#Eleventh Key

[heimeldat]

I really just couldn't stop painting today!

ID: a realistic digital painting of the Eleventh Doctor wearing his monk robes from The Bells of St John. He leans one hand on a white pillar and clenches the other excitedly in front of his chest as he grins off to the side. Behind him is an arched window filled with stained glass. The seal of rassilon glows vivid orange and yellow in the middle, with TARDIS-blue panels surrounding it. The light halos the edge of the doctor's face and shoulders, while a faint purple glow reflects onto the lower folds of his robe from somewhere below. end ID

[seaweedstarshine]

Hi! Long time no yap but I've been really bothered by this thing and I know you're just the person I can go to with this (even if we don't always end up agreeing at times).

I got into a tiff with someone in a comments section of a post that was about Amy (Which character do you think deserved to become a villain? or something similar). They brought up Amy's abuse of her boyfriend. I may have tried to defend Amy (key word is tried. I am officially rubbish at debating) but then I may have said something? Because they said that I (and apparently a lot of other fans) was excusing Amy's abuse because of her trauma. It got me stumped because isn't young Amy's treatment of Rory rooted in her trauma? Did I miss the memo where we separate trauma and abuse? Am I missing something?

That statement bothered me a lot because if there's one thing I never want to do it's defend an abuser. So here I am, humbly asking and hoping to clear the muddy waters.

Your really confused and disturbed moot, Tia 💌

TIA!!!!! Thanks for the ask 💌 , and I send you all the hugs.

Discussion of abuse, trauma, ableism, infidelity, and unhealthy relationship dynamics beneath the cut.

(First off… while I really appreciate your faith in my explaining skills <3 <3 <3 my passion for traumatized characters and mentally ill+neurodivergent rights doesn't make me especially qualified to fully clear muddy waters especially not knowing the full context, but I feel you, and what follows is my informed perspective!)

Speaking generally first, harm done in media is best examined by the impact on the audience, with a different lens than harm done to real people. While relatable experiences in media can be useful and validating and incredibly important, you can’t be “defending an abuser” when the abuse is fictional. It's actually normal for traumatized/ND/mentally ill people to project onto mentally ill villains, when villains are the only significant representation for those stigmatized symptoms in a media landscape that excludes and demonizes us simply for existing. RTD can't stop people who hallucinate from reclaiming the Master's Drums and projecting onto the Master, for example — 90% of the best Doctor Who psychosis fic by psychotic authors is about the Master, whether RTD likes it or not. It's not true crime.

(This is speaking generally. Amy Pond is very much not the Master.)

Abuse is a behavior, and there can be many reasons for it, but reasons based in trauma don’t make it not abuse (some forms of generational trauma can propagate abusive parenting styles, when the parent thinks abusive parenting is normal, or lives entirely vicariously through their child). This absolutely should not be taken to mean trauma correlates with abusive behavior; rather that abusive behaviors from traumatized people are more likely to present in specific ways.

Abuse is also a targeted behavior, based in control — not consistently displayed C-PTSD symptoms as seen in Season 5 Amy Pond through many aspects of her life. Mental health symptoms don't become abuse just because they hinder one partner from meeting the other partner's needs. Any life event can do that.

Without knowing the context of the arguments, this is the aspect of their relationship I've seen you talk about before (which I also feel strongly about), and what I assume is what you were debating? So, here I will talk specifically in regard to Season 5.

We all know Amy — she's never attached to Leadworth because she never wanted to leave Scotland, no steady therapist because none of them stick up for her, can't stick with one job yet her first choice is a job that simulates intimacy because her avoidant behavior (a known trauma response) isn't sustainable to her wellbeing. Rory knows her fears of commitment stem from her repeated abandonments, it’s why he��ll always wait for her, and it's why he blames the Doctor “You make it so they don't want to let you down.”, who apart from having caused a lot of her trauma, has actively taken advantage of her being the “Scottish girl in the English village” who's “still got that accent,” because he wants to feel important, so yeah, I think interpreting Amy's issues (and how Amy and Rory transverse them) as Amy abusing Rory indicates a fundamental misunderstanding of their relationship, as well as a misunderstanding of the (raggedy) Doctor’s role in Amy’s formative self-image (which of course she works through in Season 6, but I am sticking to Season 5).

Abuse is always based in control. That just doesn’t fit here. While Amy's detachment from her real life includes things like calling Rory her “kind of boyfriend” (which she is upfront about to his face; differing commitment levels isn't abuse, though it can be a relationship red flag for both parties IRL) — her Season 5 disregard of Rory’s feelings occurs only in response to the fairytale embodiment of her trauma. It's never a response to Rory; it's a response to the Doctor, who stole her childhood and led her by the hand to her death. She cheats on Rory with the Doctor in her bedroom full of Doctor toys, drawings, models, she made from childhood to early adulthood.

(And yes, like many repeatedly-traumatized people, Amy is prone to being sensitive and reactive. Take her “Well, shut up then!” line in The Big Bang; but given Rory responds to this by hugging her, clearly he doesn’t take it as her actually dismissing him. He knows her better than that.)

And by no means do I meant to imply this is fair to young Rory, poor Rory, who's left struggling with the feeling that his role in her life is in competition with the role of her trauma (aka the Doctor). But not every unhealthy relationship dynamic is unhealthy because of abuse. Labelling Amy's treatment of Rory in Season 5 more accurately isn't the same as excusing her harmful choices — but making mistakes is part of being human, Amy's mistakes are certainly understandable, and she works through them out of love for Rory.

If there's one thing to say about Moffat women, it's that Moffat allows his female characters the same grace that the male characters *coughTENcough* have always had, to hurt and struggle and make realistic mistakes and overcome those mistakes and to heal without being demonized.

Amy isn't perfect, but she is a fully realized character, and her story gives us a resonant depiction of childhood trauma.

[anxiousinternetfox]

Literally how did she predict exactly what was about to happen???

[the-potato-beeper]

i killed TWO of the mantis lords before i died!

[paarksunghoon]

what about childhood best friend hoon who has always seen you as the sweet and innocent kind until he accidentally stumbles upon your dirty mind and fantasies

this just did something to me

***

“What the fuck?!”

“Sunghoon!” your cheeks and neck feel like they’ve been set on fire. You mumble a quick apology and goodbye into your phone and end the call. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

“Your mom said you’d be home and I just got back into town.” He looks at you, frowning.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sunghoon steps through the threshold of your bedroom wearing a black muscle tank and sweatpants. It’s a bit unfair how beautiful your best friend is with perfect biceps and an abdomen that can be seen through the fabric of his tank top. Sunghoon doesn’t have to try that hard and people will still fawn over him.

He looks at you like he’s seen a ghost. You see his duffle bag still in his hand but his grip seems to loosen the longer he looks at you. Sunghoon gulps and hesitantly takes a step inside of your room.

“You…I overheard you talking.”

“Why did you talk to my mom before coming come?” You ask, deflecting Sunghoon’s words in an attempt to pretend he heard nothing. “Did you drive home from school? Why is my apartment the first place you go to instead of your parents’ house?”

“Y/N.” Sunghoon’s throat feels a little too dry.

“You’re awful for not texting me before coming over.” He watches you turn around and put your phone on your table. “Anyway, how was your drive?”

Sunghoon drops his duffle bag. “I thought you were a virgin.”

You sputter. “A-A virgin? Why in the world would you think that?”

A part of you already knows this answer. Unlike you, Sunghoon’s not afraid to talk to you about his sex life and started hooking up with girls the second he left for college. He told you he lost his virginity the second he got home and updates you every so often about his sexual escapades, though not in great detail. He doesn’t press on about your sex and you don’t make it a point to bring it up because you aren’t as shameless as him.

The two of you don’t really have the dynamic where talking about sex is on the table. Or rather, he’s more open to the idea and doesn’t pry any information out of you because you’d shot him down when he asked about your virginity before you had sex for the first time. Sunghoon, for the fear of making you uncomfortable and losing his best friend, kept his mouth shut and generally always thought of you as a pretty innocent person.

You get a bit warm in the face when a sex scene in a movie comes on or whenever he plays songs that have sexual undertones to them in his car. Sunghoon has always thought you were a bit on the innocent side and figures the farthest you’ve ever gone was kissing Lee Heeseung in the eleventh grade.

But right now, his perception of you is distorted. Upon coming over after your mother told him where the spare key was, Sunghoon stood outside hoping to surprise you when he overhead you talking to your friend about a recent hookup.

“No amount of porn or book smut could really describe the feeling of a guy cumming inside of you. I had to practically beg him to take the condom off because he was worried it would be risky. But I’m on the pill so he agreed and fuck, it felt so good.”

He stands there, dumbfounded by the revaluation but can’t stop picturing you with your legs spread open for him on the bed next to you like he has for the past few weeks. Sunghoon’s face is red, no doubt.

“You’re looking at me funny.”

He whips his head to look at you. “I’m not acting funny. You’re acting funny.” Sunghoon watches you scoff and get up from your desk.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised that I fuck, Hoon.”

He sputters. “I don’t think about it.” That’s a lie.

“You don’t have to.” You shrug it off like it’s no big deal. “Do you use condoms?” Sunghoon chokes.

“No.”

Your wicked grin makes his cock jump.

“Me either.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[esotericalchemist]

𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 - 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬?

Masterlist - YouTube (subliminals)

In Vedic Astrology, the eleventh house is known as the House of Gains and represents your aspirations, income, and the fulfillment of desires. This house shows how and where you are likely to achieve success and material wealth in life. The placement of the ruling planet of your eleventh house, as well as any planets within it, offers insight into the sources of your financial gains, social connections, and overall prosperity. Essentially, understanding the eleventh house helps you see where opportunities for growth and abundance may manifest in your life.

𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Aries influencing your eleventh house, you tackle friendships, goals, and financial gains with enthusiasm, boldness, and a trailblazing attitude. You’re likely to secure wealth by being assertive, taking calculated risks, and pursuing competitive or entrepreneurial paths. Your friends and social networks are often key to your success, frequently drawn from dynamic or high-energy environments.

Mars in the Houses (Mars is the ruler of Aries)

Mars in the 1st House: Your gains come from personal drive, leadership, and independent projects. For example, you might start a business like a fitness studio, using your energy and visibility to promote your brand and grow your venture.

Mars in the 2nd House: Wealth tends to flow from managing finances, property, or physical assets. You might find success through real estate investments, or in financial sectors such as banking, perhaps working as a stockbroker or in property management.

Mars in the 3rd House: Profits are linked to communication, marketing, media, or travel. You might thrive in advertising, writing for publications, or running a travel blog, turning your communication skills into financial gain.

Mars in the 4th House: Your wealth could come from real estate, family inheritance, or home-based businesses. For instance, you might profit from buying and renovating homes or establish a successful home business, such as property management or interior design.

Mars in the 5th House: Creative projects, speculative investments, or entertainment ventures may be lucrative for you. This could mean profiting from stock market investments, cryptocurrency, or finding success in the arts as a performer or artist.

Mars in the 6th House: Hard work, health-related fields, or competitive industries could bring financial rewards. You might build wealth through a career in healthcare, as a personal trainer, or by excelling in a demanding legal profession, gaining success by overcoming obstacles.

Mars in the 7th House: Financial gains are often tied to partnerships—whether personal or business-related. You could team up with someone to start a business like a law firm or gain wealth through marriage to a prominent or driven partner.

Mars in the 8th House: Joint ventures, inheritances, or industries focusing on transformation, such as finance or psychology, could bring you wealth. You might inherit assets or succeed through business partnerships or roles in fields like investment banking or insurance.

Mars in the 9th House: Wealth may arise from education, law, travel, or publishing. You could build success as a professor, lawyer, or publisher, or by pursuing international opportunities, such as work in the travel industry.

Mars in the 10th House: Career achievements, leadership positions, or public recognition are key to your financial success. You might rise to a leadership role, like CEO or political figure, where your ambition and dynamic energy lead you to the top.

Mars in the 11th House: Your wealth may stem from your social circles, technology, or large organizations. You could benefit by working in the tech industry, founding an innovative business, or through influential friends who open doors to profitable opportunities.

Mars in the 12th House: Profits come from behind-the-scenes efforts, foreign ventures, or spiritual pursuits. You might gain financially by working in hospitals, charitable organizations, or through businesses tied to travel, import/export, or spiritual guidance.

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Taurus governing your eleventh house, your approach to wealth and gains is grounded, patient, and often centered around material security. You favor slow, steady growth, and may build your financial success through reliable investments or artistic ventures. Friendships and social networks can be significant in your financial development, particularly when aligned with shared values or tied to industries focused on luxury and beauty.

Venus in the Houses (Venus is the ruler of Taurus)

Venus in the 1st House: You are likely to attract wealth through your charm, physical appeal, and the way you present yourself. For instance, you could succeed in beauty, fashion, or personal branding—becoming a successful influencer or model, where your appearance and social magnetism are vital assets.

Venus in the 2nd House: Wealth flows through careful handling of finances, luxury goods, or industries related to beauty and aesthetics. You might find financial success in areas like fine art, jewelry, or running a high-end boutique. This placement supports a steady income in beauty or fashion-related businesses.

Venus in the 3rd House: Financial success arises through communication, media, or education, particularly in artistic fields. You could thrive as a writer, work in advertising or public relations, or make money from teaching or speaking on topics related to beauty or luxury.

Venus in the 4th House: Gains are often tied to property, real estate, or home-based ventures, particularly those related to comfort and aesthetics. You might generate wealth by flipping houses, engaging in interior design, or running a family business. Inheritance or familial wealth could also play a role.

Venus in the 5th House: Your financial success may come from creative endeavors, entertainment, or speculative investments. You could profit from acting, filmmaking, or other artistic projects. Additionally, this placement can indicate gains through stock market investments, particularly in sectors related to art or entertainment.

Venus in the 6th House: Profits are earned through service, health, or beauty-related industries. You might build wealth by working in areas like cosmetology, health spas, or wellness centers. A talent for creating a harmonious work environment could also lead to financial success in these fields.

Venus in the 7th House: Gains often come through partnerships, whether in marriage or business. You may benefit financially through a significant relationship or business collaboration, particularly with someone involved in luxury, legal fields, or the arts. Joint ventures in creative industries could be very profitable.

Venus in the 8th House: Wealth may come from inheritances, shared resources, or transformative industries. You might gain through an inheritance, or profit from partnerships in finance, psychology, or the arts. This placement can also suggest financial gains through investments or using other people’s assets effectively.

Venus in the 9th House: Financial success is connected to education, law, or travel, especially in beauty or luxury industries. You might earn through international fashion, tourism, or by teaching beauty-related subjects at a university. There’s also potential for profit from foreign investments or luxury travel enterprises.

Venus in the 10th House: Wealth comes from career success, public recognition, or artistic achievements. You might thrive in high-profile roles within the arts, luxury markets, or fashion industry. This placement is highly favorable for building wealth through a career in design, beauty, or entertainment.

Venus in the 11th House: Gains are tied to social networks, large organizations, or technology, particularly within the luxury or beauty sectors. You could profit from working in social media marketing or technology platforms related to fashion or beauty. Friendships and connections in elite circles may also lead to financial opportunities.

Venus in the 12th House: Profits come from behind-the-scenes work, foreign ventures, or spiritual and artistic pursuits. You might find financial success through working in luxury hotels or resorts abroad, or by being involved in art projects that promote beauty or tranquility. Investments in foreign luxury markets could also be rewarding.

𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Gemini ruling your eleventh house, your approach to financial gains is driven by intellect, communication, and adaptability. You may accumulate wealth through industries such as writing, media, technology, or education, where your ability to communicate ideas clearly and multitask proves invaluable. Social networks and friendships can be instrumental in your financial success, and you tend to thrive in environments where flexibility and quick thinking are required to stay ahead in an ever-evolving world.

Mercury in the Houses (Ruler of Gemini)

Mercury in the 1st House: Financial success comes from your personal communication skills, fast thinking, and intellectual pursuits. For example, you may achieve wealth as a public speaker, teacher, or writer, where your ability to express yourself clearly and think on your feet directly contributes to your success.

Mercury in the 2nd House: Wealth is generated through intellectual work, business, or trade, especially in fields involving communication or technology. You might find financial success by managing a tech startup, working in sales, or running a communications-based business, such as publishing or e-commerce.

Mercury in the 3rd House: Profits are tied to communication, writing, journalism, or short-distance travel. You could earn money as a journalist, blogger, or in public relations, using your communication skills to promote products, services, or ideas.

Mercury in the 4th House: You may gain wealth through real estate, family businesses, or intellectual work done from home. For example, running an online business, freelancing, or writing from home could be highly profitable. There is also potential for success in educational ventures related to real estate or family enterprises.

Mercury in the 5th House: Wealth can be accumulated through creative pursuits, entertainment, or speculative investments. You might succeed financially by writing screenplays, managing creative projects, or working in the entertainment industry. This placement also suggests potential gains from stock market investments or other speculative ventures.

Mercury in the 6th House: Profits come from service-oriented industries, health, or work involving communication or technology. For instance, you might find financial success working as a healthcare administrator, medical transcriptionist, or by managing digital solutions in the healthcare sector.

Mercury in the 7th House: Financial gains are often linked to partnerships, both personal and business, and intellectual collaborations. You may benefit by working with a business partner in legal, consulting, or writing fields. Marriage or partnerships in these industries may also bring financial advantages.

Mercury in the 8th House: Wealth is earned through joint ventures, inheritances, or industries that focus on transformation and finance. You might thrive in managing other people’s money, such as in financial planning or investments, or profit through publishing books on psychology or the occult.

Mercury in the 9th House: Profits come from teaching, law, travel, or publishing, especially on international platforms. For example, you might gain wealth by working as a professor, lawyer, or writer, particularly if your work involves education, international law, or travel blogging.

Mercury in the 10th House: Wealth is tied to career achievements, public speaking, or intellectual endeavors. You could succeed financially as a high-profile journalist, politician, or public speaker, where your communication skills and intellectual abilities propel your career forward.

Mercury in the 11th House: Gains are linked to social networks, technology, or large organizations, particularly those involving communication. You might profit by managing online platforms, social media businesses, or through connections with tech companies, where your ability to network and communicate pays off financially.

Mercury in the 12th House: Financial success comes from behind-the-scenes work, foreign ventures, or intellectual and spiritual pursuits. You might earn through research, spiritual writing, or working in foreign lands as a consultant or writer, especially on topics related to international affairs or spiritual matters.

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Cancer ruling your eleventh house, your approach to financial gains is deeply influenced by emotional connections, nurturing relationships, and home-related ventures. You are likely to accumulate wealth through businesses that promote comfort, security, or caregiving, such as hospitality, food, real estate, or childcare. Your social networks and friendships often play a crucial role in your financial success, providing both emotional support and practical assistance.

Moon in the Houses (Ruler of Cancer)

Moon in the 1st House: Your financial gains are tied to self-driven efforts and emotional expression. For example, you might succeed by becoming a public figure in nurturing roles, such as a therapist, chef, or lifestyle coach, where you can connect with others through your emotions and personal brand.

Moon in the 2nd House: Wealth comes from a strong desire for financial security and possibly from family resources. You might accumulate wealth through real estate investments, family-run businesses, or careers related to food, home goods, or caregiving, such as owning a family restaurant or working in childcare.

Moon in the 3rd House: Profits arise through communication, media, or relationships within your local community. You might earn by writing about family, home life, or food, or through local ventures like running a café or bakery. Short-distance travel or involvement in local businesses can also bring financial success.

Moon in the 4th House: Gains are connected to family, real estate, or home-based businesses. You may profit from buying and selling properties, managing rentals, or running a business from home, such as interior design, home decor, or even a bed-and-breakfast.

Moon in the 5th House: Wealth comes from creative endeavors, children, or emotionally fulfilling projects. You could find financial success by working on projects related to children, such as writing children’s books or running a daycare. Speculative ventures, particularly those that resonate with family values, could also prove profitable.

Moon in the 6th House: Financial success is tied to service-oriented professions, health, or caregiving roles. You might earn money by working in healthcare, nutrition, or any field that involves caring for others, such as being a nurse, dietitian, or personal caregiver.

Moon in the 7th House: Wealth comes through partnerships, marriage, or collaborative ventures. You may benefit from a business partnership or marriage, particularly in caregiving or hospitality-related industries, such as real estate, family-owned businesses, or ventures focused on comfort and security.

Moon in the 8th House: Financial gains may come from inheritances, shared resources, or transformative industries. You could inherit family wealth or benefit from joint ventures in industries like psychology, emotional healing, or those dealing with death and transformation, such as funeral services.

Moon in the 9th House: Wealth arises from higher education, travel, or teaching in nurturing roles. You might profit from teaching caregiving or hospitality-related subjects, or by working in real estate or hospitality abroad. Writing or publishing on family, home, or caregiving topics can also bring financial rewards.

Moon in the 10th House: Your financial success is closely tied to career achievements in caregiving or public service roles. You might excel in public careers related to healthcare, food, or hospitality, such as managing a chain of hotels or leading a family business in the food or service industry.

Moon in the 11th House: Financial gains come through social networks, community involvement, or large organizations focused on caregiving and emotional well-being. You could profit by working in healthcare, social work, or community welfare organizations, or by leveraging supportive friendships and networks to create financial opportunities.

