#not the same thing at all and it is a little weird that it’s so common

[finelinevogue]

bump

summary - you don’t like people constantly touching your baby bump

word count - +1k

pairing - azriel x reader

✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨🌙💫🌟✨

The party was in full swing.

It had been 2 weeks since you’d announced to your close friends and family that you and Azriel were pregnant - after having 1 month living with the news just you two.

Somehow, Rhys had managed to plan and pull-off a party in that short space of time in order to celebrate your pregnancy.

It was relatively low-key, only people that were closest to you and your family having been invited - mainly because you didn’t want a huge thing made of it but also because Azriel was a mad-man at the moment and wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t trust with his life near you.

Azriel had been overprotective to say the least.

Just the other day you’d tried to reach for your favourite mug in a very accessible shelf above you, but Azriel saw what you were doing and instantly panicked - moving you gently out of the way and fetching it for you. To which he also proceeded in making you a tea as he didn’t want you anywhere near boiling water.

“I can make my own cup of tea, Az.” You sighed.

“I know you can, but I can also make one for you.” He replied. That was his usual reply nowadays.

“I’m not incapable you know?”

“I know. I just… I can–.”

“Yes I know you can, love, but I don’t need you to all the time, okay? I love that you want to take care of me, but I also don’t want to feel useless.”

“How could you be useless? You’re currently doing the most important thing that you could ever be doing.” Azriel placed a soft hand on your stomach.

But after shunning Azriel for being too overprotective, you sort of wish he would bring it back again in this moment.

This party was lovely, but it was also so overwhelming.

You didn’t realise how many people would be so interested in coming up to you and feeling your baby bump. Hands constantly touching you when they usually wouldn’t if you weren’t pregnant. It felt weird and uncomfortable.

“Y/N!” Layla called, walking up to you with a glass of bubbly in her hand.

“Layla, hi.” You smiled at your friend who had worked with you in the Velaris bakery for many years.

“I can’t believe you’re pregnant.” She gushed, giggling a bit with excitement.

“Really? With the amount Y/N and Az sneak around every moment they get, I thought it was about damn time.” Nesta came up alongside you, rolling her eyes as is her and Cassian don’t do the exact same thing.

“Well with a mate like Azriel, I don’t blame you.” Layla wiggled her eyebrows and you gave her a small smile - feeling a little insecure that someone as beautiful as Layla was gushing over your mate whilst you were starting to look like an inflated balloon.

You felt Nesta give you a side look before wandering off into the crowd, leaving you to once again speak to Layla alone.

“So how far along are you?” Layla asked.

It would have been fine if she just asked that, but she had to go and put her hand against your bump at the same time.

You were far too polite to say anything but you really didn’t like her hand on your stomach. Not just hers but also everyone else’s who’d decided to just touch you without asking first.

It was starting to feel invasive.

“About 12 weeks.” You gave her a small smile, stepping back slightly.

Unfortunately for you she just followed, adding her hand back.

“Wow so you didn’t have any symptoms for a while then?” She asked, cupping the roundness of your belly with her palm.

It didn’t feel as comforting as when Azriel touched you. Nothing ever would, but there was something so overstimulating about someone other than your mate just touching you before asking. It felt a little violating.

Before you could get emotional about it in front of a crowded room you excused yourself.

You hurried as fast as you could out of the nearest door and walked through the corridors of the House of Wind.

The tears had arrived as you were walking, your heart beating fast and hands shaking with nerves.

Was it rude to not let people touch your bump? You couldn’t help but think.

Yet, at the same time you would never just go up to a female and put your hands on her pregnant bump - even if it was Feyre - You respect their boundaries too much. So why did you feel like getting upset about this was silly?

Was it the hormones? Because they had been making you feel slightly crazy recently.

You made it to the kitchen without bumping in to anyone.

You braced your arms on the kitchen counter and sunk your chin to your chest, letting out small whimpers as the tears fell.

