#in front of a space or space-related background.

[redysetdare]

It's such a insignificant thing in the grand scheme of things but it absolutely sucks to see a similar experience to your own trauma in media only to watch as fandom completely ignores it and butchers it acting like it's "not that bad" or even acting like it's good. they erase all the parts that you related to because they don't want to view it in that way.

and I can't speak up or get upset because "Fanon doesn't affect canon". but how people react to and treat canon effects me. If they treat it like that in fiction how will they treat me? I can't speak up without revealing something so personal to me that I've seen people invalidate over and over again. I don't feel like I'm asking for much when I ask for people to pause and look at how they feel, react to, and treat certain experiences in fandom spaces.

[princessmyriad]

.

[lymtw]

Lazy days with Toji where you're sitting between his legs, just basking in his presence. You're laid back against his chest, scrolling through your socials, while he attempts to focus on whatever is playing on the TV screen. His arms are wrapped around your waist, securely, and his chin rests on your shoulder as he watches the movie you put on.

It's practically background noise for you because you're not paying attention, but when you're the one not focused, Toji takes the hit for it too because you constantly interrupt him by showing him videos of food with the promise of making it for him someday. You're also feeding him your broken humor in the form of memes, and though he doesn't find the actual images you show him funny, he cracks up at the way you laugh so hard that you squirm uncontrollably against him in your fit of laughter. He rolls his eyes with a sly smirk on his face at your giggles in the aftermath of your laughter, but still, he can't help but wonder how he got you.

You settle against him again, allowing him to keep watching the movie in peace, only now he sees no point in it. He's lost on the plot, and it's not as interesting without you going 'You like tomatoes, right? Or... at least tomato sauce, right?' or something food related every three minutes. His hands are moving now, his arms still around your lower stomach. You pay no mind to it because he's probably doing it mindlessly.

You're no stranger to him placing his hands on you while completing other tasks. You see his nonchalant front as he makes his way towards you but as soon as he rounds the corner, you can feel the wolfish grin radiating as he comes up behind you. He's there for a mug, but he'll do extra to show you that he's there behind you. He'll grab your hips and pull you back until your ass is against his crotch. Sometimes you resist the pull to mess with him, but he always manages to pull your body into his, a bite to your shoulder following as "punishment" for rejecting him.

For the strangest reason, his advances shook you this time. One hand felt up your bare outter thigh, following the expanse of it until he couldn't reach anymore. Then he went to the underside of it, squeezing the flesh a couple times. Your heart was pounding, but you stayed focused on your phone, or attempted to once his other hand started teasing the knot of the bow tied above your waistband.

He slowly unraveled the knot, allowing the elastic band of your shorts to loosen and give his hand more space. You think he's watching the movie, but really, he's watching you react through his peripheral vision. His hand travels further down your shorts, his middle finger ghosting your slit through your underwear. The touch is barely there, but it has your stomach doing cartwheels. He sighs, his fingers going back up to the lace trimming of your underwear. The sound just barely reached your ears, but it had a lasting effect as he continued to let his hands roam your lower body. He puts his fingers through the left leg hole of your underwear, the digits snapping the elastic against your hip.

You found another video to show him, but you saved it instead to show him later. You don't know exactly what is running through his mind, but it's completely welcome if it involves him continuing to touch you this way.

His fingers drag back down to your slit, this time applying more pressure. You twitch against him, earning that sly grin that appears when he knows he's working you up. You try to ground yourself and keep it together a little longer by putting your leg up, only for Toji to push it back down onto the couch.

"What's wrong, mama?" He mumbles into your shoulder. "Getting real fidgety outta nowhere."

"I'm okay," you assure, turning to give him a kind smile.

He takes it up a notch, allowing his hand to go under your sweater. He uses the privilege he has on your body so adeptly that even his hand placements are enough to force heat to run through you. The feeling of his hand grazing your skin fuels the fire that is kindled within you. He lets his blunt nails drag along the left side of your waist, slowly merging toward your midriff and upwards, before reaching the bottom of your bra. It's no restriction to him, he can just go under it.

He hums, feeling the blood rush down to his dick at the feeling of your warm breast in his hand. It only takes one brush of his finger to make your nipple quickly harden, a feeling that makes you feel like you're buzzing with electricity.

Toji is so well versed in your anatomy, it kind of embarrasses you sometimes that he doesn't have to try so hard to soften you up. He did so well at memorizing your body that he doesn't really have to look anymore to know that his touch is affecting you. That is not to be mistaken for him not wanting to watch his effects take a toll on you, because he would gladly watch you submissively fall apart for hours.

Your stomach tenses as he combines both forms of stimulation, a muffled moan coming from you as fall back on Toji's chest, your sleeve over your mouth.

He laughs at the way your eyes flutter shut, your brows pinching when he doesn't let up even after you waved your white flag. You know better than to think he'd let you walk away without making you cum on his fingers at least once.

"Why are you muting yourself, ma?" He breathes against your ear. "Don't you know it gets me hard when you whine and moan for me?"

You sigh, your phone shaking in your grip. "O-Okay, Toji. Won't do it again," you say in the most delicate tone. You turn your phone screen off and give your undivided attention to Toji and his torturous touch.

"Right. You wanna cum, don't you?"

"Mhm," you mumble, setting your hands down on his thighs.

"Oh, you can do better than that. Tell me you want to cum." His lips find the side of your neck, nudging the material of your sweater aside so that he can ghost the slope that leads to your shoulder. The urge to bite the exposed skin is almost unbearable.

Your hips roll slightly against his crotch, earning a slight groan from him. His cock is rock hard, but he's gonna get you off first since he was the one who got you all riled up in the first place. "Please make me cum, Toji. Please? Pretty please?"

Your words go straight to his dick. You've always been so well mannered—so good at begging for what you want. Being Toji's lover turned you even more politely submissive. Does this mean you deserve to cum quickly every time? Not in Toji's reality because he loves to see the feral look in your bleary eyes when he leaves you hanging.

He chuckles, quickening the movements of the hand teasing your drooling pussy. "Taught you how to beg real good, huh? Who knows what the bratty side of you would bring out of me."

"F-Fuck, fuck Toji," you inhale, exhaling shakily as his hands pause to switch positions.

"I could tame that side of you, too," he says in a taunting tone, as if daring you to rebel against him someday. "I'd get you in this exact position, even if you wanna be a stuck up little princess." His right hand snakes up your sweater, repeating the same process as before of exploring your skin before getting to your breast.

"Mm-mm, no," you whine, squirming in his hold. "'M only good for you, T-Toji."

"Yeah? I'll hold you accountable if it turns out otherwise," he murmurs into your shoulder, his voice like drizzling honey in contrast to the threat. He can feel you gushing even more, his fingers collecting more slick with every up and down of his fingers. "Fuck, you considering it now?"

"N-No I wouldn't... Toji, I wouldn't." Your hands squeeze his thighs, refraining from using your nails.

"Then why'd your cunt start drooling even more when I told you what would happen?"

"Toji..." you whine, your cheeks burning up.

He chuckles, "S'all good, ma. I got you."

"T-Toji, I- Can I cum? Please, please, Toji?"

"Already? I just started, princess. Can you hold it?" He asks, slowing his strokes.

"I don't t-think so... 'm sorry, please..."

He sighs, no trace of disappointment in the sound, rather pride for turning you into a sloppy mess in such a short span of time.

"You'll have to make it up to me. Didn't last very long, you know?" He rolls your nipple between his fingers, amused by the way your body vibrates at the overwhelming stimulation.

"Mhm... yes, Toji. Whatever you want."

He can't hold back the wicked grin that forms at your thoughtless, pleading words for mercy.

"'Kay, mama. Make it worth it."

His fingers make direct contact with your pussy for the first time since he started playing with you. His thumb focused on your clit, while his middle and index finger tease your entrance. His lips go for your neck again, planting wet kisses on the warm skin. He's so overwhelming in every aspect when he makes you cum. You're entirely suffocated by him and you love it.

You don't last another five seconds before completely falling apart on Toji, crying out his name followed by a barrage of moans. Your back arched and your legs came up to assist you in squeezing the life out of Toji's hand. Had he not braced you with the one arm he had up your sweater, you would have completely slid down his body and laid there curled up in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"Up, mama. Stay up," he instructs. His hand goes flat on your chest, pressing you against him to keep you as steady as possible as you writhe in soul crushing pleasure.

Eventually, you go limp, laying your legs flat on the couch again. Toji chuckles, sadistically, at the broken down husk that remains of you. He attempts to bring you back to life by prodding at your overstimulated cunt and you react the way he expected, pushing at his arm to stop it.

He pulls his hands out of their designated areas, wiping your cum off on his sweatpants. "Hey," he calls, poking your forehead when he notices you dozed off.

"Mm..." you hum, in response. You roll your eyes open with a lazy grin etched on your face, an expression that added pressure to the brick in Toji's pants.

"Let's go to the bed. Fucking is not gonna be comfortable here." He traces your jaw with his fingers.

"I can't walk," you mumble, exaggerating to get him to carry you.

"Oh, you poor baby," he mocks. "That won't be a lie once i'm done with you."

You use every ounce of effort to push yourself forward to try and crawl away from him, but he pulls you back by the arm and secures you in his hold again. You giggle as he wraps your legs around his waist.

"Trynna pull a fast one on me?" He chuckles. "Well, aren't you precious?" He pushes off the couch using his foot to boost his momentum, a groan leaving him as he adjusts to standing after sitting for so long.

You surrender yourself to him willingly. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, getting drunk off his scent, and watch as the light that illuminates the living room disappears out of sight when you reach the bedroom.

[chuthulhu-plays]

I generally watch LPs of horror games bc I'm too anxious to actually play them but a lot of them have FANTASTIC stories, so sometimes I just binge-watch KrinxTV for background noise. Been watching a lot of playthroughs of Still Wakes The Deep because it's such a delight to hear Scottish voice actors get work and I thought I'd address some questions I keep seeing Let's Players ask:

--Adair is a member of the National Front as you can find out from posters in his cabin, a Neo-Fascist British political party that’s been going since the sixties. While it often preaches British ethnic unity, in practice that often means “everybody in the UK should be exactly like East End Londerners” and features plentiful disdain for Scottish, Irish, and Welsh folk, alongside those perceived as “not British”. No wonder the wanker eats alone in the canteen.

--Neeps and Tatties=turnips and potatoes, mashed, drenched in butter or sauce. Fills your belly, keeps you warm, probably makes you sink like a stone because it’s so heavy.

--Cranachan=a dessert made of raspberries, honey, cream and oats, absolutely delicious

--Rennick calls Caz a “wee ned prick”. Ned is apocryphally said to stand for “non-educated delinquent” and is basically just a way of calling someone an uneducated, lower-class criminal

--A lot of things said by and about Roy indicate that he’s a teetotaller who went through AA and specifically became Catholic and is making an effort at converting Caz.

--I think it’s entertaining how Scottish nicknames often follow a pattern of shortening/rejiggering that I also see a lot with Australian nicknames—Cameron becomes Caz, Rafferty becomes Raffs, etc. Trots is an unusual one but is almost certainly a reference to him being a communist, presumably a Trotskyist. Gibbo is also an unusual one in that it’s just very silly. There’s a kind of indignity implied in being killed by a guy called Gibbo.

--A few times on the radio you hear the Shipping Forecast, a type of weather report aimed at specifically reporting weather conditions out on the ocean, and is also famous for the report being read in such a calm, soothing tone that some folk use it as a sleep aid.

--All the yellow paint for interactable things is very video gamey, yes, but is also in line with old British health and safety standards, and yellow paint on things like emergency ladders or on the edges of stairs that are trip hazards is a thing ou can still see in some older buildings.

--Caz keeps saying he’s “good with the leccy”; leccy=electricity. Caz is implied to be quite a wee guy who can get through a lot of tight spaces, and my uncle swears blind that electricians used to refuse to take on apprentices over a certain size because they only wanted to train wee guys who could get up into the tight spaces that a lot of older buildings are full of. On that note, “wee man” is a term of endearment, generally, and isn’t exclusively applied to short guys.

--Finlay saying of Gibbo that “he’s no right” is INCREDIBLY OMINOUS. It sounds mild but “he’s no right, that boy” is what older folk say about a child who’s been found disembowelling cats for fun or someone they strongly suspect is a pedophile. It’s not something you’d say about a friend who’s just acting a bit unusually.

– “Great minds united over a Buckie”--Buckfast, or Buckie, is a caffienated tonic wine that’s cheap, widely accessible, and is a bit like rocket fuel for bad decisions.

– “Ya roaster” tbh I don’t really know where it comes from, calling someone a roaster, but I’ve always felt like it has a vibe of telling them they’re huffing their own farts.

--Scunnert/scunnered--buggered, screwed, utterly fucked, etc

– “You’re the jammiest bastart on this rig” Someone who is jammy is someone who has incredible luck that is implied to be related to their sheer confidence or willingness to engage in risky behaviour. Walking along the street and finding a pound coin isn’t jammy; crossing the road confident that the cars won’t hit you and stopping in the middle to pick up a pound coin before making it unscathed to the other side is jammy as all hell.

--Barlinnie is the biggest prison in Scotland, and largely hosts violent offenders—it’s where Caz would definitely go for hospitalizing a man.

--Weans are children (contraction of wee yins/wee ones). I thought this one was contextually obvious but apparently not.

SPOILERS BELOW

--”One spark and the whole thing’ll go up”—this is referring to the wee spark of flame in the lighter used to blow up the rig, but is also kind of a pun because electricians are often called sparks or sparkies, and in the end it’s Caz who blows up the rig.

[catiuskaa]

RAINKISSED CHERRIES.

summary: by chance or luck, you and minho found each other that rainy summer evening. dirty dishes, cherries and all.

series masterlist (☆) collab with @dalamjisung !

wc: 3.1k

cw: absolute heart-wreaking fluff! short mentions of bullying, minho is a soft introverted cutie pie, the reader is a cherry enthusiast, and a slight suggestive thing on the end [as a present for all of you who thought the cherry emoji on the poll was for dirty stuff, lololol]

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

Minho was used to being alone. 

It didn’t scare him, not really. He didn’t feel fear when all that was happening around him was the silence that crowded the restaurant after a busy day as he cleaned up his kitchen. He relished the scent of lemons that lingered on him after he was done, sometimes going as far as doing the dishes by hand instead of popping them into the dishwasher, in an attempt to intensify it.

He knew most people wouldn’t understand. And quite frankly, he didn’t mind it. The kitchen was his space. No one came in during their shifts, merely speaking to him through the window that divided it from the rest of the place. He could cook without interruption, with the tranquil chatter that the clients brought merely on the background as he hummed distant tunes he couldn’t remember the lyrics to while chopping vegetables or cleaning up a fish.

So he took his time cleaning too, waiting for his ears to get used to the absence of noise and to welcome the reverberation his steps made when he walked around cleaning the counters, or when he moved the plates and cutlery and glasses, the sounds all too familiar, or sometimes new ones, like the door to the fridge that now chirped as he opened it while checking on the list next to it to see what he’d need to buy or refill.

The rain sounded shyly as it fell on the roof over him, like a gentle reminder to bring an umbrella to work. Its soothing charm made him sigh in comfort, and Minho relished in the sound of nothing at all that filled the restaurant after closing.

And when there was a sudden shaking of the backdoor, is why his heart skipped a beat. Or that’s what he liked to think at first, considering that it seemed much more normal to relate that to the unexpected sound rather than the unexpected, unknown visit.

“We’re… closed,” Minho uttered, frowning lightly, confused at the sight of you.

He was pretty sure it was late enough for you to know that the restaurant was closed —if the fact that the sign over the main door that read HAVEN wasn’t on couldn’t have been a dead giveaway already—.

But under his disoriented grin, he found you smiling. “Right. S-sorry,” you mumbled. Your hair was wet, your clothes too, which was also weird, considering summer rain showers were never intense to such an extent.

It brought the conclusion that you had probably been walking under the rain for a while.

“Did you… um.” He felt a small lump in his throat, and he cursed in his mind.

Minho knew he wasn’t cut out for customer service. That’s why his brother, Felix, like the everlasting ray of sunshine he was and had always been, was the one who managed the front while he stayed in the kitchen. The sole contact he had with clients would be when they sat on the window by the kitchen, and that was only allowed in the early mornings, which meant barely any people interacted with him aside from the casual, “coffee, black,” or “is there a newspaper I could read?” He kind of enjoyed that sort of contact. Minho didn’t even need to answer, merely nodding and following suit to what the clients demanded.

But this was different, and despite himself, he tried to push through. “You’re soaked.” He stated, a fact you didn’t dare to contradict, as foolish as that might have been, taking in the state of you. “Come in. You’ll get a cold.”

He moved on autopilot as he headed to the locker that stood in the corner of the kitchen. There was a small smile of triumph that crossed his face when he found the towels that Felix kept there for rain showers, and grabbed one.

“Take a seat… if you, um, want to.”

You blinked at him, puzzled, watching as he left the neatly folded towel over the windowsill-like counter.

Licking his lips, Minho just stared at you, doubting his every action, going as far as wondering if his breathing was too loud for the silence that crowded the restaurant, bubbling with the gentle words he had just spoken.

But then your eyes got teary, and you smiled at him like he had hung the stars in the sky for you to see. His heart did a thing at the sight of your new-formed happiness, beating a bit faster as you took the towel and messily squeezed your hair with it, sitting on the other side of the counter.

You were an unexpected visit in his space. His kitchen. His mind related that to the fact that his heart was going what his brother would call “bananas”, now timidly troubled at the sight of you.

It was a small diner in a small village. With the exception of tourists here and there, arriving in boats to enjoy the cool water to ease the warmth the Sun brought. But there were no boats that night, if Minho’s view of the sea from the kitchen was right. Still, he had no idea who you were, nor how it was that he had never seen you before.

“Do you have a charger I could borrow?” The tone of your voice was soft, almost as soothing as the silence had been before your arrival.

He nodded, handing it to you with a sheepish smile on his features, ones that matched your own.

You sighed, plopping your head down against the towel, laying on the counter, fidgeting with the stool you were sitting on, moving side to side.

“Are you not going to ask?” You mumbled softly, playing with the wet strands of hair that fell over your eyes.

Truth be told, Minho hadn’t planned to, not when he had just remembered he had to dry and hang the wine glasses over the counter.

He let out a somewhat breathless chuckle as he unloaded the glasses from the dishwasher.

“Last time I walked for hours in the rain, I wasn’t keen on people wondering why.”

Your gaze felt piercing against his face, but he pretended to be so very interested in drying the glass in his hands. Mmh, oh, yes, glass was made out of glass. Surprising.

The snicker that passed your lips felt equally sad and amused, and a small part of Minho couldn’t help but think that it sounded way better than the tinkles of the dishes.

“Guess so, yeah.”

“You do look like you have a good story to tell.” He grinned bashfully.

The tips of his ears turned pink, but he didn’t mind it when he noticed the shimmer in your eyes turning lighter, entertained by his words.

“You think so?”

He cherished the giggle you let out. Better than a bittersweet snicker. Much better. 

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

A gentle blush dusted your cheeks, and you remained silent, wondering what could be the best way to explain how you had ended up there, like a stray kitten, scratching the wooden door.

“A friend invited me over. I live nearby, I moved recently, but her house is closer to the main plaza here. You know, where the summer concerts are.” He nodded, attentively listening to your every word.

It wasn’t a place he frequented, much less when it was so crowded, but it was easy to hear the music and see the lights from his room, a recurrent scenario every summer since he could recall.