Moon in the 12th House: Profits are earned through behind-the-scenes work, foreign ventures, or roles involving emotional and spiritual healing. You might gain wealth by working in hospitals, spiritual retreats, or through caregiving roles in secluded settings like a hospice. Overseas ventures related to caregiving, or spiritual services, may also bring financial success.

𝐋𝐞𝐨 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Leo ruling your eleventh house, you pursue financial gains with a sense of confidence, creativity, and a desire for recognition. Leadership roles, creative ventures, and public visibility are likely to be avenues for accumulating wealth. Your social networks can significantly influence your success, particularly when they involve influential or creative individuals. Your drive to express your individuality and stand out pushes you toward financial success, especially in areas where you can shine and take on prominent roles.

Sun in the Houses (Ruler of Leo)

Sun in the 1st House: Financial gains come through personal charisma, leadership, and self-promotion. You might achieve wealth by being the face of a business, becoming a public figure, or stepping into leadership roles where your confidence and presence attract opportunities—such as becoming an entrepreneur, actor, or leader in a visible field.

Sun in the 2nd House: Wealth is earned through personal assets, financial management, and a focus on material security. You could profit from investments in luxury goods, art, or jewelry, or by taking leadership roles in industries related to wealth management or high-end markets. Your focus on stability and value makes you financially successful.

Sun in the 3rd House: Profits arise through communication, media, and entrepreneurial ventures involving short-distance travel or education. You might gain wealth by working in media, public speaking, or by leading a business that focuses on writing, marketing, or teaching.

Sun in the 4th House: Wealth comes through real estate, family businesses, or home-related industries. You may accumulate wealth by managing property, working in real estate, or profiting from family enterprises. This placement also favors ventures focused on luxury home environments, such as interior design or property development.

Sun in the 5th House: Your financial success comes from creative endeavors, entertainment, or speculative investments. You could thrive in careers involving acting, performing, or creating luxury goods. Additionally, speculative markets like stocks or investments in industries related to children, education, or entertainment could lead to wealth.

Sun in the 6th House: Wealth is gained through service-oriented professions, health industries, or leadership in daily work routines. You might find financial success by managing teams in healthcare, leading service industries, or excelling in high-profile positions that involve helping others, such as fitness or wellness management.

Sun in the 7th House: Gains come through partnerships, marriage, or collaborative business ventures. You may accumulate wealth through a significant partnership, whether in marriage or business, especially in high-profile fields like law, entertainment, or public relations. Taking a leadership role in joint ventures can also be a path to financial success.

Sun in the 8th House: Wealth may come from joint ventures, inheritances, or transformative industries. You could gain financially through family inheritance or by working in fields such as psychology, investments, or life-transition industries like insurance, counseling, or financial planning.

Sun in the 9th House: Profits arise from teaching, travel, law, or publishing, particularly in high-profile or international roles. You may gain wealth as a well-known educator, lawyer, or author. Opportunities in travel or working within global industries, such as luxury tourism or international business, can also lead to financial success.

Sun in the 10th House: Financial success is linked to career achievements, leadership roles, and public authority. You could become wealthy by taking on leadership positions in large corporations, government, or entertainment industries. Public recognition and respect for your work often translate into financial rewards.

Sun in the 11th House: Wealth comes from social networks, large organizations, or technology. You could profit from networking with influential individuals or working in large corporations or tech-based industries. This placement is ideal for standing out and taking leadership roles in media, technology, or large organizations.

Sun in the 12th House: Financial gains are achieved through behind-the-scenes work, foreign ventures, or spiritual and creative pursuits. You might build wealth by working in secluded settings such as hospitals, spiritual retreats, or foreign countries. Creative projects related to introspection, art, or spirituality can also be sources of financial success.

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Virgo ruling your eleventh house, your approach to financial gains is practical, detail-oriented, and focused on efficiency. You are likely to accumulate wealth through work related to service, health, research, or intellectual pursuits. Success comes from refining systems, improving processes, and maintaining a methodical approach to your goals. Your social networks tend to be composed of hardworking, dedicated individuals who share your values. Your ability to analyze, organize, and solve problems ensures steady and sustainable financial growth over time.

Mercury in the Houses (ruler of Virgo)

Mercury in the 1st House: Financial gains come through your intelligence, communication skills, and self-promotion. For example, you might find success by using your analytical mind and problem-solving abilities in fields like consulting, writing, or teaching, where you can establish yourself as an expert.

Mercury in the 2nd House: Wealth is earned through intellectual work, business, or fields involving communication. You may thrive in careers such as accounting, bookkeeping, or managing small businesses, where attention to detail and financial management skills are crucial to your success.

Mercury in the 3rd House: Profits arise from writing, media, communication, or local businesses. You could earn by working as a journalist, editor, or teacher, or through running a local business. Communication-based work, such as starting a blog focused on health, wellness, or practical advice, may also be profitable.

Mercury in the 4th House: Gains are linked to home-based businesses, family enterprises, or real estate. You might succeed by running a family business, working from home as a consultant, or investing in property. This placement also favors careers in home improvement services or real estate management.

Mercury in the 5th House: Wealth comes from creative projects, education, or speculative ventures. You could achieve financial success by working in children's education, teaching, or coaching. Alternatively, you might profit from creative writing or speculative investments like the stock market or gambling.

Mercury in the 6th House: Profits are earned through health-related fields, service-oriented work, or administrative roles. You could find financial success by working in healthcare management, as a nutritionist, or in wellness-related industries, where your organizational skills and attention to detail are vital assets.

Mercury in the 7th House: Wealth comes through partnerships, collaborations, or legal work. You may benefit from working with a business partner on intellectual ventures, writing contracts, or consulting in fields like mediation, counseling, or legal advice.

Mercury in the 8th House: Financial gains are tied to joint ventures, investments, or transformative industries. You might earn through financial planning, investment management, or by working in research, psychology, or therapeutic industries that focus on personal or financial transformation.

Mercury in the 9th House: Profits arise from teaching, travel, law, or publishing. You might find success in education, international business, or travel-related industries, such as becoming a travel blogger. Writing or publishing, especially on academic or philosophical topics, can also lead to wealth.

Mercury in the 10th House: Wealth is linked to career achievements in intellectual or communication-driven roles. You could thrive in high-level administrative positions, corporate communication roles, or as an expert consultant in your chosen field, where your intellect and organizational abilities shine.

Mercury in the 11th House: Gains come from social networks, technology, or large organizations. You might profit from working in tech, analytics, or science-based industries, or by leveraging a large network of business or intellectual connections to create financial opportunities.

Mercury in the 12th House: Financial success comes from behind-the-scenes work, foreign ventures, or research. You could earn by working in secluded environments like hospitals or research institutions, or through intellectual pursuits abroad, such as becoming a translator, international consultant, or academic researcher.

𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Libra ruling your eleventh house, your approach to financial gains is driven by balance, harmony, and social relationships. You may accumulate wealth through collaborations, partnerships, and connections in fields related to beauty, art, law, or diplomacy. Your friendships and social networks are essential to your financial success, often helping you form important alliances. Creating peace and harmony in group settings or within partnerships is likely to open doors for lucrative opportunities.

Venus in the Houses (ruler of Libra)

Venus in the 1st House: Financial gains come through your personal charm, appearance, and social appeal. For instance, you might succeed in industries like fashion, beauty, or public relations, where your ability to present yourself in an attractive and harmonious manner brings lucrative opportunities.

Venus in the 2nd House: Wealth is earned through luxury goods, aesthetics, or careful financial management. You might thrive by working in the fashion industry, running a high-end boutique, or managing a jewelry business. Your appreciation for beauty and material comfort will likely guide you toward financial success.

Venus in the 3rd House: Profits arise through communication, media, or education, especially in artistic fields. You could gain financially by writing about beauty, fashion, or relationships, or by working in advertising, public relations, or media. Your ability to communicate artistic or aesthetic ideas effectively leads to financial gains.

Venus in the 4th House: Gains come from real estate, family businesses, or ventures related to home and beauty. You might profit from interior design, property management, or home-based beauty services. Family wealth or engaging in industries that enhance comfort and beauty within domestic spaces can also contribute to your financial success.

Venus in the 5th House: Wealth is generated through creative endeavors, entertainment, or speculative ventures. You might succeed in the arts, acting, or through performing. Additionally, investments in luxury or fashion-related industries may bring financial rewards. Romantic partnerships or ventures involving children could also be lucrative.

Venus in the 6th House: Profits come from service-oriented work, health, or beauty industries. You may earn by working in wellness, fashion, or beauty services, such as being a beautician, personal stylist, or running a health spa. Your ability to create harmonious environments in the workplace will further boost your income.

Venus in the 7th House: Gains come through partnerships, marriage, or legal work. You might profit from a marriage or business partnership, especially in beauty, law, or fashion. Collaborative ventures in fields like wedding planning, relationship counseling, or law could lead to significant financial gains.

Venus in the 8th House: Wealth comes from inheritances, joint ventures, or industries focused on transformation. You might gain through shared resources, marriage, or by working in financial planning or psychology. Joint investments, luxury services, or industries like cosmetic surgery could also lead to financial success.

Venus in the 9th House: Profits arise from teaching, travel, law, or publishing, particularly in areas related to beauty or relationships. You might earn money by teaching or writing about relationships, law, or artistic topics. Businesses involving luxury travel or beauty tourism may also be highly profitable.

Venus in the 10th House: Wealth comes from career achievements in the public sphere, particularly in beauty, law, or the arts. You could thrive by holding a prominent position in the fashion or beauty industry, or as a public figure in law, diplomacy, or entertainment. Public recognition for your work in aesthetic fields will likely lead to financial success.

Venus in the 11th House: Gains come through social networks, large organizations, or technology, particularly in fields related to beauty or luxury. You might profit by working in fashion technology, social media marketing, or through influential friends in high-end sectors. Networking with creative professionals can introduce lucrative opportunities.

Venus in the 12th House: Financial success comes from behind-the-scenes work, foreign lands, or spiritual and artistic endeavors. You might earn wealth by working in luxury hotels, wellness retreats, or through charitable work that promotes beauty and harmony. Artistic projects in secluded environments or abroad could also bring financial rewards.

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Scorpio ruling the eleventh house, your approach to financial gains is strategic, intense, and often transformative. You tend to accumulate wealth through deep emotional relationships, joint ventures, or industries tied to finance, psychology, and transformation. Your social networks are likely to include powerful and influential individuals, and you may leverage these connections to access hidden resources or manage shared assets. Your determination and ability to navigate complex situations help you achieve long-term financial success.

Mars in the Houses (ruler of Scorpio)

Mars in the 1st House: Financial gains come through your personal drive, ambition, and assertive actions. You may accumulate wealth by starting your own business, taking on leadership roles, or working in high-energy fields like sports, fitness, or entrepreneurship, where quick decision-making and initiative are key.

Mars in the 2nd House: Wealth is earned through physical assets, assertive financial management, or industries tied to material goods. You might gain by investing in real estate, working in property management, or industries related to construction or metals. Your proactive approach to financial matters ensures solid material growth.

Mars in the 3rd House: Profits arise from communication, writing, or media-related ventures. You might build wealth by working in journalism, marketing, or running a media company. Quick thinking and direct communication are your assets, and industries like sales or short-term travel can also lead to financial success.

Mars in the 4th House: Financial success comes through real estate, family inheritances, or home-based businesses. You might accumulate wealth by investing in property, renovating homes, or managing a family business. Ventures related to real estate or home improvements, such as house flipping, can prove highly profitable.

Mars in the 5th House: Wealth comes from creative ventures, speculative investments, or entertainment industries. You could succeed as an actor, director, or in any creative field, especially those involving risk, like the stock market or cryptocurrency. Your willingness to take calculated risks could lead to significant financial rewards.

Mars in the 6th House: Profits come from service-oriented professions, health fields, or competitive industries. You may achieve financial success in healthcare as a surgeon or physical trainer, or by excelling in competitive environments like law, the military, or corporate sectors. Your perseverance and work ethic lead to consistent financial gains.

Mars in the 7th House: Financial gains are tied to partnerships, alliances, or marriage. You might profit from a strategic business partnership in fields like law, finance, or consulting. Alternatively, wealth may come through marriage, particularly if your partner works in a high-energy or competitive industry.

Mars in the 8th House: Wealth comes from joint ventures, inheritances, or industries focused on transformation. You could build financial success by managing other people’s resources in roles like investment banking, financial planning, or insurance. Inheritance or working in fields like psychology, healing, or transformative services could also bring wealth.

Mars in the 9th House: Profits arise from teaching, law, international business, or travel-related industries. You might gain by working as a professor, lawyer, or through international business ventures. Travel, foreign investments, or industries like adventure tourism or higher education can also be financially rewarding.

Mars in the 10th House: Wealth is tied to career achievements, public recognition, and leadership roles. You may achieve financial success by leading large organizations or taking on prominent roles in competitive fields like finance, military, or government. Your ambition and determination push you toward the top, where financial rewards follow.

Mars in the 11th House: Gains come through social networks, large organizations, or collective ventures. You might profit by working in technology, finance, or large-scale enterprises. Your ability to network within influential circles and lead group initiatives opens up significant financial opportunities.

Mars in the 12th House: Financial success comes from behind-the-scenes work, foreign investments, or industries related to healing and spirituality. You could build wealth by working in hospitals, prisons, or spiritual retreats. Investments abroad or in transformative fields, such as therapy or hidden resources, could also be lucrative.

𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Sagittarius ruling your eleventh house, your approach to financial gains is characterized by expansiveness, optimism, and a focus on growth, higher learning, and adventure. Wealth may come from teaching, international business, publishing, law, or travel-related endeavors. Your social circles are broad and diverse, often including individuals from various cultural and intellectual backgrounds. Financial success is likely to come by embracing opportunities that involve exploration, education, or philosophical pursuits, allowing you to expand your horizons.

Jupiter in the Houses (ruler of Sagittarius)

Jupiter in the 1st House: Gains come through personal charisma, leadership, and an optimistic outlook. Example: You could achieve wealth as a teacher, motivational speaker, or entrepreneur, where your confidence and expansive nature draw financial opportunities. Your leadership abilities and ability to inspire others help you attract success.

Jupiter in the 2nd House: Wealth is earned through investments, teaching, or industries tied to higher learning and travel. Example: You might accumulate wealth through international trade, real estate investments abroad, or by working in education, such as owning language schools or cultural institutions. Your ability to manage resources with a long-term perspective is key to your success.

Jupiter in the 3rd House: Profits arise from communication, writing, media, or short-distance travel, often connected to educational or philosophical topics. Example: You could earn by publishing books on travel, education, or philosophy, or by working in media that promotes intellectual growth. Local teaching ventures, educational tours, or creating content that inspires learning may also bring wealth.

Jupiter in the 4th House: Gains come from real estate, family businesses, or educational ventures related to the home. Example: You might profit from real estate investments, especially in culturally significant properties, or by running a family business involving education, such as homeschooling consulting or online educational programs.

Jupiter in the 5th House: Wealth is derived from creative pursuits, teaching, or speculative investments in educational or intellectual ventures. Example: You could build wealth by running educational programs for children, teaching creative subjects, or investing in entertainment or intellectual property. Your ability to inspire others through your creativity often leads to financial rewards.

Jupiter in the 6th House: Profits come through service industries, health, or teaching, particularly in educational or travel-related fields. Example: You might earn by teaching at universities, managing educational institutions, or working in healthcare sectors with an emphasis on wellness and travel, such as retreats or international health services.

Jupiter in the 7th House: Gains come through partnerships, collaborations, or legal work, especially in international or educational fields. Example: You could profit from a business or legal partnership that deals with international law, education, or foreign investments. Collaborative ventures that focus on growth, expansion, and global reach lead to significant financial success.

Jupiter in the 8th House: Wealth comes from joint ventures, inheritances, or transformation-based industries like finance or psychology. Example: You might gain financially through shared resources, investments, or inheritances. Working in transformative fields, such as financial planning, educational funding, or psychological counseling, could also bring wealth.

Jupiter in the 9th House: Profits arise from teaching, law, travel, or publishing, particularly in global or philosophical fields. Example: You might earn wealth as a professor, lawyer, or travel consultant. International business ventures, such as starting an educational travel company or publishing books on philosophy, could lead to significant financial success.

Jupiter in the 10th House: Wealth is tied to career achievements, public leadership, and authority in fields related to education, law, or travel. Example: You could gain wealth through high-profile roles in education, law, or as a public figure in global initiatives. Leadership in international business or educational reform could result in substantial financial rewards.

Jupiter in the 11th House: Gains come through social networks, large organizations, or technology, especially in education or travel. Example: You might profit by working with large educational or travel organizations, or by networking in intellectual and global circles. Involvement in global educational programs or travel technology startups could bring financial success.

Jupiter in the 12th House: Profits come from behind-the-scenes work, foreign lands, or spiritual and intellectual pursuits. Example: You might gain wealth by working in spiritual retreats, universities abroad, or industries related to foreign investments or educational ventures. Teaching or consulting in secluded or spiritual environments can also be lucrative, particularly in roles that focus on personal growth or spirituality.

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Capricorn ruling your eleventh house, you take a disciplined, methodical approach to achieving financial gains, often focusing on long-term planning, hard work, and responsibility. Financial success may come through structured industries like business, government, real estate, or leadership roles. Your social networks are likely to include influential or authoritative figures, and you may achieve wealth by aligning yourself with institutions or steadily advancing within your chosen field. You are driven by the desire for stability, and your success often stems from careful, strategic efforts.

Saturn in the Houses (ruler of Capricorn)

Saturn in the 1st House: Financial gains come through personal discipline, leadership, and perseverance. Example: You might achieve wealth by taking on leadership roles where your reputation and hard work are essential. Becoming a CEO or rising in a field that values responsibility and structure could lead to long-term financial success.

Saturn in the 2nd House: Wealth is earned through careful financial planning, savings, and long-term investments. Example: You may accumulate wealth through cautious investments in real estate or by working in finance, accountancy, or banking. Your disciplined approach to managing money ensures steady financial rewards over time.

Saturn in the 3rd House: Profits arise from communication, writing, or media ventures that require discipline and long-term effort. Example: You might earn by working in publishing, journalism, or technical writing. Success in these fields comes from years of consistent effort and attention to detail, with financial rewards building slowly over time.

Saturn in the 4th House: Gains come through real estate, family businesses, or property-related investments. Example: You could profit by investing in real estate or managing family assets. Building wealth through property or home-based businesses, with a focus on long-term growth, can lead to financial security.

Saturn in the 5th House: Wealth is generated through creative endeavors, speculative investments, or education-related ventures. Example: You might earn by working in industries like film production, education management, or through long-term investments in stocks or real estate. Your structured approach to creative projects or speculative ventures ensures sustainable financial growth.

Saturn in the 6th House: Profits come from service-oriented industries, health, or disciplined work routines. Example: You may gain wealth by working in healthcare management, legal services, or in careers where service, structure, and discipline are essential, such as HR or law enforcement. Consistent work in these fields can lead to long-term financial success.

Saturn in the 7th House: Financial gains come through partnerships, business alliances, or legal work, often developed over time. Example: You could profit from long-term business partnerships or legal agreements in structured fields like law, real estate, or corporate business. Marrying a successful partner in a traditional field might also bring financial benefits.

Saturn in the 8th House: Wealth comes through joint ventures, inheritances, or managing shared resources. Example: You may achieve financial success by managing other people’s money or assets, working in fields like banking, finance, or insurance. Carefully handling joint ventures or family inheritances can also lead to long-term wealth.

Saturn in the 9th House: Profits arise from teaching, law, publishing, or international business, especially in structured fields. Example: You could earn wealth by building a career in academia, law, or international trade. Long-term involvement in publishing or large educational institutions, such as universities or think tanks, can also bring financial success.

Saturn in the 10th House: Wealth comes from career achievements, leadership roles, and authority in large organizations. Example: You may achieve financial success by steadily climbing the corporate ladder or taking leadership roles in business, government, or large institutions. Your dedication to long-term career goals brings substantial financial rewards.

Saturn in the 11th House: Financial gains come through social networks, large organizations, or collective efforts, often tied to responsibility and long-term planning. Example: You could profit by working in industries like technology or finance, where your network connects you to influential individuals and organizations. Building wealth through large companies, NGOs, or group ventures focused on long-term goals is a viable path.

Saturn in the 12th House: Wealth comes from behind-the-scenes work, foreign lands, or industries related to healing and institutions. Example: You might gain wealth by working in hospitals, prisons, or charitable organizations, particularly in roles that require discipline and structure. Long-term investments abroad or work in secluded environments may also bring financial success.

𝐀𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Aquarius ruling your eleventh house, your approach to financial gains is innovative, forward-thinking, and often tied to collective efforts, large organizations, or social causes. You are likely to accumulate wealth through long-term planning in industries such as technology, social reform, or intellectual pursuits. Your social networks, friendships, and collaborations are key to your financial success, and you may benefit from working within groups or organizations that focus on future growth or humanitarian efforts.