There was no need to jump from your skin when Azriel’s arms snaked around your waist to hug you because you’d felt his presence the moment he’d appeared in the room. His cheek was delicately placed on the back of your head to still allow you the time and space to be upset.

Some of his shadows were already snaking around your arms in support and stomach in protection.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked and you had to laugh at his tone.

“Ask me what you really want to ask, Az.” You lifted your chin up and tilted your head to the side to try and see him.

“I’m not sure asking you who I need to kill is the right thing to say when you’re crying.”

You chuckled, kissing the side of his face.

Azriel let you turn around in his hold, not letting your waist go for a moment though. Now his head was tilted down to face yours.

“Tell me.” He said softly.

Your smile broke as your lips wobbled, trying to focus on not crying and instead talk it through with your mate.

“I hate it.” Your voice wavered.

“Hate what? Who?”

“I hate purple touching my bump.”

“Okay.” Azriel said but didn’t add any thoughts for you. He wanted to hear you say everything on your mind first.

“N-not you. But, people have been touching my bump all day without asking and I hate it. I hate it so much, but I feel like a witch if I tell them to get off. Like it’s just my stomach at the end of the day..”

Azriel moved his hands quickly from your waist to cup your cheeks, stroking his thumb carefully over your cheeks. His touch immediately stopped you from talking.

“Woah, woah, woah. No. Don’t do that. Don’t try and talk yourself out of feeling the way you do. It’s your stomach, love. It’s your baby. No one should be doing anything you’re not comfortable with - ever.”

“No I know, but…”

“No buts. Y/N, love, if you feel uncomfortable then that’s the line I draw. The next person to touch your bump without asking is going to lose their hand.”

You give him a stoic look, but part of you was seriously wondering whether he was being truthful.

“Will you stay with me for the rest of the night?”

“Or how about we don’t go back at all.” He raised his eyebrows in suggestion at you.

“If you’re on the same wavelength as me then yes - please!”

“Perfect.” He kissed you softly, both your chests warming at the touch, “You get the ice-cream and I will get the blankets.”

[pawbean-soda]

1/ this is toby, so fictionkin and also a dog, so therian.

2/ I don't really think of them as types personally, feels kinda weird to me. Maybe it's a fictive/headmate thing. I'm a guy named toby (da one from creepypasta) and sometimes also a dog

3/ I get dog tail shifts sometimes, but their somewhat uncommon. Mostly I think the brain automatically looks for one because leopard, the other common fronter, almost always has one of some kind. Apart from that I just exist as toby, Maybe it's a fictive thing?

4/ take toby Rodgers, remove the pending murder charges, put him in a house, give him half done cookie batter for him to whisk, and that's me your looking at.

5/ I think it's great. I'm not very involved in it yet, but I want to be.

6/ clothes probably. I have a flannel that I really like, makes me feel a whole lot more like myself. My alterhumanity is also tied up in gender for me (trans man) so my binder. Baking also does this for some reason.

7/ I call it gender dysphoria alot because the biggest difference between my expected body and the one I get is gender. it's species/source dysphoria though. I want to claw off my face for the same reason I want top surgery.

8/ Read. Read lots. The best thing you can do right now is research. Not just a little bit, not just on the species you think you are or the branch or alterhumans you belong to, but all of it and in a large quantity.

9/ getting my hoodie back would be cool, or hoodie replacement I guess. it would be hard to find though. Nobody makes hoodies in both the pattern and texture that I would want/need.

10/ past life. I worship a death god/Psychopomp and maybe he put me here as a healing, learn to be a person thing?

11/ sorry, I got no friends. Not in the alterhuman community at least.

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[quarterlifekitty]

Something, something, König picking up gaming in his free time, not uncommon for an older guy especially with a cute little thing who has a nice set up for gaming and he absolutely takes to it with flying colours. Kinda pissing you off how he’s gotten leagues better than you at one of your favourites in such a short amount of time. So when that skin you absolutely NEED drops you’re going insane grinding for it. It’s frustrating too because all the sweats have come out of the woodwork to grind for it too, leading to a lot of swearing and groaning on your end, coincidentally, König’s free time aligns and he’s more than happy to help you grind the tougher parts if you sit pretty on his lap and drain his pent cock.