“I don’t drink. Which, to a bunch of twenty-something-year-olds, seems weird enough to comment on it every single time. Sometimes they say that I ruin the vibe, that I’m a killjoy. It’s whatever.”

Now, Minho sucked at social cues half of the time, —the other half he just wasn’t interested enough to give a flying fuck—, but even for him it was easy to say that, to you, it wasn’t just whatever.

“We went to today’s—, well, yesterday’s concert.” You snickered, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It was okay. They had their fair share of alcohol, I had apple juice. I can’t say I didn’t have fun.”

Minho felt his heart pout inside his chest when he saw you shrug nonchalantly. And he lied too, by omission, deciding not to comment on it.

“Then we went back to my friend's house.” Your tone had changed, and the palms of your hands pressed into your eye sockets, as if that could make the memory of a few hours ago more bearable. “And I had this necklace on. A silly thing. Gold.” You muttered, moving your hands to your jaw as you kept speaking. “Probably fake anyways.”

You gulped, as if swallowing dry. “Suddenly, the girl who invited me turned against me.” You bit your lip, chuckling a cold laugh out of your system. “Said I was only there to drive them, because I didn’t drink. But now her boyfriend had a license.” You rolled your eyes, frowning. “Like, girl, your sad excuse of a boyfriend is one shove away from an alcoholic coma. Sure. Let him drive. First one who ends up in a ditch loses.”

Hanging up yet another wine glass, Minho snickered, which got you out of your head lightly, making you smile shyly, noticing your phone had turned back on.

But instead of throwing yourself at it head first, you sighed, continuing the story.

“She said I wasn’t needed now.” Your voice felt heavy with pent-up emotions. “That the only cute thing I could bring to the group was my necklace.” Your eyes were teary again, and Minho couldn’t help but scoff, frowning.

“Sounds like a handful.” He mumbled.

“God, yeah,” you passed your hands through your hair, “but the worst was when her boyfriend, drunk as fuck, decided that if she liked my necklace, she should have it.”

His hands stopped, as if someone had pressed pause on him, and Minho promptly left the wine glass on the counter, cloth inside it. 

“He… grabbed the necklace and… and shoved me.” You recalled the motion, taking a hand to your neck, tightening it on a fist, and tensing up your body, as if you had been pushed right then and there before Minho’s eyes. 

“And, well, the thing couldn’t really hold my weight to begin with…” You scratched the back of your head, your hair still damp under your fingertips. “The clasp got loose and… I fell back to the swimming pool.”

“God, you must be freezing, then,” Minho mumbled, the shock passing through his tone, mixed with light worry. 

You dismissed it with a gentle groan and a flick of the wrist, but when he got you another towel, you were quick to settle it over your shoulders. 

“I don’t know if Lix could have left something around here…” 

But you settled your hand over his wrist, smiling. “No, please. You’ve done enough for me already. More than any of my so-called friends to begin with.”

That’s why I should keep doing more. 

It was a thought, just a random idea, something far from being a grand gesture of any kind. Still, the weight of it threatened to tint Minho’s ears a deep shade of red and take his breath away. It was then and only then that he noticed a red scratch on your neck, just a bit over your collarbone.

You could only blink, puzzled, when he didn’t move his arm away from you, but instead leaned forward, slightly over the counter, boring his eyes to your neck. 

“He did this to you?” 

Ah. You were talking. Mmh. Having a conversation, yes. He— god, he was a total stranger. Handsome, sure, whatever. Ok, maybe not exactly whatever, fine. Still. Huh? What had you been thinking?

“I, uh,” you swallowed dry, but it hadn’t been full of awkward tension. Not as much as you had expected. “What… what?” 

Breathless. It was ridiculous! How could a random, gorgeous, beautiful young man from the countryside make you so weak in such little time? It wasn’t normal to fall so easily for anyone, was it?

His eyes stared at yours, and the brown of his calmed your racing heart and fuzzy mind. 

Oh. 

“Um. You have a… t-there’s a… scratch. Red. From, um, the necklace, probably.” 

But neither of you had moved from the closeness that you had just discovered. 

“Is it, eh, bleeding?” 

Minho’s tone matched your own. A whisper, barely loud enough to be called a sound. 

“No. Just a scratch.” 

His eyes —bright and kind, yet guarded— held yours with an intensity that was both unnerving and comforting, whereas Minho felt like he was being seen, really seen, for the first time in a long while. Which was, again, bananas. One hundred per cent bananas. 

Like I said, ridiculous. Odds are that you had spent less than an hour in his space, his kitchen, and now he didn’t find himself yearning for the tranquil buzz of his ears after a loud day. Tonight, he wanted your voice, telling him a story. And he’d love to listen to anything, especially if you didn’t have that sad undertone while you spoke, because when you had giggled, it had reverberated in his space. Not his kitchen, honestly, but his chest, fluttering butterflies fighting inside of him. 

Neither of you spoke, but the silence was no longer awkward. It was filled with something else, something tender and unspoken. You licked your lips, chuckling lightly, and tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear, a delicate movement that had only seemed to draw him closer, despite the stillness of your bodies.

“I think there are bandaids here somewhere.” He grinned gently, and you watched him, almost mesmerized. “It’s better than nothing.” There was a slight doubt in his mind, but he ended up shoving it away, speaking softly. “I can’t offer you much aside from bandaids and cherries, really.  Let me.” Minho chuckled.

He had to hold back the impulse to bite his lip at your toothy grin. “You have cherries?” 

For you, yes. But instead, he merely smiled, cruising to the counter close to the window, moving the bowl closer to you. 

Plopping a cherry in your mouth, you sighed in contentment. The familiar, almost homey feeling of the explosion of sweetness in your mouth brought you back to the comfort of your own house. You picked a paper napkin from the corner of the windowsill counter, leaving the pits over it. 

“You must really like cherries.” He tongued his cheek, missing your enthusiastic nod, heading to one of the small drawers of the aisle in the kitchen, like a man on a mission, and you snickered, staring at his back as he looked around in the different drawers. But then, he paused, and his shoulders made a weird motion. “Ah, Yongbok…” 

You couldn’t help but frown at him, yet it was obvious that the giggle you let out after he turned back to face you had been totally on purpose. 

“Hello Kitty bandaids?” You relished on the light blush that dusted his cheeks pink, before sparing him. “That’s so cute.”

Minho let out a chuckle that was full of relief. “My little brother. A menace, as you can see.” 

“Mmh, I’m thoroughly terrified.” 

“You don’t say.” 

He snickered, getting out of the kitchen, standing now before you, towering over your sitting figure, even on the bar stool. 

You watched as he skilfully unwrapped the pink and colourful bandaid, lemon-scented hands tenderly pressing the sticky band over the red scratch. 

“There,” Minho mumbled. “You can keep an extra one if you’d like.”

Only in certain moments, he could remember not missing the old clock that used to tick every second, hanging over the backdoor like an impending sign that his time in the kitchen was well past midnight. And that night was not only one more to the list, but most likely its number one addition. Minho loved the feeling that came over him when he stared into your eyes, and that old wooden thing would have ruined everything. 

No old clock. Just two strangers standing in front of each other, on a late August night, inside a closed diner, waiting for something to interrupt what was too early to happen yet. 

There would be other chances, Minho was sure of it. At least a small part of him was, whereas the other debated how stupid he was because he hadn’t asked for your name yet. Nevertheless, the other part of his brain —a much, much funnier one, if you asked for this humble author’s opinion— knew there was time. 

He didn’t need an old clock in the diner, because there would be time on other rainy evenings, when you’d come back from wherever you had been in the day, the lingering scent of rain on you, and he’d melt in your arms, as if that could make the lemon scent stain on you as much as you had stained him. 

Minho would scrunch his nose. 

“You reek of cherries.” 

And you’d smile, guilty as charged, both of you fully aware that you had probably bought and finished a small box of cherries on your way to him. 

“Change that, then.” 

It would only take a playful giggle escape from your cherry-tinted lips for him to grab you in his arms and sit you down, not behind the counter like the night you two had met, and not on the edge of his bed like he had done barely a couple of months after —one could only resist a sweet sweet cherry for so long—, but on top of the recently-cleaned surface, and he’d giggle too, torn between kissing away the day off you as you both simmered in the late, rainy night, protected only by the diner’s roof, or melting in your hold, your hands, slightly cold from being outside running through his hair and scratching his scalp, letting rain, cherries and lemons lull him to sleep. 

He hadn’t seen any of this in your eyes, that first night. But Minho knew deep inside that there was no way in hell he’d let you go without you coming back the next morning.

“I should go.” You grinned, looking down sheepishly. “Thank you for tonight.”

After folding the towels —an excuse to stay just a bit more—, you both parted ways under the rain. 

Were there things left unsaid? Sure. Honestly, it’s why this author keeps adding small bits and pieces between long hyphens. Minho hadn’t told you how he was dying to see you again someday —the sooner the better, if you asked him—. 

And you had just smiled cheekily as you walked away to find your car instead of saying what you had been thinking for a while, Hello Kitty bandaid in hand —that would surely end up stuck to the wall of your room—. 

It wasn’t your name, as some of you might be thinking. You had scribbled that on another napkin when he wasn’t looking. No, it was something even better. 

See you tomorrow.

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

kats, who is craving not cherries but a late-night, lemon-scented minho for herself to cuddle to sleep.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

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bold and red means i couldn’t tag you! </3

PERMANENT TAGLIST! @lyramundana @stayconnecteed

[puckinghischier]

The 7th Year

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader wants to celebrate Nico’s 7 year anniversary of being drafted to the Devils

notes: i really wanted to post this on his actual draft anniversary but i’m a slacker and didn’t finish it in time, so here it is now. it still counts cause it’s still draft week, right? anyways, i hope you enjoy and happy reading! 🫶🏼

[4.4k]

“Jack, it’s all wrong!” you cry out, looking at the orange cake sitting in front of you.

“Listen, we can fix it. I can run down to the nearest grocery store and have them make me a new one really quick,” Jack tries to reason with you, attempting to avoid the incoming meltdown.

Today was Nico’s seven-year anniversary of being drafted to the Devils. You know it’s an in-between milestone, most people celebrating every five years, but you didn’t care. You weren’t with him two years ago, having only been dating the hockey captain for a little over a year, so you were determined to make a big deal out of this milestone instead.

Your apartment was decked out in every tacky, red or devil related decoration imaginable, from cardboard cut-outs of Nico littered throughout the large living space to a custom ‘pin the horns on the nico’ party game you ordered for the occasion.

“Jack, I special ordered this cake four months ago, because the bakery he likes had a waiting list almost six months long for their cake decorator. I literally told them I’d pay extra if they could have it done by today,” you shut the lid of the cake box, not wanting to look at the orange monstrosity any longer.

You had sent them several reference pictures of what you wanted done, confirming with them last week that they had the correct pictures and color scheme.

“Well, at least they got the logo right?” Jack tries again, watching you run your hands through your recently curled hair.

People were set to start showing up any minute now, and you were panicking about being ready in time for Nico’s return home in a little over an hour. You barely had time to shower and make yourself presentable after spending all day transforming your apartment into a Nico museum.

All of his trophies and medals from childhood up until now are displayed on various surfaces around your shared apartment, action shot posters are taped on the living room walls, taking the place of your decorative pictures, and several of his old jerseys are on display in shadow boxes propped up in the high-top chairs that usually sit around the small table on your balcony, but are currently placed in various spots around the large room.

“Yeah, sure. The logo says Devils, but the colors say Flyers,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to stop yourself from crying off your fresh make-up.

Jack had been a trooper today. Luke too. The two of them had shown up to your apartment not even twenty minutes after Nico left with Jesper and Timo this morning for their early tee time. They helped you decorate and arrange your entire apartment, ran all over Hoboken with you grabbing last minute stuff for the evening, and Luke is out right now picking up the catering order that was supposed to be delivered but somehow got marked for pick up.

Your phone starts ringing in the middle of your deep breathing moment, trying to calm your nerves.

“Luke, please tell me you have the food and are on your way home,” you answer the phone, praying Luke is calling to check in and not to give you bad news.

“Yeah, I got it. On my way now. Just calling to check and see if you need anything else while I’m out,” he tells you, the sound of his car door shutting heard in the background.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. At least the food is taken care of, you think to yourself. “No, I think we’re good. I double checked everything before I got in the shower. And Jack has been setting stuff up while I was getting ready. Just please get here in one piece with the food before I have a small stroke,” you attempt a joke, but your tone sounds more strained than anything.

“Aye Aye, Mrs. Captain,” you hear through the phone, picturing the small salute Luke is likely doing right now.

You chuckle out a goodbye and hang up your phone.

“So, am I good to go get changed now, or do you need me to talk you off a ledge right now?” Jack asks you, treading lightly.

You send him an unamused glare. “No, I think I’ve done everything I can do until Luke gets here with the food. Go, change. Shower if you need to,” you wave him off, grabbing the cake on the counter in front of you and walking to place it in the large fridge.

“Alright, but if I hear the balcony door open I won’t hesitate to run out here butt naked to make sure you’re not trying to make an escape,” he sings out as he walks out of your kitchen, turning down the hallway towards your guest bathroom.

You flip him off even though he can’t see you, a smile on your face nonetheless.

Thirty minutes later, Jack is showered and dressed and a few of Nico’s teammates have shown up, decked out in the t-shirts you had ordered and distributed to everyone.

Each of Nico’s teammates are wearing a shirt with his picture from his draft on it. No matter who you were looking at, Nico’s smiling baby face, devils hat on his head and devils jersey pulled over his formal attire, with one finger pointed in the air to signify his being picked first overall, was looking back at you.

You thought it would be funny to have Nico walk into a surprise celebration with his face staring back at him from nearly everyone in attendance, and when you pitched the idea to his teammates they were all for it.

You had ordered your own shirt with Nico’s face on it, too. Although, yours was one of the shirts in the WWE style, overlapping, various pics of Nico making up the design.

As the time got closer to Nico coming home, more and more of his teammates and their significant others showed up, ready to surprise their captain.

Ten minutes before Nico was due arrive, you get a call from Jesper.

“Hey, you guys almost here?” you answer, walking away from the noise of your living room.

“Yeah, leaving the bar now,” he tells you, pausing to bid someone in the background goodbye and ringing out ‘thank you’ a few times as he walks out of the bar.

Jesper and Timo were tasked with keeping Nico busy and away from home today. It started with their game of golf, but quickly turned into an additional eighteen holes and trying to kill time at the clubhouse bar when their games went by far quicker than they anticipated.

Around lunchtime, Timo called you and told you Nico kept saying he was going to bow out early to come home and spend some time with you, but you begged them to find a way to keep him occupied. You ended up having to send him a message, telling him you were out with a friend for a quick lunch before a fake nail appointment that turned into a real one once he asked to see what design you had chosen this time. Which is why you were late getting ready, having to leave Jack to decorate the apartment during your impromptu salon trip.

Most of the time you love that Nico is so invested in your relationship. He always wants to spend time with you, going with you to hair and nail appointments, following you around like a puppy when you go shopping, and simply sticking around the house on days when he has nothing planned just to catch up on your latest reality show obsession he always gets hooked into.

Today, though, you wish he was a little more apt to spending time with his friends. The amount of ‘I miss you’ and ‘can’t wait to come home and binge love island!’ texts you got today made you love him even more – if that’s even possible – but also made your anxiety sky rocket each time, because you know if he wanted to, he would simply leave in the middle of his plans with Timo and Jesper, no amount of convincing able to keep him there.

“Alright, don’t forget your shirts,” you start to remind him. You turn your body to look behind you, hearing a chorus of “Lukey!” and “Moose!” ring out, signaling Luke was finally back with the food. “Hey, I gotta go Jesp, Luke just got back with the food. Be safe!” you rush out before hanging up, making your way back into the small crowd.

You weave through bodies until you reach your kitchen, watching Luke attempt to sit down the large disposable trays.

“Luke, please don’t drop those,” you run over to him, helping him slide the heavy food onto your kitchen island.

You unstack the pans, making sure each one is unharmed and an appropriate distance from the edge of the counter.

“C’mon, Y/N, have a little more faith in me than that. I can carry a few trays of food,” he tells you, dramatically flexing his arms at you.  

You roll your eyes at the curly-headed giant. Checking the time on your phone, you figure you have enough time to try and set up the food a little bit before Nico gets here. Opening the various pans, you freeze.

“Luke…what is this?” you ask him, a cold feeling washing over you.

Luke furrows his brows at you, peeking over your shoulder from his spot behind you. “The food you asked me to get? Is this a trick question?”

You dropped the flimsy lid, condensation from the hot dish flying everywhere.

When you were thinking about what food you wanted to have for the party, you knew it would be in the off-season, the Devils losing their playoff spot pretty early this season. So, you figured it would be a good time to order a few pans of his favorite dishes from his favorite Italian restaurant.

You ordered a pan of their lasagna, chicken parm, and a large pan of a steak and pasta dish specific to the restaurant. You had called them to confirm this morning, which is how you found out it was marked as pick up instead of delivery, causing Luke to have to drive forty-five minutes one way in order to grab the food.

What you were unaware of, however, is the fact that this restaurant, apparently, also caters an array of vegan options.

When you opened the three pans, you were met with a large pan of what looked like roasted cauliflower with tomato sauce, eggplant boats covered in pesto, and what looked like breaded and baked zucchini. 

You had no issue with vegan food, some of it being some of the most delicious food you’ve ever eaten, but this is not at all what you envisioned surprising Nico with.

“I ordered lasagna, chicken parm, and steak pasta. There is no chicken, parm, steak, or layered noodles in front of me right now,” you try to keep your tone even and calm, knowing it’s not Luke’s fault.

“I swear, they handed me the box of food that had your name on it. I even checked the receipt and everything,” Luke defended himself.

You can feel the tears welling up, despite your attempt at taking big, deep breaths to avoid your emotions getting the best of you.

When the first tear falls over, the rest come crashing out before you could even stop them. You bring your face to your hands and start sobbing, upset that you couldn’t have everything be perfect for such an important day for Nico.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Luke coos as he wraps you in a hug, your face still hidden by your hands. “You’re going to ruin your make-up. You don’t want to greet Nico while looking like a little raccoon, do you?” you let out a chuckle at Luke’s words, his attempt at cheering you up working for a quick moment.

You bring your hands away from your face, sniffling and trying to carefully wipe your eyes. Luke keeps you trapped in a hug, giving you a few moments to collect yourself before stepping back, rubbing your arms instead.

“I just wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted Nico to walk in here and see all of his friends here, ready to celebrate him. I wanted to surprise him with his favorite meal and his favorite cake from his favorite bakery, since he doesn’t ever get this stuff during the season. But instead he gets an orange cake and a vegan dinner,” you huff, gesturing to the food in front of you.

“Well, he’ll definitely be surprised,” Luke attempts another joke, this one earning a sarcastic laugh instead of a genuine one. “Listen, we can fix it, okay? We’ll call the place and get a refund then order a few pizzas, alright? It’ll be fine. Everyone likes pizza.”

He bends his knees so he’s eye level with you, trying to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.

You look over to the food on the counter, bringing a sliver of your bottom lip in-between your teeth, mulling the idea over in your head.

“Yeah, we can do that. Everyone does like pizza, don’t they?” you try to convince yourself pizza will be fine, you could just take Nico out to dinner for his Italian food later this week.