Saturn in the Houses (ruler of Aquarius)

Saturn in the 1st House: Financial gains come through personal discipline, leadership, and a structured approach to self-development. Example: You might achieve wealth by assuming leadership roles in technology, science, or social reform, where steady, long-term effort and responsibility are rewarded. Your ability to remain methodical and patient leads to financial success in these fields.

Saturn in the 2nd House: Wealth is accumulated through careful financial planning, long-term investments, and a conservative approach to resources. Example: You could gain wealth through disciplined investments in real estate, technology, or infrastructure. A patient approach to saving and building resources slowly will lead to significant financial stability over time.

Saturn in the 3rd House: Profits arise from communication, media, or tech-related industries that require perseverance and long-term effort. Example: You might earn by working in journalism, media production, or education, particularly in technical or innovative subjects. Careers in writing, teaching, or media focused on technology or social progress could lead to financial rewards after years of hard work.

Saturn in the 4th House: Gains come from real estate, family businesses, or property management, emphasizing long-term stability. Example: You could profit from managing family properties, investing in real estate, or working in property management or construction. Your disciplined and structured approach to building assets will create long-term financial stability through real estate.

Saturn in the 5th House: Wealth comes from creative endeavors, speculative investments, or education, achieved through slow and disciplined effort. Example: You may find financial success in structured creative fields, such as directing films, or by making well-researched investments in stocks or real estate. Your methodical approach to speculative ventures pays off in the long run.

Saturn in the 6th House: Profits come from service-oriented professions, health, or routine work, particularly in tech or efficiency-driven industries. Example: You could earn by managing teams in healthcare or technology, or by working in fields like IT or engineering. Your disciplined approach to work and service ensures financial stability, especially in industries focused on innovation and progress.

Saturn in the 7th House: Gains come through partnerships, business alliances, or legal work, particularly in tech, law, or structured industries. Example: You might gain wealth through a business partnership in fields like technology, law, or social reform. Long-term collaborations or marrying a partner in a structured industry may also bring financial benefits.

Saturn in the 8th House: Wealth comes from joint ventures, inheritances, or managing shared resources. Example: You may accumulate wealth by managing other people’s money, such as in banking, finance, or insurance. Careful and long-term planning in joint financial ventures or through inheritances can lead to financial success.

Saturn in the 9th House: Profits arise from teaching, law, travel, or publishing, particularly in intellectual or technology-related fields. Example: You could earn wealth as a professor, lawyer, or through publishing work related to science, technology, or social structures. Long-term ventures in international business or higher education will also lead to financial success.

Saturn in the 10th House: Wealth is tied to career achievements in leadership roles, especially in large organizations or government. Example: You might achieve financial success by rising to leadership positions in large corporations, tech companies, or governmental institutions. Your disciplined and steady approach to career advancement ensures significant rewards over time.

Saturn in the 11th House: Gains come from social networks, large organizations, or collective ventures, especially those focused on innovation or social progress. Example: You might profit from working with large organizations or humanitarian groups, or by leveraging your connections with influential people in tech or social causes. Long-term involvement in collective projects will bring financial stability and success.

Saturn in the 12th House: Profits come through behind-the-scenes work, foreign lands, or industries related to healing or institutional work. Example: You may gain wealth by working in hospitals, prisons, or charitable organizations, particularly in administrative or managerial roles. Long-term investments in foreign markets or work abroad in institutional settings can also lead to financial success.

𝐏𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

With Pisces ruling your eleventh house, your approach to financial gains is intuitive, creative, and often tied to spiritual or imaginative endeavors. You may find success in artistic ventures, healing professions, or charitable work, and industries related to water, spirituality, or creativity may also be sources of wealth. You tend to follow your inner vision, and your empathetic and spiritually inclined social networks can help guide you toward success. Your wealth is likely to be linked to your ability to dream big and connect with higher ideals.

Jupiter in the Houses (ruler of Pisces)

Jupiter in the 1st House: Financial gains come through personal growth, optimism, and leadership in creative or spiritual fields. Example: You might achieve wealth through public speaking, coaching, or becoming a spiritual leader. Your expansive personality and ability to inspire others can open up financial opportunities in creative or spiritual ventures.

Jupiter in the 2nd House: Wealth is earned through investments, teaching, or industries related to spirituality, healing, or creativity. Example: You could gain financially by working in wellness, holistic health, or education, with investments in art, music, or spiritual projects providing long-term financial rewards.

Jupiter in the 3rd House: Profits arise from communication, writing, or media ventures with a focus on creative or spiritual themes. Example: You may earn by writing books on spirituality or creativity, or by running a blog, podcast, or media platform that explores healing, the arts, or personal growth.

Jupiter in the 4th House: Gains come from real estate, family businesses, or ventures related to spirituality or healing at home. Example: You might profit from running a spiritual retreat, yoga studio, or investing in peaceful real estate that promotes healing and well-being. Holistic home businesses could also bring financial success.

Jupiter in the 5th House: Wealth is derived from creative endeavors, entertainment, or speculative investments, especially in the arts or spiritual education. Example: You could succeed financially by working in entertainment, acting, or teaching creative arts. Investments in artistic or spiritual ventures, such as music, film, or alternative education, may also be rewarding.

Jupiter in the 6th House: Profits come through service-oriented professions, health, or routine work, especially in healing, spiritual, or creative fields. Example: You may gain wealth by working as a healer, counselor, or wellness practitioner. Managing spiritual retreats, health clinics, or creative workspaces could bring steady financial growth over time.

Jupiter in the 7th House: Gains are achieved through partnerships, collaborations, or legal work, particularly in spiritual, creative, or healing industries. Example: You could profit from collaborating with a partner in a spiritual business or healing center. A marriage or partnership with someone in these fields might also bring financial success through shared ventures.

Jupiter in the 8th House: Wealth comes through joint ventures, inheritances, or industries related to finance, psychology, or spiritual transformation. Example: You could accumulate wealth by managing other people’s money or working in investment banking, or by running a business focused on psychology, healing, or esoteric practices. Inheritances or shared resources may also play a significant role in your financial success.

Jupiter in the 9th House: Profits arise from teaching, law, travel, or publishing, particularly in spiritual or creative fields. Example: You might earn wealth as a professor of spirituality or philosophy, or by writing and publishing books on creativity, personal growth, or spiritual topics. International work or teaching in foreign countries could also bring financial success.

Jupiter in the 10th House: Wealth comes from career achievements in leadership roles related to spirituality, creativity, or healing professions. Example: You may gain wealth by becoming a spiritual leader, motivational speaker, or public figure in the arts. Running a successful business or organization in healing, creativity, or spirituality can lead to long-term financial success.

Jupiter in the 11th House: Gains come through social networks, large organizations, or collective ventures involving spirituality, creativity, or humanitarian work. Example: You might profit from working with charitable organizations, creative collectives, or spiritual groups. Networking with individuals in the arts, healing, or spiritual communities will open up financial opportunities for you.

Jupiter in the 12th House: Profits come from behind-the-scenes work, foreign lands, or industries related to spirituality, healing, or charitable work. Example: You could gain wealth by working in hospitals, spiritual retreats, or other healing institutions, or through international work related to healing and spirituality. Long-term involvement in charitable work or esoteric fields could bring significant financial rewards.

Masterlist

[nadvs]

home before dark (part eight) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, smut, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

You can hear gentle taps on the window behind you. At some point since you got back from the marina, it must’ve started raining. You’ve been too absorbed in your time with Rafe to notice until now.

Even though you’re trying to process what he just said, your instinct is to hope for his sake that it doesn’t storm. Because your instinct has always been to worry about him. His was always to avoid you. And now, if you actually heard him right, you know the real reason why.

You’re suspended in time as you stand in front of him in your kitchen, trying to silently compel him to look at you again. But his eyes are focused on the floor.

You were just upstairs, touching in the most intimate way, giving each other the best kind of pleasure. Now, in a matter of a minute, a chasm has opened up between you again. Rafe’s chest is rising and falling faster with every second that passes.

“What’d you just say?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe shuffles in place, his temples beginning to throb. “Fuck. I was never going to tell you.”

“What do you mean because of me?” you echo his words, your legs weakening.

Hearing your voice sound so faint, a harsh contrast from the soothing, careful way you always speak to him, makes his chest tighten.

“Goddamn it,” Rafe mutters. “Why’d you have to push me to talk when I - I said I didn’t want to talk?”

His feet carry him to the other end of the counter just to create some distance. He figures it should be easy because for so long, it’s been second nature for him stay away from you. But he hates that he can’t touch you right now. This moment is too tense, the words he said too ugly.

Rafe finally meets your gaze. Every other time he thought you looked sad or scared or broken is nothing compared to the way your face is knitted in misery right now.

His darkest secret is out. He told himself he’d take it to the grave. But he just changed everything. He shoved a dagger into the heart of the only person who truly cares about him. And there’s no undoing it.

“What do you mean because of me?” you repeat.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat. He knew you were wrong; he’s not good like you said he is. This proves it. He’s sick. There’s something wrong with him because a good person wouldn’t blurt what he just said out, no matter how much pressure they were under.

He nervously grips the edge of the counter.

“Rafe,” you urge. His head hangs low.

“It was right before your birthday,” he mutters. “Do you remember?”

“Of course I-” You inhale a sharp breath. “Of course I remember.”

After what happened, you cancelled your eleventh birthday party. You didn’t want to celebrate anything for years afterwards.

“Did that have… something to do with it?” you ask.

Rafe’s body goes cold. It had everything to do with it.

He begged his mother to go. She told him there were warnings on tv about a storm and that they could go the next day, that there was time, but he had to be such a brat about it that she finally agreed. She always gave into him.

“You never stopped talking about how excited you were for it,” he says, “and I wanted to get you something great and I made her take me. And you…”

His gaze hardens. This was supposed to stay locked inside him forever. At some point, behind his back, you got the key.

Your heart is in a vice. You’re waiting for him to say this is a cruel joke.

“You know what?” he huffs. “I don’t even remember what I was so determined to get you. I just remember…”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, a short, boyish whine escaping his mouth as he hears the sound of the tires skidding in his mind, over and over again. They didn’t even make it to the store.

You want to rush to him. To hold him. To let him dampen your shirt with his tears again. But you can’t. You’re frozen.

This is why Rafe never wanted you in his life. You’re not just a reminder. It was never that simple. You’re the reason for his suffering. And you can touch him and laugh with him and kiss him as many times as you want, but you’re sure he’ll never see past it.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he kept this from you. It’s clear. He didn’t want to hurt you. You thought he was being cruel all these years, but he was protecting both of you from this very moment.

You imagine the boy you knew, in the car, watching his world end because he wanted to be a good best friend to you. He was always sweet. Always doing what he could to show the people he loved that he loved them. And he paid for it in the worst way.

You’re crashing into a painful realization, as if the lights were just turned on, burning your eyes after you’d been sitting in the dark for years.

“I…” you begin. But you’re weak. Speechless. You hold the back of a chair at the kitchen table for stability.

For once, you’re not touching Rafe to comfort him as he cries. On top of the shame and frustration and guilt he’s feeling, a sense of loneliness sinks into him. He doesn’t know if he’d push you away if you came to him. But you’re not even going to try?

The sharp, comfortable feeling of anger overshadows it all. Like always. Being mad is the most familiar state for him to be in. Especially when it’s himself he’s angry at.

“And I just kept asking until she agreed to take me,” he mutters.

You can hear it in his voice that he blames himself, too. And if there’s anything you can do for him, it’s take away his pain. It’s what you’ve wanted to do for him for so long.

Guilt rips you into you. A hot tear rolls over your cheek. If Rafe has to blame you, if it’s defence mechanism, his way to cope, you can live with being the bad guy in his story. Because you love him. You’re afraid you always will.

Your phone rings in your pocket, blaring in your kitchen. You’ve had it on loud so you couldn’t miss a call from your parents just in case.

You clumsily rush to grab it and turn the sound off. You hang up before even looking at who’s calling.

“Who is it?” he asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say.

“Who is it?” he says more sternly.

You look at the notification. Your lawyer. You called her after the cops found the tracker on your car to update her. You’re sure you discussed everything you needed to. What’s she doing calling at almost nine at night?

“My lawyer,” you say.

“Call her back,” he orders.

“I can do it later.”

Rafe only says your name, his mouth a firm line. You hate that he’s talking to you like this again, as if he’s mad at you for existing around him.

But he’s right. She might have some important news. Your hands are shaking as you tap on your screen to call your lawyer back on speakerphone. She answers after the first ring.

“Sorry I called so late, but I wanted to let you know,” she says, “I hounded the police and I finally just got confirmation that they took Ty into custody.”

“He was arrested?” you say. You meet Rafe’s eyes. In the midst of all this, for a second, he forgot you’ve been living in your own horror.

“Yes,” she replies. “He’s been charged with the unlawful installation of a tracking device. They traced it back to him. They don’t always arrest for a misdemeanor, but I think the fact that you already had an order out against him helped.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Thank you.”

“Again, I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” she says. “You did the right thing fighting back. I wanted to keep you updated. Call me if you have any questions. Have a good night.”

“Thank you,” you say. “You, too.”

You hang up the phone and realize you don’t even feel a morsel of relief that Ty has been arrested. Because Rafe just dropped something so earth-shattering on you that you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same again.

You don’t even discuss the call you both just heard. You stick to your private vow. You have to. He can blame you. He can hate you. He can feel whatever he wants if it’ll ease his suffering.

“You’re right,” you say quietly. You sit down, unable to hold yourself up any longer. “You’re right. You just wanted to be a good friend. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

It doesn’t feel entirely dishonest taking the blame. They were on the freeway because of you. If you and Rafe never became friends, if you never fell into his life, he’d still have a mother.

His words from earlier when this all started ring in your head. We can’t do this. This conversation? Or everything?

“It’s always going to be hard for you to be around me, isn’t it?” you ask, desperate for the clarity. Because if it’s true, it’s better you know now.

Just this morning, he said you were friends again. Then in your room, you did something people who are much more than just friends do. And now, you might be doomed to going back to being nothing. Unless he denies it. Again, hope finds its way in your heart like it always does when it comes to him.

Rafe’s stare is distant. He grips the countertop even tighter.

“I don’t know,” he says. Truthfully, he exists in two places at once when he’s with you. He feels both peace and disarray. Both bitter and sweet.

You nod slowly, standing on wobbly knees to find a paper towel to wipe your tears away with. You stand by the sink with your back to him, rubbing it beneath your eyes.

I don’t know. It’s the worst answer he could give you. At least if he gave a definitive yes or no, you’d know what the future will look like. But I don’t know is what keeps hope alive, and you know by now the pain that hope can bring.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeat, muffled. “If you never met me…”

You think back to sitting next to him in the police station waiting room. He wrote in your birthday on that form without hesitation. He didn’t even need to think about it. And you know now it’s because he’s doomed to remember that date forever.

“You don’t have to stay here,” you finally say. “You can go home. I get it. I get why you never wanted to talk to me.”

You let out a shaky sigh, regretting the years you spent trying to reconnect with him. You were unknowingly hurting him every time.

The guilt sitting on your heart is so heavy that you’re sure it’ll never leave you. While you thought he kept you at a distance because of grief, because of the role you played in reminding him, you realize that was only scratching the surface.

Rafe’s eyes are trained on you on the other side of the room, watching your body tremble.

“I’m staying,” he says resolutely. You turn to look at him from across the kitchen. His eyes gleam with tears.

“He was arrested,” you reply. “He can’t hurt me.”

Rafe studies you. You look how you did the night this all started, when you rushed to him, asking him to pretend to be your boyfriend.

“But you’re still scared,” he says.

“I think I’ll be scared for a while,” you admit. Ty is still out there. Even behind bars, he’s someone plotting to own you. You try to push past the fear for Rafe’s sake. “But he can’t hurt me.”

“I told you that I’m staying with you until your parents get back,” Rafe says.

You feel like you’re spiralling. You know he kept this from you for a noble reason, but the realization that he always blamed you feels like it’s chipping away at you by the second.

“It’s okay,” you say. “Your job is done. You don’t have to do this anymore.”

“Yes, I do,” Rafe counters. You grimace. He’s being so stubborn. The rack of guilt, shock, and confusion has your mind racing.

“Why did we do… what we did upstairs?” you ask. “Why did you say you felt something for me?”

Rafe exhales slowly. Kissing and touching you like that was euphoric. He wants that feeling, again and again, without the ugliness of your shared history following both of you.

“Because I do,” he answers honestly. You twist your lips in sadness.

“You do,” you say, “but you don’t want me in your life?”

Rafe’s quiet, his expression unreadable. Suddenly, you feel selfish and ashamed to be confronting him about this after he revealed something so painful.

“Forget it. I’m sorry,” you say. You toss the damp paper towel in the trash. “If you want to stay, you can. But if you want to go, I get it. I’ll be in my room.”

You start to tread out of the kitchen, a sniffling mess at this point. You feel worse than ever for pestering him with your questions after he opened up to you.

You’re sure you’ve both spent more time crying than smiling since you tumbled into each other’s lives again. Maybe it’s best for both of you to be nothing. It’s not what your heart wants, but being together seems to bring you both more pain than happiness.

You turn, figuring this may be your only chance to tell him how sorry you are. If tonight’s your last night together and you go back to being strangers after this, you need him to know.

“I know nothing I say or do can make it better, but I’m so sorry for everything you went through. And I’m so sorry I was the reason for it,” you say, meeting his gaze from across the room. “I never stopped missing you. But I get it. We don’t have to be friends or… be anything. We’ll go back to how it was. This time, I won’t keep bothering you.”

Rafe watches you leave. The weight in the pit of his stomach gets a million times heavier. He would do anything to take back telling you the truth.

You’re curled up in a ball under your blanket, your throat growing sore from crying. You tried to break this arrangement with Rafe off the day he told you that you were always going to remind him of what happened. You told him all you do is hurt each other.

But he pushed. He said he wanted to take care of you. You’re almost angry at him for not letting you end it then. But as painful as the truth he dropped on you tonight is, you’re glad you know.

You’d rather take the blame for him. You’d rather never have to wonder what he meant when he said you did do something wrong, but not on purpose.

But you are angry at him for kissing you. For touching you. It gave him another piece of your heart that you can never get back.

Rafe is still hunched over in the kitchen. He fucked up. You’re upstairs, devastated, because of him. Since this started, you’ve been so worried about bothering him. You said he tolerates you. And he put so much effort into making sure you didn’t feel like a burden, but he just undid it all.

The way you apologized was like you were saying sorry for existing. Whatever he had left of a heart had been wrung out. He needs a distraction. But you can’t give it to him, because it’s you he needs the distraction from.

You eventually get to a point where you can’t cry anymore. You’re numb. You spend every passing minute hoping Rafe will come into your room to try to convince you that you can make each other happy.

But he doesn’t. You fall asleep alone.

A loud bang wakes you up. Your instinct tells you it’s Ty. A few seconds later, consciousness gets a hold of you and you remember your phone call. He’s in police custody. He can’t be here.

You sit up in the dark. Another bang outside. It’s still raining but the noises aren’t rolls of thunder like a few nights ago.

Rafe didn’t leave. If he did, he would’ve needed you to disarm the security system. You check the time. It’s nearing three in the morning.

Another thud. At this point, you’re scared. You need to find him.

You’re already panting when you reach the guest room. You knock on the ajar door.

“Rafe?” you mumble.

To your relief, you hear his tired hmm? from the other side of the door.

“I keep hearing noises from outside,” you say. “I think someone might be out there.”

The bed squeaks with his weight shifting and a moment later, you hear the unmistakable sound of him pulling out and pushing in the magazine of his gun. It adds yet another layer of fear onto you.

“Where?” Rafe asks as he steps out of the room.

You guide him in the dark to the window by your bed. You watch him lean to look out the glass, the gun in his hand.

“It can’t be him, right?” you finally say with a thin voice.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t want to say what’s been turning in his head since you got the call from the lawyer. He didn’t want to scare you. But it’s exactly why he stayed.

“Rafe?” you say.

“Someone could’ve bailed him out,” he finally replies.

Your heart is in your throat. The stress of tonight made you completely forget about that possibility. If Ty got bail, of course his wealthy family would pay it. You feel stupid for urging Rafe to leave. And grateful that he didn’t.

“Well, if he - if he did, wouldn’t the police make sure he doesn’t try to get to me?” you ask.

“The police are idiots,” Rafe says flatly, still angry over how passively they treated you when you filed the restraining order, how thoughtless they were to not check your belongings.

“If he’s trying to get in,” you say shakily, “the alarm will go off. It automatically alerts the cops if it isn’t turned off within a minute. Please, if you… have to shoot, do it just to stop him. Don’t kill him.”

The thought of putting Rafe through watching someone else lose their life is too much for you.

He turns to look at you, barely making out your features in the moonlight shining into your room. How could possibly want to spare the life of someone so evil?

“He’s not worth it,” you say. “I don’t want it weighing on you for the rest of your life.”

Rafe looks at you in awe. Again, you put him first. In this moment, where you’re surely terrified, you’re worrying about him carrying the weight of taking someone’s life. Because he already carries that weight for his mother. And tonight, he put that weight on you, too.

“Okay,” he says. “But if he tries to hurt you, I don’t know how I’ll control myself.”

A deafening, chilling smash of glass echoes from downstairs. The shrill security alarm starts blaring. Your hand finds the crook of Rafe’s elbow as your entire body stiffens.