What’s better than two stress relievers when he comes home from a high tension workplace environment?

(Bonus points if he’s your weird online long distance boyfriend who definitely told you an age younger than what’s on his ID and the place he comes home to is just your apartment that he decided was his too.)

Brother. The way this ask is in my mind. I would like to preface this by saying if you or a loved one is playing a video game with microtransactions and limited edition skin drops it’s not too late to get help. We can beat this together.

cw: he’s kind of a creep in this. Red flags abound. Somno/dubcon type stuff

Gonna make a couple of amendments to this one if that’s ok. 1) König is never going to be a god gamer because his hands are too fucking big and also I WANNA BE THE DOMINANT GAMER IN THE RELATIONSHIP. My ass is carrying HIM in apex. I don’t care that he knows how to shoot real guns. Don’t take this away from me

2) while he didn’t outright lie about his age, he did not say shit that would lead you to believe this man was over 40. He shared very few details about his personal life. Just that he was in the military, Austrian, and now? A gamer. Those are all the hallmarks of being a man in his 20s! Except the Austrian thing— that can happen to anyone.

I like to imagine he treats you like his discord kitten tho. You ask how old he is and he’s like “I’m an adult, if that’s what you’re worried about” or “old enough” or “don’t worry about it” and you say “okay 💖 yay 💖”

And he’s 100% your sugar daddy. Constantly buying you games just so you can co-op with him, gifting you in-game currency to spend on battle passes, absolutely ravaging your wishlist— steam, amazon, or otherwise.

He finds himself in your area for work and you tell him your address so he can meet up with you.

And you’re kind of a stupid femcel so when this dude shows up at your door, almost seven feet tall and wearing a surgical mask, scarred face with a healthy grey streak in his hair, it’s not setting off any alarm bells. There’s like at least 5 red flags here but you’re colorblind and inviting him in.

You didn’t realize that he was planning on staying with you while he was in the area. You also didn’t realize that the moment he found out he’d be stationed near you, he decided it was time to take your relationship to the next level.

Which is how you end up stretched out on his cock on the same day that you met in person for the first time, with him grunting in your ear about how he dreamed of this— thought of it every time he jerked off when you fell asleep during a discord call. He could tell just from your voice that you’d be pretty and soft and tight and perfect for him— and he was ready to settle down.

Good thing you didn’t really have any plans for the rest of your life, or you might find how fast he moves a little scary.

So it makes sense that you’re still a little shy. Too nervous to initiate things usually. So he just has to motivate you a little.

This skin’s an exclusive, can’t be earned with currency, and available as a drop for just 7 days. You can’t put in the hours to get it on your own, not to mention how tedious it is, and it can’t be bought. But it’s so cute.

So he makes the offer. He’ll spend his precious leave time helping you earn it if you keep his cock warm while he does it. He’d initially planned on using that time to rearrange your guts, so you’re gonna have to make it worth his while.

And maybe you exaggerate a little. You’re used to saying these things over calls— where nothing has any repercussions in the real world. Where you can promise anything from the safety of being on a screen a world away.

You tell him you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you if he can get that skin for you. After a moment you realize the implications of saying that to someone who can and will hold you down and make out with your cervix using the tip of his cock.

He borrows one of your elastics to tie back his hair.

He’s gonna get you that skin. And then he’s gonna get you pregnant.

You did say anything.

