovered over the hall , wiping your tears, ruining your makeup as small sobs escaped your lips.

While Jason was talking, he glanced back to where you stood to double-check that you were still there. But you weren't, and Jason immediately panicked. He quickly scanned the hall to see where you were, but he just couldn't find you.

He politely but hastily excused himself from the conversation, telling the woman he had to go use the restroom.

As he searched the crowded space, Jason's mind was racing with growing worry. He couldn’t see you anywhere. He walked around for what felt like an eternity, growing more and more anxious by the second.

Suddenly, he turned his head and looked up. His eyes scanned the balcony above the main hall, and he found you sitting up there, head bowed and shoulders trembling.

He froze for a second, his eyes widening as he saw you wiping your tears. His heart cracked at the sight, and his stomach twisted in knots. He felt like vomiting. He wanted to turn back time and prevent anything that could've led to his partner crying. Crying because of him.

He didn’t even pause to think. Jason instantly started making his way to the stairs, his steps quick and decisive. He walked up the stairs, making his way towards you, wanting to hold you and comfort you and make you stop crying, right that second.

As Jason approached the balcony, he could see you more clearly. The faint sounds of your sobs reached his ears, and it was like a punch to the gut. He cursed himself for being such a damn idiot.

He walked towards you, a mixture of guilt etched on his face. "Hey.." He said softly, his voice gruff. "Darlin'…?"

You hiccuped as you heard Jason's voice, quickly trying to wipe the remains of your tears, pretending you weren't literally just sobbing in front of him.

"Y—yeah?" Your voice trembled. "Uhm- Sorry, I had to.. step out for a moment. I'll come back down.." You said, about to stand up.

Jason reached out gently but firmly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down. He sat down beside you, his eyes fixated on your tear-stained face.

"No, don't go,” he said hoarsely, his voice filled with remorse. “Please don’t go."

He let out a slow sigh, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and sadness. "Come on, darlin’,” he said softly, his hand still on your wrist. “Why were you cryin'?”

My brows furrowed, hurt and annoyance creeping up on you. "Why was I crying? Please tell me you're kidding." You hissed, barrowing your eyes at him.

Jason's heart sank as he saw the anger and hurt in your expression. His hand didn't loosen on your wrist, but his grip softened, his rough fingers moving back to stroke the inside of your palm, tenderly caressing your skin.

"Sweetheart," he started, his voice gruff. "I... I know I said some stuff earlier. Stuff that I didn't mean, I was just-” His words trailed off, his throat suddenly feeling tight. He swallowed hard. "It just came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”

"Said some stuff? Are you serious? Not only did you say some stuff, you- you left me the whole time!" You exclaimed

Jason's eyes widened as you raised your voice, guilt shooting through his body. "Darlin,’” he tried to call out, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "It’s a gala, I was just…”

He couldn’t even finish his own sentence, the excuses sounding hollow and pointless. Deep down, he knew he was in the wrong. He’d hurt you so badly, and it was eating away at him.

"Just what?" You hissed. "Just embarrassed of me? Is that it?!"

Jason couldn't believe what he heard. Embarrassed of you? How the hell could he be embarrassed of you? He loved you more than anything. He loved you more than being Red Hood. The idea of being embarrassed of you was beyond ridiculous.

Slowly, he held your hands, swallowing the lump in his throat. "No.. No, darling, I could never be embarrassed of you.." He softly said, rubbing his thumbs against the back of your hands.

"You didn't even let me hold your hand!" You snapped, ripping your hands away from his. "I needed to hold your hand, Jason! You know I did! I'm in a giant room filled with a bunch of people I don't know and you dropped my fucking hand!" You raised your voice.

Jason winced at your words, feeling the weight of his actions with every passing second. He knew, deep down, that he'd been in the wrong. He'd been trying to keep up appearances to maintain some level of decorum. But in the process, he'd hurt you deeply and pushed you away when you needed him the most.

He looked at you, his expression solemn. "I know," he said quietly, his voice filled with regret. "I messed up, okay? I was stupid, and I didn’t think—"

"And then, you called me a clingy baby!" You cried as you interrupted him. "This was supposed to be OUR night, Jason! Ours! But you left me! You left me standing on my own so you would talk to some woman!" You sobbed. "I didn't care if we spent our anniversary here. I don't care where we spend it, as long as I'm with you! But you left me alone! You left me in an environment with hundreds of people, where I don't know anyone! 'Lay off a bit in public'? Are you serious?" You cried, recalling his words.