“Stay here,” Rafe says. “Don’t come out.”

“Be careful,” you stammer. “I’m calling 911 just to be sure.” You watch him leave as you grab your phone to report a break-in, giving the operator your address.

A few seconds later, the security system stops ringing. It’s been shut off. And you know it wasn’t Rafe who did it.

Rafe reaches the bottom of the stairs, gun pointed ahead in the dark. His eyes land on Ty, standing by the door, his hand on the security panel.

“Get the fuck out or I swear to God, I’ll shoot you,” Rafe threatens.

“I just want to talk to her,” he replies tersely.

“Get out,” Rafe repeats.

You can make out muffled conversation. You stand by your door, opening it an inch to hear what’s happening downstairs.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through for her? Where is she?”

It’s Ty. He actually did it. He actually found a way to get to you again. Rafe is the only thing keeping him from you right now. You feel like you could throw up from how scared you are.

“You have five seconds to leave,” Rafe says. Your ex sputters a laugh.

“Or what?” Ty reaches below the hem of his shirt. “You think you’re the only one with a gun?”

Your blood runs cold. Rafe is facing a maniac you’re sure wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. This could end in someone getting shot. Someone could die here tonight. And if it’s Rafe, you won’t be able to live with yourself.

It’s a crazy, desperate idea, but you’re confident you can manipulate Ty. You know him well. You know what he wants to hear. He’d do anything to think he can have you again. And you need to buy time before the police get here.

“Put it down,” Rafe warns.

“Is this gonna be a game of chicken?” Ty laughs again, his gun gleaming in his hand.

Your entire body is tense as you step out of your room.

“Ty?” you call out, slowly coming down the stairs. Rafe stiffens.

“I told you to not to come out,” Rafe says sternly, his eyes still on your ex.

“These are the lengths I have to go to for you, huh?” Ty calls up to you. “Just to get you to talk to me?”

It’s still dark in your home, both men just murky figures.

“I’m turning on the light,” you say, knowing that surprising Ty won’t do any good.

You reach the bottom of the staircase, standing behind Rafe, and flip the switch, washing the entrance of your home in bright lighting.

You have to stifle your gasp when you see Ty. His face is swollen from Rafe beating him up last night. His clothes are muddy from creeping around your home in the rain, finding a way in. He must have jumped the gate.

The realization that he knows the security code crashes into you. He’s surely seen you punch it in from his visits back when he was your boyfriend. You never thought he’d be committing it to memory.

This whole time, he knew it. Something you thought was protecting you wasn’t. You wish you’d thought to change the code after the break-up.

“Go back upstairs,” Rafe says, his teeth gritted.

You place a hand on Rafe’s back, out of Ty’s sight.

“Let’s talk,” you say to Ty. “Put the gun down and let’s talk.”

“You know the cops came to my house and arrested me in front of my parents?” Ty says, looking utterly unhinged. “Why the fuck did you do that to me?“

His gun is still aimed in your direction, but it’s a little lower in his shaky hand. You’re getting somewhere.

“I’m so sorry. I was scared,” you tell him.

“And you let this asshole,” Ty says, eyes darting to Rafe, “hurt me. You just fucking watched him punch me and punch me over and over and then you left. You left with him.”

“I’d do it again,” Rafe mutters. He sees pure red.

“Hey,” you whisper to him. You force your anxiety away, knowing you need to calm Ty down, not provoke him.

You drop your hand and walk past Rafe, who harshly says your name. His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you back. You look at him.

“Stop,” Rafe mutters to you, still holding out his gun at Ty. “Go upstairs. I’m handling this.”

“I won’t let you hurt him,” you say, loud for Ty to hear. “I don’t want you anymore.”

Rafe knows you’re trying to trick Ty to avoid anything horrible happening here tonight, but your words make everything in him twist in pain.

You pull away and approach Ty, your heart drumming against your chest. You meet his wide, frantic eyes.

“Hey,” you say softly, walking towards him. “You were right. He was just a rebound. You know me better than anybody.”

“You’re lying,” Ty mutters. But he’s lowering his gun. “You’re just a liar.”

“Ty,” you say, mustering up forced affection. You reach him, standing mere inches away. His gun is at his side now. The thought of him raising his hand again is petrifying.

“I was scared,” you continue, “but now I can see how much you care about me. It’s why I came downstairs. I heard your voice and I realized how much I miss you.”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says. “This whole time. And what’d you do? You got a new boyfriend. You called the cops. I - I love you. I gave you everything.”

His eyes are sharp. Poisonous. He genuinely thinks he’s done nothing wrong. To him, tracking you and taking photos of you and forcing contact with you was okay. He wants you as an object to possess. Not as a person.

“I know. Nobody can love me like you do,” you whisper, echoing the words he screamed at you when you broke up with him. “I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. I’ve always been stupid, right?”

It’s taking everything in Rafe not to charge at Ty. If he makes one wrong move, he doesn’t think he can restrain himself from putting a bullet through his chest.

Rafe watches your hand drag down Ty’s arm and he grimaces, sure you’re rattled with fear.

“Can you put this down?” you ask, your hand stopping at his, cupping the gun. “I want you to hold me like you used to.”

“You do?” Ty says, his anger slowly disappearing from his face. Relief pools through you.

“Of course,” you reply. Your hand is shaking as you find the barrel of his gun, slowly pulling at it. “I need you. I make bad decisions when I’m not with you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Ty says, a desperate grin spreading on his face. “You finally fucking get it.”

You force a smile at him, breathing out slowly as you take the gun out of his grip.

Rafe watches with relief when he sees you holding Ty’s gun at your back.

It’s terrifying facing him, but at least there’s no gun pointed at Rafe right now. It dawns on you just how much you love him. You came down here simply to try to keep him safe. To keep him from having someone’s blood on his hands. You approached someone you’ve been running from. You put your own life in danger. Willingly.

You pull back, forcing another smile as you gaze up at Ty.

“We’re getting out of here,” Ty orders.

You look up at him, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in your eyes. There’s no way you’re going anywhere with him. You know you have a second, maybe two, to get away from him. And you can only hope it’s enough.

“Let me get my shoes,” you say, trying to laugh as if you’re excited, as if you’re endeared by him.

You move as fast as you can, kneeling to pick the gun up off the floor and rushing back towards Rafe.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ty spits behind you.

Rafe has never been more relieved in his life than when you reach him, cowering behind him, Ty’s gun in your hands.

Maybe you should use it, but you can’t fathom trusting your aim when you’re shaking like this.

“You lying bitch!” Ty shouts, striding forward.

“One more step!” Rafe warns louder.

Ty doesn’t listen.

“Look away,” Rafe mutters to you. You curl up behind him, making yourself small, shutting your eyes.

The gunshot pierces the air, echoing through the foyer, making you quiver. You want to wake up. Because this has to be a nightmare. This can’t be real.

You hear Ty moaning in pain. Your eyes are still shut when sirens blare in the distance.

It’s a blur. People rush in. The door is left open, rain drumming on the pavement. You hear another hard thud and you realize you dropped the gun that was in your hands.

You feel Rafe turn and he’s saying something to you, but you can’t understand it. A shiny, yellow badge gleams in the light.

“…happened tonight?” a stranger asks.

“Can’t you do this another time?” Rafe mutters, irritated.

“We need a statement.” You realize the police officer is talking to you, a notepad in his hand. You meet his eyes.

“What?” you breathe.

Rafe looks down at you with furrowed brows, worried about you and pissed off that you’re being questioned.

“Can you tell me what happened tonight?” the cop says.

“Her ex broke in,” Rafe says. “He had a gun. You guys arrested him, then let him go. There’s your statement.”

The police officer sighs, keeping his eye on you.

“Have you been physically harmed?” the cops says.

You find the strength to shake your head no.

“Do you have somewhere else to sleep tonight?” he asks.

“Yes,” Rafe answers for you. “It’s better she’s not here in case you morons let him out again, right?”

The cop shakes his head in frustration, but seems to decide that not engaging with Rafe’s angry sarcasm is the better choice.

“We’ll be in touch, miss,” he says. He turns all his attention to Rafe. “Can you answer some questions?”

“Fine,” he mutters, then looks to you. “You wanna go pack?”

All you can hear is your own quick breathing as you pack an overnight bag. You’re trembling, dropping things, moving as if you’re going to be late for something.

Your house is a crime scene now. You still don’t know what happened with Ty. You couldn’t look.

It’s a few minutes past four a.m. when you reach Tannyhill. You and Rafe haven’t said anything to each other since the cops left.

The enormous house is dark and quiet as you trail him up the stairs. You know it’s irrational, but still, you fear Ty will pop out from behind a corner and try to finish the job.

Even after your harsh conversation earlier tonight, you hope Rafe will let you sleep in his bedroom. You stop in the upstairs hallway, unsure of what to do next, but his hand finds yours, leading you, making the decision for you.

Rafe’s bedsheets smells just like him, warm and strong and comforting. You’re turned on your side, your back to him, as he settles behind you.

Now that you’re lying down, you realize just how hard you’re shaking. Your body is still trying to catch up with your mind.

Rafe notices.

“It’s over,” he says, voice low. “You’re alright.”

You nod, exhaling once you feel his hand rest on your back. His fingers gently run back and forth between your shoulder blades. You find your words, finally.

“I know you had it under control,” you whisper, “but I couldn’t just sit in my room and do nothing. I was scared of him but I was more scared he’d hurt you and I knew I could trick him and I know you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not…” Rafe interrupts with a sigh. “I’m not mad at you.”

He’s mad at how unfair everything is. And at himself. He should have never told you they were in the car because of you. The conversation with you in your kitchen is another memory he knows will haunt him.

You nuzzle into Rafe’s pillow. He’s still slowly stroking your back, granting you a sense of safety.

“Listen, I won’t lie. I wish you never came downstairs,” he admits. It killed him seeing you face someone who’s been torturing you. “I didn’t know what he was gonna do. But you… you knew how to deal with him. I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do it for me.”

Your heart is still pounding. Of course you had to do it for him. You’d do anything for him.

“You’ve been looking out for me,” you say quietly. “I wanted to finally return the favor.”

Rafe chews on his lip. He’s pretty sure you take care of him more than he does you.

“What happened?” you ask. “Did you…”

“Got him in the leg,” Rafe says. “They arrested him. Again.” He would’ve killed him if you gave him your blessing to. He knows that for sure.

You nod. Your eyelids start to flutter shut. He keeps rubbing your back until he’s sure you’re asleep.

For once, you start your day next to Rafe. He didn’t leave you to wake up alone this time. He’s pressed up behind you, his arm draped over you, his hand over yours. You feel his chest rising and falling against your back.

The room is washed in orange sunlight. The clock on his nightstand tells you it’s almost noon.

You don’t know what to do from here. You promised Rafe that after this ended, you’d stop bothering him. And he didn’t tell you not to.

You look down at his hand on top of yours. Your eyes trail over his fingers, once again thinking about everything he’s done for you. He’s kept you safe, taken on responsibilities for you, given you pleasure.

Minutes later, Rafe shuffles behind you, slowly waking up. Once he realizes he’s holding you, he pulls away, clearing his throat.

You sit up and collect your bag before you go to his ensuite bathroom, not making eye contact. After texting a friend to ask if you can come over, you mentally rehearse what you’ll say to Rafe as you brush your teeth.

He’s sitting up in bed when you come out. He can see how tired you are, but you still manage to be so breathtakingly beautiful.

“Hi,” you say. You take a breath, standing over him, your bag at your chest. “There’s no way I can thank you enough. You saved my life. If I was home alone, he would’ve taken me somewhere and…”

You look down, knowing you shouldn’t spiral into the what if’s.

“After what I did to you, you still helped me,” you say, quieter now. “I know you think low of yourself, but you shouldn’t. Because of you, I’m alive right now.”

Rafe stares up at you, his hair tousled over his forehead. Only you can give him this feeling of pride in himself. This feeling that maybe he has a reason to exist other than getting wasted and taking out his anger in every way he can.

“It wasn’t all me,” he replies. “You’re tougher than you know.” You offer him a small, thankful smile.

“I’ll get Sarah to drive me to a friend’s,” you say. “And I’ll stay there until my parents get back tonight.”

You start to walk towards the door, but his words stop you.

“I never stopped missing you, either,” he says tensely, remembering your words from last night. “Just so you know.”

You look at him with doleful eyes. Rafe’s heart pounds faster when you drop your bag and approach him. You duck, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hugging him.

He wraps his arms around you and closes his eyes until you pull back and take your warmth with you. You can both feel that this is goodbye.

You’re grateful not only because he kept you safe from Ty, but because he allowed this arrangement between you to end cordially. He opened up one last time, giving you the comfort of knowing that he still cared about you even after the accident he blames you for.

He missed you, too. It gives you a reprieve from the pain, even just for a second.

You have a long phone conversation with your lawyer when you arrive at your friend’s house. Ty’s back in custody. There’s no option for bail now. He’ll be incarcerated until the trial. Your original court date has been nullified, as a judge has granted you the permanent protective order given the circumstances.

You give your official police statement, emphasizing as many times as you can that Rafe acted in self-defence and protected you. When your lawyer confirms he isn’t being charged with anything, you’re more relieved than ever.

You’re in a haze when you finally see your parents again. Telling them everything feels like you’re recounting a horror movie.

Your home is still deemed a crime scene, so your parents book a hotel room. You’re lying in the firm, cold hotel bed when your phone buzzes with a text.

It’s from Rafe. It’s almost midnight and you saw him this morning, but it feels like it’s been weeks. You doing ok?

You reply: yes. my parents got back and we’re at a hotel. are you ok?

He doesn’t text back. You take that as a response in itself. Whatever you had is officially over.

The next afternoon, you can finally go home. The window Ty broke is repaired. You have an irrational fear of seeing his blood on the foyer floor when you walk back into your house, even after your parents confirmed with the cops that the scene has been cleaned up.

Rafe is trying to get used to the way life is now. It feels wrong not being around you. You’re all he thinks about. When he wakes up. As he goes to sleep.

He should have replied to your text. But how can he put into words just how not okay he is? He kept it under wraps for years, then opened up to you just to ruin things between you all over again.

It’s been almost a week since he’s seen you. Other Kooks are gossiping about what happened, spreading theories and lies. They know to quiet down when they realize Rafe is in earshot.

He’s not sure if people think you’re still together or not, but they seem to know better than to blabber about it when he’s around.

It’s Saturday night and people are scattered across the massive wraparound balcony facing the beach behind Tannyhill. Rafe’s preparing a line of coke, falling into his old escapist habits.

He misses you. He’s afraid things really are back to how they were. He wants to see you. He just needs to figure out how to make it happen.

It’s loud and crowded. You haven’t left your bedroom in days, but finally, you’ve stepped outside after your friends encouraged you to come to a party. It made it easier to accept the invite when you heard it was at Rafe’s house. You want to check on him, even if it’s from a distance.

You can feel people’s eyes on you when you enter the party. It’s uncomfortable, knowing your trauma is being gossiped about and picked apart.

Ty’s in jail, but sometimes that isn’t enough. You can’t get it out of your head, the way he looked when he broke in, frantic as he waved his gun around.

You’re gazing out at the setting sun as you stand on the balcony, slipping into your thoughts as your friends chatter around you.

You’re worried you’ll be afraid of your ex forever. The safest you’ve ever felt was with Rafe and that was temporary.

You instinctually look around for him. You don’t see him, but then there’s a break in the crowd, and you spot him sitting at a table, hunched over, ready to do a line.

It’s like nothing has changed. You see Rafe the way you’ve seen him throughout your adolescence, chasing a high and acting like you don’t exist. Even after everything that happened between you.

Rafe’s about to breathe in his first line of the night. Until his eyes meet yours. And then everything goes quiet.

His fear that things are how they were before is shattered. They can’t be. Because instead of looking away, he doesn’t want to tear his eyes off of you.

You think you’re giving something to him by giving him space, but you’re not. You’re taking happiness and peace and love away from him.

Your breath catches when you feel a rush of tears thickening in your throat. Your heart is broken from so many things, but it’s mostly from the role you played in breaking his.

You excuse yourself and rush into the house, hopeful nobody will see you cry. You’re not even sure where you’re going. You just know you want to be alone.

You end up in Rafe’s room, simply because it’s the only room in the house that gives you the level of comfort you’re craving. You gaze out of one of the windows as you try to calm yourself down.

You remember entering this house for the first time. His father and yours fell into conversation like old friends do and Rafe was at his mother’s side, just barely leaning on her, enough for comfort but not so much that he looked like he needed the crutch.

You kept glancing at each other while the adults talked and when he finally offered you a shy smile, you smiled back, and you don’t know if he felt it, too, but at that moment, you knew you were going to be friends.

You sit on his bed, hands on your knees as you breathe through the hurt.

The doorknob turns. Rafe flips on the light when he comes in, his eyes boring into you. You quickly wipe away your tears. He was the last person you expected to follow you.

“Hey,” he says, shutting the door. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” you say. “I can go.”

“No,” Rafe says. “What is it?”

You can’t put him through the honest answer.

“Sucks how everyone’s talking about it,” you say. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less about the gossip.

Rafe squints for a moment, slowly making his way to you, settling on the bed an inch away from you, his cologne drifting in the air.

“Is that really it?” he asks. You nervously clasp your hands, looking down. He knows that’s not really it. You can see from the corner of his eye that he’s still watching you.

You don’t answer.

“I hate myself for telling you,” Rafe mumbles. You wince at his words.

“You shouldn’t. It’s better that I know.”

“It’s not.” Rafe anxiously rubs his forehead. “It sounded so fucking wrong when you said it’s your fault. When I heard you say it out loud, it…”

It turned everything inside out. All he’s been thinking about these past few days is how and when to tell you this.

“You know when you said maybe it was your fault he wouldn’t leave you alone?” he asks.

You think back to that night when you confessed how terrible your relationship with Ty had been. You had told Rafe it’s easier for you to take responsibility because then you’re not just a victim.

“I can’t let you blame yourself like that again,” Rafe says. “You were a kid.”

“You really don’t blame me?” you ask.

“I don’t.” His words take a weight off of your shoulders.

“You were a kid, too, Rafe. You can’t blame yourself, either,” you say softly. “And if anyone else does, they’re wrong.”

You can tell by the way he grimaces that he’s been made to feel guilty for it by someone else. His father. You have no doubt about it.

“It’s different,” Rafe mutters.

“It’s not,” you reply. “You’re just as innocent as I am.”

Rafe knew his mother well. He knows she spent her last moments worrying about him, regretting that she made the decision to leave the house with him. She was an amazing mother. He’s sure she died thinking she wasn’t.

“I didn’t tell her I loved her,” he says, voice starting to falter. “The last chance I had.”

Your chest tightens.

“You know how you always picked flowers for her on our way up to the house?” you say. “And how she was so happy every time you gave them to her?”

The memory makes the corners of Rafe’s lips turn up in a smile. He didn’t know you remembered that.

“You spent time getting her flowers just to make her day, over and over,” you say. “You don’t have to tell someone you love them for them to know. You showed her in a million ways. She knew. I promise.”

Rafe’s been living in an unforgiving cycle of hating the world, looking for blame, all to keep from accepting the truth that there was no sense to what happened. No reason. It just happened. And it left him in pieces.

Your words give him a quiet feeling of freedom that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The cycle is addictive and comfortable, but it keeps him moving in circles. Getting him nowhere.

Talking about his mother doesn’t hurt as bad this time. Because you brought up a good memory, and he doesn’t picture her in the car like he always does, but he sees her downstairs, pinching his cheek, smiling, putting wildflowers in a small vase.

Rafe’s eyes find yours again. All he can feel is a warm, stirring gratitude sinking into him. His lips part for a second before he can reach for the words.

“Thank you,” he says. “How’ve you been?”

“It’s hard,” you admit. “I keep thinking I’m going to run into him. We’re just waiting on the trial to start and I wish I knew what’s going to happen.”

Rafe takes a deep breath. He’s terrified of letting you hear how dark his thoughts get, but right now, he’s as sure as he can be that you’re the one person in the world who wouldn’t look at him with judgement.

“I wanted to kill him,” Rafe mutters. “I would right now if I had the chance.”

He looks at you, scared as he awaits your response. You tilt your head and gaze at him with sorrowful eyes.

“I think if someone was doing something like that to you,” you say, “I’d feel the same way.”

Rafe knew you cared about him, but to know you feel just as intensely for him as he does for you is a relief. He’s still not sure he deserves it.

“How have you been after everything?” you ask.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his words rushed. “I keep wanting to text or call but I don’t know how to say it.”

“How to say what?”

“How much I regret it all,” he says. Rafe combs a hand through his hair, heeling forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Every single time you tried to talk to me, I was such a dick to you. I’m sorry.”

You’ve imagined him saying this, but you thought it’d always stay a daydream. As you think about everything he’s told you, about how uncontrollable his thoughts can be and how badly he needs distractions and how utterly lonely he’s been, you feel nothing but forgiveness for him.

“You know that photo I took down?” you say. He nods, picturing the image of the four of you on the beach. “What happened, happened to that little kid. I think he handled things the only way he knew how.”

Rafe sits straight, tears threatening to form. You never run out of compassion for him. You’ve always been here, reminding him he’s human and that it’s okay to hurt and to need help.