“They sure do. And lucky for you, I have the best pizzeria in Hoboken on speed dial. I’ll make them do a rush order for their favorite customer,” Luke winks down at you, stepping away to pull out his phone and make the last-minute order.

You cover the food in front of you back up, picking up each tray and tossing them in the trash can at the end of your island, knowing that a group of hungry hockey players wouldn’t want three trays worth of vegetables to eat for party food.

You stand in the middle of the kitchen, trying to compose yourself and wipe away any mascara residue when Jack comes running through the open doorway, frantic eyes landing on you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve been crying? Jesper just texted and said they’re on the elevator on their way up,” he rushes out, walking towards you to make sure you’re alright.

“Catering mishap, Luke’s ordering pizza now. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Go grab him, quick,” you suddenly perk up, nerves bubbling in your stomach.

As you follow Jack out of the kitchen and make your way to the front of the small crowd at the end of your entry way, all you can think about is hoping Nico likes what you’ve done. You hope he doesn’t think the decorations are too tacky, or that the shirts are weird. You hope he’s okay with eating greasy pizza and orange cake. You hope he likes the custom Halifax and Devils split jersey you plan to gift him later to represent where he started and where he is now. Overall, you just hope he understands how proud you are of him.

You see Jack and Luke walk up beside you out of the corner of your eye, matching with the rest of their teammates that are surrounding you. Luke leans down to whisper “Pizza’s ordered, it’ll be here in twenty,” into your ear before standing back to his original height and facing forward, waiting on his captain to walk through the door.

You’re suddenly hit with a thought about how thankful you are for the people surrounding you. For Jack and Luke who dealt with your demanding and crazy self today, talking you off of ledges and running around doing your bidding all day long. You’re thankful for the teammates that showed up today, ready to celebrate the captain they love almost as much as you do. You’re thankful for Timo and Jesper, making sure Nico stays in the dark about the surprise, doing everything in their power to keep him out of your hair until this moment.

You’re so incredibly thankful that the universe has allowed you to not only love someone as kind, loving, and special as Nico, but that he loves you back just as much. You also gained an entire family through Nico, his teammates treating you like one of their own, showing you just as much love and care as they do him. You’ve found some of your best friends through him, Jack, Luke, Timo, and Jesper being four of the best people you’ve ever had in your life.

The sound of the front door opening distracts you from your sentimental thoughts. You see Jesper enter first, his Nico shirt looking a little out of place paired with his golf pants. Nico follows him in, blindfolded. You have to stop a snort from making its way out, not knowing Timo and Jesper were going to resort to blindfolding him. Timo follows a step behind Nico, hands on his shoulders, guiding him and preventing him from bumping into anything.

Timo guides him to a few feet in front of you, stopping him before dropping his hands from his shoulders.

“Alright, Cap, you can take your blindfold off now,” Jesper tells him, him and Timo quickly stepping over to where you stand, joining the rest of their team.

Nico reaches up the untie the blindfold on his head. “I swear to god, if you guys did this just to mess with me and take me to another bar I’m going to kill both of you. I told you I just wanted to go home to Y/N-“ Nico stops mid-sentence when the cloth falls into his hands.

A loud, “Surprise!” rings out around the room, Nico’s eyes darting to each person, then down to their shirts.

You stand there, smiling at his shocked face.

“What-“ he starts, but stops, speechless at the scene in front of him.

You step forward the few feet to him, his gaze finally landing on you.

“Happy draft anniversary, baby,” you tell him, smiling up at him.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowing. You can tell he didn’t remember what day it was until this moment, his eyes looking around the room again, understanding settling in on the choice of shirts.

“You did all this? For me?” he asks, a smile taking over his face as he looks down on you.

“Well, duh,” you tell him. “Your seven-year draft anniversary is a big deal, you know?”

He beams down at you, the amount of love in his eyes enough to nearly knock you down.

“I love you, you know that?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body close to his.

“I think you’ve told me once or twice,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes at you, bringing his lips down to meet yours. The kiss is innocent and sweet, considering most of his team is stood behind you, but it was enough to cause a feeling of warmth to wash over you, all the way down to your toes.

When you pull back from the kiss you can’t help but to keep smiling at him. “Alright, go greet your teammates now. I’ll find you later,” you tell him, patting him on the chest as you step back.

Nico gives you a wink before he walks over to his friends and teammates, making his way through hugs and handshakes.

You mostly sit back and observe for most of the night, splitting off from the festivities when the pizza was delivered, placing it in the kitchen and announcing everyone to just serve themselves.

You make your way around your apartment, conversing with Nico’s various coworkers. You cross paths with Nico a few times, each time he tried to whisk you away to your shared bedroom, but you insisted he have a good time with his friends, there’ll be plenty of time for the two of you later. You stick around Jack and Luke some, but finding yourself in a corner talking to Nicole, Jesper’s girlfriend towards the end of the night.

“Y/N, seriously, this is great. I wish I would have thought of something like this for Jesper. Nico hit the jackpot with you,” Nicole compliments.

Your cheeks redden. “He deserves it. I mean, he left everything he’d ever known in Switzerland to come here and pursue this. And look how well he did for himself,” you turn to look over at him standing with Jonas and Erik, Jonas attempting his turn at pinning the devil horns on the large poster of Nico on the wall.

You’ve always been amazed at Nico’s bravery and determination to pursue this dream, knowing how hard it was for you to move just a few states away from your family, much less halfway across the world. He proved every single person that told him he wouldn’t make it wrong, not only getting drafted, but being the first overall pick. And now he earned his captaincy on top of that, proving he’s not only a phenomenal player, but an even better teammate and leader.

“I think he did very well for himself, and not just in reference to hockey, either,” she tells you, leaning over and placing a hand on your leg to emphasize her point.

You look down, not particularly knowing how to respond to her compliments.

“Hey, Y/N, want us to stick around and help clean up,” you hear a voice ask you, turning around to see only Jack, Luke, Jesper and Timo remaining.

Nico walks over to you as Nicole stands and joins Jesper.

“Nah, you guys head out. We’ll call you tomorrow if we need any help,” Nico answers for you, standing behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.

“That’s code for ‘get out you goons, I’m trying to be alone with my girl right now,’” Jack says, earning a chuckle from the group.

You and Nico walk everyone to the door, saying your goodbyes before shutting the apartment door and turning around to observe the state of your apartment.

“Don’t even think about trying to clean anything up tonight. You’re not lifting a finger for the rest of the night,” Nico threatens, slipping his arms around your torso from behind, burying his face in your neck.

“C’mon, at least let me clean up the cups your lazy teammates didn’t throw away,” you pat his hands, starting to walk him over to start picking up the red, plastic cups.

“Alright, but after that we’re going to the bedroom and aren’t leaving until this time tomorrow,” Nico points a finger at you as he separates from your body.

The two of you gather all of the stray cups, bringing them into the kitchen to throw them away. You notice the empty pizza boxes, breaking a few of them down while asking Nico to put the leftovers in your fridge so they don’t ruin.

“What’s in the box?” he asks, grabbing the white cake box and dragging it out of the fridge.

“Oh no! I totally forgot about the cake!” you exclaim.

“You bought me a cake?” Nico opens the box.

He looks up at you, amusement in his eyes. “Schatz, why did you get me an orange Devils cake?”

You groan, bringing your hands up to rake them down your face.

“It was supposed to be red, but the bakery fucked it up and I didn’t know until they delivered it,” you explained, walking over to stand next to him as he looks between the cake and you.

“The catering was messed up too,” you continued. “I tried to order your favorite dishes from that Italian place you like, but they sent a bunch of vegan dishes instead, so Luke had to order pizza last minute.”

Nico lets out a laugh at your confession. “So, you threw me a draft anniversary party with an orange cake and vegan food?” he teases, closing the lid to the cake box and turning his body to face you.

You give him a pout. “Don’t make fun of me, I was trying to be nice to you.”

This earns another laugh, Nico placing his hands on either side of your pouting face.

“You could have thrown me a party with water soup as the entrée and ice cubes as appetizers and I would still think it’s the best party I’ve ever been to, simply because you planned it,” he tells you, looking down into your eyes.

“You meant it? You enjoyed yourself tonight?” you ask him earnestly, that small seed of worry making its way back into your brain.

Nico doesn’t answer, he leans down to kiss you for the second time that night. This time, though, he wasn’t as slow and sweet as he was when you had an audience.

His kiss isn’t rushed, but with his tongue slipping its way into your mouth, it quickly turns into a partial make-out session in your kitchen.

He pulls back once the two of you need to come up for air, resting his forehead against yours.

“I had a blast tonight. The shirts were a nice touch, by the way,” he smirks at you.

You let out a giggle, thinking of how funny it was when he registered all of his teammates were wearing his face on their chest.

“Thank you, seriously,” his tone turns serious. “I can’t even begin to explain to you what this means to me. I just wish I could’ve had you by my side from the start.”

You look at him through his long lashes, not being able to think about anything except for how much you love him at this moment.

“Well, you’ll have me until the end of it. Or until you get sick of me, whichever comes first,” you joke, causing Nico to pull his forehead back from yours.

He uses his hands that are still on your face to tilt your head up to look at him. “Not possible. If anyone gets sick of anyone around here it’s going to be you getting sick of me, because I never want to be anywhere but by your side.”

You just stare up at him, shaking your head in a no motion, the intensity of his stare taking any words from the tip of your tongue.

You both just stand there, staring at each other for what feels like hours, but was really just a few moments.

“Enough of us just standing in the kitchen, I think it’s time we take this little party to our bedroom so I can really show you how thankful I am,” he breaks the silence, his eyes going from love to lust before you could even blink.

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, just throwing you over his shoulder while you squeal, carrying you to your bedroom. As you pass all of the decorations on the hallway walls on your way to the bedroom, you’re already thinking of how you can make year eight’s anniversary even better, especially if Nico is as thankful next year as he proves to be this year, thanking you over and over and over again once you reach your bedroom.

[spidernuggets]

No. 18 "Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't" with reader saying this to Jason because he just found out that the Joker is her father

Jason Todd x Joker's Daughter!Reader

"Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't."

You tried long and hard to fall out of your father's tight grasp of holding you hostage, telling you many times that you are his flesh and blood. His family. His face and name.

He's repeated that no one in the world will ever love you except him. And even if someone did, if they find out who you're related to, they'd instantly stop loving you. No one in the world is aware of your existence except for him and a few of his goons. Not even Batman knows that the Joker has a kid.

You've watched the Joker torture, maim, kill so many innocent people. You've watched him force other men who can't fend for themselves to work for him.

And for what? Your father does this for a good laugh. Because he's bored. Because he wants to play Tag with Batman.

But with endless lectures and monologues from the Joker, somehow, you remain to stay sane. But every time you tried to escape his hold, he somehow still managed to find you. How does he do it?

You found out from overhearing a discussion to kill Batman that the Joker would use Scarecrow's fear toxin on you to do his bidding, knowing that maltreatment wouldn't get you to do what he wants. And upon this discussion, you hear that you can't escape. That you could never escape from him. He planted a tracking chip, under your tongue.

You instantly ran to what is labelled as your bedroom. But in reality, it's just a small, cramped space with mould growing in all corners, cracks in the walls, and dried blood stains on the floor. But toss an old mattress there, and suddenly it classifies as a bedroom from dear old dad.

There's a shattered mirror hanging on one of the walls. You grab a shard off the floor, staring into the mirror, looking desoerate to take the tracker out. As soon as you lifted your tongue to rip out your tracker, you hear the Joker call for you.

"Ohhh, Y/n, my sweets!" He bellows. You drop the shard, turning to look at your dad with an unamused expression on your face, replying with a harsh 'what'.

"Clear up the attitude, hm? There's someone I'd like you to meet!" He declares, almost in a tune. Your face scrunches in confusion. Joker says no more as he walks away, expecting you to follow, as you do.

You follow him down to the ground floor of the warehouse. And you're shocked to see Robin tied up with barbed wires to a wheelchair. His face is busted, there's dark circles under his eyes, but no one would notice them seeing how bloodied his face was, and his head was hung low.

He looked scared, confused. He looked like he'd given up on trying to escape.

"Meet boy blunder 2.0!" Joker cheered, picking up his crowbar, giving Jason a swing to the leg. Jason grimaces but doesn't scream in pain. He already looks so dead. Joker scoffs in boredom. "Not playing, I see," he mutters. "No matter! I'm quite finished with you anyway. But first!"

The Joker brings out a camera, putting it right in front of Jason. You're confused as to why you were brought down to witness this. You have an understanding that the Joker would kill Robin, but you have no control over what he does. You try to help Robin, and your head would have a bullet in there.

"How long has he been here?" You quietly ask.

"Oh, you know.." The Joker chuckles. "A month... a year? Same difference," he cackles as your eyes widen.

He starts recording, and you don't realise you can be seen in the corner of the background of the footage. The Joker goes on and on with his usual, riddled speeches. Within that, it is revealed to you that this new Robin is identified as Jason Todd, who claims to hate Batman.

"Hey..." The Joker suddenly says to Jason. "I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big, bad bat? What's his name? Tell me!" he calmly says.

"Of course, sir. It's-"

No matter how many times you witness your father murder an innocent person, you'd never get used to the sound of his gunshot. Or the sound of his crowbar against bruising flesh. Or his maniacal cackles of dekight when he kills someone. Especially someone who is... was close to Batman.

"Never could stand a tattletale. See, my darling, Y/n?" He says to you. "This is why I work alone. No one to spoil the punchline!" He grands the camera, bringing it to get a closer look at the dead boy in front of you. "You should try it sometime." At this point, you don't know if he's talking to you or the camera. You assume this video footage would be sent to the Bat.

The Joker finishes up the footage, tossing the camera to you as you clumsily catch it. "Export the footage, my sweets. Then, send it to the coordinates that I'll send to you in a bit," he instructs to you.

"Why can't you do it?" You carefully say, trying not to get on his bad side.

"Because..." He hisses, harshly grabbing your face with a firm grip as you winced. "I told you to do it. Now go."

You glare at him, going to go export the footage and send the taoes to the coordinates, in which you assume is where Batman would be currently located.

A month later, everything is quiet. The Joker and most of his goons are out to raid Scarecrow's cookery. You take this opportunity. You head to your room, looking dead in your eyes through the mirror. You slowly open your mouth, sticking your finger in, trying to feel the lumo of where the tracker is situated.

When you find it, you grab a shard, placing it directly over the tracker. You attempted to muffle your whimpers as much as you can to make sure the rest of Joker's goons don't hear you. You were finally able to pop the tracker out, and you hold it up between your eyes, your focus on the blinking light that somehow blinds you. It makes your eyes water, but you drop the tracker to the ground, leaving it there. You're aware that if you step on it, it might send a signal to Joker, indicating that the device he planted in you had been damaged.

So you left it there in your room, you pack whatever shit you can, and you attempt once more to escape that damn warehouse. For the uears you soent in there, you took note of usually unguarded exits and the routines of your dad's goons.

And with that, you successfully stepped foot out of the warehouse. And you took no extra second to bolt away as fast and as far away as you can.

With your bolt for freedom, you go to the closest drug store. Thanks to dear old dad, you managed to steal some essentials. Vitamins, bandages- oh. And some hair dye. You go to whatever public restroom you could find. You got your pocket knife and started to messily cut your hair, along with applying every last drop of that hair dye.

You decided to stay along the outskirts of Gotham. You were never able to get out of the warehouse, so staying in Gotham, a somewhat familiar setting would be safest for you.

And since the outskirts are the poorer sides of town, where the Joker wouldn't be interested in torturing the already tortured, you knew that he wouldn't be a problem for a good while.

So you went around, figuring the in and outs of the outskirts. It's been another few years, and you've forgotten all about the Robin fiasco that occurred in the warehouse. You even forgot that he willingly revealed his identity.

The past few years had been hectic. There was a new Robin roaming around, a new crime lord emerged by the name of Arkham Knight, whose name had died down a bit and is now working alongside Batman... you think?

You were able to get a stable job at Bat Burgers. Luckily, seeing as it's a cheao, greasy fast food place, they didn't need any formal documents. You were able to rent a run-down apartment (which was a huge upgrade to your decomposing room back at the warehouse) and with a little extra cash, you were able to buy snacks for some of the kids along the outskirts.

You were fishing through your bag for your wallet when you bumped into someone, and you hit your face prettg hard against them.

"Ow! Watch it, nitwit!" You snap at them, but they scoff.

"You're the one not watching where you're going," he bites back. And you were about to make a snarky comment, but when you looked up at the stranger, you swear you saw an angel. He was tall... very tall. He also had gorgeous green eyes and a few scars on his face that made him somewhat more attractive.

Your silence indicates to him that you have nothing else to say, and he scoffs once more and leaves. You shake your head away from the thought of how good-looking he was and continued your way towards the grocery store.

You picked up a few meats and vegetables you were going to offer to the soup kitchen down the road, not forgetting to put some candy and snacks in the basket for the kids that would be there.

When you checkout, you headed straight for the soup kitchen, immediately greeting Diane, the owner of the place,with a sweet smile and a wave. You say hi to the other volunteers when you make it to the back of the kitchen, dropping off the plastic bag full of produce, telling the others you won't be long.

When you step out, you're instantly tackled by a bunch of 6 and 7 years olds hugging you tightly, all of them talking at once saying how much they missed you.

"Okay, okay," you laugh with the kids. "Hey, guess what I got," you bend down to their level, lowering your voice, as they all copied you, looking more secretive and quietening. You then whip open your bag, reveal various treats for them as the kids squeal with excitement.

"Alright, alright, one at a time!" You exclaim, happy ti see the kids enjoying their time.

When you wrap things up, you hug the kids once more, saying goodbye and that you'd see them soon. But when you swiftly turn, your face is once more met with a solid surface.

You take a step back, grabbing your nose. "Ow! Shit- again?!" You hiss, your eyes tight shut as your hands apply soothing pressure to your not really broken face.

"You know you shouldn't curse. There's kids around."

You look up, getting a sense of deja vu, seeing the same pair of emerald green eyes looking down at you smugly.

"Ugh.. you," you groaned, secretly glad you got to see him again... just wanting to admire the view, you guess.

"Ugh, me," the handsome stranger mocked with a grin. He stuck his hand out, interested to officially meet the person who continuously walks into his chest. But also, the person who manages to make these kids smile in just a split second.

"Jason."

You raise a brow at his extended arm, shaking it cautiously. "Y/n..." You say, shaking his hand. Didn't he know a Y/n from somewhere?

You notice him wearing an apron. "You volunteer here?" You question as Jason nods his head.

"Whenever I get free time. I only started volunteering recently. Otherwise, I'm just doing whatever. How bout you?"

"Just visits here and there. I don't have time to volunteer fully. Just drop off some food and snacks most of the time, though," you explain, and Jason smiles.

"Well, your time here definitely seems to cheer up those kids. They're always frowning," he says sadly, but you just shrugged.

"It's not much. It's all I can offer. This side of Gotham really isn't Wayne manor," you joke, unaware that you were having a conversation with a son of Bruce Wayne. Well... not until Diane comes up.

"Ah, Y/n! You've met Jason Todd!" She cheers.

Jason Todd. Where have you heard that name before? It's starting to itch the back of your mind.

"Yeah, glad you got another volunteer since you're getting fewer people to help out," you say with a sad smile.

"I know, but it's not every day you get a son of Bruce Wayne to volunteer in a little kitchen," she happily says. One of the workers at the back calls out to Diane for some help. "Well, better get back to work! See you soon, Y/n!" She happily says as she walks off to the back.