[ohmytyong]

meet-cute

⤹ now playing: the christmas waltz by frank sinatra

PAIRING: stranger!jaehyun x female!reader

GENRE: smut (minors dni!!), strangers to lovers (?) au, fluff

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, pet names (baby), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (!always use protection!), heavy make out, nipple play, slight hair pulling, aftercare, pretty vanilla tbh

WC: 3,4k

SYNOPSIS: you were bummed that you had to spend Christmas all alone in a foreign country after your friends left you behind. little did you you would find a charming stranger to keep you company

A/N: merry christmas to everyone celebrating! here's a little gift from me to you <3

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

The muffled voices of people chatting around you mixed with the old christmas song playing from the bar's speakers filled the silence of your mind like a white noise. You whiffed the sweet scent of the red wine swirling inside the glass you were holding as you moved your hand from side to side, making you aware of your surroundings.

Despite it being Christmas eve, the bar was fuller than what you had expected. You would expect people to be gathered up at their homes, eating and having fun with all their loved ones, exchanging gifts and wishes and then getting wasted, laughing at the weird relative who had some more sips of alcohol than the others.

However, it turns out more people had the same fate as you. Sitting alone, in pairs, or in small groups at probably the only open bar in milan on this jolly day. You were informed about the jazz band that usually played live music here, yet you went to the place the only day of the year that they weren't there. Though it was kinda obvious they wouldn't be here today; it's Christmas eve for God's sake.

You took a sip of your wine, closing your eyes to savor the taste. You didn't know what it was, but the bartender definitely found your exact preference; sweet and strong on the tongue which leaves a slightly bitter aftertaste at the back of your throat.

As you set the glass down at the bar counter, you noticed a gust of air on your side, signaling someone else's presence. The woody masculine cologne that engulfed your nostrils made your head turn discreetly to the side, trying to take a glimpse of the man that it belonged too.

"A glass of Johnnie please, no ice," a soft baritone voice addressed the bartender and you couldn't help but fully turn your body towards the man, angling yourself in a position that showed your interest towards him yet keeping a safe distance.

The man definitely noticed your antics. You felt his fiery gaze look you up and down, taking in your full appearance. You flipped your hair, moving it all to the back which exposed your bare shoulder and upper chest. You noticed with the corner of your eye that the man drew in a sharp breath, shifting his body from side to side on the barstool. Your technique worked.

As you stretched your arm to grab your glass of wine, your heard the man clear his throat. "Now why would a beautiful lady sit alone at a jazz bar on Christmas eve?" the velvety baritone voice asked and the question was addressed to none other than you.

You finally met the man's gaze for the first time. He was gorgeous. His jet black hair was nicely styled, parted in the middle and framing his heavenly structured face, falling a bit long at the nape of his neck. His dress shirt was sitting tightly around his shoulders and chest, in contrast with the tie he was wearing which was hanging rather loosely around his neck. His sleeves were rolled up and you noticed his arm muscles flex as he brought the scotch glass to his lips, his watch glimmering under the dim lighting.

"Funny enough, I was about to ask the exact same thing," you played along, hiding your flirty smirk behind your glass of wine.

"You're looking for a beautiful lady too?" he asked, his eyes creasing as he smiled teasingly.

You chuckled at that, covering your mouth with you hand. So he had a sense of humor. "I meant a handsome man. But whatever rows your boat," you decided to play along, flirt with him too.

His eyes were piercing. He looked at you as if he were walking for miles in the dry desert and you were an oasis just a little ahead of him, like he was desperate to drink you all up. It would be lie though if you denied that you weren't looking at him the same way.

"I mean," he said between low chuckles, "there has to be a good reason why you're here. And alone," he finished, waiting for your answer.

You sighed deeply, tapping your fingers on the counter. "I was supposed to spend Christmas with my friends but they decided to be assholes and pull a prank on me. They dumped me. Told me we were going to Milan while they are in Vienna right now," you said, downing the remaining wine in your glass in one go.

The man visibly winced at what you said, as if he was physically in pain. "I'm sorry to hear that. That's so cruel, wow," he said, reaching out a confident hand to grab your hand resting on the counter, giving it an apologetic squeeze. Oh he knows what he's doing.