His eyes are on yours again, and this time, he’s looking at you like he did the night before he kissed you. It’s like life is returning to his features, a pink hue blooming across his cheeks.

He recalls your words from your last night together. But you don’t want me in your life?

“I want you in my life, alright?” he says. He ducks his head just a bit, looking at you with a mix of infatuation and nerves. “If you still want to be in it.”

Your lips quiver with an endeared frown as you gaze at the multifaceted, complex, passionate man sitting in front of you.

“I do,” you say. Because the past few weeks have been so stressful, all you want right now is clarity. “You mean as a friend?”

“No,” Rafe scoffs, a smile quirking on his face again. “No. If you want that, we’ll do that. But I want more. Please tell me I didn’t fuck this up.”

You gaze at him through your lashes, feeling like you might just melt at the soft way he’s looking at you and speaking to you.

“Believe me,” Rafe says, “that I’ll be different. For real, this time. I don’t…” He sighs. “I never want you feeling like you’re bothering me. It’s the opposite. Every minute I’m not with you is just… it’s hell.”

He licks his lips from nervousness. He doesn’t like that you haven’t said anything yet.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

You smile at him, bringing your hand to his, feeling that his knuckles have completely healed now. This right here is the moment you think you might be able to let go of the fear and instability and pain that’s existed between you for so long.

“I want more, too,” you tell him. He looks at you with furrowed brows almost like he’s in pain, like waiting for this has actually been hurting him.

Rafe hopes his impatience to kiss you isn’t too much for you when he leans forward, laying his lips to yours, but you meet him with the same hunger.

He holds you, cupping your cheek, stroking your skin with his thumb as your lips weave together. His tongue runs against yours and you raise your hands, one resting on the crook of his neck while the other runs over his hair.

With a quiet moan of pure desire, Rafe kisses harder, moving even closer to you so that your eyelashes overlap.

He separates to close his lips on your neck, trailing hot, desperate kisses over your throat. Then, Rafe’s fingers rest on your hips, fingertips dipping under your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” he asks huskily.

“Yes,” you breathe.

The slowly burning flame between you has sparked into a wildfire now. You feel the fabric of your top slowly dragging up your body, making you dizzy.

Rafe watches in awe as he pulls your shirt off you, all of his senses going hot when he watches the way your chest is rising and falling, the way your bra looks pushed against your body. He dips to kiss your neck again as he holds you at your waist.

“Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he whispers, “or if I need to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper back. Your hand drags over his hard jaw to pull him up to your lips again. Rafe is intoxicated by this feeling, by the promise of pleasure, by the pure joy of being wanted.

Your lips quietly smack together as his fingers skim up the side of your body, over your shoulder, down the line of your bra strap, finally wandering over your chest.

He massages you gently, earning breathy moans from you. With eyes still shut, you find the top button of his shirt, pulling it out of its loop slowly.

Your kisses grow even more impatient as you unbutton his shirt, moving down his chest, finally reaching the bottom. Your fingers slip under his collar, pushing his shirt down his shoulders.

Once Rafe’s shirt is on the floor, he leans against you, gently guiding you onto your back on his soft bed, still kissing you. You run your hands down the firm curve of his back, making him shudder into your mouth.

His fingers dip under your bra strap, feeling desperate to see you. His forehead presses against yours as he pulls back.

“Is this okay?” he rasps.

You nod and your breath hitches when he pulls the strap down over your shoulder and dips to kiss where it sat. His groin already feels so tight that it hurts.

Slowly, he lowers to kiss the valley between your breasts, making your heart pound even harder. When he finally pulls down the cup of your bra, seeing you bare draws a stunned, sharp intake of breath from him.

You rake your hand through his hair when you feel his hot mouth on you. You moan softly and the sound of you revelling in the pleasure he’s giving you puts him in an even deeper daze.

Rafe cups your waist and drags his hands to your back. You arch to give him just enough space to unhook your bra, and once he has full access to your chest, you shut your eyes as his tongue and hands roam over you.

He leaves wet kisses all over your chest and comes back up to capture your lips again. His movements are languid as he rests his hand between your legs and suddenly, your clothes feel suffocating. You’ve never needed someone more.

Rafe drags his fingers over you, pressing in gentle circles. You spread your legs wide as he hovers over you, holding himself up on his elbow.

His eyes are on you, full of lust and want, imagining how you’ll taste if you let him go that far. He sinks to dip his fingers beneath the band at your hips, pulling the clothing down your legs, taking his time.

He settles over you again, putting his hand back where it was, and even though there’s still one more layer of fabric to strip, he can feel you so much better.

You whimper as he drags his fingers over you, and then he lowers again, his head between your legs.

You meet Rafe’s gaze when he kisses you right over your panties, and the intimacy, the pure vulnerability thickens the air even more.

“Can I?” he mumbles, his breath warm. You nod in desperation.

He slides the last piece of clothing you have on off of you, and when his eyes drink you in, his heart pounds loud in his ears.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, dipping to kiss your inner thighs before finally tasting you. You breathe out shakily as his tongue curls against you, as his hands hook around the tops of your thighs, resting on your hips.

Your whole body is hot and trembling as he kisses and sucks and licks, worshipping every bit of you.

Rafe can’t get enough of you. He just started and he already dreads the thought of stopping.

Your hands sit on his and he squeezes your fingers as he buries his face against you, holding both your hands, gazing up to see the bliss written in your pretty features.

He shifts to bring one of his hands where his mouth is, gliding over you, working both on you to bring you to a mind-blowing climax that leaves you moaning.

Rafe holds himself up over you again, kissing you, letting you taste yourself, as you eagerly unbutton his jeans. He helps you pull his pants down and when you grip him over his boxers, he nearly whimpers in need.

You stroke slowly, your hand wrapped around him, the other pushing against his bare chest to gently lead him to lie on his back.

You drag his boxers down, looking at him with pure arousal. His face is twisted in pleasure when you put your mouth on him, tasting him, taking him in completely.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you if he tried. You slowly pick up your pace and he knows if you go any longer, he won’t last.

“Can we…” he rasps. You’re trembling in anticipation, already knowing what he’s asking.

You shift higher, resting on your knees, your bare bodies pressed together as you kiss him.

You lower your hand, holding him, dipping against him to just barely meet each other. It’d take just one buck of your hips to feel him inside you.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes,” he groans. “Go as slow as you need to.”

You nod, shuddering as you position yourself and slowly sink onto him. You moan in unison at the sensation of your bodies meeting this way.

When you finally take all of him in, you pause to revel in the feeling, breathing heavily, your cheeks brushing.

“I love you,” Rafe says, his deep voice weaved with awe.

You pull back to look at him, not sure if you heard him right. You take in the color of his eyes and the beauty of his edges and your heart has never felt like it was glowing until this very moment.

“I love you, too,” you half-whisper. He almost can’t come to grips with the fact that you said it back with such certainty. Like you have no doubt that he has a place in your heart.

You roll your hips, taking your time to adjust to him. His hands are at your waist as he enjoys the slow ecstasy of your warmth.

You hug him tightly as you slowly move up and down. Eventually, you can feel him tensing beneath you, and you want to give him the control to reach the pace he needs.

You lift off of him, kissing him before you shift onto your back. He doesn’t waste any time to settle over you, slowly pushing into you again.

You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve for Rafe, while he’s kept his caged. He thought he didn’t even have one anymore. But you remind him that he does have this side of him, that it still exists, that he wants to give all of it you.

“I love you,” he rasps again. “I love you. I love you.”

Bliss overwhelms you as you tenderly kiss his forehead. He gently rocks forward and back, filling you perfectly as his thrusts slowly quicken.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers into your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you say, wrapping your legs around him. His breaths quicken as he moves faster, writhing over you into a climax that makes him groan.

Your bodies are glistening with sweat, your breaths heavy. Rafe’s weight doesn’t leave you as he collapses in pleasure.

“Is it okay if I stay like this?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. His face is nuzzled into your neck, panting as he breathes you in, still inside you, living in this perfect moment with you.

Rafe has felt homesick since he can remember. Even within the walls of his own bedroom. But you and the feeling you give him are home. Safety with no exceptions, love with no conditions.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” he mumbles against your skin.

“Exist,” you say with a gentle laugh.

Rafe plants lazy kisses against your neck as you hold him, slowly coming back to reality. There’s a whole party happening in his house, but in his world, it’s only you and him.

When he gets up, he isn’t prepared for how empty he feels when he loses the feeling of you wrapped around him. You lie next to him, facing each other with tired smiles.

“How was it?” he asks. The question sends you into a fit of laughter.

“You heard me, right?” you say, almost embarrassed from the sounds you made.

Rafe smirks and moves even closer to you, kissing you as you both lie on his pillow. You rest your palm on his face, gently tapping at the deep dimple in his cheek with your finger.

“You should show these more often,” you say.

“What?”

“Your dimples.”

He laughs, thinking to himself that he’ll do anything you want him to if you’ll keep loving him. He’s drunk on the feeling of the simplicity of being with you. It’s easy and pure.

Rafe asks if you want to shower together, and soon, you’re in his ensuite, standing under hot water ebbing over your skin.

Every movement between you is a slow expression of love, your bodies curved together as you share kisses and hold each other.

At one point, he’s clinging onto you, his lips pressed on your shoulder, and you’re holding him like you did the night in your house when he finally opened up completely.

Rafe is overcome by every emotion he’s feeling and it’s the first time in years that he cries without urging himself to stop. Because you’re here and you know everything and you still don’t want to leave.

You hold each other in bed wearing nothing but towels. He asks you if you want to go back out to the party and is relieved when you tell him you don’t.

“I’m falling asleep,” you eventually say, your legs tangled with his as he holds you. “I should go home.”

“No,” he says. “Why? Stay. Sleep here.”

You text your parents that you’re sleeping over. You know they’ll assume you’re staying in Sarah’s room, since you’ve done it so many times.

After you put your phone on Rafe’s nightstand, you snuggle into him, your head resting on his shoulder. You yawn, getting goosebumps from the way his fingers trail up and down your arm.

“Need a distraction?” you ask.

“No,” Rafe replies tiredly. For once, his mind isn’t racing. The mix of chaos and calm he thought he felt with you is no longer a mix at all. It’s just calm. It’s just peace.

You wake up in Rafe’s arms, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek and his breaths on the top of your head. It feels unreal recounting last night, remembering the amount of times he told you he loves you.

You shift slowly to get out of bed, putting on your bra and underwear and slipping into his bathroom. He’s sitting up in bed when you come back out. His eyes immediately trail down your body, a smile growing on his face.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re just…” Rafe exhales, resting his arm out on the bed in a way to beckon you to come back. “Perfect.”

“You mean as a friend?” you joke. You settle back into bed on your knees as he chuckles.

“Fuck no,” he answers, making you laugh. “Do you have to leave?”

“I don’t,” you say. Your body warms when you see the relief on his face. Now that you’ve sealed the rift that lived between you for so long, you can see just how badly Rafe wants you around.

But it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore. This feels right. Like you were meant to be with him all along.

“Would you wanna go down to the water?” you ask.

He nods. It’s like your kids again; he’d go anywhere you want just to see you smile.

It’s a windy morning by the sea. The sun is covered by clouds as you sit on the private beach next to Rafe. He drapes an arm around you, rubbing your arm to keep you warm. He feels like now that he’s been given permission to touch you, he can’t stop.

“The hours we spent out here,” you mumble. Rafe gazes at your profile as you look out at the horizon.

The dark blue sea makes you think of all the possibilities, of everything to come. You turn to catch him staring.

“I didn’t…” Rafe gently shakes his head. He didn’t know this was possible. “You know how people say they can feel someone around them after they… after they die?”

You nod. He feels guilty as hell with what he’s about to say.

“I never did,” he admits. Your face drops in shock and sadness. You can’t imagine how lonely he’s felt. “But right now, it’s like… it’s like she’s about to call us up to eat. I can feel her here.”

You feel like your heart is whole and broken at the same time. You lean to kiss his cheek over and over, the waves crashing in the distance.

“I need to stop trying to forget her,” Rafe says sadly.

He glances down at the sand, and you can tell anxiety is starting to grip him. You take a deep breath before you speak.

“I think she’d understand why you did,” you say. “What do you think about getting her flowers?”

Blue eyes find yours. He hasn’t visited her grave in years. If he does today, he’ll need you with him.

“Yeah,” he says simply, dusting the sand off his jeans as he heads to the patch of grass by the boardwalk.

The cemetery is quiet and tranquil. You drove over on his motorcycle, holding onto him tighter than you needed to. Your shoes pad over the paved walkway, feeling more and more nervous as you approach where she rests.

The headstone isn’t as big as Rafe remembers, but he figures it’s because he was much smaller when he visited last. He starts to cry as soon as he sees the photo of her in the center of the plaque. He forgot that was there.

Tears burn your eyes when you watch him slowly drop to his knees, his hands splayed on the lush grass.

You read the epitaph over and over again. When love is eternal, life cannot die.

Rafe forgot that he was holding the flowers he picked and he realizes he broke some stems, but when he looks at her photo again, he puts the flowers right at the corner of the headstone, knowing she was always happy with any bouquet he gave her, no matter the condition.

You sink beside him, resting a hand on his back.

“Should I talk?” he stammers. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You do whatever feels right,” you reply.

“Can you talk?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say. You’ve been yearning to talk like this with him for years. “You know you have her smile?”

“Really?”

“Yes,” you say. “It’s one of the reasons I love seeing you happy.”

Rafe nods, a tear dripping off his chin. He needs you to keep talking.

“And I remember she was always winking at me,” you say. “I don’t know if you saw.”

“She did that because she knew I had a crush on you,” Rafe mumbles. You smile sadly, rubbing his back.

“I’m pretty sure she knew I had one on you, too,” you say. “She was so smart and so sweet. Everyone could see how much she loved being your mom.”

Rafe offers you a grateful smile.

“I miss her,” he says, his voice brittle.

“Me, too,” you reply. “I’m sorry. I can go back to the parking lot if you want?”

You’re offering to give him time alone here. And to his surprise, he nods. He can do this. You kiss his temple and give him the moment he needs.

Rafe is sitting in silence for a minute before he finds the words. He stares at her photo.

“I’m sorry I made you drive that night,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry I always got mad at you when you called me your baby. I just wanted to grow up and you told me to enjoy being young and you were right.”

He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry I dug myself into a hole and tried to forget you. But I think she’s right. You’d understand.”

He cracks a small smile, remembering when he first told his mom he liked you, how nervous and giddy he felt.

“Still want to marry her,” he says. He can hear the way she laughed when her ten-year-old son told her he hoped you’d be his wife one day, but he’d still want to live at home so he’d beg for you to move in. “She never left my side, mom. I gave her every reason to but I think she saw how much I was hurting.”

Rafe promises her he won’t let so much time pass before he visits again. And when he finds you standing by his bike, he holds you so tightly that he feels your heart beating against his.

Everything is different for him now. He hasn’t had the comfort of permanence in his life for a long time. He can’t believe you want him, even after you’ve seen the worst of him.

Rafe never takes his hands off of you. At every party, on every date, he always has to be touching you in some way to remind himself that he has you for real.

It takes a few tries, but he manages to quit coke. And eventually, he quits waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for you to decide he isn’t worth the effort.

He’s with you every step of the trial. The lawyer says Ty getting five years in prison is a win, but he thinks the only win would be a life sentence.

Eventually, the trauma loses its power over you. You feel safe. Not because your ex is locked up, but because Rafe is with you.

You stand by him for everything. Every breakdown he has, every time he sinks into his grief, every storm that reminds him of the worst night of his life. You never leave.

You love him for long enough that he finally believes if someone as amazing as you can see something in him, it must be there.

Epilogue

You didn’t ask for much for the wedding. One thing that you were sure about was that you wanted an event artist, someone to paint the day on a canvas to capture it in a unique way.

Rafe is happy to to along with it, but then again, he’s like that with everything when it comes to you. You could never ask too much from him. He’ll forever feel like he owes you for never giving up on him.

The banquet hall is massive and beautifully decorated, and you can hardly hear your own thoughts over the crowd’s chatter and elegant music. The day has been a whirlwind.

When the artist waves you over, you take Rafe’s hand.

“Want to see the painting?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says, beaming at you simply because of how excited you are.

You had secretly asked the artist to include Anne in the painting. When your eyes land on the canvas, seeing her drawn in with everyone else who stood at the altar warms your heart.

You look up at Rafe, whose mouth is just slightly agape. He stares at his mother’s image, smiling behind him, then looks down, scratching the back of his neck and finding your hand before he leads you away.

“Just a second,” you say to the artist before you let Rafe take you to a dressing room past the hallway.

He shuts the door behind you, facing you with glossy eyes.

“Did I mess up?” you say worryingly. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to surprise you. I thought you’d like it.”

“Hey,” Rafe says softly, hands on your cheeks. “I love it. I just didn’t want to cry in front of everyone. I’ve been barely keeping it together today.”

You laugh in relief, tipping your chin so he’ll kiss you. His lips meet yours. You’re pretty sure your guests could tell he got teary-eyed when he watched you walk down the aisle, but you’ll spare him that detail.

Rafe finds relief from your touch, like always. His mom was here today. He felt it. He feels her all the time now. And you’re still a reminder, but in the best possible way, because you show him that he can remember the good parts. That he can feel love even after someone’s left. That he doesn’t need to carry guilt. That he can look forward to the future.

Apart from the second he became your husband, this is the best moment you’ve had today, because it’s just you two, just like it was when you were kids on the beach, enjoying each other’s company, never wanting to part.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note thank you to everyone who stuck with this series 💘 ps did you know tumblr has a text block limit? learned that the hard way lmao. so i’m sorry that some paragraphs got long! hated to sacrifice my structure but had to do it to keep all 10k+ words in 😋

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eleventh installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , profanity , prostitution , bisexual! toji , smut , spit , gunplay

୨୧˚ an; if there are plot holes, no there aren’t. i just wanted an excuse to write toji suckin on some gun🧌

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

His hair is wet, sopping and adhering to the canvas of his forehead. Back at the hotel, Toji set the record for the world’s shortest shower, forsaking even a once-over with a towel in favor of slipping his clothes right back on. He doesn’t even recall the shitty excuse he tossed at his one night stand, not bothering to stay long enough to hear her response. Quickness was of the utmost importance, the man told himself to justify blowing through four separate red lights. 

Oh, the irony. Because now, Toji stands before the grand entrance of your extravagant abode with a palm flat against the column of wall beside the door as he staves off constant hitch wracking his lungs. Unhurried, stagnant, moving as though he was thawing out frozen limbs. The last half hour having been spent on nothing but hastiness, it is at this time when all of these troubles and concerns fight their way to the front end of Toji’s mind. 

The most prominent question: why?

Why did you ask him here? What use could you possibly get out of his shriveled husk?

Toji knows where your spare key is. Beneath the clay pot, the one flourishing with a bouquet of pastel Hydrangea flowers. Glaringly obvious to any happening stranger—Toji had barked at you endlessly to swap its hiding spot for one a little less in plain-fucking-sight, and everytime you told him you’d get to it. And you never did. Idiot woman. He steals a glance to the pot once more and notices the flowers’ stems have a lot more limpness in them than he remembers. Wilted. Poor little things.

Toji knows where your spare key is. He knocks anyway. The side of his fist pounding poplar wood once, twice, three times, and then he takes a step back. Blunted thumbnails pick at the callouses welded into the inside of his knuckles. 

He can’t even blink before the door peels ajar. Fast, like you’d been waiting nearby for him. 

The permanent slouch in his spine corrects itself when Toji stiffens. Shoulders squared, thick fingers curled into iron fists against his thighs. And like the colossal moron he is, Toji doesn’t speak. He just looks at you, standing there in the openness between door and frame. A downy robe obscures you in its rouge silk, cascading down just barely passing the center of your thigh. Your thigh… Toji observes more carefully, noting the bulky extremity protruding out from the side of your shapely leg. A boxy bulge sheathed under a reddish robe; the man scoffs. 

 “Thank you for coming,” you break the silence first, offering all-too polite benediction. Almost robotic, like you’d recited it from a script you memorized. 

“Yeah,” Toji replies, curt.

Mores standing, more silence. Melodic chirps from the crickets fill the chasms of dead air. 

Then finally, finally, you make a move. Toeing the door wider with a bare foot, stepping back to accommodate his bulky constitution. “Come inside.” It is a quiet command, the last words you speak before pivoting on a heel and heading deeper into your home. Toji acts on the instruction, plodding in your trail. He kicks the door shut with the outsole of his muddy boot. 

“Sorry,” there goes your second apology of the night, “I know it’s late.”

He doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn't care much for these pointless I’m sorry’s right now. You’ve guided Toji into the living room—back toward him, shifting weight between legs, plucking at the stitches along the seam of your garb. Toji stands merely ten paces behind, awkward in the way he is uncertain of what to do. What to say. Existing here, in your presence, in your house… it all felt so disgustingly unnatural now. He should've never come back to this place. God, he should’ve never done a lot of things.