Your brows are high, and your eyes are wide as you stare at Jason. "You're... You're a Wayne?!" You say shockingly while looks down at you.

"You didn't know? I'm kind of famous," he starts to say as you look at him cluelessly. "Was announced dead but was actually alove, just gone missing?"

"Nah, doesn't ring a bell."

"Wow, you don't get out much, do you?" He laughs.

"As much as that is an interesting tale to tell, I'm not interested in rich people business," you say as you glance at your watch. "Look, it was nice talking to you. Sorry for walking into you or whatever, but I gotta go. Late for work," you explain as you were about to bolt out the door. But Jason stops you by grabbing your hand.

"Wait! I... I kind of wanted to get to know you more. Can.. I get your number?" He awkwardly asks.

"Oh..." You quietly say. "I... Sorry, I just... Don't have a phone.." You say in embarrassment. But it doesn't seem to bother Jason.

"Oh, well... where do you work? What time would you finish? I can.. uhm. Drop you home if you want?" He offers, and you smile.

"Batburgers. 9pm, " you say as Jason nods and you finally run out the door, sprinting to work.

As promised, Jason comes to visit you half an hour before your shift ends, talking to you about the soup kitchen as you wiped down a table.

When you walk out with him, you notice that he's walking you towards a motorcycle.

"You ride a bike?" You ask.

"Yeah, is that okay?"

"Is it okay?? It's sick!" You exclaim as you hop on behind him once he gets on. Under his helmet, he smiles, thinking how cute your reaction was, as he hands you a spare helmet.

He would be lying if he said his heartbeat sped up when you wrapped your arms around his waist. He just met you. He shouldn't be so nervous around you like this.

"So... would you be free any time this week?" He asks as he walks you up to your apartment complex. You insisted many times you can go on your own, embarrassed for Jason to see where you lived in comparison to Wayne Manor, but Jason assured you that he wouldn't care.

"I have work for the rest of the week," you reply in disappointment. "But... I guess I do finish pretty late each night... wouldn't mind a ride back," you say in hopes that Jason would accept your request of taking both a lift off of him, and his time to talk to him more.

He smiles in response, agreeing to pick you up after work as you gave him your schedule.

Your routine of Jason picking you up during the late nights after work continued. Soon, the two of you went out on actual hangouts through Gotham for a few weeks. Then those weeks turned to months. And soon, Jason frew tired of just being friends with you.

How the hell was he supposed to just be friends with you when his heart raced when you smiled. Or when his cheeks burn when you compliment him. Or when his stomach flutters when you hug him.

How the hell was he supposed to just be friends with you when he's trying so damn hard not to kiss you just because you looked so cute.

Ao he grew himself a pair and asked you out.

Obviously, you said yes.

And another of a couple of dates later, you made it official. Jason was so down bad that he asked you to move into his apartment. You told him so many times you didn't want to intrude his space, but he just called you dumb and ridiculous (which you took great offence to). But eventually, you caved in and agreed.

During this time, you have never felt so loved before. Jason made you forget that the Joker existed. That he was even your father. Jason proved the Joker wrong. There is someone who can truly love you.

But... then your relationship started to get messy. He stopped picking you up from work. He was out late at night, and he wouldn't tell you why. You found him early next morning laying on the couch. He wouldn't even come to bed anymore?

You continuously asked where he's getting these bruises and wounds from. But he wouldn't answer that either. He just told you that it wasn't your business and to leave him alone.

Today, he woke up around noon. He rubbed his eyes and cracked his neck, clearly another uncomfortable sleep.

He was looking around his surroundings when he sees a duffle bag by the door. He then hears from the oppostie side, a door being closed. He turns to see you dressed and with no clear expression on your face.

You've acknowledged that he was awake, but you refuse to make any eye contact with him. You head straight to the door, picking up your duffle bag, fishing through your stuff as you find what you were looking for while Jason remains on the couch confused.

"Where are you going?" He calls out.

"Home." You spit, pulling the spare keys that Jason gave you for his apartment and slammed it on the desk beside the door.

Jason instantly gets up. "W-what? But- But you are home! This is your home! Our home.." he says, panicking.

"Is it? Is our home, Jason?" You yell. "Because you're never here! And when you are here, you're sleeping. Then, you wake up and you go out. And you get hurt. And you're not telling me how or- or why! I don't know if you're cheating or if you're in a fight club, but clearly, you don't want me to know, and clearly, you don't care if I'm worried about you. So, yeah. I'm going home. Oh! And it's over," you hiss, glaring at his, reaching for the door knob.

"Wait- wait! Please. Please, I'll explain," Jason begs, as you turn, a stern look on your face.

Jason sits you down, telling you not to freak out.

Ans you've never hated yourself more than you do now. Jason tells you that he was Arkham Knight, now going by the name Red Hood. And that he used to be the second Robin.

You wanted to scream and cry. That's where you heard the name Jason Todd from. Jason Todd was murdered right in front of your eyes. Jason Todd was tortured by your father. Jason Todd was killed by your father. Jason Todd os dating his murderer's daughter.

You play it off. Saying that it all makes sense. Why he doesn't pick you up anymore. Why he's always out so late. Why he gets so many wounds and bruises.

You'll tell him. You'll tell him who you really are. Soon. It's not fair if he doesn't know. Especially since he's coming clean now.

You'll tell him soon.

You didn't know when soon would be. Every time you think soon is coming, the moment disappears.

Jason's either in too much of a good mood or he's having a breakdown and a nightmare. He has nightmares about the Joker torturing him. And it's you who's there to snap him out of it. It's you who's there to comfort him. You comfort him, telling him that the Joker isn't here. But you are. You tell him that you're there for him.

You feel so guilty. You tell him the Joker isn't out there to get him. But there you are. His own flesh and blood, cradling him, shushing him, whispering sweet nothings to him til he falls asleep once more.

You'll tell him soon.

You grew even more guilty when Jason brings you over to Wayne Manor, and Bruce, Dick and Tim welcome you with open arms. Bruce had this... look in his eyes. But you ignored it nonetheless. Jason gives you a tour of the Manor, even shows you the big cave downstairs, and takes you to his old room. You try to stay optimistic, joking about how he was such a berd, looking at all the classic books laying around. But then you came across an old photo of him. He's younger and in his Robin suit. He looks happy. It was obvious Robin meant so much to him. And your dad took that away from him.

You'll tell him soon.

One day, you went into the cave after receiving a call from Jason.

"Why did you call me here?" You asked.

"Joker's dead." Was all he says. And you froze. You don't know how to feel. Relieved? Does this mean you don't have to tell him who you are?

"I know this is random, but... Superman killed Joker. I don't know if I can finally breathe, but... I don't know. There's a tingle inside of me. Telling me that the Joker is still alive and out to get me."

Shit.

You'll tell him soon. You'll tell him soon, right? Maybe now? Like, the Joker's dead. You've shown nothing but love to Jason. He'd believe you. He'd believe you are not your dad. You'll tell him. Yeah, you'll tell him soon.

Jason sighs and plays the tapes. The tapes that the Joker sent to Batman when he was Robin. And your eyes widen.

"Why the hell are you watching that??" You say in complete fear. The camera that the Joker used was old and glitchy with horrible quality. But as Jason played the tapes, you could still make out that there's a half of a figure, just peeking through the camera in the background behing the tied up, young Jason Todd.

"I don't know... Trying to find a conclusion. If anyone had to kill Joker, it should've been me," Jason says with a low voice.

"Hey... I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big, bad bat? What's his name? Tell me!" The tape plays, displaying on the huge screen in front of the two, and you swear you'd throw up any second now.

"Of course, sir. It's-" Before the gun gets shot, Jason sighs, pausing and rewinding.

"I'm sorry. This is all so dark and heavy." Jason grumbles. You don't say anything. You're focused on the small blur in the corner of the footage.

As Jason stares as the paused footage, he mentions, "That doesn't look like one of his henchmen."

Tell him.

"Fuck me, is that another kid?" he mutters angrily to himself, leaning in, taking a closer look at the footage.

Fucking tell him.

Jason takes a breath and presses play, and the video starts with a bang.

Tell him, god dammit.

"Never could stand a tattletale. See, my darling, Y/n?" The Joker says through the video. And time stops. Was the cave always this quiet? The video is still playing. How is it so quiet??

The camera wobbles as the Joker picks it up. He walks closer to Jason's dead body, but for a split second, you're in full, clear view. And Jason pauses the video. You weren't moving. You didn't look scared. You looked fed up.

Jason is silent. That's not you. That can't be you. Jason's head turns from the footage of you to you, currently standing behind him. No, no. That's not you. Your hair colour is different. But your face has the same bone structure.

"Y/n," he calls out. Your name is now so bitter on his tongue. "Tell me that, isn't you. He meant something else, right? 'My darling'? What the fuck does that mean? He was just scaring you, right???" Jason questions, his voice raising each sentence and his bottom lip quivering.

Your eyes are blurry as tears threaten to fall. You walk to Jason, bending down, looking up and you place you hands ever so gently on his knees.

"Jason," your voice cracks. "I wanted to tell you so bad," you whimper.

And Jason lets out a harsh, sarcastic laugh. "Fuck me. Don't fucking tell me you were working with him. You're a real fucking psychopath working with him at what? 13?" He spits, tears cascading down his scarred cheeks.

You shook your head. "Jay," you tried to sweetly call out to him. "I'm his daughter," you pathetically admit.

Jason's eyes widen to the point where it looks like his eyes would detatch from his sockets. He shakes his head slowly. But then, he shakes it faster, harsher.

"That isn't funny, Y/n," he almost chokes saying your name.

"No, it's not funny," you say. "But it's true," you start crying.

Jason pushes you away. You fall back as Jason stands up, towering over you. You've never been so intimidated by him before.

"You're his daughter? The Joker has a daughter?" Jason whispers in disbelief. And you nod in response. "So what the fuck were you doing just standing there? Ha.. What? Did you enjoy watching him put me through hell?"

"Jason- No! I wasn't even there when he-"

"LIAR!" He yells, his voice echoing across the cave. His breathing becomes heavy and uneven.

"Jason, you're going to have a pani-"

"Get out." He says.

"W-what?"

"Get. Out. If I ever see you again, I'll end you. I may not have been able to kill Joker myself, but you? Making me think you loved me? Fuck, is this why you only tell me now? Because daddy's dead? Just get the fuck out and never see me ever again. This is your only chance," he says, looking away from you as you finally start sobbing.

"Jay- Jason. Please," you beg, shifting to your knees, looking up at him. "Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't." You pleaded and begged and prayed that Jason would look at you.

But Jason knows that if he looks at your state, then he might forgive you. Might forget the situation. But he can't because your father killed him. And all in his mind is that you used him because you were working with his dad. And that you're only crying because his dad got killed and that you got caught. So, no. He won't look at you, and he won't forgive you.

"Jason, please, you- you're the only person who has ever made me feel loved," you sniffled. "And I- I wanted to help you then. Help you escape. But I couldn't, please! Please believe me, Jason, please," you cried harder.

"You weren't supposed to see that."

You and Jason's heads turn to the voice. Bruce comes out of the elevator to the Batcave, walking closer to the pair.

And all Jason could see is red.

"You knew?" He snarled. And then scoffed. "Well, yeah, of course you knew. You didn't even kill Joker when you found out he murdered me- You didn't even care!" Jason yells. "I don't care that Penguin or- or Riddler are out there. They didn't kill me! They didn't kill thousands- millions! The Joker did! And you kept him alive! Now that he's dead, guess what! His daughter is right here under our noses! And you knew! Do you hate me that much that you let the Joker's daughter into our home?"

"Jason, plea-"

"I TOLD YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT!" Now that Jasin finally looked at you, all you saw on him face was pure spite and anger. There was no more love for you left in his eyes. Just pure hatred.

And you finally got it. Jason doesn't love you any longer. And your dad was right. Even if someone loves you, when they find out who you're related to, they will instantly stop loving you.

The Joker was right.

So you got up and shamefully left the cave, and once you reached the manor, you can still hear Jason screaming and roaring.

You were numb. You finally got a tatste of what true love felt like, and it slipped through your fingers ever so quickly.

And now the only person you thought ever loved you would kill you if he saw you again.

So you left. You took your stuff from your- Jason's apartment and left Gotham. Now, future generations would probably read about the Joker in their history books. But not on a single page, paragraph or sentence would your name be mentioned. Because only two people in the entire world knew who you were.

One of them was your father's sworn enemies. And the other was your father's victim. One of these people, you hardly knew, but he knew who you were and still trusted you and welcomed you into his home. The other didn't know who you were. And you loved him. And you were positive he loved you too. But once he found out your identity, he loathed you. And he wanted you dead.

god damn that was long

pt 2

[lomlhwa]

all american whore (e.s)

pairing: step brother!eric x step sister!reader

preview: your dad has just married eric's mom. but, you're not blood related so you should be fine to hook up, right?

tags/warnings: fem reader, handjob in the back of a car, oral (69 on the edge of a pool....), fingering, unprotected penetration (BOOOO), hickeys, breast slapping, pet names (angel, slut, cock whore), 4th of july celebration (and by celebration i mean orgasms for everyone), creampie

trigger warnings: STEPCEST!!!, like two mentions of reader having a dead mom

wc: 3.0k

song recs for this fic: american horror show by snow wife, all-american bitch by olivia rodrigo

a/n: i was so invested in writing this for like 4 days good lord

“you could at least try and be a little excited, y/n. sure, you’re meeting my new wife and her son today, but it’s also the 4th of july. it’s a celebration,” your dad says to you while driving. “whoopty doo,” you say as sarcastically as possible. you can feel him glaring at you without even looking over at him. “i know you miss your mother, but it’s been over a decade, i’m moving on.”

you lean your head against the window, the air hanging heavy between you and your dad. “i’ll be nice to them but i can’t promise i’ll like them,” you say, turning to see your dad crack a small smile. “i think you will like them, pumpkin. just trust me,” you nod as he speaks. 

____________________________________

as your dad parks, nerves run through you. it’s finally hitting you that you’re meeting these people that your father intends to keep in your life forever. he walks up behind you and squeezes your shoulders. “you ready, kiddo?” he asks and you give him the most unconvincing nod ever. 

you walk up to the front door and knock loudly. “you’re here!” a woman cries out as she opens the door. you assume this is your dad’s wife. “hello honey, this is y/n,” your dad introduces you and you give an awkward wave. “come in, come in. eric is just upstairs playing his video games,” she ushers you in and shuts the front door behind her. “you guys can just head out to the backyard, that’s where everyone else is,” she walks over to the base of the stairs and angles her head upwards. “ERIC SOHN GET DOWN HERE,” she yells. 

you walk out to the large deck in the backyard with your dad and greet lots of people you’ve never met. you notice lots of things in the very large backyard. in-ground pool, hot tub, etc. your step-mom is rich. you settle yourself in a law chair by the pool with a spiked iced tea in hand. you’re soaking up the sun when you feel a presence next to you. you open your eyes and see a man standing there. “my mom told me i had to introduce myself to you. i’m eric,” he scratches the back of his neck and turns to yell to his mom on the deck. “happy now?” his mother shrugs. he walks away from you, clearly unhappy with your presence.

as the afternoon goes on, the family gathering becomes more lively. you’re sitting on the edge of the pool with your legs in the water when eric comes to talk to you again. he slips his shoes off and plops down next to you. “here because your mom told you to?” you raise your eyebrow at him and he shakes his head. “no, i came to apologize. i’m sure you’re in the same boat as me with our parents' marriage,” he swings his legs, creating small waves in the water. you sigh, your shoulders slumping.

“you wanna go up to my room? it’s quieter and we could watch tv or something,” eric nods towards his house and you give him a small smile before getting your legs out of the pool. you grab your sandals and follow him close behind. “y/n and i are gonna hang out in my room for a bit,” eric tells his mom and she gives him a warm smile. “have fun, kids,” she says. she shoots your dad an excited look as you two walk into the house. 

as you settle into eric’s bed, you feel as though this is a very intimate space to be in with your step-brother. he puts on some brainrot show as background noise and sparks up a conversation with you. despite being invested in your conversation, you can tell there’s something else on his mind. the way his eyes dart between your own eyes and your lips brings butterflies to your stomach. 

eric snakes his hand onto your bare thigh, your shorts having ridden up from adjusting to sit comfortably in his bed. he strokes your skin with his thumb like it’s second nature. goosebumps rise in the wake of the soft movements from his thumb. you look at him with doll-like eyes and he can’t seem to get enough of your appearance. 

slowly, his hand snakes higher and higher before his fingers are teasing the stitching of your underwear. you can tell he wants to shove his hand in there and play with your wet heat. you know his fingers can feel how wet you’re getting. he shifts his arm a little bit so he can reach his pointer finger out to brush over your clothed clit. slowly, it gets harder for you to hold the conversation. 

eric leans over to whisper in your ear, despite the two of you being the only people in the room. “can i? please let me make you feel good” is all he says to you and you honestly can’t get your head to nod fast enough. you’re not blood related so you should be fine to hook up, right? at your consent, he slips his fingers under the fabric of your panties and plays with your clit. small moans and whimpers escape your lips when he touches you. it feels amazing. his soft fingers on your skin lights your nerves on fire.

eric scooches closer to you so he can press kisses onto your jawline and neck. you tilt your head back on instinct, giving more access to the expanse of your throat. he slides his middle and pointer fingers into your wet hole, pumping them in and out slowly. your muscles clamp around his digits, desperate for more pleasure. “eric, oh my god,” you breathe out, your hand shooting down to hold his wrist while he fucks you. he holds your face with his other hand, making sure you’re looking at him while he fingers you.

your high creeps up on you as the tips of his fingers jab the gummy spot inside you. you arch your back as your walls throb around his fingers. “give it to me, y/n. i know you’re fucking close. cum for me,” he whispers in your ear again. you dig your nails into the skin of his wrist as you cum around his fingers. eric lets out a sinister laugh before pulling his fingers out of you. he brings his wet fingers to his mouth and licks your release off of them. as you’re about to say something to him, you hear your dad’s voice. “y/n! it’s time to go home!”

____________________________________

for the next 3 days, all you can think about is eric. was what you did wrong or immoral? it can’t be. you’re not blood siblings. the only thing bonding you is your parents’ marriage. unfortunately for you, you can’t help but want more.

today must be your lucky day because your dad has some amazing news for you. “we’re going on a little shopping trip with eric and my wife today. do you wanna go there in separate cars or take one car?” your dad asks, leaning on your doorframe. “we can take one car, it’s fine with me. i’ll sit in the back with eric.” 

your dad gives you a warm grin, only happy that you’re getting along with your step-brother. he pulls out his phone to text his wife about your transportation decision. not even 10 minutes later, an suv pulls into your driveway. you rush to put your shoes on before climbing into the large backseat with eric. he pats the seat right next to him, despite the whole rest of the backseat being empty. happily, you oblige. the car is chilly and eric has a blanket over his lap.

it’s about a two hour drive to the biggest outlet mall near you. so you settle next to eric, watching a movie on the laptop he’d brought with him. about 20 minutes into the drive, you notice eric shifting around uncomfortably. you take a single glance down and you know exactly what’s wrong. he’s hard. so unbelievably hard. you can see it through the blanket.