"What's your excuse for being here, pretty boy?" you asked playfully and he smiled. "My story isn't as sad as yours, it's actually kinda funny. My uh- my flight got canceled. I was in Milan for work and I was supposed to go home for the holidays but..." he trailed off, pressing his lips.

"Damn, i'm sorry," you said and you decided to flirt back now. Gaining dominance over his hand, you squeezed it, rubbing circles with your thumb over the back of his hand.

You noticed his eyes fixate on the spot your bodies were touching. Without realizing it, your barstool had moved closer to his and you could feel the heat of his body radiating along with the strong scent of his cologne. You hoped your perfume hadn't worn off after hours of wearing it.

"Actually," he spoke up, removing his hand from your grip, "something good came out of all this misfortune. I'm sitting at a nice cozy place with a beautiful lady to keep me company. Not that bad, isn't it? I'm Jaehyun by the way," he offered you his name, stretching his arms for a proper handshake.

It was ironic. You had already held hands without even introducing yourselves to each other. You giggled at the gesture and he smiled at your reaction, eagerly waiting for your name and your handshake with his arm still stretched towards you.

You gave him your name as you returned the handshake. The sight of the two of you must have looked somewhat awkward from a third person's point of view, but for you the interaction between you and Jaehyun had a warmth to it.

You didn't say it out loud like he did, but spending time with a lovely handsome stranger in a foreign place on Christmas eve wasn't as bad as it sounded.

You didn't realize it but you and Jaehyun had already been talking for almost two hours. Time passed by quickly, you were having a great time with him. He was weirdly charming, flirting with you in a slightly uncomfortable way despite the aura of confidence he radiated. He cracked jokes more than you expected and always found silly excuses to touch you, anywhere he could, signaling his obvious interest towards you.

It would be a lie if you said you weren't as interested in him, if more than he was. You found yourself laughing at everything he said, and you didn't mind the soft touches of his hand here and there. In fact, you craved them even more. You craved him. After two hours of talking, you weren't sure if it was the wine, the sleepiness or the pure lust you were feeling, but you couldn't bring yourself to listen to everything he said. You were lost in his eyes, his lips, his hands, his scent. You were sober enough to understand the pure attraction you had for him.

The bar was now almost empty. You saw the bartender cleaning some tables in the back, and only two groups of friends were there beside you and Jaehyun. You took this as a signal to get leaving as soon as possible.

After arguing with Jaehyun over who gets to pay for the drinks, he ultimately won over you, being kind enough to pay for all your refills of wine. You were opposed to this at first, but his kind gesture made your want grow even more, and the aching sensation between your thighs became too noticeable to ignore.

You wrapped your coat closely around your neck as you stepped outside the bar in the crisp coldness of December. You couldn't just go back to your hotel room like this. The night was still young, and you weren't ready to leave Jaehyun just yet.

"So, any plans for the rest of the night?" you asked, trying to get some information you could use in your favor.

Jaehyun shrugged, lifting his shoulders. "Not really. I mean, I'm alone here so there isn't anything else to do during this time of the night," he said, but you noticed that he wanted to say more than that.

You decided to take initiative and help him out of his shyness. "I know it's gonna sound a bit weird but," you drew in a breath, shivering from the cold and the nervousness, "would you like to come over to my hotel room for one more round of drinks? It's almost Christmas" you said looking at your watch.

Jaehyun tried to suppress a smile that was threatening to spread on his lips. You had cracked him. You knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him, and neither of you were ready to let go of each other so easily. Besides, like he said, you were all alone here. You only knew each other and there wasn't anything more fun than to spend more time with a person you grew to like. He had no excuse to refuse your offer.

With a hesitant nod, he looked into your eyes, smiling softly as he tried to study the intentions behind your question. "Sure, why not?"

—————————

Jaehyun kicked the door of you hotel room closed as he kissed you deeply, his hands resting on your back while yours were wrapped around his neck. Dropping your bag on the floor, you hurriedly took off your shoes, throwing them somewhere around the room.