“Why am I here?” Toji asks bluntly. Cutting to the chase, because the suspense of anticipating the worst has his stomach coiling in sharp knots. He’s waiting for a fleet of officers to come barrelling down your staircase, ready to gun him down where he stands. Or, alternatively and arguably more dread-inducing, you’ve corralled him here so you can collect proper reparations for all the anguish he’s put you through. Both would be thoroughly deserved.

A glance is thrown from over your shoulder. “I have something for you. Please, sit.” 

“Okay.”

Toji settles on the sofa while you pad upstairs. He never cared much for your couch, its expensive leather was stiff and unforgivingly uncomfortable. Like it was brand new. Like you never had time to sit in it with the schedule you worked. That was the setting for the rest of the room, as well—unlived in in appearance, cold and empty. 

Footsteps thud. He turns his head and watches you curiously as you reemerge from the second level of the house. A ball of worn fabric swaddles your fist.

Toji sits up a little, looking up to where you stand before him with the puzzling bundle of textile. “Is that my..?”

“Your shirt,” you finish for him, tossing the thing into Toji’s chest, to which it hits before tumbling limply into his lap. Not for a second does he bother sparing a glimpse to the useless shirt; still, he commits to your eyes, hoping that you can decipher the inquisitiveness in his. 

Gravelly and mystified, “what?”

“You left your shirt here the last time—”

“What?” A decrepit, holey tee shirt cannot be the reason why he’s sitting on your couch right now. In a bone-crushing clutch, the shirt sits braving force from Toji’s iron fist. He holds it with such conviction that his fingers activate a tremble.

You’re not stupid. You’re the most intelligent, most sagacious woman—person—he knows. So it really fucking irks him when you continue to play oblivious. 

“What do you mean, what?”

“I’m not here right now because of a dumb shirt.”

Your lips smack together pensively, looking fixedly at the drab, eggshell walls. To the porcelain tiles now scuffed from being grazed on by two bespattered tactical boots. To your own feet, to the perturbed curl of your toes. To anywhere besides him. Never had you avoided looking at Toji so unmitigatedly, as if locking eyes for even a split second would cause worldwide devastation.

He reflects upon the night you’d thrown him out, discarding him back to the streets where he belonged. “‘Get the fuck out of my home’, she says,” Toji mumbles a recitement of your own words, struggling to keep the muzzle on his distaste. Elbows on his knees, head in his hand, he taps his index to his lip in thought. “You hate me, and then suddenly you like me enough to return my damn shirt… What kind of game are you playing? Just fucking cut it out and be blunt about what you want from me because I’ve had a really shit day and I’m not in the mood to be cute for you, Y/n.”

You bear his outburst in stride, pulling a face of forlorn at his apparent exhaustion. You don’t shout back at him, nor do you comment on his attitude that you’d surely never let slide in the past. 

“Okay.” 

On tiptoes, you shuffle closer to fit between Toji’s spread thighs. There is a streak of hesitation that perpetually hugs around your body, he realizes, because every which way you turn oozes trepidation in its slow tempo. Jitters teeter down your person, oscillations so tangible that it sways your hair. “You’re shakin’,” Toji annotates, tilting his chin back to gaze up at you. Shaking like a leaf, in fact, and he wonders where all your composure has fled to. “Why’re—”

“I need to…” You take a pause to swallow down the thick ball of uneasiness clogging your esophagus. A sheen glints along your forehead, cheeks, neckline; fucking sweat. “I have to confirm something.”

You are off. This whole situation is off, and Toji can’t pin a point on any of it until…

Slowly, clumsily, your hand glides down the elegant curve of your oblique, toward the ponderous bulk against your thigh. With the brain of a seasoned assassin, Toji pieces the puzzle together with time to spare. Time he could’ve spent lunging at you, pinning you to the floor beneath his body weight, subduing your wrists in the cuffs of his own fingers. But he doesn’t. Be it a product of his own stupidity, his lackluster will to live, or maybe even his inextinguishable urge to devote his trust to you, Toji lets you draw open the curtain of your robe and pull your concealed gun on him. 

With heavy puffs of breathing, you direct the barrel of your handgun toward the centerpoint of his chest. It wobbles in a hybrid of uncertainty and inexperience, and there’s a cold, metallic rattle discernible the whole time. Toji admires the gun—it’s a small thing, some flavor of a colt pistol with a cask forged from iron. It looks weighty and misplaced in the palms of your delicate hands. 

“Nice piece,” he allots useless, apathetic praise. 

Evidently, you aren’t in the mood to reciprocate his quips. “Be serious.”

“I am.”

There is something picturesque about you in this context, it overpowers the innate fear he should be feeling right now. You tower before him like a deus ex machina, his own personal angel of death, granting him divine reprieve from this remarkably bleak concept of life. Toji wants to kneel, call you beautiful, and kiss your feet in appreciation.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I liked you.” Those words contradict the finger you hold against the trigger. You shake your head, contracting the muscles in your jaw. “Was it just a version of you that I fell for?”

Toji concedes. “Yeah.”

“Do I even know you?”

His thick eyebrows furrow at the question. Do I even know you? “There’s so much I haven’t told you yet.”

You sneer, “you mean, so much you’ve lied abou—”

“No.” Toji holds up his hand, a pardon to interrupt. Because he has never spewed untruths in lieu of keeping his double life a secret. He never lied about his job, his addictions, his mental instability—there were no flimsy excuses, Toji had simply pretended his weaknesses did not exist. You made him forget they were even there in the first place. “No, I didn’t lie. Not once.”

“Then what purpose did you have for me at all?” Wetness glistened over rounded eyes, and wistful tears began to collect along your lash line. Toji watches a bead of sadness break loose, hanging from a cluster of eyelashes. Looking up to the ceiling, you attempt to blink it away. “I just… Fuck. I promised myself I wouldn’t sleep with you—wouldn’t get attached—but you… Why did you lay with me?”

The gun still aims to his heart. “I wanted to.”

“I feel like my head is spinning,” you weep, sniffling in the air. So utterly hopeless. “I feel like I don’t know you at all. Or your intentions.” You were a woman of prowess and authority, a real powerhouse in the sense that you always seemed to just know. Knowing what, knowing why, knowing how; he was so strangely drawn to that superlative superpower, finding your wisdom one of the most alluring things in the world. So perhaps that’s why Toji feels worse than cow shit right now, subjected to the awful sight of your realization that you truly don’t know who he is. The reigns were relinquished from your hands. “I’m scared, Toji.”

“Of me?” A stupid question he already knows good and well the answer to, but he asks anyway.

You whimper out your answer with a dejected nod. “Yes.”

The sorrow that oozes from your stare physically hurts, something akin to watching an eclipse with naked eyes, so Toji fixates on the handgun instead. The metallic shine indicates that it was recently purchased and most likely never used. You must’ve bought the thing specifically for this purpose.

“Are you going to kill me, Y/n?”

There’s no response. It aggravates him. 

“Are you?” Toji asks once more, projecting a rougher tone. Digging for an answer. 

Through tears, you whimper out a little reply, a question to his question. “Will you stop me?”

No. No, he fucking won’t. He sees through your plan; you’re waiting for him to lash out, to fight for his life. You want him to give you a reason to pull the trigger and prove your theories right—theories that he’s nothing more than a dangerous, vindictive animal hell bent on satiating his bloodlust. But Toji isn’t much of anything other than a torpid waste of oxygen. He won’t combat fate, he won’t put his hands on you even in the face of death. Toji takes your shaking wrist into his hand, keeping every last movement slow and sticky. You flinch away upon contact, but the look in his eyes was nothing if not assuaging, so you let yourself be handled. He draws you near, close enough to press the end of the barrel directly against his head. “Aim here,” he instructs with a lulling timbre, and fixes the thing to rest harshly on his temple. “It’ll be quicker. Less blood.”

Horrified, “what are you doing?”

“I ain’t gonna get violent with you.” Toji feels ready. This is okay, to die in a room as pretty as this one, facing a sorry sight as pretty as you. It’ll be a hassle to clean up for you, but you’re sharp as a knife. You’ll figure it out. His other hand, the one not attached to your forearm, rises to touch at your hip. Massaging over the thick robe, holding the dip of your waist with a vice grip. “If this is what I gotta do to prove myself, then fine. I’m ready, so take the safety off and put a bullet in my brain already.”

“N-no…”

“Yes.” He jimmies your arm, coaxing you to shoot. “Fucking do it, I know you can.”

“No!” You roar in his face, lips reeled back in a desperate snarl. “No, you made your point!” A knee sinks into the space of cushion between Toji’s legs, a hand clawing at his forearm. “Stop it, enough already!”

Toji is bemused by your fanfare of emotion. He barely winces as you work hard to pry your wrist from his handhold, scratching overgrown and timeworn acrylics into the tough flesh of his arm. “I can’t keep up with you, woman.” He tuts, observing the struggle. “Y’kick me out, then you call me back. Don’t talk to me for months, but you’re paying my rent. Pull a gun on me, then start crying when I give you a push.” Reaching up, Toji finds the warmth of your neck, cupping his palm to it. Sliding up and up, pushing your jaw with thick fingers because he needs you to stop focusing on the gun and start focusing on him. Your head is steered by his ginger hand, forcing your guys’ eyes to bridge. “You had me fooled. Here I thought you were more mature than whatever-the-fuck this is.”

“You want to talk about maturity?” Like a coin, the doleful effusion you bled was flipped into bewildered agitation. Fire ignites underneath your tongue and Toji braces for its heat.

“Yeah, sure,” ever the impudent asshole, “let’s talk.”

You give him a funny look. A you have a lot of fucking nerve look. “It’s because of your immaturity that we’re here right now!” Getting closer, your other leg fits across the opposite side of his, effectively perching yourself over his thick thigh. Toji grunts under the force in which you sit down. “You and your stupid flirtations. You made me believe that we could have…” Breaking off into a frustrated groan, you shook your head. “How selfish can you be, Toji? To pursue me when you know damn well what you’ve done is unforgivable.”

The tip of his tongue finds his molars, and he looks away for a moment to analyze your question. A moment that is cut entirely too short when you return the favor of maneuvering his head. “No, you need to look at me, too.”

There isn’t any elaborate reasoning he can present to you on a silver dish. When it comes down to the brass tacks of it all, that was just it: Toji is selfish. The only taste of love Toji had ever gotten was when he was young and dumb in his early twenties, spontaneously marrying the first woman who convinced him that he was worthy of tenderness. God, she was gentle with him, seizing his heart in her hands with so much caution and kindness that it made him physically ill. When she passed, he was positive that his heart had been buried alongside her deep in the Earth. That warmth never returned, not once in the years following when he’d find himself falling into strangers’ beds for a quick living. And he’d curse himself, reliving memories of her every night before sleep. So young and dumb, far too much so to appreciate what he had; what he’d never get again. 

But then you came along. 

Man, what a plot twist you were.

“You make me feel things.” What the fuck is he even saying? ‘You make me feel things’? That explanation was about as insightful as a child would be. Toji has never so directly spoken about his feelings before, this is challenging. 

Non-judgemental, you heed his message and urge him to continue. “Good things or bad things?”

“Uh,” Toji thinks for a second, “nostalgic things? I… Haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“Felt like what?”

There comes a pregnant pause, and Toji takes this time to peer up at you. You sit tall on his leg, head at a tilt while you wait patiently for him to select a word. An attribute that you shock into his system every time you enter the vicinity. It’s a shitty, embarrassing answer, but he spits it out anyway. “Loved.” Using your quiet to his advantage, Toji prattles on. “Or somethin’ like that. I’m a fucking moron though, for thinking I could keep secrets. Selfish is a good way to put it.”

“You’ve killed people for money. You are the epitome of the word selfish.”

“That shit’s behind me.”

You reel, leaning back in his lap to gauge Toji’s expression. “Really?” It’s asked with skepticism, and Toji’s eye twitches.

“What, you think I’m bullshitting?” His hand involuntarily squeezes your wrist, a futile attempt to communicate his sincerity through touch. “No, I haven’t taken a job since last I left your place. I quit.”

This discovery retires some of that scorn. With a weaker voice than before, “officially?”

Toji gives you a subtle nod. “As much as you want to believe I liked dropping bodies, I really, really didn’t.”

There is a hint of a smile, just barely curling at the corner of your lip, before it droops back down into the biggest frown he’s seen you wear all night. “But then wait a second… Where have you been getting your income from? I stopped issuing checks when we—” You stop yourself from saying it. 

“Ah, I’ve just been,” shit, what a dilemma. “Getting some sugar.” It comes out with an awkward chuckle. It’s not a complete lie, sugar baby-ing and prostituting—it was all sex work nevertheless. He isn’t fond of the whorish implication, but you know him. You’ve seen him at his sluttiest, and you weren't disgusted.

“You’ve been having sex?” You veer in toward him. There is no shock or discomfort lacing your words—you know him—only bona fide earnestness. 

“Yeah.” Toji feels compelled to say sorry, but he doesn’t. “I needed the cash.” He doesn’t care to rally the question back at you, doesn’t care to know if you’ve fucked anyone else.

It’s subtle, but he can feel the pity radiating off you, seeping into his pores and burrowing under flesh. You look at him the same way you’d look at a scraped-up mutt abandoned on the side of the highway. He fucking despises that look from anyone else, but from you? It’s not so bad. If anything, it’s maybe even a bit soothing, the way you can console him with just your eyes. 

“Toji, let go of my arm.”

He does as told, dripping your wrist. The handgun falls to the couch, neglected, but Toji doesn’t get the chance to watch it because you’re shrouding the view. A buxom body nestles against the convex of Toji’s ample chest, two arms coil around his thick neck, fingers scritching over his scalp. You’re hugging him.

“Is this okay?” You must’ve felt him stiffen under the weight of your affections, perhaps you took it as a sign of discomfort. But that’s not it at all; the hesitation was a byproduct of Toji’s emotional stoicism. A defense mechanism he’s built for himself, successful in warding off contingence. Sex was okay. Sex was gritty and rugged and crude, enough to make him forget he was being touched at all. But this? Fucking hugging? 

How childish was he for submitting to something so teenage? This was the equivalent of popping a boner from hand holding.

And still… “I like it.” Once again, he lets you tear down his walls. Succumbing to you felt organic, almost as if Toji could just close his eyes and let muscle memory guide his limbs to their place. A heavy head knocks forward, plummeting in the valley between your breasts that have been exposed by the plunging neckline of your robe. Unbeknownst to you, the knot holding it closed had untied itself somewhere in the haste, and it has become more of a loose garnish to your body clad in nothing more than a matching set of dark, rebellious little underwear. Strong arms return the gesture, squeezing you to him so tightly that you must let out an audible oomph as your lungs constrict.

“I like it…” Toji repeats under his breath, nosing a path up to your clavicle. On you, notes of that saccharine, peachy body wash he’d once massaged into your skin. He takes self-indulgent whiffs, closing his eyes to hyperfixate on his sense of smell. “I like you.”

Totally abrupt, no sensibility in the manner, Toji blurts it out. Those three bedeviled words he swore to condemn to the pit of his guts, never to be released aloud. His conscience dictates his actions now, apparently, because the man has no longer any will to swallow his sentiments. After all the terrible, traumatizing shit he’s dragged you through, it’s the least he can offer. You’ve been deserving of those three words for a while now, Toji just never knew how to give them to you. As it turns out, it’s a lot simpler than his imaginations led him to believe. 

“You’ve never told me that before.”

He holds you impossibly tighter, hands flat and feeling the landscape of your back. “You knew, though.”

The hand in Toji’s dampened hair clenches when he ghosts his lips over that throbbing neck vein. “Still, you could have said it sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” He kisses you there, then kisses you again. Slow and tantalizing, just the way you liked. “Sorry for being awful.”

Teeth peek out and catch your skin. 

“I don’t—” you stop to gasp, cradling Toji’s head and holding him deep into the crib of your neck. “Think you’re awful.”

“Mm.” Blindly, he gropes the cushion beside his thigh, feeling for the discarded gun. Toji taps the cool metal against the chub of your cheek, attentive to the trigger—he never goes near it. Catching you in a lidded staring contest, “you use this on good guys, then?”

You pull a grimace. “I don’t use it at all.”

Toji is thoroughly amused. “You were gonna use it on me,” he chuckles quietly, so close to your pretty face that the point of his nose brushes yours. “Or were you just tryin’ to give me a scare?”

“I…” You trail off into brief thought. “I was afraid. I’m only a normal woman, Toji, it’s not everyday I find myself in the presence of a criminal.”

Again, he laughs, thumb sweeping back drapery that shades your thigh. You make no efforts to halt him, instead just following his line of sight all the way down to the black, leathery holster strapped high upon your thigh. Something about it is so enticing, the way fat pudges out along the sides of the tight strip. Like a garter belt, but a thousand times sexier. “‘Normal’ my ass.” Toji plucks the thing, gauging its limitation to stretch, before releasing it to snap back into place and choke your squishy thigh once more. You yelp, smacking his bicep.

“That hurt, asshole.”

“Sorry,” Toji apologizes loosely. He shakes the gun, hearing its rattle. “So this was a test, then.” There is no quizzical lilt, because there is no question about it. It was a test of trust. The weapon was a mere instigator, a tool to coax Toji into showing his ‘truest colors’; unmasking his supposed violent tendencies. All that trust you placed in Toji’s basket must’ve vanished on that rainy night, in the wake of his confession to murder. All that trust… It soured into bitter doubt. 

“A very idiotic, very flawed test,” you sigh, on the cusp of a humorless smirk. “You passed, by the way.”

“I don’t feel like I did. You thought that I would’ve hurt you.”

“I was just preparing for the worst case scenario.” 

The way in which he surveyed you was kindred to the nature of religion. Gritty fingertips explored your Holy face, and Toji worshiped every feature. Could you truly not see how sacred you are to him? Toji doesn’t caress the faces of his quick fucks, and he certainly wouldn’t surrender his life to them. 

“Put that thought out of your brain. Right now. I will never put my hands on you.”

You look flushed. Your cheek kindles warmth beneath his hand. “I want to kiss you.”

Toji’s instantaneous submission was laughable. Jaw unhinging, scarred lips parting wide, tongue twitching with anticipation. He opens his mouth for you and waits.

His face gets clamped in between two tenacious hands. Nails dig into Toji’s face as he’s yanked in to meet you in a teeth-clanking lip lock. It feels like a breath of fresh air, to kiss you like this again. Suddenly, he forgets what those strangers’ genitals tasted like. He forgets the taste of coke dripping down the back of his throat after snorting his fifth line in one night. Forgets the taste of soupy, liquor-flavored bile. All Toji knows is you and your nectarous little mouth. Your honeyed tongue is a tyrant in his mouth, dominating every wet corner, branding your essence into his taste buds. 

“I missed you,” Toji laments into your lips. He grapples with your hips, manhandling them into a constant gyration deep onto the crux of his lap. “I missed us.”

“I can tell,” you mumble and give a sharp grind against him. Against the prominent tent beaming up from the crotch of his pants, and he shudders. Then, you look at him stone cold sober from lust and ask him foolishly, “do you want to have sex right now?”

A nasally exhale huffs out, because you have to be joking with him. “My cock’s hard, ain’t it?” 

You’re a beacon of po-faced prudishness, all the while he pants for more. “Your erection is a given, considering the position we’re in,” close-grained and consolidated in intimacy. You tap Toji’s forehead, “how do you feel up here? I’d like to know.”

Such shitty pillow talk, but even still, Toji felt rosy. It made him feel acknowledged; recognized as more than just a dick to bounce on. Fuck, you’re really turning him on with that corny, mushy bullshit. “I’m good,” he tells you honestly. “I want you.”

I want to be inside of you.

“And you’ll let me know if that feeling changes?”

He groans against your cheek, “Jesus, yes, just fuckin’ touch me.”

“Ask me appropriately.”

Here he goes, sounding like a little bitch again. “Please, m-ma’am… Take it out.” Another memory to add to his internal cringe compilation.

Satisfied, you sit up on your haunches. “Lift your ass.” He does so, and accepts your help to shimmy the waistband of those constricting pants down to quarter thigh. Just low enough to make a spectacle of the hard rod straining against the thin material of his snug boxer briefs; gray and breathable and damp with his pre-ejaculant.

“Shit.” Toji huffs, giving a weak jerk when your hands begin the delicate procedure of feeding his slippery appendage through the piss hole at the front of his ruined underwear. He watches you pull him out with grace—he’s privy to the consideration you show to his most sensitive spots when you handle him like this. He thinks it’s endearing.

There his dick stands, tall and proud in the valley where both pairs of hips meet flush with one another. Toji looks down at the pinkish thing, watches the way it drifts back to hit his navel, falling under its own mass. “Rub me,” Toji whispers with his forehead pressed against the shelf of your shoulder, gazing down under heavy lids to watch his own dick drool spittle into his tee shirt. A hand precipitously hangs below his chin, fingers and palm working with each other to create a makeshift bowl. Assuming to catch something. 

“Spit, Toji.”

A second hand strokes the back of his skull, and the gesture emmenates patience. There’s only a split second of hesitation before he grants your vulgar request. Toji swishes his tongue around, collecting every ounce of saliva that coats the inner seams of his sticky mouth before opening up. The wet muscle unfurls, and a waterslide of spit cascades down into the palm of your awaiting hand. He’s rewarded for his efforts—good job, Toji—before you get down to business. 