“do you want my help?” you ask in a hushed voice. eric catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he nods. luckily, he decided to wear basketball shorts, so you have easy access. you pull the waistband of his shorts and underwear down just enough to get his cock out. you wrap your hand around it under the blanket and pump him slowly. he digs his teeth into his lip to suppress any sounds coming out. you run your thumb over the pink, dripping tip and he lets out a sigh. “you okay back there, hon?” his mom asks, seeming concerned. just as he’s about to open his mouth, you start pumping faster. “y-yeah, i’m so fine,” eric responds. his mom seems to accept this answer as she goes back to looking at her phone.

“the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispers aggressively. you give him a mischievous smile as your hand continues to work on him. you stroke him with firm, mildly swift motions. his hips buck to meet your hand’s movements and you can’t help but smile at his desperation. eric slides his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him. he digs his fingers into the skin of your hip as his orgasm approaches. “right there, angel, fuck,” he squeezes his eyes shut as his cums, his hips stuttering. white ropes of cum paint your hand and forearm. as you bring your hand to your mouth to lick it clean, he shoves his cock back into his shorts. 

____________________________________

after your shopping trip, your parents drop you off at eric’s house. you walk into his empty house and plop down onto the couch. eric stands in the doorway of the living room, watching you. “you wanna swim?” he asks, nodding his head toward the back door. “i don’t have a bathing suit,” you reply, smirking at him. “swim in your underwear.” you shrug, not really minding the idea.

you rise from the couch, walking past eric towards the back door of his house. as you walk, you drop items of your clothes on the floor. first you drop your shirt, exposing your back and your black bra. next, your shorts. they left almost nothing to the imagination anyway. your black panties hug your hips and ass in a way that almost sends your step-brother into a frenzy. you peel your socks off last, throwing them into a corner. finally, you reach the pool. you dive in head first, drenching yourself head to toe. “you coming?” you call out to eric, who’s been a statue since you started stripping.

you can barely see him from the pool but you can tell he took his slides off and threw his shirt somewhere in the room. he comes darting out the door, diving into the pool the same way you did. when he comes back up, he flips his hair out of his face. you’re holding onto the edge of the pool and watch his movements. he swims over to you, halting in front of you. there’s a moment of silence between you before he grabs you by the back of the head and crashes your lips together.

eric kisses you like it might kill him if he doesn’t. the kiss is sloppy and full of saliva. he kisses you like he’s been poisoned and your lips are the only antidote. your hands travel to his exposed chest, digging your nails into his chest. he groans against your mouth and the sound goes straight to your core. you wrap your legs around his waist underwater and he kisses you harder. 

“i wanna fuck you, but not here. not now. let me taste you,” he whispers against your lips as if someone will hear you. you nod, but suddenly a better idea comes to your mind. “get out of the pool and lay on your back,” you instruct, also pulling yourself out of the pool. eric follows suit, doing what you told him to. you stand by his head and shimmy your wet panties off. you throw them onto the lawn before turning back to eric.

you put both feet beside eric’s head and lower yourself slowly, sitting on his face. his tongue almost immediately darts out to taste you and you fall forward, catching yourself with your hands on his hips. he wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your core further onto his face. with trembling hands, you push his shorts down his thighs. he lifts his hips to help you in sliding them off him. you lay your torso down and take his cock into your hands. you stroke it a couple times before spitting on the tip.

you take the first half of his cock into your mouth, already choking around it. he moans against your pussy, his hips bucking into your face. he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it lightly. your knees fight to squeeze around his head but you don’t let them. you stroke the portion of his cock that you can’t fit in your mouth, trying to work an orgasm out of him. you bob your head up and down rhythmically. eric eases two fingers into you and they follow the same rhythm as your head. 

your orgasm creeps up on you faster than you would’ve liked it to, but you can tell he’s close too. you pull your mouth off of him to let out a high-pitched squeal when he curls his fingers inside you. “ah, fuck, i’m gonna cum,” you exclaim, clenching around his digits that are abusing your hole. “me too, angel,” eric replies. his voice is so husky and strained that it almost sends you over the edge. 

you manage to pump him a few more times before toppling over the edge. you shake above him, your thighs clamping down on his head. the noises you make as you cum send him into his orgasm. he releases onto your face and neck, causing you to flinch a little. you roll off of him, laying naked from the waist down on the warm concrete. when you sit up, you hear a car roll into the driveway. eric shoots up and give you an ‘oh shit’ look. you both bolt into the house, grab all your clothes and rush up the stairs. he barely closes his door before your parents open the front door. you can hear them talking and laughing about something but you’re too focused on how fast your heart is beating.

you collapse onto his floor, laughing about how close you were to getting caught. eric listens for the movement of your parents, trying to find out what they’re doing. relief washes over him when he hears them leave again. he turns to you to find that you’re moving to put your clothes on. “don’t you fucking dare.” he walks over to you and hooks his arms under yours, lifting you off the floor and onto his bed. you rest your body weight on your elbows and watch as he admires your body.

eric runs his hands up your thighs and spreads your legs for him. he pulls you so you’re almost hanging off the edge of his bed. “please, angel. let me fuck you. i need to know how that pretty fucking pussy feels,” it almost sounds like he’s begging you. your core throbs as he speaks. “please,” is all you can muster as a response. eric grabs the base of his cock, lining up with your wet hole. “god, you’re gonna be my fucking slut. right, angel? a whore for my, ngh, cock. gonna ruin you for everyone else. you’re only ever gonna want me” he shoves himself into the hilt before pausing.

your walls pulse around him, trying to adjust to his size. before you’re fully adjusted, he starts to thrust. his cock abuses your hole and it feels so fucking good. you wrap your legs around his waist as he uses you. “god, it’s like you were made for me. such a good cock whore. you’re taking me so well.” roughly, he pulls your bra down to expose your breasts. he slaps both of your breasts, leaving bright red marks. you cry out in pleasure, your back arching. “such a whore for your step-brother. what would your father say?” he teases. 

he leans down and connects his mouth with the plush skin of your breast. he sucks on the skin, leaving a dark purple mark. he continues the same motions a couple more times, leaving your chest riddled in his love bites. “you’re fucking mine. you hear me?” he says, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. “say it. say it and i’ll make my sweet angel cum.” the idea of finally cumming makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“fffuck eric, i’m yours. i’m all fucking yours,” you cry out. your orgasm is right there. “good fucking girl. so obedient,” he slaps your chest again, leaving a bright handprint. “where do you want me to cum?” eric asks as his thrusts speed up and become sloppy. “inside, inside, god please inside of me,” you beg, your pussy clamping down on him. he chuckles at your desperation. he connects his pointer finger with your clit, rubbing it in circles. “cum. cum for me right now, slut.”

the combination of his words, his motions on your clit and his cock abusing your wet cunt sends you crashing over the edge. you cry out loudly, a string of curses erupting from you. he quickly follows suit, spilling his seed into your weeping hole. you both rest for a few moments, feeling his cum seep out around his cock. you wipe sweat off your forehead before looking at him.

“we can never tell our parents.”

© lomlhwa 2024

[stellar-solar-flare]

Volatile | Chapter 1/3 | Steve Rogers x Reader

Explicit - 18+ only - Minors DNI.

Steve Rogers returns from a mission only to be immediately alerted about a medical emergency: you, the Avengers Initiative's leading science expert, have been hit by a potent, unknown aphrodisiac on your own mission. Pressed for time and out of options, he has to, together with the AI's medical department, figure out a solution.

Mutual pining, smut with feelings, eventual happy ending.

Content Warnings: explicit sexual content, sex pollen, non-consensual exposal to sex pollen, dubious consent because Reader is under the influence of an aphrodisiac (but all sex is very much mutually wanted), protective & possessive Steve Rogers, Captain kink, praise kink, very light dom/sub elements, dirty talk, pet names, thigh riding, finger sucking, mention of non-con.

Reader specifics: She/her. Works as a science specialist in AI under codename Dr. Chiral for her chemistry proficiency. Six times PhD, an Avenger. Late twenties, no description of appearance given.

Alternate Universe: The Avengers Initiative (AI) continued SHIELD's work after its collapse to corruption, with Steve as the Head Strategist and Tony as the Director. The Avengers are living together in the Tower - Bucky has healed, and Civil War never happened because Tony and Steve worked through their differences like adults.

I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

FIC MASTERLIST | AUTHOR MASTERLIST | AO3

Chapter 1: Verona

Chapter notes: Dr. Carolina Vinterberg is my original character, a regular face in my fics. Background Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanoff.

3,179 words.

Over his years on Earth, and occasionally in space, Steve Rogers had seen a lot of things that had bordered on impossible and occasionally crossed well into it – his own existence not being the least. Aliens? Superweapons? Computer programs turned into sentient robots married to an actual witch? His best friend resurrected seventy years after his death and sporting a mechanical arm that could rip steering wheels out of cars? Sure. All fine. He could roll with it.

But this. This was close to taking the cake. He swallowed and folded his hands very carefully to rest behind his back as he was standing in the office of Avengers Initiative’s Head of Medicine, Dr. Carolina Vinterberg. He had been summoned the minute his jet had landed, not having had even the time to change out of the stealth suit. The shield sat strapped onto his back.

“Could you repeat that?” he said.

The doctor regarded him with her ever-calm, icy blue eyes and something about that neutral expression and neat blonde braid she always sported was so absurd, considering the situation at hand, that Steve wanted to laugh. Or scream. Or both. She was cradling a StarkPad on her arm and standing in front of a large screen that was showing toxicity profiles.

“A foreign aphrodisiac, Captain Rogers,” she stated. “Possibly of interstellar origin. Presumably affecting the hormonal levels of those who are subjected to it, resulting in heightened drive to pursue venereal gratification.”

The words made sense individually but as they were strung together, they didn’t seem to form a coherent sentence. Or rather – they did, but Steve’s head was screaming for any other explanation than the one he was deciphering. Anything but this.

“Horny,” Sam groaned from where he was sitting. “What the doc here is saying is that they both got really horny. I’m considering buying Tony a bottle of champagne for all that noise-cancelling tech. Would’ve been a long ride home otherwise.”

Steve closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, this whole nightmare would’ve vanished. God, he wasn’t looking forward to writing the strategic guidelines for future occasions of this one. Instead, when he opened his eyes, Dr. Vinterberg was regarding him as unfazed as she had been earlier.

“Sergeant Wilson is correct. Both agents subjected to the substance reached a heightened state of arousal within minutes of the exposure.”

Steve wasn’t going to think about it. He wasn’t. That wasn’t the priority right now.

“Did…” he coughed, even as he could tell from Sam’s expression that the answer was going to be no. “Did that result to any violations of physical kind? Anything non-consensual?”

Vinterberg shook her head, consulting the tablet as if she was reading routine blood-test results to Steve.

“It appears that the substance amplifies existing affections instead of creating them. Neither Sergeant Barnes nor Dr. Chiral expressed any interest in each other or in Sergeant Wilson, or in the medical staff that handled their quarantine, for the matter.”

“And thank god for that,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“Considering she and Sergeant Barnes were exposed to the substance simultaneously while they were investigating the laboratory, it is reasonable to assume that if it had been just a simple pheromone attack, they would’ve expressed interest in each other,” Dr. Vinterberg explained. “But that has not been the case.”

Alright. He could deal with that. The carnal nature of the substance aside, it did sound like a standard exposure to a foreign pathogen. It was a good thing that he was informed of the incident, but it seemed like both Bucky and you were still… indisposed. And Vinterberg certainly wasn’t the person to try to ease him into bad news – she would’ve led with them, if there had been any.

“So, what happened out there?” Steve asked, forcing the tone of his voice stay even.

Sam looked at him, clearly as excited to have this conversation as Steve himself was, but they both realized the need to be professionals, especially around such a delicate topic.

“We went into the laboratory and Chiral and Barnes were examining the backroom where they kept this stuff. There must’ve been some kind of invisible trigger that broke a couple of the bottles, releasing the vapor in the air. They both exited immediately and activated the quarantine protocols, but I can only assume they both got a good whiff.”

The quarantine protocols. Steve might get his own bottle of champagne for Banner and Stark for that one. All the mission Quinjets were supplied with a FRIDAY-controlled system that would, upon an agent requesting it, release a large bulletproof-glass cylinder that would surround the subject much like the Hulk Containment Field had done. With thrusters in the bottom, the cylinders would automatically float into a separate containment area on the back of the jet. They allowed for radio transmission to and from the cylinder but filtered out everything, keeping both the one subjected to a substance and other agents safe. Alright. So, that meant that Sam had probably gotten an earful once he’d gone to check on you and Bucky but otherwise, it seemed like the team had gotten off easy.

Wrong expression for the situation. Wrong. Steve nodded at Sam, absorbing the information, and turned to Vinterberg.

“Even with the mission immediately aborted, by the time the Quinjet was here, both Dr. Chiral and Sergeant Barnes were under the influence of the substance to the point that they weren’t able to act or express themselves coherently,” she said. “Considering the previously existing physical relationship between Sergeant Barnes and Agent Romanoff and the consent form signed by Agent Romanoff, I decided that the best course of treatment in Barnes’ case is to, as the idiom goes, let them ride it out. They’re currently in containment room 2A, and we’re monitoring Barnes’ vitals via the wireless sensor system but otherwise giving them privacy, unless either of them activates FRIDAY’s emergency protocols.”

Containment room. That was good news – those rooms were more hotel rooms than hospital ones, designed for quarantining the ones that needed to be quarantined but who didn’t need any further medical care. Dr. Vinterberg had the necessary authority to greenlight a decision that was, even if unconventional, clearly a treatment of a medical condition and if Nat and Bucky wanted to bang it out, good for them – that definitely didn’t need Steve’s involvement. Vinterberg sat down behind her desk and put her pad down. She didn’t look even remotely fazed as she met Steve’s eyes.

“However, Dr. Chiral’s case is much more complicated.”

No. No. No. Not you. Not this way. Not when Steve hadn’t been there to protect you. He had had a schedule conflict, another mission that had required him and Tony specifically and that old Hydra lab he’d sent you should’ve been a routine data extraction, all the intelligence information had pointed towards it... With difficulty, he reeled his spiraling thoughts back in.

“She doesn’t have a romantic, or otherwise physical, partner listed in her file. Considering her diligence with her medical paperwork and the pre-mission information updating protocols you yourself have implemented, Captain Rogers, we can safely assume that to be an accurate assessment of the situation,” Vinterberg said. “Any standard treatment option for cases like this has had no effect so far – the substance, presumably to maintain an optimal physical state for continued sexual activity, has sped up her metabolism and overclocked her entire system. She is burning all sedatives out faster than we can safely administer them, and we have legitimate medical concern for how long her heart and brain can take this. It also appears that simply achieving a climax isn’t enough to offset the effects of the substance. When comparing the data of Dr. Chiral and Sergeant Barnes, it appears that the presence of a partner is crucial.”

In any other situation, the simple image of you writhing on your bed, moaning, fingers buried in between your legs would’ve required Steve to dump a bucket of cold water on his head but now, his head was only focusing on the fact that you were in danger. Because of a mission he’d greenlit you to go to.

“Especially with no medical precedent, we are concerned that if continued, this could be fatal for Dr. Chiral,” Vinterberg said. “Which is the only reason I’m willing to relay you the information that she has, exclusively and rather explicitly, asked for you, Captain Rogers.”

For a second, Steve’s brain flashed into white static. He was pretty certain his mouth had dropped open.

“Asked me to… What exactly?”

“Participate in sexual activity with her,” Vinterberg replied, and Steve thanked all the gods that watched over universe for her robotic demeanor as a million thoughts flooded into his brain.

You wanted him. At least, some part of you wanted him. He had had his hopes, his fantasies, and he had been so close to asking you out but backed off at the last second, afraid of possible rejection affecting your working relationship. You weren’t his subordinate – as a leading science expert of the AI, you ranked as high as he did – but with the intensity of the line of work you’d chosen, there was no room for any kind of personal bad blood.

Showing aside the image of his name falling out of your lips like a feverish prayer took every last drop of Steve’s willpower. He straightened up to remind himself of the position he was in and cleared his throat.

“Even if Dr. Chiral has asked that, that’s not consent. She’s under the effects of what appears to be a drug that heavily alters consciousness. She is unable to give proper consent.”

Dr. Vinterberg nodded.

“I agree. Again, this is an unorthodox approach and from a medical standpoint, her current consent isn’t a valid one. However, with the limited timeframe and limited options, I am forced to bring this option to the table,” she said. “Sergeant Wilson is here because Dr. Chiral gave him a message to relay just prior to, effectively, losing consciousness. It was meant for you, Captain Rogers. I’d like you to listen to what he has to say before he leaves the room as we go into more detail regarding Dr. Chiral’s medical information.”

Vinterberg nodded at Sam, who turned in his chair to look Steve properly. His shoulders were tight.

“Yeah, Cap, believe me that after this I’ll be out of here before I lose the last ability to look any of you in the eye,” Sam gave him a dry laugh. “But Chiral told me to tell you – if I understood it correctly since she was shouting it through the containment chamber glass and on the verge of losing it – that she remembers the moonlight in Verona. I don’t know what that –“

“I do,” Steve said, his mouth getting drier.

Your fifth mission together, for the first time just the two of you. The moonlight dripping through the stained-glass windows in a church in Verona, the gunshot still ringing in Steve’s eyes and his palms extending over your bleeding thigh. He was had been trying so hard to not focus on the widening pool of blood underneath you that had stained the marble floor, instead looking into your eyes and counting seconds for an extraction team.

Just focus, Ace, alright. Stay with me. Look at the moonlight. Look how pretty it is. I need you to stay with me.

The look in your eyes, the softness of your face even through the pain that had had to be excruciating. Your hand, still holding the glass vial that had gotten you shot but that would also later be the downfall of an international drug operation.

I’m not scared, Steve. You’ve got me. I trust you.

In the present, both Dr. Vinterberg’s and Sam’s expectant gazes were on Steve.

“It seems to imply that she knew what she would be asking. That she wanted me to know that she trusts me.”

Dr. Vinterberg nodded. She didn’t ask further questions – she clearly understood it meant a lot to Steve but didn’t really seem to consider the details her business.

“That would be in line with the fact that in her medical file, she has granted you the power of attorney over her medical care, should she be incapacitated. There is an obvious conflict of interest here, rendering the document itself null and void, but it does highlight the trust she has. And there was a recording on her StarkWatch,” Dr. Vinterberg said. “I took a look at it, as the time it had been made coincided with the mission.”

“As is your right under the Medical Emergency Breach Protocol,” Steve nodded. “Is the recording relevant?”

“That’s for you to decide. It appears that Dr. Chiral meant to send it to you,” she said, turning to look at Sam. “Unfortunately, Sergeant Wilson, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Any further details of Dr. Chirals medical state and the recording –“

“I understand, Doc. Trust me, I got more than enough details when we started sorting this mess out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go find a tub of holy water to sink myself into.” 

Sam headed out, patting still-stunned Steve on the shoulder as he did. As soon as the door closed after him, Vinterberg tapped the buttons of her pad, and the StarkWatch on Steve’s wrist vibrated as it received a message.

“Take a look.”

Steve pressed the button on the watch to project the 4K hologram display above it. When starting the recording, you had managed to deploy the camera drone from your device, but it floated almost uncomfortably close to your face. The glass containment chamber surrounding you was so well lit that he could see every detail of your face, the drops of sweat on your temples, the sweaty sheen on your cheeks. You were drawing air in like you were drowning, your chest rising and falling with your rapid pants for air. You writhed in the skintight mission environmental protection suit that clung to your every sweet curve. It was just you, as the section you were in was separated from the one that held Bucky, for security and privacy that had proved itself to be a wise choice with this incident.