Jaehyun struggled a little untying his shoelaces, but you helped him get rid of his jacket, throwing it somewhere behind him. You let your coat fall off your body, and with a quick motion your hands were back to where they were, wrapped around jh neck, pulling him close to reach his lips again.

The kiss was electric. Your entire body heated up with lust as you tasted on his lips the mixture of the different alcoholic drinks you had consumed earlier. Jaehyun slipped his tongue into your mouth, lowering his hands to the small of your back as you cupped his cheek with one hand, the other gripping the locks of his hair. In the heat of the moment, he wasted no time cupping your ass, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

On the short walk back to your hotel, you felt the constant need for him steadily rising and rising to the point you couldn't keep your hands to yourself anymore. It must've been hard for Jaehyun to keep his composure too, as he couldn't resist his urges anymore, kissing you in the elevator as you went up to the floor of your room.

You were both so needy for each other. Your tongues battled for dominance as Jaehyun lead you to the bed, dropping your body on the soft mattress as he towered above you, never breaking the kiss.

Your grip on his hair tightened, and he knew you wanted more. He attached his lips on your neck, pressing soft warm kissed along the sensitive area. He trailed his mouth from under your ear down to your already half-exposed chest and you mentally thanked yourself for choosing to wear a low-cut top. Soft moans escaped your lips as Jaehyun found all your favorite spots to kiss, smirking at the sounds that came out of your mouth.

His lips left your skin and you whined at the lack of his touch. He looked up into your eyes, searching for any type of consent, something that told him you needed him as badly as he needed you.

"What are we even doing?" he chuckled, running his fingers along your cheek.

You smiled at that. "i don't know,," you were honest with him. "But whatever it is, I like it. And I want it. Do you?" you asked him and he nodded quickly, resting his thumb on your lips.

"You have no idea" he said and in a second, his lips crashed with yours as he continued the battle of dominance you had previously started.

Jaehyun kept kissing you everywhere. No spot in your exposed body was left unattended by his soft lips, yet he needed more of you and you needed him in more places too. As if on cue, you arched your back to help him take off your top, followed shortly with an unclasp of your bra, the straps falling down your shoulders as he yanked it away. He immediately buried his face in your chest, sucking one nipple while teasing the other one with his fingers.

With trembling hands due to the pleasure, you loosened Jaehyun's tie, hastily unbuttoning his shirt. He sensed your struggle and detached himself from your boobs to help you get him undressed. Removing his shirt, he revealed his toned body to you, muscles flexing with every single of his movements. You didn't have enough time to fully appreciate his upper body as he dipped back in, not wanting to leave your nipples neglected.

Soft moans and whimpers left your lips as he kept on kissing you down your entire body, trailing your stomach down to your pants. Swiftly pulling the zipper, he slowly removed your pants and underwear, kissing your inner things along the way.

Your body jolted at the cold sensation of your naked core meeting the air in the room, and Jaehyun's mouth was so close to where you needed him the most that the thought alone made you even wetter.

Jaehyun took a step back to fully look at you. His pupils were dilated, eyes filled with nothing but lust and need. "Gosh you're so beautiful" he said in his low voice, a soft grunt escaping him as he unbuckled his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers revealing his own throbbing dick.

You gulped at the sight of his size, but it made you even more curious of how he would feel inside you. Jaehyun lowered himself above you, capturing your lips in a lazy passionate kiss.

"I really wanna take my time with you but I can't wait any longer. Do you think you can take me right now? No prep?" he asked you, the neediness in his eyes and voice so obvious, you could come undone any minute by now.

The truth is, you weren't sure if you could fit all of him inside you. But you needed him. you wanted him. The sooner the better. You couldn't take any more foreplay or teasing even though you'd like it. You just wanted to relase all the tension off your body.

"I can take it. I can take you," you said and you saw Jaehyun's eyes darken at your eager tone. He wasted no time, lining himself between your legs as he grabbed the base of his cock, bringing it to the opening of your folds.