His spit is cold when it smears along his tip. Toji bites his lip, sinks his digits deep into the meat of your ass, and fixates on keeping a composed breathing pattern because fuck, your hand was magical. You jerk him off leisurely, maintaining languid strokes that squeeze tighter near the peak of his length. “This alright?” You coo next to Toji’s ear, keeping your free hand busy playing with his raven locks. 

Toji makes a pitiful, throaty noise in response. “Do it faster.”

“No.”

He grits his teeth. “Unfair…” Toji’s hands tremble. To combat this, he begins grabbing at the robe still hugging over you, shielding that sexy body from his perverted glare. You make no indications that he should stop, so he doesn’t. Shucking off that expensive, red cape down your perfect shoulders, splitting the front open right down the middle. It’s a black, lacy little number, and the cups of your darling bralette plead transparency.

Toji pulls the thing up without dawdling, sighing blithely at the heavenly prospect of your perfect breasts bared and ready to be taken by his mouth. “God.” He captures your tit in one hand, squeezing it, playing with its weight. Your latter breast gets swiftly tucked between his lips, subjected to enthusiastic teasing from Toji’s tongue. He’s teething, rolling your budding nipple between rows of ivory fangs like he’s trying for milk. 

“You’re so hungry for it.”

“You've been depriving me of this,” Toji emphasizes his point with a long, keen lick to your cleavage. “An’ you expect me not to be starving.”

You pull him off your chest by the scruff of his neck, hoisting Toji’s heavy head up at your face level. Saliva moistens his lips, and you take your time swiping up his spit with your deft thumb pad. “Shall we get on with it, then?” Condescension and sympathy duel each other when you speak to him, like he is the unreasonable one for becoming a frenzied mess of sensuality. 

Toji is about to answer when it catches his eye. The glinting iron barrel, taunting him. It sits once more at the side of his thigh, untouched and forgotten. Begging to be used.

“I want you to fuck me.” There’s a brief intermission of silence while he collects the weapon, grabbing it by the cask and offering you its handle. You’re inquisitive, staring at the thing with uncertainty, so Toji lays his motives out across the table. “Hold this on me while you do it.”

You chortle, expecting his laugh to come next. But it never does, so you stop and raise a brow. “Come again?”

“You went through the trouble of buying this just for me, yeah?” It was obvious to anyone with two working eyes that you had no experience maintaining firearms. The gun was spotless, brand-spanking-new, and never had you mentioned to Toji that you keep something so dangerous in your home. So yeah, you can try to deny it all you want, but he knows that the only reason you now own a pistol is in case you needed to pop a cap in his brain. “Now I’m asking you to use it.”

“Toji,” you sweatdrop, “I don’t think…”

He takes your hand in his and presses the grip of the gun into your palm before securing your fingers around its silicon. Wide eyes look at him with pure solicitousness. “It’s okay.” Just like before, he steers you into position. “Jus’ keep your arm up like this. Hold it to my head. Yeah, perfect.”

“This is sick, even for you.” Despite your words, you don’t sound too dismayed. 

“Been rocking a half chub the second you pointed it at me.” 

“Filthy.”

Toji hums offhandedly, peeking down at your panty-clad pussy. Your undies were cute, he thinks, teasing the tiny ribbon bow perched on the waistband with a feather-light fingertip. Twin ebony fibers crafted the panties, just as chiffon as the bra. “Gets me off,” he shrugs, hooking his index beneath the gusset and dragging it to the side where it’ll stay in the crease of your thigh. Toji can feel the blaze of your core grate against his hand. You’re turned on. He looks back at you. “Putting my life in your hands.”

You’re shifting, stretching up a little higher to accommodate his cock. One of your knees props up at a right angle, the other remains firmly planted into the couch. “You’re so insane.” Ruddiness blooms along Toji’s neck when you hawk a wad of spit into your hand and bring it down to rub yourself. Lubricating yourself for him, moaning for him, fuck. He’s holding himself too. 

“Aintcha feelin’ powerful, though?” Toji challenges haughtily, slapping his swollen tip against your pubic bone. In response, he feels the barrel of the handgun sink a little rougher into the thin skin on his temple, and it makes him chuckle out loud. “Makes you wanna give it to me harder, don’t it?”

Tacky, spit-soaked fingers catch the angle of his running jaw with a grip so taut, it squishes his cheeks and forces his lips into a reluctant pout. “What am I going to do with that mouth?” You glower, and his mind races with a catalog of hundreds of different risque solutions to propose. However, he doesn’t get one out before your next order: “Put it in.”

And he does right away. A concoction of spit, semen, and cunt juice made the insertion process quick and painless. Without delay, your hips crash down into his lap, and it draws a paltry cheep past his clenched teeth. Fronts stick together thanks to the bone-crushing bear hug he ensnares you in. You give in, throwing your arms over his broad shoulders to attune to the sudden adjacency. He can feel a hard, steely nozzle trace around the circumference of his skull, ending at the base behind his head. 

And that’s how you two sit for a while; inside one another, breathing humid puffs of carbon dioxide into each other’s necks. 

“I’m… Gonna move now.”

“Please,” Toji murmurs.

 Hands walk down your spine, finding purchase on the malleable globes of your ass. Toji kneads like it’s dough; grabbing, pulling, grinding you back and forth. This is how sex should feel, you’ve made him come to realize. Equal parts raw and nasty in perfect tandem with intimacy and comfort. Hell, you have a fucking gun trained at his cerebellum, and even with that unusual addition, this is the safest sex he’s had in months. 

You are an expert in the ways of motion, methodically pirouetting those godsent curves in the most salacious degrees. “Oh God, don’t fucking stop,” Toji pleads, lapping against the slope of your neck. It’s killing him, the way you’re fucking his body deep into the couch like you owned it. It’s physically strenuous to keep his teeth at bay. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

The gun clinks against his head, the thud echoing in his mushy brain. “Hey,” you manage to pant out between short grunts. “No marks, y-you know that.”

Oh. Right. Stupid fucking professional job bullshit…

In the throes of Toji’s desire to swallow you whole, your warning goes in one ear and flies right out the other. “It’ll be fine,” he hushes you, skimming his sharp canines up your throat. 

“Toji.”

“How about here, then?” Before you could say ‘knife’, the tip of a tongue prodded into your ear. Swiveling around, collecting your flavor. Even here, you tasted clean. Like soapy chemicals, but not unpleasant. 

“Toji!”

You’ve stopped fucking him. Toji blinks, and suddenly, he’s being pushed into the back of the sofa by a hand in the center of his pectorals. It takes a second to catch his breath, but when he does, “what?”

Gawking, you palm your ear and cast a horrified look. “You can’t lick there! That’s dirty!”

“But I felt your pussy squeeze when I slid my tongue in—” He hacks around the foreign object. Did you just…?

“Your fucking mouth.” The barrel now lodges in his mouth, pressing back against Toji’s tongue hard enough to trigger salivary glands. It’s obvious that his nonchalance had rendered you harebrained, but thrusting the gun between his jaws like that was the last thing Toji expected you to do. It appeared that the surprise of it all was mutual—you, too, ogle your hand that holds the firearm. “Oh my—Toji, I’m sorry I didn’t—”

With haste, you move to reel back. But Toji’s reflexes are military grade, so he’s able to snag your wrist and hold you there. The shock subsided, and in its wake was the most intense form of pleasure he’d ever felt. Has there ever been a more pure forgery of submission than this? Choking on the loaded gun of your lover, hinging on each breath, wondering if your next will be your last. The whole concept is giving him a headrush far greater than any drug could. So Toji holds you in place, muffling out his pleas through the metal. Staring at you down his nose, eyes teeming with his adoration. 

I want it. And he means it. 

Thank God you’re not one of those dumb bimbo bitches he normally fucks with. You understand the message conveyed in his eyes. You see it. You’re not dense, you know what he wants, and you’ll give it to him. “Tap my leg if you need a break.” He won’t. 

The humping of his sore cock resumes, and any crumb of fortitude left within him curled up and wilted like the Hydrangeas on your front doorstep. He wilts too, collapsing back into the couch while you use his erection. 

You mewl contentedly, bracing yourself with a gentle touch to his pec. A stark contrast to the way your latter hand thrusted the piece in and out of Toji’s willing mouth. He’s not averse to something long and stiff down his throat—desperate times called for desperate measures, and if he had to suck a few cocks to cover the bills, then that’s exactly what he was gonna do. Though this was more enjoyable by miles, he thinks offhandedly while he stifles his gags. There’s no musty stench burning up his nasal cavity, no foul taste of unwashed skin. And a potential bullet was much more appetizing than the inevitable gluey spunk guaranteed at the end of every hummer. Spit bubbles up into a foamy mess at the corners of his lips as he sucks the gun. Sucks it like it’s attached to you, like you’ll be able to feel the way he coils his experienced tongue around the metallic muzzle.

“You’re really i-into that..” Awe infuses each shaky syllable, and Toji hopes maybe in some twisted rhyme or reason, he’s impressed you. Once more, he tries to talk back, but the barrier between his teeth results in utter incoherence. 

Orgasm was near shortly after, and the only warning Toji can supply is a broken half-cry, half-cough. His body began to jerk and twitch in strange ways. Like his right thigh, now sporting an uncontrollable tremble. Or his eyes rolling skyward. “You want to cum?” You asked softly despite your own impending climax, and you stroke the clenching muscles in his abdomen. 

“Nngh.” Fucking pathetic, but it’s the best he can do.

The muzzle clips the back of his throat, and tears spring into Toji’s trundling eyes. Everything gets brighter, and atmospheric sounds jumbled together into deadened white noise. Very distantly, weight lifts from his legs, and that’s when he can’t stop from diving over the edge of his orgasm.

Toji shakes, then shakes some more. Oh, his mouth is empty. When did that happen? Everything is wet and thick and syrupy. The brightness starts to fade, but even still, he has to cover his sensitive eyes with a forearm while he gasps his way back to reality. “Fu… F-fu… Ck…” You have diluted him down to nothing but a babbling idiot. Jesus Christ.

“—ji… Toji!”

Hazily, he peeks down from underneath his arm. You’re massaging soothing circles into his restless thighs that have still yet to calm down. But you’re doing it all with a quiet grin. “There he is.” 

I’m happy.

I’m happy.

Because you remind me that I can have good things.

There is your beautiful face, shining at the end of his orgasmic rainbow. Ready to clean up his mess, ready to talk him into slumber, ready to hold and caress under a shared blanket. Maybe he can deserve this—you—if he works hard enough.

Summoning whatever remained of his stamina, Toji lurches off the couch’s back to meet you into a sweet kiss. A simple kiss, devoid of any spit swapping; just his lips to yours.

“Here I am.”

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

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[plutonianeris]

Asteroid Sirene (1009)

so now that shes gone you can embrace whats to come and die with a smile…

The Siren’s Face

In the first house, Sirene gives you a magnetic presence. Your very being becomes a song, calling others to you with an irresistible charm. People are drawn to you, captivated by your beauty and mystery. They want to be close, but you remain just out of reach, like the sea's horizon.

The Song of Desire

In the second house, Sirene's power weaves into what you own and value.You're drawn to beauty and luxury, and others are drawn to you because of your refined taste. You have a way of making people crave what you have, as though your possessions and sense of worth are enchanted by a siren's song.

The Seductive Whisper

With Sirene in the third house, your words have a magical pull. You speak, and people listen, hypnotized by the way you turn ordinary conversations into something almost poetic. There’s something in your voice, something mysterious, that keeps people coming back for more, even if they don’t understand why.

The Lure of Home

In the fourth house, Sirene sings through your home and roots. Your family life holds a deep, secret charm, like an old story whispered over and over. People feel comforted and enchanted in your presence, as though you carry with you the echo of a forgotten dream, a place they long to return to but can’t quite remember.

The Seduction of Joy

In the fifth house, your creativity and joy have a captivating glow. Every time you create something, be it art, romance, or laughter, it draws people in like a siren’s call. Your playful spirit is irresistible, making you the center of attention. Love and pleasure surround you like waves, leaving others enchanted in your wake.

The Enchantment of Work

In the sixth house, Sirene works her magic through your daily tasks. You bring a special allure even to the simplest routines, making them seem almost magical. People are drawn to how you handle things with such grace. But be careful—this placement can make you give too much of yourself, as if you’re constantly pouring your energy into the service of others, always leaving them wanting more.

The Siren’s Reflection

In the seventh house, your relationships are drenched in Sirene’s charm. Partners are mesmerized by your mysterious allure. They see in you something almost otherworldly, and though they try to hold onto you, you remain elusive, a dream they can never fully grasp. Love becomes a delicate dance of desire, with you always just out of reach, tempting them to come closer.

The Deep Seduction

In the eighth house, Sirene pulls you into life’s hidden depths—sex, secrets, and transformation. There’s a dark, alluring energy around you that others feel drawn to but may not fully understand. You captivate with your power to explore what others fear. Like the deep ocean, you are full of hidden treasures and mysteries, luring others to dive deeper, even if it terrifies them.

The Call of the Horizon

In the ninth house, Sirene calls you to explore distant places and ideas. Your curiosity about the world is like a siren’s song, pulling you toward the unknown. Others see in you a seeker, someone chasing dreams and wisdom far beyond the everyday. Your passion for adventure and truth enchants those who long for a life of freedom and exploration.

The Allure of Success

With Sirene in the tenth house, your career and reputation carry an undeniable allure. You become a figure that others admire from afar, like a lighthouse guiding ships in the night. Your ambitions have a seductive pull, and people are drawn to your vision of success. But, just like the sea, your achievements always seem to hold a little more mystery than meets the eye.

The Siren of Dreams

In the eleventh house, Sirene’s charm fills your friendships and dreams for the future. You stand out in social groups as someone with a captivating vision of a better world. People are drawn to your ideals, sensing that you hold the key to something extraordinary. Yet, your dreams are always just out of reach, as elusive and beautiful as a distant star.

The Ocean of Mysteries

In the twelfth house, Sirene whispers in your soul, pulling you toward the unknown. You are a dreamer, constantly moving between the world of reality and the realm of mystery. People are drawn to your deep, spiritual energy, sensing that you know secrets they’ve long forgotten. You are like the ocean itself—endless, deep, and always calling them to dive in, even if they don’t know where it will take them.

[magical-grrrl-mavis]

There have been 82 Doctors at this point!

Keep reading line because the list is so damn long.

Main Continuum

(In order of appearance)

Classic Who

First Doctor (William Hartnell 1963 – 1966, Richard Hurdnall 1983, David Bradley 2017, 2022)

Second Doctor (Patrick Troughton 1966 – 1969)

Third Doctor (John Pertwee 1970 – 1974)

Fourth Doctor (Tom Baker 1974 – 1981)

Fifth Doctor (Peter Davidson 1981 – 1984)

Sixth Doctor (Colin Baker 1984 – 1986)

Seventh Doctor (Sylvester McCoy 1987 – 1989)

Eighth Doctor (Paul McGann 1996 movie)

Nu Who

Ninth Doctor (Christopher Eccleston 2005)

Tenth Doctor (David Tennant 2005 – 2010)

Eleventh Doctor (Matt Smith 2010 – 2013)

The War Doctor (John Hurt 2013)

Twelfth Doctor (Peter Capaldi 2013 – 2017)

Thirteenth Doctor (Jodie Whittaker 2017 – 2022)

Fourteenth Doctor (David Tennant 2023)

Fifteenth Doctor (Ncutu Gatwa 2023 - ?)

Pre - Memory Doctors

(Timeless child my beloathed)

Morbius Doctors (Robert Holmes, Graeme Harper, Douglas Camfield, Philip Hinchcliffe, Christopher Baker, Robert Banks Stewart, George Gallaccio and Christopher Barry 1976)

The Other (Sylvester McCoy, 1990)

The Fugitive Doctor (Jo Martin 2020)

The Timeless Child(ren) (TBA, Grace Nettle, Leo Tang, Jac Jones, TBA, Jesse Deyi 2020)

Brendan (Evan McCabe 2020)

Possible Future Doctors

(italicized parts of names are the title of that Doctor's first appearance, if I can't find a better name)

Father of Time (No Actor, 1987)

"Merlin" or The Battlefield Doctor (No actor, 1991)

The Army of Shadows Doctor (No actor, 1991)

"Fred" (No actor, 1993)

The Relic (no actor 1997, 2002)

The Storytelling Doctor (Tom Baker 1999)

The Web of Caves Future Doctor (Mark Gatiss, 1999)

The Blue Angel Future Doctor (No Actor, 1999)

The Curator 1 (Tom Baker, 2013)

The Curator 2 (Collin Baker, 2022)

Pseudo-Doctors

The Watcher (Adrian Gibbs 1981)

The Valyard (Michael Jayston 1986)

The Obverse Eight Doctor (No actor, 1999)

The Metacrisis Doctor (David Tennant 2008)

The DoctorDonna (Catherine Tait 2008)

The Dream Lord (Tony Jones 2010)

The Ganger Doctor (Matt Smith 2011)

The Spriggan (David Tennant 2022)

Alternate Realities

Dalek Films

Dr. Who (Peter Cushing 1965, 1966)

The Inferno Universe

The Leader (Jack Kine, 1970)

Doctor Who and the Daleks in Seven Keys to Doomsday

The Doctor (Trevor Martin 1974)

Previous Doctor (Nocholas Briggs 2008)

The Lenny Henry Show

The Seventh Doctor (Lenny Henry 1986)

What If?

The Eighth Doctor (No actor, 1997)

The Infinity Doctors

The Infinity Doctor (No actor, 1998)

The Curse of Fatal Death

The Doctor (Rowan Atkinsen 1999)

The Quite Handsom Doctor (Richard E Grant 1999)

The Shy Doctor (Jim Briadbent 1999)

The Handsom Doctor (Hugh Grant 1999)

The Female Doctor (Joanna Lumley 1999)

The Chronicles of Doctor Who?

The Doctor (no actor, 2000)

Klein's Story

Johann Schmidt (Paul McGann, 2010)

Father Time

The Emperor (No actor, 2001)

Scream of the Shalka

The 9th Doctor (Richard E Grant 2003)

Doctor Who Unbound

The Doctor (Geoffrey Bayldon 2003)

The Unbound Doctor (David Warner 2003)

The Heartless Doctor (David Collings 2003)

The New Heartless Doctor (Ian Brooker 2003)

Martin Bannister (Derek Jacobi 2003)

The Victorious Valyard (Michael Jayston 2003)

The Previous Doctor (Nicholas Briggs 2003)

The Exile Doctor (Arabella Weir 2003)

The Warrior (Collin Baker 2022)

Gallifrey - Disassembled

Lord Burner (Collin Baker 2011)

Gallifrey - Regenerators

Commentater Theta Sigma (Collin Baker, 2011)

False Negative

The Doctor (No actor, 2017)

The People Made of Smoke

The Sixth Doctor (Dan Starkey, 2020)

Unspecified Doctors

Yeah sometimes they just say "The Doctor" and don't bother specifying...

The Cabinet of Light Doctor (No Actor, 2003)

The Dalek Factor Doctor (No actor, 2004)

[neuvilletteswife4ever]

So I have sent a request in the queue right now, but I have another (possibly good) idea:

Gender neutral reader, but they're sadistic and able to escape and elude the Harbingers for prolonged periods

They leave little notes behind that mock them and the Tsaritsa, all the while leaking their secrets; they effectively toy with Harbingers and constantly remind them of their weaknesses and soft spots (i.e. Childe and his family, Arlecchino and the House of the Hearth, etc.)

Of course, they'll get caught eventually (and probably receive the ass-beating of a lifetime), but they never learn and soon they'll subsequently escape again

Eventually the Harbingers seemingly finally have enough and attempt to keep the reader in their grasp forever...

...only to find them dead via head smashing by some sort of heavy object

WOAHH I LOVE THIS WTF???

Warnings: Escaping, sadistic, humiliation, kidnapping.

YANDERE FATUI HARBINGERS X READER

It had been a week since you had escaped and the Fatui Harbingers were already going insane. How could YOU escape from them? Your entire purpose is meant to be with them and obey!

After having all of your loved ones killed, tortured, kidnapped you couldn't be with them anymore.

SOMEHOW you found a key to unlock the chain on your ankle, Arlecchino had forgotten it due to an emergency at the house of the hearth.

It was probably the biggest news on Teyvat that you had escaped. Your "bounty" (I think that's what it's called) was 10 million mora.

Gosh...and obviously, you couldn't go outside because of the people looking for you. Who wouldn't want to be get such a large amount of mora AND be noticed by the Fatui Harbingers? It's a one in a life time opportunity!

However, after being tortured for so long, it seemed like you were a new person. A complete new person from when they had kidnapped you. You became sadistic, you had a weird kind of PLEASURE in seeing others in pain, distress, humiliation. While you did think it was weird at first, you kept seeing Dottore (when you were still kidnapped and in their grasp, the Fatui Harbingers would always take you with them because you weren't allowed to be alone) in the lab TORTURING and HUMILIATING his test subjects. So, you learned that it wasn't THAT weird. We all have our weird fetishes, RIGHT?

To make the Fatui Harbingers more in distress, to torture them, you decided to MOCK them and humiliate them even more.