“Steve, oh, fuck, Steve, something is happening to me and I think… Oh god, I need you, I need you, please, just please…”

Steve kept his calm but only just barely. The whimpering tone of yours shot right into his veins, and a part of him was already ready to give you everything you asked, but he needed to focus. In the message, your eyes cleared up for a moment.

“Hell, I really hope this is transmitting but Steve, I think… Bucky was already asking about Nat and that probably means this isn’t mindless, that it’ll be you I’ll be asking to…” your eyes glazed back over and you ripped the zipper of your suit down, revealing a thin tank top, “Fuck, these clothes, I’m so hot, Steve, please, make the burning stop, I need you, I need you to –“

Thankful for the camera angle that blocked most of what was happening in your containment chamber, Steve kept his focus on your face as you tore the suit off and struggled with the clearly constricting bra underneath the tank top. It didn’t do him much, since the feverish, wanton look in your eyes, your mouth parted in gasps, then your teeth biting down on your lower lip as your hands cupped your own chest felt plenty indecent. He saw you try to battle for control for a few more seconds and in a feat of the same self-discipline that had made you PhD times six, you won.

“Steve, I want you. Regardless of whatever this is. I’ve wanted you since Verona and oh fuck, your hands, your big strong hands on my thigh… Steve, I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want me, they’ll find a way that doesn’t involve… you fucking me until I can’t walk, until I can’t see straight, god, if your hands are that big I wonder how big –“ you panted, then shook your head and managed to continue, speaking as fast as you could to make use of the little time you knew you had left, “I was too much of a coward to tell you in Verona and afterwards but I’ve wanted you for a long time and I really didn’t want you to find out this way but I want you, in other ways too and not just… you deep inside me, your body covering me completely as you press me against the wall, fuck, it’s so hot in here, Steve, oh, fuck, I want you to –“

The transmission cut off. Dr. Vinterberg’s poker face hadn’t even flinched. She looked at Steve.

“It only went into more and more explicit detail of her fantasies from there,” she said. “I consider this, together with the message she gave Sergeant Wilson and the fact that she has demonstrated trust in you, to be acceptable grounds to greenlight this approach, should you yourself give your consent to this, Captain Rogers. Especially when weighed against the possibility of permanent damage to Dr. Chiral’s body. It is a volatile, unpredictable situation but such is the nature of this line of work.”

You had begged for him. You had begged for him. You had wanted him since Verona, since almost six months ago, and you wanted him still. Wanted him now. Needed him.

I’m not scared, Steve. You’ve got me. I trust you.

Somewhere far away underneath the sound of blood rushing in Steve’s body, Dr. Vinterberg was talking about how both of you had been tested negative for any STDs and you were on birth control, how the sensors on your wrists would continue to measure your vitals and the medical team would be given an alert if something dangerous was happening in your system, but other than that, you would be given complete privacy. But there was only one thought in Steve’s mind anymore, pushing all others out.

“Where is she?” Steve asked.

“Containment room 2B,” Dr. Vinterberg answered, staring at your vitals on the pad. “Considering there wasn’t much we could do, we wanted her to be as comfortable as –“

As the door closed behind Steve, Vinterberg realized she was talking to an empty room. Her expression unchanged, she nodded to herself and tapped her pad to authorize Steve’s access into Containment room 2B and activate the protocol that would shut off all surveillance from the room, save for the emergency system that would keep monitoring your vitals and allow either of you to evoke safety protocols. With that done, she made a few short notes onto your file and Steve’s file, jotting down the fact that consent had been established as extensively as was possible in current circumstances. Finally, she ordered herself a latte from FRIDAY’s system and pulled up the notes for her newest research paper, slipping back into blessedly calm world of meiotic recombination.

Next Chapter >>

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (12)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer gets closer to the truth while she feels suffocated by the situation. wc: 4.3k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

a/n: Let me give you a long part as a token of my apology for being a slow writer. I hope this was worth the wait

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"WE BELIEVE WE ARE DEALING WITH A MALE OFFENDER IN HIS LATE 20s TO EARLY 30s," Aaron Hotchner announced, his voice loud and jarring. "Based on the crime scenes, the Unsub doesn't have a lot of experience as they were most likely done in a moment of rage."

The team stood in front of the bullpen, facing a room full of officers and agents scattered along the space. Pens clicked and notepads rustled around them as everyone prepared to add insights to their unfolding narrative.

Rossi, who stood by the evidence board, skimmed his eyes across the room. "It suggests someone who is impulsive and might have difficulty controlling urges. This could also be a sign of an underlying mental illness."

"It's likely that there is some kind of history there, either of abuse or trauma in their childhood," JJ added. "It seems that the Unsub may have difficulty connecting with or relating to others and may be socially isolated as a result. He would mostly like to keep to himself."

Spencer took a step forward and carried on with their profile of the unidentified suspect. "The Unsub might also have grown up in a deeply religious environment. Their beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading them to believe that they possess a unique calling to carry out their crimes as a way of punishment."

"Based on the victims, the Unsub has targeted specific people whom they believe have harmed one of our witnesses," Morgan added, his voice seeming to turn deeper as he continued, "Y/n L/n."

A jolt of electricity surged through Spencer's consciousness. The human mind really was a powerful thing. Somehow the simple sound of her name projected the memories he had of her and suddenly he was seeing her face, her radiant smile, her beautiful eyes—he was seeing her so clearly as if she were standing right before him.

But then Emily moved past him, jolting him awake from his reverie as she bumped against his shoulder. "The Unsub has a sense of loyalty to her that they are acting out these crimes as a desire for retribution on her behalf. They might believe that they have a connection or some kind of relationship with Ms. L/n."

"We believe the Unsub might know her personally," Hotch addressed, his eyes, sharp and penetrating, scanning around him. "Go through places where the witness is most likely to go. This could be her neighborhood, workplace, daily commute, and so on."

The atmosphere seemed to shift as he finally dismissed the room. Everyone rose from their seats, each one heading to their respective posts and assignments. It didn't take long for the phones to ring in the background, followed by the constant shuffle of feet as the entire space started to come alive.

And as Spencer turned back to his desk, a familiar man pushing the glass doors of the office suddenly caught his attention. His steps faltered while the man looked around the room as recognition hit him. Spencer walked over, addressing him as one of the witnesses. "Mr. Adler?"

The other man blew out a sigh of relief. "Eric, please." He entered the office and gave Spencer a look. "The people downstairs told me I could find you here."

"You were looking for me?" He frowned. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I hope so," Eric replied. "Has there been any missing person report lately?"

The confusion on his face grew prominent at the question. "Not that I know of. Why? Is someone you know missing?"

"A coworker of mine hasn't shown up to work and I can't contact any of his family members," he explained. "I'm starting to get worried."

"What's his name?"

"Oliver Walsh."

Having an eidetic memory helped him recall the name easily. His mind went through all the information he gathered these past few days and remembered the exact name written on the list of employees. "When did you last see him?"

"Three—no, four days ago. He left work looking very troubled."

Spencer's brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Eric's. "Troubled?"

Eric nodded. "He seemed distracted."

"Do you have any idea why he acted the way he did?"

"No," he responded. And then it suddenly happened. His eyes, previously engaged in maintaining eye contact, drifted upward for a fleeting second. It was as though a switch had been flipped in his mind and the gears of his memory whirred to life. "Although he did seem to act different that day... especially towards Y/n."

His stomach churned. A subtle tremor coursed through his limbs, betraying the unease that was slowly but unmistakably creeping into his consciousness. "...Y/n?"

"You remember her, right? She was with me the night it happened."

Remember her? She was the only person he couldn't stop thinking about. Spencer cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I'm aware Ms. L/n was also a witness."

"Well, Oliver has been fixated on her for so long, everyone in the office knows this. Y/n mostly thinks of it as a joke but I don't think Oliver sees it the same way as she does."

"And something happened between them on the day you last saw him?"

"I'm not sure." Eric sighed. "I saw them talking after work hours, and by the looks of it, I think Y/n was pissed at him." He then crossed his arms, his brows in deep concentration as he seemed to be recalling that day. "She looked like she was under a lot of stress, actually."

"Did you hear what they were talking about?"

"No. But after that, Oliver didn't seem like himself anymore. Then he didn't come to work the next day..." Eric trailed off, his eyes casting down before he mumbled, "I still don't know where he is now."

Spencer's mind suddenly became a whirlwind of calculated chaos, connecting the dots with lightning precision. His heart raced in his chest, pounding out a rhythm of urgency that echoed in his ears. There was no room for hesitation, no luxury of second-guessing.

He needed to move fast.

"Emily!" He called out as he saw his friend walking past them, quickly stopping her pace at the mention of her name. "Can you help Mr. Adler file a missing person report?"

"Uh..." she looked between the two men, uncertainty written across her face. There were questions lingering at the tip of her tongue but she stopped herself when she saw the urgent look Spencer was throwing at her. "Of course," she decided to agree, her attention shifting to the other man. "Right this way."

With a swift, purposeful stride, Spencer left them behind, his footsteps echoing the urgency that had taken hold of him. His heart was still racing when he walked down the corridor, quickly making his way to the room down the hall.

The door swung open with a resolute push, and he entered the room, his senses on high alert. "Garcia."

"I wasn't doing anything!" The woman sitting before him shrieked, closing the window tabs on the screen in front of her. Usually, Spencer would tease her on how unprofessional it was to be doing something else that wasn't related to work, but he didn't have the time to engage in playful banter.

Spencer stepped behind her, placing a hand on the back of her chair. "Garcia, I need you to find Oliver Walsh for me."

She wasted no time. Her fingers danced across the keyboard with a rapid, almost feverish intensity. "Oliver... Walsh..." The soft clatter of keys echoed in the room as she navigated through files and databases. "There are too many Oliver Walsh in this country."

"He works at the same company as Y/n."

"Should've mentioned that sooner." Her eyes scanned lines of text, images, and documents in front of her. "Bingo. Oliver Conrad Walsh was born on 18th December 1991 as an only child—wait, look at this. His family was part of The Haven Hill... a sanctuary of unwavering faith and profound tranquility?"

"Is it some kind of a cult?"

"I don't think so." Her eyes landed on an old article buried within the archives and clicked on the link before a picture of a worn-out brochure greeted them. "Prospective members are welcomed into Haven Hill, a secluded and serene enclave where faith and tradition unite. It seems like a very tight-knit community with a very religious belief—oh!"

Her fingers moved as she navigated through digital records. "Reid..."

"What is it?"

The screen suddenly displayed a grim history of illicit activities and misdeeds, a virtual breadcrumb trail leading them closer to the truth.

"Oliver Walsh was far from being a saint albeit growing up in a religious environment. Along with his group of friends, he was constantly rebelling ever since a very young age. He had to do a lot of community service for it too; underage drinking, burglary, public disturbances—oh dear."

"Attempt sexual assault?" Spencer read out loud.

"...a group of underage boys was proved guilty of trying to violate a fourteen-year-old girl on school grounds—"

"Garcia," Spencer stopped her, not wanting to listen to the rest of the story. "Give me his current address."

"Already on it," she responded, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't believe this, the suspect was no longer a shadowy figure; they were becoming real, tangible, and within his grasp. Then his eyes caught the shot of the man on the screen. A jolt of recognition surged through him as he scrutinized the suspect's image on the screen. The face staring back at him carried a haunting familiarity.

Memories raced through his mind like flickering images from the past. He remembered him, he always remembered people's faces, and that man right there was the same man he had seen in Y/n's house that afternoon. There was a huge chance this was all a coincidence.

But there was also a possibility of Oliver Walsh being the Unsub.

He didn't know which one was true, but what he did know was that he needed to find out the truth.

The sudden, shrill ring of his phone shattered the intensity of the moment. It was a jarring intrusion, snapping him back to the present. With a swift, almost automatic motion, Spencer reached for the device and answered the call without looking away from the screen. "Yes?"

"Agent Reid," the person on the other line greeted, their words rushed in a moment of panic. "I can't find her."

Spencer pulled his phone away from his face and glanced at the caller ID. Officer Anderson. A sense of relentless panic coursed through him as the realization hit like a lightning bolt. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach, a visceral reaction to the gravity of the call.

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"I—" There was a sigh. "I-I was watching inside my car and I somehow ended up sleeping. She's nowhere inside the house now—"

"Did you call her?"

"She left her phone in the kitchen."

At that moment, he was acutely aware of every heartbeat, every pulse of blood coursing through his veins. Panic resounded through his thoughts, casting a dark shadow over him. It was a visceral, gut-wrenching sensation that threatened to paralyze him like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath his feet.

"I apologize, Agent Reid."

But then anger coursed through his body. He was suddenly angry—Angry at the situation, angry at the Unsub, angry at the officer who couldn't seem to do his one simple job. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone tighter, and his eyes flashed with fury.

"Being sorry isn't going to help you find her," he snapped. He then straightened himself. "I'll be there in ten."

"What happened?" Garcia whispered, noticing the sudden tension in his shoulder.

Spencer shoved back his phone and turned to her. "Garcia, I need you to inform the others, I have to go."

"What?!" She yelped, watching as he turned away from her. "Right now? Where are you going?"

But her question was left unanswered as he bolted out of the door.

There was no other way to explain what being followed by a disguised officer felt like. It was suffocating. Even everything felt suffocating these days, and when she meant everything, Y/n really meant everything.

At first, the idea of protection had offered comfort, but now it was an oppressive weight that bore down on her shoulders. Everywhere she turned, a shadow loomed, an unwelcome reminder of the loss of her freedom. The suffocating sensation was inescapable, restricting her every movement.

The constant surveillance had pushed her to the brink of stress and manifested in the form of tension that coiled within her, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Her patience wore thin and the weight of anxiety rested heavy on her chest. One moment she was on the verge of tears, the next, she was snapping with sharp words, irritable and sullen.

She really needed a break.

"You should go to the gym," Sandy had suggested the other day. "It might help relieve the stress."

After debating whether it was a good idea to visit the gym when she couldn't even remember the last time she stepped foot on a treadmill, she finally decided to slip out of the house. She walked over to the black car she already grew familiar with and stood by the window—only to find Officer Anderson fast asleep behind the wheels.

A pang of guilt tugged at her, but the allure of temporary freedom was too strong to resist. It was an unexpected opportunity, a rare moment of freedom dangling before her like a tempting prize. Was it wise to leave without informing him? Probably not. But she couldn't imagine herself working out—all awkward, tired, and sweaty—with Officer Anderson watching her from the corner.

So silently, she retraced her steps. Her pulse quickened with a mix of trepidation and exhilaration as she walked away. It would be fine, she had assured herself. She would be back before he realized she was even gone. And with that thought in mind, she quickly made her way to the closest gym around the corner.

The place felt both familiar and foreign as she navigated the equipment, but she finally found her place in an exercise routine. Her muscles protested the unaccustomed effort, but with each movement, she could feel the tension slowly dissipating. It wasn't until she could barely feel her limbs anymore that she stopped and left the place.

Even though her body was aching from pushing her body to its limit, she did feel slightly better. Her steps also did feel lighter when she walked back to her home, and her mind felt calmer, and less chaotic than it did when she left her house. But as she approached her street, a knot of unease tightened in her stomach.

The evening's fading light cast long, ominous shadows that seemed to reach out and embrace her front door, which stood ajar. It was an unexpected sight, one that sent a chill down her spine. Two things flashed into her mind at that very moment. One, she realized Officer Anderson was nowhere in sight. His usual parked car looked very much abandoned with no one inside the vehicle. Two, she could probably die if she entered her house alone in this state.

Maybe she should call the police. Maybe she should call Spencer... Yeah right, she didn't even have his number. Maybe she should just call Agent Jareau. Or Agent Prentiss. Yes, that would be a wiser option than to—shit. She clutched her empty pockets.

She didn't even bring her phone to begin with.

She cursed to herself. This was a bad, bad decision. She was probably going to regret this, but she couldn't just stand there and do nothing. So very cautiously, she approached her house, her senses on high alert.

As she pushed the door open wider, it revealed a slice of the dimly lit interior. She couldn't help but hold her breath as she stepped over the threshold, her footsteps hesitant, almost reverent, on the creaking floorboards.

She stepped deeper into her home and slowly entered the dimly lit kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a figure standing shrouded in shadows, a silhouette in the gloom. A gasp of shock emitted through her lips, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recognition washed over her like a tidal wave.

"Officer Anderson!" She yelled, placing a hand over her heart. "You scared me!"

"Ms. L/n," he breathed out, his expression softening when he saw her. "Where have you been?"

Guilt washed over her as she noticed the concern in his eyes but she quickly dismissed it, stepping further into the room, and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "I went to the gym."

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm supposed to accompany you—"

"You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you."

"You should've woken me up, Ms. L/n."

"You looked like you could use some sleep," she mentioned before glancing at the clock perched on the wall. "I was only gone for like an hour, it's not a big deal."

Officer Anderson looked like he wanted to argue with her, but stopped himself before letting out a sigh. "Can you please inform me whenever you step out of the house, even when I might be asleep?"

His concerned gaze met hers as he turned to her, a mixture of relief and worry in his eyes. Guilt twisted in her chest as she nodded. "Alright, I will."

"And please bring your phone with you at all times."

Her eyes snapped towards the device sitting on the counter. "I did forget to bring it with me, I'm sorry."

With a nod, the officer excused himself, giving her a moment of privacy to collect her thoughts. She watched him go, his retreating figure a testament to his dedication, despite the surprise of her brief absence.

Feeling overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—being scrutinized by an authority, being a potential target of a serial killer still on the loose—she retreated to her room, seeking solace in the familiar confines of her private space. She quickly peeled off her clothes which clung to her body from all the sweat and stepped into her bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the room as she turned on the shower, its warmth a soothing embrace. Steam enveloped her, and as the water cascaded over her body, the tension that had coiled within her began to unravel. Under the gentle caress of the water, she closed her eyes. Her shoulders trembled with the tension she had carried for so long, the weight of guilt, responsibility, and emotions too complex to unravel.

How had things turned the way it did? A few weeks ago her life seemed normal, yet now she was linked to a crime with her name at the center of it. This felt so unfair. Why her? Why now? Wh—

Bang!

She opened her eyes.

What was it now?

It sounded... it sounded like a thud coming from somewhere in her house.

The sudden interruption jolted her from the sanctuary of the shower. Her heart raced as she hastily wrapped a towel around herself and emerged from the bathroom, water droplets glistening on her skin. The door to her room suddenly wrenched open with force before a figure she last expected walked in.

"What the—Spencer!" She gasped, not believing who she was seeing. "What the hell?!"

His gaze met hers, and she saw something in his expression that sent a shiver down her spine. It was an anger she hadn't seen before, a storm brewing beneath the surface of his usual calm demeanor. His jaw was clenched, and his normally warm eyes were steely and cold.

"Are you crazy?" He suddenly snapped.

"Me?" She wailed, tightening the towel around her body. "Are you crazy? What are you even doing here?"

"What were you thinking going out without notice?" Spencer's tone was incredulous, his anger unabated. "Without informing Officer Anderson?"

So this was why he was here? To confront her reckless action perhaps?

She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "He looked like he needed the sleep after constantly watching me with little to no rest."

Spencer's frustration deepened, his brows furrowing. "He's assigned to you to keep you safe. You can't just disappear like that, it's irresponsible."

"Well excuse me for being considerate," she retorted.

"You were being reckless."

"No," she argued. "I was being thoughtful."

"Why are you not taking this seriously?" His voice grew sharper, a desperate attempt to make her understand as he stalked towards her. "Can't you understand you were putting yourself at risk?"