"Are you sure you want this, Y/n?" Jaehyun asked you, waiting for your final answer, the one that would give me the green light to go.

You nodded. "yes, Jaehyun please. I want you right now," you pleaded and it was all that was needed for him to slowly thrust inside you, your velvety walls wrapping around his veiny length as he entered deeper and deeper until he bottomed out inside you, his hips touching yours.

A long moan was heard by both of you at the sensation of your bodies meeting in such an intimate way. "Fuck you're so warm" Jaehyun groaned and you moaned just at the sound he made, his eyes shut as he tried to fully feel you ad you took him all in.

Once you gave him the signal that he could move, he slowly lifted his hips, thrusting his dick in and out of your pussy, earning heavy breaths from you. Your arms searched for anchor at his toned back, digging your fingers in his shoulders as his thrusts grew faster and more eager, trying to get you to moan louder for him.

And it worked. As he kept on reaching spots so deep you never thought anyone could ever reach, Jaehyun kissed down your neck, groaning at the sound of your continuously louder moans, smirking on your skin when he pinched your nipped and you squealed, leaving out a high-pitched scream.

"You're so good at this Jae, you make me feel so good" you said in between moans and the nickname worked like magic for him. His breathing became heavier, burying his head on the crook of your neck as his thrusts became sloppier.

"Fuck you're such a good girl for me, I'm- fuck" Jaehyun's voice was mumbled as he spoke in the mattress, your moaning growing louder and louder.

"Please Jae I wanna cum, it's so good," you whispered, your breathing becoming sharper as he pressed a finger on your clit, rubbing it softly as he angled your hips higher to gain more access inside you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as his body was pressed closely on top of you. Jaehyun tried to kiss you, but the burning sensation between your legs kept you moaning inside his mouth, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you reached closer to your climax.

"Jae I'm- I-" you tried to speak but the pleasure was too much for your brain to properly work.

Jaehyun never stopped nor changed his movements, quickly understanding what you like and what makes you a whimpering mess under him. "Come on baby, cum for me" he groaned as he kept on going, rubbing your clit slightly faster.

Your legs shook around his waist, a loud cry leaving your lips as you came around his cock. Jaehyun kept on going, riding you through your high as he chased his own. Hearing your soft moans, he came not long after you, warm liquid filling you up as your throbbing walls clenched around his length.

The two of you stayed like this for a while. Jaehyun only pulled out of you once his breathing was more steady, and you winced at the sudden emptiness you felt without his body inside you, or even on top of you.

Jaehyun layed for a few more seconds before he got up, searching for his boxers around the room. "I'm gonna get some tissues to clean you up, is that alright baby?" the pet name felt so natural coming from him. It was weird that it didn't really hit you when he said it during sex, but right now it made your stomach twitch.

Jaehyun went to the bathroom and came back holding some tissues. You moved your body towards him and let him clean you up from all the remaining liquids he had spilled on you. You found the gesture adorable, especially when you saw the concentration on his face, trying to leave absolutely no dirty spot on your body.

You thanked him for it and got up to find some clean clothes you could wear to sleep. Jaehyun was too comfortable getting under the bedsheets, laying in your bed as a sign that he would stay the night.

Fishing his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, he read the time. It was way past midnight by now, and neither of you noticed how quickly time had passed when you had such a great time with each other.

His lips tugged into a playful smile before he spoke. "Look, it's past midnight. Merry Christmas!" he said as you climbed into bed beside him.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and sighed, turning to face him. If you were to tell yourself that you wouldn't spend Christmas with your friends this year but rather with a hot total stranger you came across at a jazz bar, you wouldn't believe it. But now, nuzzling into his chest, hearing the slow and steady beating of his heart, you were content with this turn of events.

You cupped the side of his face and his cheek rested heavy in your palm as he leaned his head to your touch. You pressed a soft peck on his lips, smiling. "Merry Christmas".