He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to face the guilt and shame that was consuming him as every word you said punched him in the gut. "I know, I know," he mumbled, his voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean it like that. I was just... just being a dumbass. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

You sniffled, looking down. "I was looking forward to spending our anniversary tonight.. Showing off to people that you were the guy I married... We didn't have to kiss or anything.. I just needed to hold your hand.." You muttered, looking down as a few more tears fell.

Jason's heart shattered. All you wanted was to spend your anniversary with him. And he completely neglected you selfishly.

He shuffled closer to you, his hand still tenderly resting on your cheek. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I was an idiot. I didn't understand how much it meant to you. I... I wasn't trying to push you away, just... just didn't want people staring at us, y’know? I thought.. I thought I was doing something right, protecting you or somethin’. But I was wrong. So wrong."

"I wanna go home.." You quietly whimpered, wiping your cheeks.

Jason's breath hitched at your request, but understood. "Okay, sweetheart.." He whispered. "We can go home... I'll take you home.."

Carefully, he supported you up, helping you down the stairs. With each glimpse of your tired, saddened eyes, he was reminded how much he had failed to make this night perfect. He knew he fucked up, and it was only your second anniversary. It made him rethink his position as a husband, thinking why you would ever say yes to marrying him.

Once the two of you reached the car, he opened the passenger door for you, helping you in. He got into the driver's seat, starting the car, neither of you speaking a word on the way home.

The silence and thick tension were killing the two of you. The car was usually filled with loud music, witty banter and continuous laughter. But not tonight. Jason took a glance at you every now and then. And each time, you faced the window, Jason catching a glimpse of your dejected look through the reflection. And each time, his grip against the wheel tightened, turning his knuckles white, and his jaw clenched harder.

Finally, what felt like hours, he pulled up in front of your house. As Jason turned the engine off, the two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

Jason then turned to look at you, taking a breath. "Baby..." He called out.

But you shook your head slowly. "It's fine.." You said quietly, turning to him, giving him a crooked smile as you got out of the car, heading up into the house.

Jason almost flinched at your forced smile. It wasn't fine. It was everything but fine. And he didn't understand why you would lie to him.

With a heavg sigh, he got out, locked the car, and followed you inside. Closing the front door, he wanted to apologise yet again, but you spoke up first.

"Do you want me to cook, or should we just order in?" You asked, placing your bag on the couch, pretending nothing happened.

Jason froze at your nonchalant question. How could you act like nothing had happened? Like he hadn't completely screwed up your night?

He moved slowly towards you, his face lined with guilt. "Sweetheart..." he started, but his words trailed off. He wanted to talk about it, to apologize, to make things right. But the look in your eyes told him that now wasn't the time.

"Order in, I guess," he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. You hummed in response, pulling your phone out ti order from your usual Chinese place.

Jason stood awkwardly beside you, the air thick and tense. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. He’d messed up so badly, and now you were acting as if everything was fine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you hung up the phone, turning to face him with that same light smile on your face. Jason couldn't stand it anymore, the pretend normalcy was driving him crazy. He took a step towards you, his voice ragged. "Can we talk, darlin’?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remembered to order your ebi gyoza," you muttered, heading to the kitchen.

Jason watched you walk to the kitchen, feeling like he was losing his mind. You were acting like everything was fine, like nothing had happened. It was driving him insane, and he couldn’t stand this pretending anymore.

He followed you into the kitchen, his steps heavy. "Damn it, that’s not what I meant!" he exclaimed, his patience finally snapping.

You flinched at his sudden raise of voice as you turned to face him.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?” he said, his voice sharp. "Like I didn't mess up tonight? Like it’s all just sunshine and rainbows? I... I ruined our anniversary, and you're just..." He trailed off, his voice hitching in his throat.

You shook your head. "I said it's fine." You retorted. "You don't like PDA. You wanted to make a good appearance. I get it."

Jason's jaw clenched at your response. You were still missing the point. It wasn’t about PDA or appearances. It was about him hurting you. About letting his own insecurities and worries get in the way of what should’ve been the perfect night.

"It’s not 'fine'," he replied, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I didn’t want to make a good appearance, I wanted to make you happy. And I screwed it up. Can’t you just be honest with me?”

"I am!" You said, raising your own voice to match his.