"I was only gone for an hour."

"Something could've happened!"

"But nothing did!"

She met his frustration with a defiant glare, holding her ground as he approached her, his tall, intimidating frame only stopping when he was directly in front of her. She saw his eyes drift down her body before pinning his gaze on her face again.

"Y/n, I need you to be safe."

"I am safe! I've been safe ever since you guys put someone to watch over me. I've been safe ever since the same person has been following me everywhere I go, which if you haven't caught on my sarcasm, has made me feel more like in prison than actually feeling protected." Her voice was tinged with frustration as she squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. "It's like I'm being controlled."

"It's not about controlling you, it's about ensuring that nothing bad happens to you."

"I was simply gone for an hour, Spencer," she reminded him again. "No need to go all dramatic over it."

Then in the blink of an eye, the heated tension that had filled the room seemed to snap, leaving them both breathless and disarmed. But instead of reacting with anger or shouting, Spencer's frustration found a different outlet.

"Why are you not fucking listening to me?"

And in a sudden and unexpected gesture, he cupped her face in his hands. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, filled with a mix of emotions too complex to name. And then, in a burst of raw and unspoken desire, he leaned in and crashed his lips on her.

She was too stunned to speak, too stunned to respond. There was nothing else she could do but to give in his advance, because dear god, it felt too good to have his mouth moving against hers again. Spencer had kissed her many times before, but not like this. Not this rough. She could even feel the frustration seeping from his body as his lips moved against hers with urgency.

He continued to kiss her, biting hard at her bottom lip, teeth gnashing against the soft flesh of it as a rumbling noise vibrated deep in his chest. Each time she gasped in response at his teeth, his tongue forced its way into her mouth and lapped so mercilessly that she was left desperate for air each time he returned to assaulting her with his teeth and lips.

"Is this what it would take for you to listen?" He growled against her mouth. "Is this what you want?"

Speechless, she responded to his ardor with a fervor of her own, her body leaning into his, fingers tracing the contours of his face. She continued to stare up at him, trying to quickly piece together what was going on, though she nevertheless found herself aroused. It was as if their desire, long suppressed by their arguments and differences, had suddenly ignited, leaving them both powerless to resist the pull of passion.

"Answer me," he barked out.

"Yes," she finally breathed out. "Yes."

Releasing her face, his hands rose in between them. Her eyes dropped down, watching as he gripped her towel with so much force before he ripped it off her body in one swift movement, throwing the material onto the floor.

His eyes roamed over her body, tracing every curve and contour with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. His hands traced over her sides before he gripped onto her hips, tugging her towards him desperately. "I won't be able to restrain myself."

She knew what he meant. She was acutely aware of the tension seeping from his body, all the anger, all the frustration. She understood how hard these past few days had been for him, she could even feel it from the taught in his muscles. He was tensed and from the way he was looking at her with hooded eyes, he needed a release.

And so did she.

The intensity of the moment had ignited a different kind of fire within her, and her previous anger and frustration began to fade away, which was why she found one of her hands caressing his cheek, pulling him closer as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Then don't," she whispered. "Use me."

His eyes snapped to her.

"You can use me, Spencer," she assured him. "Use me in any way you want."

There was a moment of silence as he contemplated her words. "Do you mean that?"

She nodded. She missed this—dear god, she missed him so much. She hadn't realized how much she missed being close to him until she was standing naked underneath his heated gaze.

She pressed her lips against his softly. "I'm all yours."

And then he deepened the kiss and she melted into him, her tongue dancing with his. He slowly loosened his grip on her hips and found its way onto her hand resting against his cheek. He pulled away from her, tugging her hand towards him, his mouth hovering above her wrist.

"In any way I want?" He asked, gently brushing his lips over her pulse.

"Any way you want."

He smiled at her then, the first smile she saw on him ever since he barged into her room unexpectedly. But there was something about his smile that sent her into a frenzy of nerves. It wasn't genuine, it wasn't gentle.

It wasn't until his other hand reached behind him that she finally understood what his smile meant. Because right at that moment, to her surprise, he retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and with a soft click he carefully bounded one of her wrists, the steel bracelets feeling cool against her damp skin.

And then his smile morphed into a more dominant edge as he leaned closer, his eyes burning with need.

"Any way I want."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: Did you think I wasn't going to insert another smutty scene in between all the chaos? You thought wrong!

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[soshadysoquiet]

An attempt to salvage S4, for your delectation. S4E6

And so we end. Watch my brain check out repeatedly trying to make sense of how the subway could work.

EPISODE 6:

Flashback to Five: Initially paranoid interactions with siblings post arriving in new timeline, trying to break into Reggie’s house, snooping around, waking siblings in the middle of the night to talk about increasingly wild conspiracies. Gradually, that eases, as he’s taken along on his siblings lives - there’s a baby, there’s Ben occasionally showing up to rub his fortune in their faces, there’s jobs and houses and relationships that he experiences in various states of sobriety and sanity. He sees opportunities in the library during his conspiracy investigations for programs to get GED and further education - he can become a real person, someone who exists outside of the apocalypse. So he does, but the space where it’s quiet in his mind gets filled with the Apocalypse, the deaths of his siblings, the paranoia. When Five’s with fam he’s fine, when he’s not, he drinks, sometimes it's both. He gets entrance tests to college/uni and gets a degree and gets hired all in record time - he’s busy. But when he’s not, when it’s back to the room of whichever sibling he’s bunking with or later in a string of short-term rental rooms, it’s the past - and he drinks. He drinks so he can sleep.

In present time we see Five and Lila tracking across the Apocalypse, she’s coaxing him, not far to go etc, he’s clinging onto her bruisingly and in a panic state but he keeps going. They keep going, through flashbacks of his siblings bodies, of images of himself starving, raving, crying. All the while keeping hold of sanity by Lila’s hand and arm clutched with his. They enter the subway, it all goes quiet, and he drops to the floor like a stone. Lila kneels down and holds him, saying they’ve made it, Five can just be heard mumbling ‘I know’ as he holds onto her very real body like a lifeline.

Viktor is shouting for Ben to try and control it, the Horror is going wild, Ben is terrified and in pain as the dark light seems to be swallowing him but allowing more and more of the Horror. Viktor is having to blast away some tentacles and is saying ‘sorry sorry’ to Ben and that he doesn’t want to hurt him. Jennifer is cowering and murmuring horrified phrases to herself.

Allison, Klaus and Reggie have heard the Horror’s roaring as it comes to life, its tentacles are bursting out of the academy and killing members of the Keepers. Reggie is shouting that they need to let him act and that Allison’s rumour is going to get everyone killed. Klaus just says to zip it Reggie and calls Dave, who says what’s happened and happening. Klaus makes him corporeal enough to go help protect Viktor, Allison rumours away The Keepers, but there’s pandamonium, she has to order people to help evacuate everyone as Klaus is summoning Ghosts to try and reign in the Horror and Abigail and Reggie say at the same time that ‘it’s too late.’

In the subway, they’re looking at the map Lila found in the subway Vs Five’s city map. They’re seen over a period of time debating, drawing all over the floor and walls, arguing, stopping each other from getting on the trains that are coming through, Lila re-focusing Five from looking back at the apocalypse, her going back up to relay the symbols from the front of the subway down to him instead of him going up. Gradually, after nearly a day, they have grouped together the stations by the symbols on the maps and trying to work out what the backwards-sounding announcements are saying.

Each train line is a different colour. Each station is a real place in the city. There are 43 coloured lines. The lines might intersect per station, end there, spawn multiple of the same colour or enter the station with multiples of the same colour and leave with less. Each station seems to be a disruption point in the Timeline. The circled symbols had a coloured background that related to one of the 43 line colours.

They go back to there being 43 children, if the line colour represents a different one of them, and at least one of the lines to This station has to be Five’s line.

So they just have to find the one that’s Ben’s line, follow that and see what we need to change. - They decide, and hop on a line.

Reggie and Abigail have a confrontation: R - you did this? A- I did what you should have prepared our children for all along! R- They’re hardly our children. Abigail says why not? They were born from my science, my work and then you raised them, and all you had to do was show them love. Love? He scoffs. Love doesn’t solve anything, it didn’t save you, in fact preserving you on the Moon clearly had an adverse effect on you, the woman I love would never have caused the end of a world! Abigail retorts that Love might not save the day, but it can save how you handle the day. Reggie doesn’t have a good comeback.

Allison and Klaus reach Viktor as the Horror is growing to the size go the room, Ben can’t be seen and Viktor is crying in a protective bubble of power, Dave has saved Jennifer in the corner and is getting her closer. Allison and Klaus shout where Ben is but Viktor can only point to the ben-size portal on the floor that is smothered with writhing tentacles and rapidly growing. Allison and Klaus are deeply upset but still focus on pulling Viktor out because the walls are becoming unstable as the Horror tries to escape the building it’s confined in as surely as the body it was previously.

In the subway Lila and Five are standing on the platform as they get off the latest train, both look a little worse for wear. Five is ruling out the colour of Luther’s lines along with a handful of others they’ve found - either naming them or numbering them if they’re members of the 43 they haven’t met. Lila is looking exhausted as they get on the train. Five checks what’s wrong, she is deadened as she says ‘it’s been six days. it's the longest I've been without them'. Five replies that compared to the apocalypse this is nothing, they’re making progress. Lila’s face crumples - she says what if they don’t make it back, if they don't fix this, then she’ll never be seeing her family again, Diego again, that they’re all she ever wanted and she’ll have lost them chasing adventure in the subway.

She starts to cry, and Five comforts her as the train sets off, holding her. Says they’ll make it home, we’ll be with our family. She says how can you know? He says because I won’t give up, and neither will you, they’re our family after all, and we can save them. Lila clings to him, manages to get herself back together and they exit the subway

Outside the subway there are screams as The Horror rips across the city. Lila isn’t laughing any more. The Horror’s sheer mass consumes the world around it through an immense portal. Guess we’ve found Ben’s timeline. Five says, Lila sob-laughs a bit, awestruck by the sight, and they retreat to find a different starting point for Ben’s line.

Diego and Luther swing by Diego’s house, they’ve picked up Claire from home and turn up along with Pogo, Sloane and Grace - there’s some time assuring the family, Diego hugging his kids, Luther and Sloane are having a debate on whether she wants to help the fight or stays here too. Grace meets them all pleasantly, and though they’re shocked at Pogo they accept him. Claire is made to stay there and that Pogo and Grace will help keep them safe. Sloane goes with them as they leave.

Reggie and Abigail are staring at the scene as Diego, Luther and Sloane turn up, and the other three are just escaping the house with Dave and Jennifer. (They all are shocked but pleased to see Sloane, Allison straight away hugs her. Klaus introduces Dave to Diego and Luther. Diego, in particular, says heard a lot about you man.)

They gather, and Five and Lila pop up-looking banged up. They look at the scene and comment that they guess it’s too late for Plan A. (Diego and Lila reunion) (Klaus re-intro Dave and Sloane saying hi until Reggie snaps at them all to please do focus!)

Others ask what they’ve found, they say that in every timeline, all of them, once the pair touch either Ben or Jennifer get killed, both do, or the Horror causes the Apocalypse. Five says that they never once think to save both of them after the fact. It’s the only anomaly, the only one that might work.

The others argue that Ben is gone, this thing is out there, that the only way they could survive last time was by killing off the Horror before it had even gotten this far are you telling us there was a way to save Ben all along? Five says there is, with her- points to Jennifer. She created the reverse portal, but if she was on the other side of that portal, then she could swap it back. Viktor -who had been silent before, looking at Abigail who is smiling- pipes up but how do we get there, Five says that luckily, Jennifer and Ben aren’t the only portals around, and gestures to himself.

The others kick up a fuss, that he’ll get trapped, he says not necessarily, besides it’s do or die people.

Reggie pipes up that they’d still have to prevent Jennifer and Ben from ever touching the Horror again, how will they do that if they’re alive. Viktor, breaking Abigail’s gaze, says that he can take their marigolds, once the swap is done, that without their powers they’ll live, but they’ll be safe. He's done it before.

Luther says that Ben would hate that.

More than being stuck where that thing came from? Viktor asks. They debate whether Jennifer will even help her, Five points out that they won’t need her to agree, so long as they take her with and bring Lila.

Lila says she doesn’t want to leave her fam or Diego though, that she’s done that once already and hasn’t seen them for two weeks now, she needs to be on this side protecting them - Diego soothes her, says that he won’t make her, he’ll go with Five and hold Jennifer at knife point if he needs to, but that if she does want to, he’d feel better with this plan knowing she was there with his brothers, because he trusts her, even if that scares him. Says can you trust me when I say I’ve already made sure our family are protected? She says she can, that she’d feel safer knowing that he was still here, fighting to protect them whilst she was away.

Allison says neither of them need to go, she will, her powers won’t help out here they didn’t do much the first time, but that she can make sure Jennifer plays ball, She's not letting the Horror kill her daughter. Jennifer pipes up saying will it help if she says she’s going to play ball? They all say no to her.

Viktor is decided as too effective to go to the other side, and might be the only one strong enough to completely blow up the Horror if they fail. Diego and Lila will stay and fight, so will Luther. Klaus says he want’s to go with Five and Allison, that it’s Ben and even if he’s an asshole, well, he’s Ben, there’s some stuff he wants to pay forwards. Allison asks Klaus if he’ll stay instead, so he can look after Claire if anything goes wrong, Diego says he should go with you, we’ll look after Claire they promise, and that Klaus has always known Ben best.

They all agree

So there’s a big fight between Luther, Sloane, Diego, Lila, Viktor and The Horror to hold down the fort.

Five, Klaus, Allison and Jennifer use a Combo of hers and Five’s powers and get pulled into the other side, the Horror’s realm.

It’s a dark ocean of writhing tentacles and they’re dropped into the mess. They can see where Ben is trying to claw at the portal alongside the behemoth body of The Horror, just his fingertips making it through. The horror is unimaginably vast, and its tentacles are poking through holes everywhere they can see - windows through Ben’s stomach into other worlds, all of time and space existing in The Horror’s dimension simultaneously, appearing and disappearing as specks whenever a timeline of Ben uses his powers, but all happening somehow at once.

They cry out to Ben to hold on. He looks up and begs them to help, but sees Jennifer and tries to get away, The Horror’s tentacles are lashing and it's difficult to get to him.

The fight on earth is messy and difficult. Reggie and Abigail die

They struggle to reach Ben who wants Jennifer nowhere near him - he’s exhausted from fighting against The Horror. Klaus and Allison calm him down and ask him to trust them as Five holds Jennifer from accidentally touching the tentacles until Ben agrees, without any rumours. They have Jennifer touch him, and the portal begins reversing.

The team on earth step up their desperate fight as they notice the difference, helping to beat back the Horror further and further.

The team with The Horror are now being inundated with tentacles, Ben thrown around, so they’re struggling to stay together but Klaus manages to float Allison over the water and they grab Jennifer, Five blinks to them. Ben’s in the in the thick of it as the portal reverses, screaming, but even as they other 4 and Dave are all caught and begin getting constricted together by The Horror, Dave holding it from crushing them best he can, Jennifer’s skin being covered by all of them so she won’t make contact with The Horror again, they say they can’t leave Ben here until they know he’s on the other side, so they’re just screaming encouragement at him.

The earth team are wrangling tentacles like pros and all get close enough to grab an emerging Ben with a hand, calling him. It’s only when Sloane grabs him, demands that he come back, she’s not loosing any more family, that his eyes open and he manages to snap the portal shut.

In The Horror’s realm they see Ben vanish, the Horror’s wrath is palpable and Five powers up so that Jennifer can reverse which dimension he moves through, they blink out just before they’d have been squished.

Ben falls into everyone’s arms as the others crash land back. Everyone’s exhausted, injured. Viktor manages to stagger upright enough to grab Ben’s arm. Says you know we have to take it out of you, right? Ben looks around at all of them, who have risked everything. Says ‘take it, I don’t need it anymore.’

Viktor pulls out the marigolds, exhausted, the others ask him to wait before doing Jennifer too, that it’s too much, but Viktor says ‘I’m ending this’ and takes Jennifer’s - he blacks out.

(I’m so tired after writing this that I’ll just say the ending would show them getting back to their lives - happy days!)

I know that a happy ending isn't for everyone but this is my S4 so that's what they're getting! Hope you enjoyed

[queerasfact]

Happy birthday Keith Haring!

Born on the 4th of May 1958 in Pennsylvania, Keith Haring was one of the best known pop artists of the 20th century. Many of his works were large-scale murals in public spaces, created for charities and public service campaigns.

Diagnosed with AIDS in 1988, he used his work as a vehicle to talk about his experience with the disease. He spread awareness, and criticsed public complacency through the motif of "hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil” figures. He also created the Keith Haring Foundation to preserve his work and support organisations assisting children and those with HIV/AIDS.

Keith passed away from AIDS-related complications on 16 Feb 1990 at the age of 31.

You can learn more about Keith’s life and work through The Keith Haring Foundation.

[Image descriptions: Keith, a young man in a Nike jumper, standing in front of his artwork, a black-and-white line drawing of two figures fighting before one stumbles down a set of stairs; three yellow figures, covering their eyes, ears and mouth respectively against an orange background; blue banners at the top and bottom of the work read “IGNORANCE = FEAR” and “SILENCE = DEATH. FIGHT AIDS ACT UP”.]

[neflil]

Hearthian oc time!!! Meet Nepheline

Below the cut for more info and doodles of them :3 vv

So I caved in and made an oc. This is the first time I'm really doing something like this so hhhhh.

Nepheline, or neph, a half self insert - half oc! They're a bit younger than the Hatchling, so still considered a hatchling but almost an adult.

They like to draw, paint rocks, and explore around timber hearth a lot! They're cool with everyone and friendly, but much prefer to sit in the background and listen instead of actively talking. That is of course until someone gives them enough time and trust that they'll listen to whatever neph has to ramble about.

They're interested in all kinds of things really. The nomai, physics, the weird quantum rocks ect. Even if they're not the brightest when it comes to that, they love learning about anything when given the chance.

As soon as any of the travellers get back from space, neph rushes over to ask them about what they saw or if something cool happened. Gabbro and Riebeck especially, as neph is interested in what they have to say the most.

As much as they value the village and it's people, they also value their alone time. Sometimes disappearing for days into the quantum groove or the old mines just... Vibing really, doing whatever. They also have a small piece of a quantum rock they call a "friend", of course it disappears every time neph let's their eyes off of it, but they compare it to the travellers going away and mainly- feldspar. It's a rock that keeps them company without actually needing to have someone *there*. Along with really liking to sleep in and let their mind wander in worlds far from here, people often joke that they remind them of gabbro (the pains of making a half self insert while relating to a character hhh)

Their interests and way the explain them isn't that common, so people often turn a blind eye to them. They mostly parrot cool facts people have taught them which results in situations like "but did you know that the nomai-" "yes neph, you've told us three times already". They just want to share the stuff they know

Esker is someone who likes to listen to them! But also share their own stories. Ever since neph was young they'd hangout nicely. Now they radio eachother. Neph is old enough to join the space program but seeing and they aren't that great with more technical stuff, they are afraid. They put off actually seeing gossan and talking about this so hey.

Their scale pattern covers a big majority of their face at the front, it's a mix of lines and ovals. But when I draw them I just... Blehhh color. Also! Nepheline is named that I spired by the Greek word "nephele" which means cloud (and is also my name, hi lol). Since the rock turns cloudy when exposed/put in acid. Therefore, to somehow reference this, nephs face turns a cloud blue color when they're frustrated of angry!