When you were with the Fatui Harbingers, Pantalone gave you his money (because he's rich) to spend. He wanted to spend money on his darling, to spoil them, in an attempt to gain their trust. That NEVER worked.

So you had leftover mora to buy food, clothes in an attempt to disguise yourself, and lastly, hire a person who can deliver letters for you.

You were staying in an old cabin in the snowy woods of Shneznaya.

The first letter sent was for the house of the hearth. Reminding them how EVIL their "Father" was, and that they shouldn't trust her.

The second letter was for Tartaglia's siblings, Tuecer, Tonia and Anthon. Telling them how "Evil" Ajax was, their brother, rather known as Tartaglia, the Eleventh Ranked Fatui Harbinger.

The third letter was for Scaramouche, mocking him of how utterly pathetic he was. Telling him that it was so embarassing to hear that the Electro Archon, his own mother abandoned him. Absolutely humiliating the shit out of him.

More and more letters came, you knew how stressed and humiliated they were. How hurt they were.

Arlecchino found out about the letter that you sent and she was FURIOUS. How could you possibly try and get the House Of The Hearth to go against her? Their own Father!

As for Tartaglia, he was not pleased to hear about this letter.

You found a weird sense of joy in their humiliation, pain and hurting their feelings.

But little did you know that all the pain would come back to YOU...

(ill continue this soon)

[seaweedstarshine]

[judgeitbyitscover]

Southern Reach series (10th Anniversary Editions) by Jeff VanderMeer

Cover art by Pablo Delcan

MacMillan, 2014-2024

Annihilation (2014)

Area X has been cut off from the rest of the world for decades. Nature has reclaimed the last vestiges of human civilization. The first expedition returned with reports of a pristine, Edenic landscape; the second expedition ended in mass suicide, the third in a hail of gunfire as its members turned on one another. The members of the eleventh expedition returned as shadows of their former selves, and within weeks, all had died of cancer. In Annihilation, the first volume of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach Trilogy, we join the twelfth expedition.

The group is made up of four women: an anthropologist; a surveyor; a psychologist, the de facto leader; and our narrator, a biologist. Their mission is to map the terrain, record all observations of their surroundings and of one another, and, above all, avoid being contaminated by Area X itself.

They arrive expecting the unexpected, and Area X delivers—but it’s the surprises that came across the border with them and the secrets the expedition members are keeping from one another that change everything

Authority (2014)

After thirty years, the only human engagement with Area X—a seemingly malevolent landscape surrounded by an invisible border and mysteriously wiped clean of all signs of civilization—has been a series of expeditions overseen by a government agency so secret it has almost been forgotten: the Southern Reach. Following the tumultuous twelfth expedition chronicled in Annihilation, the agency is in complete disarray.

John Rodríguez (aka "Control") is the Southern Reach's newly appointed head. Working with a distrustful but desperate team, a series of frustrating interrogations, a cache of hidden notes, and hours of profoundly troubling video footage, Control begins to penetrate the secrets of Area X. But with each discovery he must confront disturbing truths about himself and the agency he's pledged to serve.

In Authority, the second volume of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach trilogy, Area X's most disturbing questions are answered . . . but the answers are far from reassuring.

Acceptance (2014)

It is winter in Area X, the mysterious wilderness that has defied explanation for thirty years, rebuffing expedition after expedition, refusing to reveal its secrets. As Area X expands, the agency tasked with investigating and overseeing it—the Southern Reach—has collapsed on itself in confusion. Now one last, desperate team crosses the border, determined to reach a remote island that may hold the answers they've been seeking. If they fail, the outer world is in peril.

Meanwhile, Acceptance tunnels ever deeper into the circumstances surrounding the creation of Area X—what initiated this unnatural upheaval? Among the many who have tried, who has gotten close to understanding Area X—and who may have been corrupted by it?

In this last installment of Jeff VanderMeer's Southern Reach trilogy, the mysteries of Area X may be solved, but their consequences and implications are no less profound—or terrifying.

Absolution (2024)

When the Southern Reach Trilogy was first published a decade ago, it was an instant sensation, celebrated in a front-page New York Times story before publication, hailed by Stephen King and many others. Each volume climbed the bestsellers list; awards were won; the books made the rare transition from paperback original to hardcover; the movie adaptation became a cult classic. All told, the trilogy has sold more than a million copies and has secured its place in the pantheon of twenty-first-century literature.

And yet for all this, for Jeff VanderMeer there was never full closure to the story of Area X. There were a few mysteries that had gone unsolved, some key points of view never aired. There were stories left to tell. There remained questions about who had been complicit in creating the conditions for Area X to take hold; the story of the first mission into the Forgotten Coast—before Area X was called Area X—had never been fully told; and what if someone had foreseen the world after Acceptance? How crazy would they seem?

Structured in three parts, each recounting a new expedition, there are some long-awaited answers here, to be sure, but also more questions, and profound new surprises. Absolution is a brilliant, beautiful, and ever-terrifying plunge into unique and fertile literary territory. It is the final word on one of the most provocative and popular speculative fiction series of our time

[mooniiify]

signora's wrongdoings | tartaglia x reader

synopsis: signora could't let tartaglia get distracted during his important mission in liyue, even for live-changing news word count: 2k cw: fem! reader, use of y/n, angst to kinda fluff, mentions of pregnancy, children, not proofread notes: i'm a sucker for family man tartaglia y'all don't get it

It had been a long year for the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger. Tartaglia had been dispatched to Liyue, sent to retrieve the Geo Archon's Gnosis, which he had been unsuccesiful at, for which La Signora had to step in. Then he'd been sent to Inazuma after Scaramouche had stolen the Electro Gnosis and fled, never to be found again. 

La Signora had been the one with the task to retrieve the Gnosis, only for her to meet her end during the mission. 

That was the only reason why Tartaglia was now walking down the snowy streets of Snezhnaya, having just attended her funeral, which in truth, he didn't much care about. He couldn't decline attendance, of course. But there's always two sides to look at. 

Tartaglia couldn't help but be in a good mood as he made his way down to his familiar neighborhood. Children ran around, playing in the snow despite the harsh temperatures, laughing with rosy cheeks. It was cute. Tartaglia wondered if his little brother Teucer was also somewhere among the kids, but he had a different objective first. 

He made it to his house, one he'd purchased two years ago. The blinds were pulled open and Tartaglia could see a few dirty dishes in the sink. He smiled at the sight, taking his keys out to unlock the door. 

The worries started dissipating from his body as soon as the warmth hit him. He'd expected the house to be empty, truly. After recieving no word from her for almost a full year, he'd thought she'd left, and he couldn't come back to check. He would've understood her. He would've hated her decision, yes, but he was busy and the Tsaritsa was his top priority. Despite all the love he held for her. 

Still, she was obviously still here. He couldn't wait any longer. 

''Y/n? Are you home?'' He called as he took off his heavy coat, hanging it on the rack. There were two more, one he recognized to be Y/n's because he'd bought it for her just before he'd left for Liyue. The other one was oddly small. Tartaglia furrowed his brows, but before he could think further, he heard footsteps rushing from somewhere further in the house.

He walked into the living room, just to see her standing on the other side of the door, both hands over her mouth. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, her eyes glazed as if she was about to start crying. Tartaglia couldn't help but laugh, immediately wrapping his arms around her. 

Once he felt her arms engulf him, too, he knew he was home. 

His nose was buried in her hair as she squeezed him tightly. He rubbed cirlces with his thumb on her side, trying to enjoy the moment as best as he could. ''You're back.'' Her voice was but a mere whisper, but Tartaglia still heard it, his chest warming up. 

''I'm back, princess.''

They stood like that for a moment, in the middle of the doorway. Then it seemed as if something had struck Y/n, something that made her push him back, making his eyes go wide. ''No, I'm supposed to be mad at you. I haven't heard from you in months. Neither has your family. We were all starting to think you're dead! Why the hell haven't you been answering our letters, Ajax?'' 

Tartaglia furrowed his eyebrows. ''Hold on, slow down.'' He took a step closer, catching her elbows. His eyes softened as he observed her face, the current crease between her eyebrows, her narrowed eyes and pouty lips. Oh, how much he'd missed her. ''I never got any letters.'' 

It was Y/n's turn for her eyes to widen. ''What?'' She breathed out. She shook her head, grabbing his arms. ''No, that's not possible. I've sent you countless of letters, I wrote to you every other week. I sent them off specifically with that Fatuus you ordered to get our mail to send to you. He never . . . he never said you weren't recieving letters!'' 

She was shaking her head in disbelief as Tartaglia's eyebrows furrowed. He thought back to when he'd first arrived at Liyue. Letters were coming steadily, every other week as Y/n had said. Then he remembered them stopping once his mission got more heated, once he got more work. Once when . . .

Tartaglia closed his eyes, letting out a breath, trying to calm down the bubbling emotions inside him. There was no longer anyone to actually direct them to, after all. ''Signora must've been interfering in my mail. She was there, in Liyue and Inazuma, and she kept telling me not to get distracted and focus on my mission, I . . . I never thought she would be doing something like this behind my back.'' He caressed her face, feeling her lean into his palm. ''I'm sorry, princess.'' 

Y/n sighed. ''I'm sorry for getting mad, I just━'' He watched her visibly gulp, her eyes moving frantically, looking anywhere but at him. ''Something happened, Ajax, and I tried to tell you through all those letters but if you never got them there's no way you'd know but━''

''Y/n.'' Tartaglia caught her face with both hands, making her finally look at him. ''Calm down. What happened?'' 

''I know this is going to be . . . a lot to take in, Ajax,'' Y/n said as she took one of his hands in hers, giving it a tight squeeze. Tartaglia felt a pit forming in his stomach. ''Something really big happened. When I tell you . . . or, well, show you . . . please, stay calm and please don't . . . get mad or anything. If you don't want it, that's okay, I just━''

''You're starting to scare me, Y/n.'' Different thoughts started filling his head. Was she in danger? Was she leaving him? Had she found another lover? He was biting the inside of his cheek hard, trying to not voice such depressing thoughts. 

Y/n removed his hands from her, taking a step back. ''Stay here. I'll be back in a second.'' 

Tartaglia did as told, standing in the middle of the living room, listening to her shuffling and whispering in the other room. He wanted to investigate, but he stayed put, instead taking in his home. 

It was the same as he'd left it. The couch was there, the big red throw blanket over it as usual. What caught his attention was a smaller baby blue blanket hanging over the couch's armrest. His eyes travelled further, seeing another smaller blanket on the ground, though that one was red. 

There was a baby bottle on the small table in front of the couch. Pacifiers right next to it. A few small pieces of clothing were folded on the armchair, the clothing dryer still open near the fireplace, a few pairs of small socks still hung on it. 

''Y/n?'' Tartaglia called as he took in the sudden changes around the house. His heartbeat was accelerating, and the warm room suddenly felt too hot. 

Footsteps made him turn back to where Y/n had left from, only to see her back. This time, she wasn't alone. A small bundle was in her arms, a little hand peaking from under. 

Tartaglia wasn't sure if he was dreaming. Maybe he was going to wake up back in his small, lonely apartment in Liyue. 

''Y/n, what━''

''Ajax.'' Y/n stopped in front of him, allowing Tartaglia to peek down at the bundle. ''Meet Artem.'' 

The first thing he noticed were the baby's big, blue eyes, matching his own perfectly. Then it was the orange hair, just a shade darker than his. The baby stared up at him, his little hand curled into a fist. He took notice of the blanket, remembering his mother having used it for him and his siblings.

It felt like the world stopped for a second. Y/n was there, in their house, where baby items lay scattered all over, holding a baby that looked just like him, swaddled in his family's blanket. He blinked once, twice, but the scene didn't change. His eyes only grew wider. 

''I found out I was pregnant about two months after you left.'' Y/n said as she looked down at the baby, holding onto its tiny fist. ''I wrote to you about it, asking you what to do and when you would be back. I didn't get the answer, so I'm guessing that's when the letters stopped coming for you. I told your family, so they tried to contact you as well, but to no avail. They've been helping me so much and I'm so thankful for that. I wouldn't have managed without them, really.''

Tartaglia still stood stunned in front of her, his eyes stuck on the baby. Artem yawned, nuzzling his head in the blanket as his eyes closed, the blue disappearing. 

''I don't know how you feel about this, but I don't . . . blame you if you don't want any part of it. I know it's a big change, and I understand how shocking it must be coming home to a whole child. If you need some time to think, that's perfectly fine.'' 

Tartaglia blinked. At her odd words, he finally managed to look at her, their eyes meeting. ''I'm a . . . dad?'' 

Y/n took a deep breath. There was no smile on her face, though she wasn't frowning, either. Tartaglia couldn't read her. ''Yes, Ajax. You are.'' 

His mouth dried up. Tartaglia couldn't describe what he was feeling at the moment, for he has never felt like this in his life. His chest was thight, his heart beating so quick he thought it would breath through his ribcage. He opened his mouth, though no sound came out. 

What was happening? His child, the one he'd found out about mere moments ago, was right there, right in front of him, cradled in the arms of the love of his life. Why was he stuck? Why couldn't he speak, move, react in any way? Why was this harder than facing a thousand enemies? Than facing the otherworldly Traveler? 

He licked his drying lips and took a breath, gathering all the will-power he had, fighting through his body's state of shock. ''Can I hold him?'' 

The corner of her mouth lifted up. ''Of course.''

Tartaglia opened his arms, watching as Y/n placed the delacate baby in his arms. He was terrified he would drop him, so he tightened his arms, though not around the baby. He moved his arms as his mother had taught him back when his siblings were younger, keeping the head supported. The baby didn't stir, and Tartaglia watched as his small chest lifted the blanket with every breath he took. 

Holy fucking shit. 

Tartaglia was a ruthless man, the Eleventh Harbinger, one of the Tsaritsa's strongest. That meant he couldn't cry, not in a high position such as his. Regardless, in the safety of his own home, with the two most important people in his life, he couldn't stop as a tear rolled down his cheek, falling down on the baby's blanket. 

''I'm sorry,'' he whispered as he turned to Y/n, to the one most dear to him, putting a hand on her cheek as his other one firmly held his child. ''I'm sorry, I didn't know, if I'd known I would've been back in an instant, I would've━'' 

''Ajax.'' Y/n shushed him, that gentle smile he fell in love with on her face. Oh, how he'd missed it. ''I know. There's nothing to apologize for.'' 

Y/n moved to stand next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Tartaglia felt her hand rubbing his back, and he couldn't help the second tear that escaped his eye at the sudden warmth that was surrounding him, one he'd lacked even in Liyue, despite how much different the climate was. 

live laugh love domestic tartaglia

[blindmagdalena]

rapid fire predictions for the finale of the boys s4: SPOILERS AHEAD.

sage left behind her cute little maeve notebook full of manipulative misinformation that homelander or firecracker or both will conveniently misuse exactly as sage intends them to

sage shows up at the boys headquarters to say 'hey losers, ready for the next stage of my plan?' and reveals to them that she's been the guiding hand for them this whole time, and she was just manipulating homelander. she got fired on purpose as to not be caught up in the downfall of him/the seven/vought. she doesn't want him in power any more than they do. why else would she help them so much? we're left uncertain if this is true or if she just intends to get back in homelander's good graces.

soldier boy and maeve both made merch appearances in e7. one or BOTH of them appear in the eleventh hour of the finale???

billy becomes a meat puppet for joe kessler, setting him up as a secondary BBEG for season 5. we get DOUBLE BUTCHER as he is now the hallucination screaming at joe. ryan will be the key to restoring butcher to his senses? this one is maybe more abstract and unlikely.

this thought i'm WAYYY less jazzed about but feel is possible: homelander, hurt by ryan excluding him from his televised family spiel and possibly driven into a spiral by ryan expressing a desire to leave him, reveals to ryan the truth of how he was conceived, and how there's no way becca actually loved him because of it. he will also throw her death in ryan's face, and how butcher also can't love him because he killed his wife. he will insist that he is the ONLY one capable of loving ryan. he will say literally anything to try and isolate ryan because he is that desperate not to lose him.

[sacrednova]

Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 3

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!!

[Part 1 HERE] [PART 4 HERE]

Simon’s hands gripped the steering wheel as he drove in silence, his jaw clenched with irritation. What the hell was he thinking? Driving a stranger across town in the middle of the night wasn’t just stupid—it was downright reckless. He could feel her gaze drifting his way every few minutes, and every time he’d stare stubbornly ahead, hoping she'd just fall asleep. It wasn’t exactly the Uber experience she’d asked for, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to play chauffeur.

Am I getting paid for this? he thought grumpily, then immediately dismissed it. No, he’d just refuse if she offered. If anything, he’d rather be rid of her sooner than later.

After what felt like ages, he finally pulled up to what looked like her house. But when he glanced over, he found her out cold, head tilted back, breathing deeply, even a little drool beginning to form at the corner of her mouth. Great, he thought with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his mask in frustration.

Just then, his phone buzzed with a message. It was Soap.

Simon sighed. This night was one for the books, and unfortunately for him, he had a feeling Johnny wouldn’t let him live it down anytime soon. He tucked his phone away and looked at her, still passed out and oblivious, snoring lightly. He rolled his eyes, suppressing an urge to shake her awake, but instead resigned himself to hauling her inside.

Simon slipped his phone into his pocket, staring at her slumped form in the passenger seat, deep in thought. How the hell am I supposed to wake her up? He was overthinking this, and that irritated him even more. So he just leaned closer, attempting to wake her with a low, gruff, “Hey.”

Nothing. He tried again, louder, “Hey.”

Still nothing.

He was practically shouting now, “HEY!”

She jolted awake, startled like she’d just survived some nightmare jumpscare, and he took a quick step back.

“Wha—why, who?” She looked around blearily before laughing, still clearly drunk, mumbling about the “crazy night” and how grateful she was for the ride, slipping into a ramble about the weirdo at the bar.

As she tried to climb out of the truck, she promptly tripped over her own feet and toppled forward. Of course, Simon thought with yet another sigh as he watched her crumble like a pile of bricks. This was already the eleventh time he’d sighed that night—or was it morning? A quick glance at the truck’s dashboard told him it was now 6 a.m.

He climbed out, trudging to her side, where he helped her up to her feet, noting how unstable she was. Her attempts to walk looked more like stumbles, each step making him clench his jaw. She was in no condition to get to her bed on her own. Finally, he made the executive decision—he just picked her up, carrying her to the door with a grunt.

She managed to wrestle the keys out, but her attempts at unlocking the door were painfully slow, so he took over, opening it swiftly. Then, with more patience than he felt, he carried her through the dark, unfamiliar place until he found her bedroom, placing her on the bed with a bit more care than he intended.

As he started to step back, he caught her looking at him—a look that held an intensity that, for just a second, made his mind spin. Her disheveled hair, the half-lidded gaze, the lingering scent of her perfume… It would’ve been easy to think, but—no. Absolutely not, he reminded himself, snapping back to reality.

“Quit those eyes,” he muttered, voice gruff, before heading toward the door, closing it quietly behind him.

He got back to his truck, slumping against the seat as he let out a groan. Heading to base, he shot Soap a quick message.

And with that, he started the engine, leaving her place in his rearview.

Weeks had passed since that night—weeks that somehow felt like months to her. The strange, grumpy “Uber” driver with the piercing eyes and the mask was still nagging at the back of her mind, even though they’d barely exchanged words. The morning after, she’d sent him a hesitant little hello there, thinking maybe it would turn into something…or at least give her some kind of closure for the weirdness. But he never replied.

The silence was maddening. She told herself she was moving on, letting it go. How could she even have a reason to hang on? It wasn’t like they knew each other—he was just a stranger who’d given her a ride, a stranger with a rough but somehow reassuring presence. Yet something kept replaying in her mind, like she had unfinished business with him. Her friends, laughing at her own expense, told her to get over it.

So when they suggested a girls’ night back at that same club, she figured why not. She’d just go out, dance, and drink until the mysterious stranger finally stopped haunting her thoughts. But then, of course, things spiraled.

Inside the packed club, one of her friends, who’d been treating vodka like a new food group, started to sway dangerously before collapsing in the bathroom. Her other friends weren’t much better off, clinging to her for balance and squinting like the lights were somehow offensive. She was just as tipsy, maybe a little less wobbly, but all things considered, she was the most sober one.

Finally, they stumbled outside for air, their laughter echoing in the night. Someone suggested, “Let’s share an Uber!”

“Oh hell yes, I’m not getting left alone out here again like last time!” she agreed, remembering far too well the creep factor of her last solo experience.

Millie, her best friend—the one who’d collapsed—perked up with a drunken giggle and lazily waved her hand. “Give me your phone,” one of her friends slurred. She handed it over, preoccupied with keeping Millie upright. After a minute, her friend handed her phone back, looking proud and announcing, “Got it! Uber’s on the way!”

When she looked down at her phone, her heart almost stopped.

She froze. “B-BITCH WHO DID YOU JUST CALL?”

Her friend blinked at her, thoroughly unfazed. “What do you mean? An Uber?”

“THIS IS NOT AN UBER!” she said, voice a mix of panic and disbelief.

“Well, whoever he is, he said he’s on his way,” her friend shrugged, totally oblivious to the fact that she’d just summoned the man who had ghosted her weeks ago.

Oh, shit.