"No, you’re not!" he shot back, his voice rising further. "You’re just saying what you think I want to hear. You’re pretending everything’s fine when it’s not!"

"Yes, it is—" You were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. You sighed, running your hand through your hair as you went to go answer it.

"Thank you," you queitly said to the delivery guy as you handed him a tip, getting your food off him. You returned to the kitchen, placing the paper bag on the counter.

Jason stood there in the kitchen, his jaw clenched and his heart pounding. He could hear you talking to the delivery guy, exchanging polite words, as if tonight was just another ordinary night. It infuriated him.

He watched silently as you put the food on the counter, the tension in the air so thick it was almost suffocating. He couldn’t stand this anymore. He had to make you understand.

"Sweetheart," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "We need to talk about this. We can’t just pretend everything’s fine. You’re clearly upset about what happened, and we need to address it. I'm so sorry about tonight, I didn’t..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. He knew just saying sorry wasn’t enough, but fuck, he was willing to say it over and over if that’s what it took.

"You already said sorry. And I said it was fine." You said, eating one of the spring rolls. "Eat your food before it gets cold." You muttered, turning around to the counter to switch the radio on to prevent any awkward silences.

Jason's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. He was struggling to keep his temper in check, but you weren’t making it easy. You were avoiding the conversation he desperately wanted to have.

Despite his irritation, he knew better than to keep arguing while you were like this. So, with a heavy sigh, he reluctantly turned to the counter, grabbing his food and starting to eat, still keeping a sharp gaze on you.

As the radio softly played in the background, your song began to play. The song you and Jason always danced and sang to no matter what you were doing; cleaning, showering, arguing. But you were so immersed in your own head, you didn't even realise it was playing.

Jason stopped eating, hearing the familiar sound of your shared song, his heart aching, just a bit. It was the tune that always managed to lift your spirits no matter the context.

He looked over at you, waiting for a reaction, for some sign that you were going to acknowledge the significance of the melody. But you continued to eat silently, your face stone cold and expressionless.

Jason clicked his tongue in annoyance, setting his fork down and walking closer to you.

"Dance with me." He said, more of a demand rather than a request as he held his hand out in front of you to take.

You looked up at him, still unaware that your song was playing. "What?" You said, watching as his extended hand out in front of you.

"You heard me," Jason replied, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mixture of determination and pleading. "Dance with me."

He kept his hand out, waiting for you to take it, hoping that this would be what it took to break through the wall of false normalcy you’d built around yourself.

You hesitated but gave in, knowing the two of you never miss the song. So, weakly, you placed your hand in his as he pulled you close.

The two of you danced around the kitchen, swaying with the melody. You couldn't help the small upwards tug on your lips as the song became more upbeat, Jason twirling you around.

He pulled you back flush against him, your bodies moving in sync with the rhythm of the song. "I... “ he began, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m sorry I messed up tonight, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. It... it wasn’t how I wanted our anniversary to go. Not at all."

You sighed, wrapping your arms around him. "No, it's fi—" You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence, knowing it would make things worse.

You sighed again. "I'm sorry. I should've given you space. I know you don't like PDA.." You muttered, leaning your head against his chest.

As you leaned your head against his chest, Jason felt a wave of relief wash over him. He wrapped his arms around you snuggly, holding you close.

"No, darlin’," he said, his voice rough. "I... I shouldn’t have left you like that. I’m the one who messed up, not you. The last thing I ever want is to make you feel like I’m embarrassed or ashamed of being seen with you. And I’m not. I’m the proudest man in the world that you’re with me." He declared, softly placing a kiss to your forhead.

He pulled back slightly, his hands moving to hold your face, tilting it up so he could look into your eyes.

"I love you, darlin’," he said, his voice hoarse. "More than anything in this world. The last thing I want is to hurt you. And I’m so, so sorry that I did."

Your heart soared at his words as your grip around him tightened. You pressed a qiick soft peck to his lips.

"I forgive you.." You softly said. "And I love you too. I'm sorry I tried to act like everything was fine.." You muttered. "Happy anniversary, Jay..." You then whispered, smiling softly up at him.

Jason returned your smile, his heart swelling with love. The tension had finally left the air, replaced by comfort.

"Happy anniversary, my love," he whispered in return, his hands coming up to cup your face, fingers gently tracing the curves of your cheeks. "I promise next year, we’re gonna have the best damn anniversary ever. No mistakes, no worries, just us."

"Just us." You echoed in a whisper as you leaned into his touch.