Once they fell asleep in the old mine (that sounds stupid but I swear I've imagined the whole situation, there's more than that trust, might make it into a comic) and people looked for them, worried as they couldn't find them. Once they got back they got grounded to not not leave for there again- especially alone.

Neph despite everything, went back. They drew a nomai, based off the skeletons there and everything they've seen so far. To prove that they need to get off their grounding since they're doing "work". They don't really have a speciality either so yyyea

They used to be named Nephrite but merry showed me a rock named Nepheline, so I HAD to change it because well- we have the same name lmfao

(if you saw me posting this before, no you didn't)

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Tumblr, We Need To Talk

So multiple times now, posts that I have written, completely free of any sense of anger at all, have been interpreted by folks here - not just as angry - but as malicious. It has now happened enough times that we need to address the biases at hand here.

I am three things that are relevant for this discussion: I am Jewish. I am Italian. And I am Scottish.

These are three cultures that feature "loudness" as a positive trait. What do I mean by that?

I mean arguing, debate, discussion at my home growing up was louder than a kindergarten field trip to the zoo. Louder than a metal concert's mosh pit. Louder than the conure room at a bird shelter.

I am a loud, boisterous person. That's just who I am. With those three cultural backgrounds, I can't even help it. On more than one occasion, someone has interpreted my tendency for the dramatic, my eagerness, and my enthusiasm as being "too much". In fact, it is quite a point of trauma for me, the number of times that specific rejection has occurred.

But to me, I wasn't doing anything wrong! I was acting as my family acted, as people from my culture acted, as those around me in other situations acted. In Judaism, arguing is even seen as emotion-free, because interpersonal debate is how we learn and grow. Even the most stringent and austere Jewish groups will feature a loudly arguing table of scholars in the Beit Midrash. Italian dinners are filled with singing and shouting for joy. Being Scottish means yelling at everything and then yelling at it again. This was, and is, my life. It was loud. It was emotional. It was excitement.

Online, tone indicators are even worse, with many people easily being misunderstood in a given situation. Hell, there are probably those of you reading this now who are reading a higher level of emotion and anger into my words than is actually there. That added complication has now lead to multiple occurrences of this misunderstanding.

This isn't limited to the cultures I come from, of course! The anger and excitement and enthusiasm found in Black culture has been weaponized against it for as long as racism has existed (y'all can ask @ladyraekingmaker more about that). In fact, lower class Black Women in the United States were often perceived negatively for being loud and having their private lives carried out in public (because they did not have access to private spaces). Same for different cultural norms in other places, from Persia/Iran to parts of Latin America and more.

Indeed, loudness, anger, and tone are heavily tied to how different cultures are perceived. Calmness, stoicism, and a lack of "emotionalness" is a highlight of WASPy cultures, famously - "white anglo-saxon protestant" if you're not familiar. Being more "low key" and less expressive was considered high class, being less so was low class. And that still continues today - from the snide comments of tumblr anon's and ex friends, to the literal policing of impoverished communites of color for their celebrations and community gatherings.

The perception of emotion and passion as a "bad" thing is 100% tied to white supremacy. Full stop. In fact, policing people for being "angry" at certain things was a great way to shut down discussion of many important issues, that deserved anger - things like racism, sexism, and homophobia. Anger is a good, important, and necessary emotion - and being emotional in general is a way many people use to emphasize their own points and indicate how much they care about a subject. It's necessary, and it's good. Anger, emotion, excitement, these are good things.

It is better for someone to be angry and up front with you, allowing you to learn and grow as a person, than to bullshit you and mollycoddle you into a state of complacency.

So, that means that for many people reading this, you probably never really thought of how your reaction to loud, or emotional, or dramatic, or excitable people was related to upholding social norms. That's okay! It's not a big deal! We are all born with blind spots and things we are ignorant of that we have to understand and tackle. Growing up is something we never stop doing.

But I'm not magically going to stop being excitable, loud, and emotional. And I'm not going to magically stop being myself. While in person, my tone and facial expressions would help others to at least see that I am not mad but excited; here, you're going to have to take me at my word.

If I am angry, you will know it. It will be extremely, painfully obvious. I might even explicitly say it. But the fact remains is that, every time I have gotten (frankly, condescending) anons in my inbox telling me to "calm down", I haven't been angry at all. And that is a cultural bias a lot of you have to examine in yourselves. By policing how people - not just me - on how they talk and express themselves, you are upholding white supremacy. And you need to stop.

I am too much for some people. That's okay! If I am, you are free to go. No one has to follow me. But I am not going to minimize myself just to make some people comfortable, especially when I am doing nothing wrong. And if you continue to insist that I am, you are missing the point of this post.

Stop worshiping the empty alter of stoicism, of emotionlessness, of quietude. It's not how most humans act. And it shouldn't be, because emotions exist for a reason. That reason? Is communication.

And if you're still not convinced, just get invited to a Pesach seder. Good luck with that being anything close to "calm".

~ Meig

[ilsolefiesta]

Hii

I loved your recent solar return observations.

Can you please tell me a solar placements indicate having a job in solar return chart??

Thank u for your helpful content 💋

Hi! Thank you for interesting question! It made me take a closer look at all my solar return charts from the past few years...

SOLAR RETURN AND JOB

Get ready, it will be long.

This post is, as usual, based on my personal experience and my solar chart's observations, as well as my knowledge of astrology theory. From my point of view, main actors responsible for the job issues are:

- the 2nd house. house of our values, comfort, resources and money in general.

- the 6th house. house of our daily routine, discipline and self-organisation which changes if we have a job.

- the 10th house. house of our career. it shows how we present ourselves in the outer, social space.

Someone could add the 8th house as a house of hidden resources, but I don't think it refers to a job as such. I think it could refer to an income that is not necessarily connected to the job. However, if your job involves something secret or even illegal, then it could also be considered...

I, personally, would like to add Ascendant as it provides an overall view of your life path for the year. Next, I'll show you why. There will be some personal stories of mine, so if you are not interested in it, you can simply skip them and find the answer below.

1. My 2019 Solar Return Chart.

Background: It was the first time I ever had a job. At that time, I was working as a receptionist in a hotel. I got this job thanks to my university dorm mate, who happened to be working there as well. There were a lot of international guests, so this was the first time I really had to use my English. As I worked at the front desk, my appearance and communication skills were very important, as I was representing the hotel.

Solar Chart: My Solar Asc was in the EXACT conjunction with my Natal 9th house. The keynote of the whole year was connected to something foreign. My Solar 2nd house was in Gemini, while Mercury, which rules it, was in Libra in the 6th house. This indicates that my income depended greatly on communication and the ability to compromise and please others. I, overall, had a major stellium in the 6th house (Mars, Sun, Mercury, Venus, Part of Fortune), so I can mention an active 6th house as a main sign of gaining a job this year. My Mars and Sun were both in Virgo, which meant that I had to suppress my aggression when working, as I needed to be moderate with difficult guests. The Sun, btw, was also a ruler of the 6th house (+10 points to Gryffindor). Venus in Libra made me more conscious of how I looked while working. And my personal observation is that the 6th house Venus can signify that women played a role in helping to get the job. Most of these 6th Solar house planets appeared to be in my 1st Natal house, indicating that work was essential to my identity at the time. As for the Solar MC - it was Capricorn with its ruling Saturn in the 10th house either. I also had Pluto there, so I felt a great sense of responsibility after gaining this job and I put my back into it. Btw, my Natal Jupiter in my 2nd Solar house indicated an increase in financial well-being.

💫 ✨ 🌟 💫 ✨ 🌟

2. My 2021 Solar Return Chart.

Background: I finished my university studies and moved to another city. At that time, I was working in an anime/k-pop and related shop. I was very happy because it was in my field of interest at the time. However, my enthusiasm didn't last long - it turned out to be harder than I imagined. The workday overall (including the commute to work) lasted almost 16 hours, and at some point, I became really physically exhausted. I made enough money, but my spending was really uncontrolled because of my place of work. Should I say how much I had to communicate with the children? Solar Chart: My 1st house Solar Mercury was in conjunction with my Natal Venus. I truly enjoyed interacting with customers! I enjoy discussing art in general, so this was a win-win situation for me. Again, the 6th house Solar Neptune being the 6th house's ruler. I idealized this work to a certain extent... however, my Solar Libra Mars in the 12th house, which referred to my 1st Natal house, showed me how much effort were required. It was the year when my Natal houses matched my Solar ones - like 1st house is in the 1st house, 6th house is in the 6th house etc. So, when the mentioned Solar houses (2, 6, and 10) align with the Natal ones, it's also can be a sign of finding a job. I see the reason for this in the fact that during such a year, the issue of the Natal house becomes particularly prominent and relevant, so we make efforts to implement the house's rules. My Solar MC, btw, was in Cancer. Moon, as the ruler, accordingly, was located in the 5th house. Speaking of children, haha... I also had Jupiter in the 5th house, so it was a REALLY joyful time. My mental state was excellent and I would have probably continued to work there, but my body reached its limits at that time. The 2nd house Solar Venus was placed in my 3rd Natal house. The 3rd house is originally ruled by Gemini, so you can see the intersections with the description of the previous chart - communication, customer service, etc.

💫 ✨ 🌟 💫 ✨ 🌟

3. My 2022 Solar Return Chart.

Background: I returned to my hometown to rest. Some time had passed and soon, my mother said, "Maybe it's time to find a job, okay?" (I didn't want to...). However, her working buddy's husband was looking for an employee... That's how I ended up working at the customs. As a government agency, it had strict hierarchy and rules, as well as uniforms. Most of my colleagues were men who were older than me, but there was one woman who taught me everything I know now about this field. I was even joking that she and the man who hired me became my "working godparents" - our relationship was good to that extent. I was appreciated for my skills and my team relied on me, although my income was very low. So low that I don't even want to mention the amount.

Solar chart: Well, customs... Guess my Solar ASC that year? Bingo, it was Sagittarius. My Solar Sun, Venus and Part of Fortune were all in the 9th house either. My Solar Ascendant was very close to my Natal IC, which explains why I worked in my hometown. The 2nd Solar house was in Capricorn with Saturn in it. So hello to all hardworking people who are paid little. I'm part of the team! Natal Saturn was also placed in my 6th Solar house - so, the overall image of working with someone who's age is not the same as mine is also justified. The ruler of the 6th Solar house was Venus. In Virgo. So I had to change my style to be more moderate and match the corporate culture. I had Solar 7th housed Mars and Moon in my Natal 10th house, which, for me, refer to the people I described earlier. the connection between the 7th and the 10th house really made my corporate life more pleasant. moreover, my Natal Jupiter was in my Solar 7th house - the team was great, and I really enjoyed working with those people. Solar Mercury was in the conjunction with the Midheaven in Libra - I consulted people really often (I was a secretary, btw).

💫 ✨ 🌟 💫 ✨ 🌟

4. My 2023 Solar Return Chart.

Background: I mentioned it briefly in my previous post, but I would like to elaborate on it. I had to leave my job suddenly and unexpectedly. After a break, I needed to find another job quickly because it was a matter of survival as I moved to another city again. This is how I ended up working for a foreign company that deals with logistics. My current occupation involves working with contracts, double-checking, and ensuring accuracy. There is no more hard work - I simply do what is required. My image of myself at this work is still not very clear. Sometimes, I feel like I don't fit in well with the team and have trouble communicating. By the way, I was recently told that my colleagues had decided to hire me after learning about the issue of my university thesis, which was about the role of women in post-Soviet countries' diplomacy.

Solar chart: First of all, I, again, had a stellium in the 6th Solar house - Venus, Sun, Lilith, Mercury. The 2nd Solar house was in Taurus, and its ruler is again in the 6th house. Mercury and Sun in Virgo highlight conscientious approach to work. However, I have 12th Pisces Retrograde Saturn referred to my Natal 6th house - I don't want to push myself anymore (and I have more time now to write this post, haha). The 12th house Solar Neptune falling into my 7th Natal house can indicate difficulties in communication with my colleagues. My Solar Midheaven is in Sagittarius. Surprise-surprise, there's foreign influence again? Solar Uranus is in the 2nd house - my income and the place of work have changed suddenly. There's also a conjunction of Retrograde Jupiter with the 2nd Solar house - the income has grown, but I'm still not fully satisfied. By the way, my Solar 6th house Leo Venus is placed in my Natal 11th house. Remember my point about the 6th house Venus and the support of women in the workplace? I find it very fun that my advocacy for women has led to them hiring me.

SO, OVERALL TRENDS ARE:

placements in the 6th Solar house. the more the better. stellium? amazing. the second priority is the 2nd house. the third - the 10th.

the connection between 2, 6, 10 houses (both Natal and Solar). i.g.: the ruler of the 10th Solar house in the 6th house, the ruler of the 6th Solar house in the 6th house, the ruler of the 2nd natal house in the 6/10th house etc.

mentioned houses of the Natal and Solar charts are matching (i.g.: 6th Natal house is in the 6th Solar house).

the conjunction of the Natal Ascendant with the cusp of the 2/6/10th Solar house and vice versa.

However, it is far more interesting to take a comprehensive look at the chart, as it can provide insights into some distinctive features of your working style, the circumstances of obtaining the job, income, and so on. In the end, I would like to emphasize that all these predictions are hypothetical, and should only be considered if your personal circumstances allow it. Like, some time ago, my younger sister asked me for a taro reading about her future husband and career. She was only 11 years old at that time, and I responded by saying, "Husband? I'm not a fortune-teller or magician. It can't be accurate because it's too early to predict such things..." I was just being metaphorical, but I hope you understand what I meant by that.

Thank you for taking the time to read this! I hope there are people out there who can relate to this long post.

Picture credits: Pinterest

[jazzyblusnowflake]

I saw your post about your Nuzi headcanons and I have to say THEY ARE ADORABLE!

But it got me thinking, do you have any Vuzi headcanons?

I don't why but I've become obsessed with them in the past while and I wanted to know if you had any ideas for them since you made that incredible Vuzi comic a while back.

oh jeesums, i didn't really expect people to like my HCs enough for it to get over a hundred likes 😭😭😭💕

but yesss id love to take a swing at writing down my subconsciously decided vuzi headcanons too XD so lessee-

Some Vuzi Headcanons i got òvó:

[once again only the drone version ones and as sfw as i can manage lmao sorry asddjfkdfl-]

This version being for AFTER everything is over with and V is ALIVE //or I'm going for Liam's neck personally//- but whether she's with N too or not is for your own interpretation, cuz for ME personally she gets with Uzi AFTER N and Uzi were already a thing together-

Starting a bit similar to the previous HCs, unlike with N, Uzi and V looooooooooooove calling eachother names- ranging from pet names to petty insults, they very hardly call each other their actual names lmao; and Uzi is probably the ONLY person that could get to call V pet names or flirt with her and get away unscathed- V has very little tolerance for anyone else. when actually trying to be intimate or flirty- Uzi loves calling V "Kitty" [cliche i know] and its one of the more acceptable pet names that V allows, but sometimes Uzi goes for pet names to actually make V blush and feel flustered, and those are usually from Uzis more compassionate side since V is allergic to romance apparently ����. calling V things like "my pretty", "gorgeous", "you wild thing"- drives V up the wall and she's stuck between wanting to bite Uzi's face off or rip her own off- and likewise when V wants to fluster Uzi she has her own range of heat fueled pet names like "baby bat/batsy", "cutie", "my little snacc"- and overall their job is to try and drive eachother insane lmao. less romantic names on both their sides would be=> [Uzi]: fatty, insufferable nutcase, dumb boob// [V]: shorty, edgy toaster, lil freakshow- and etc etc. TLDR: names.... they call eachother alot of names. that's it lmao.

They have a more avoidant relationship, where N and Uzi would seek comfort in one another, Uzi and V realize when the other isn't feeling well they need space to let off steam and trust one another enough that the other will come to them when they are ready. this isn't the most perfect way to deal with things given they are usually on a time crunch and need to get over their traumas quickly, but in the end they both know they are there for eachother when it matters the most.

teasing.... they do alot of that- although one would argue that V is the only one winning here 😭. V would not let the subject of Uzi being short go- if there's any moment that she could make the joke, she will not let the opportunity pass- anything relating to flustering or embarrassing Uzi absolutely goes- its not uncommon for N to walk in on the two fighting while V is just laughing and cooing at the other that she's just a cute lil baby while Uzi is trying her best to strangle the other without actually harming her. but then Uzi says that V is just a big dumb boob cuz that's all she could see from her pov and N is desperately trying to keep himself from laughing in the background-

V loves picking up Uzi.... that's it... she would never admit it out loud, but holding Uzi up, whether on her back or holding her from the front and feeling Uzi cling to her for support gives her immense internal joy, even if she doesn't show it in her expression. she often prefers picking Uzi up when they make out and this works in both their favors too cuz Uzi loves being taller lmao.

V wouldn't admit it but she is terrified of Uzi getting angry. like actually, genuinely, furiously LIVID level of angry Uzi is enough to make V curl her tail between her legs and just step away slowly. and Uzi.... when Uzi is mad, she talks sickeningly sweet to V. that's how V knows its time to fucking RUN or PERISH.

V is a lot more traumatized than N from Cyn's influence. during her comatosed state she can still vividly remember all the things Cyn had done to her in her mindspace, the same way N got to see all of his own mangled bodies in his own headspace, but unlike N she remembered all of it, hence why she turned into a neurological murder bot. So while she is with the others shes often scared opening up emotionally, and to fix this Uzi tries to force her for some cuddle times. don't get me wrong sometimes both N and Uzi have to literally WRESTLE V til she no longer has energy to fight back just to drag her in the cuddle pile. she usually doesn't talk much and even more rarely breaks down into crying but she's secretly grateful of having Uzi to sometimes force her into things she should do more often in order to heal, and one of those is learning to trust again.

V and Uzi have sparring sessions every now and then- tho sometimes V fights dirty- if you catch my drift lmao- and Uzi is weak for that shit, sadly 😔 Uzi finds herself contemplating her life choices when V is constantly giving her new kinks to consider smhhhh. it doesnt help that V doesnt treat Uzi as weak or breakable, she goes all out and Uzi is thankful to her about it. tho N would not touch this particular catfight between two wild ladies with a 100ft pole- [which would probably be the distance he's standing and watching from...just in case...]

funny enough most of their arguments end with makeout sessions. N cant tell if this is their way of flirting from the start or their way of making up after a fight....

V is secretly protective of Uzi, not interfering when Uzi is dealing with someone but standing a few steps behind her, brandishing her claws just in case, to send an obvious message.

V is absolutely rough when trying to be intimate. Uzi needs lots of energy to heal from bite marks but they always make sure the other is comfortable about it. but when Uzi is soft and gentle with her and focuses on being reassuring and loving towards her, V's a flustered incoherent mess-

despite being the more avoidant one, V is usually the one who initiates any intimacy- [mostly because Uzi is too short or busy or embarrassed to do so 🙄] and when she gets needy, Uzi feels internally giddy as though a cat has chosen her or something-

Uzi likes to ask V sometimes of any HAPPY memories she had back at the mansion.

OKAY- damn that was LOOOOOONG- hope these are good enough- i had a lot of fun writing them :D

once again, left out any nsfw hcs 😇 enjoy the dumpster fire lesbiams-

i also tried my best to leave out the N x Uzi x V headcanons so it would seem more specifically for Vuzi :"3