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

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[fozmeadows]

This is a sidebar from my original point, but the mention of Amazon and its ubiquity makes me want to add on a theory of mine about why I think Amazon has been able to get such an insane foothold in the US market. Because the thing is, while Amazon originates in the US, it's now a global company - and yet, compared to other places in the world, it seems like Amazon's dominance over brick-and-mortar stores in the US far exceeds its grasp elsewhere. And while I was doing my Christmas shopping, I was suddenly struck by a possible explanation: the lack of walkable cities and public transport generally in America, coupled with the emphasis on strip malls rather than general commercial areas, which makes it much harder for people to quickly and easily access a wide range of goods in person.

See, in principle, I hate buying from Amazon; in practice, however, I live in a part of the US with negligible public transport and - crucially - do not have a car, which means that, if I want to buy something at at a physical shop, I'm broadly restricted to one of a handful of locations that are within a reasonable distance of my home. While I'm comparatively lucky, in that there are several such destinations to choose from, what's annoying is that it's only really feasible to rideshare to and from one of them on a single excursion, as opposed to hitting up multiple locations - and even if I had a car, these places are all far enough apart from each other that going to more than one in a single outing would take up a hefty chunk of time and involve driving on multiple freeways.

If I want to go to, say, IKEA, that's a 15-20 minute freeway drive to a location where there are no other shops nearby; if I want to go to Barnes & Noble - and I frequently do - there are three locations to choose from, but while the nearest one has the advantage of being next to my favourite boba place, the other surrounding shops contain little to nothing of interest to me, while the two more distant ones have more interesting surrounds, but no boba. There are two decently-sized Targets in driving range, but there's nothing else near each of them that makes the trip worthwhile, so I never get out there unless there's multiple specific things I need to buy, because if I only need one thing, the cost of a rideshare both ways is inevitably far more than I'd pay in shipping to get the same thing delivered.

And as best I can tell, this situation is pretty common throughout the United States. Unless you're lucky enough to live in a place with good transit and/or a thriving commercial downtown area, where you can easily walk between different kinds of shops in a single outing instead of having to drive 15 minutes, park, shop, drive 20 minutes and park again, ordering online ends up being, not just quicker and simpler, but vastly cheaper and more efficient than the alternative. Which is where Amazon enters the chat, using its shitty working conditions and vast resources to further fuck up the brick-and-mortar ecosystem, not because a majority of people inherently prefer buying shit online, but because a staggering proportion of America is expressly designed to require you to drive as much as fucking possible, even when that's the worst possible way to do things.

Whereas when I lived in Scotland, even though I had access to Amazon and would use it periodically - it was easier for Australian relatives to buy me Amazon gift cards than to either post a physical gift or buy me gift cards to UK stores, because many companies are Weird about people in one country trying to buy something online from them in a different country - for everyday needs, I could just... walk up to the local high street, from my house, on my human legs, and (if I so desired) hit up a homewares store, a hardware store, a bookshop, a pharmacy, a supermarket, a bric-a-brac place, an antique store, a cafe, the cinema, and a half-dozen other places. And this wasn't while living in a thriving metropolis: I was in St Andrews, a small university town! And if I really wanted a big day out, I could get one of the many regular buses over the water into Dundee and hit up the city center there, to exactly the same ends. Similarly, when I later lived in Aberdeen away from the city center, there wasn't much in walking distance of my house, unless I felt like trekking 40 minutes over to the nearest shopping complex - which I sometimes did, stroller and all, with my then-toddler in tow, because even if I got all tired out, I knew there'd be a bus to take me back home again. But I could also hop a different bus from the stop in my street and go straight to the city center, where - again - I could walk around hundreds of different shops with ease. Ditto every part of Australia I've ever lived in: even without a car, restricted to public transport or walking while toting around a small child, I was never reliant on internet shopping to get basic goods, because there was enough infrastructure that I could manage. And I'm not saying that's true of every part of Australia or the UK - rural areas in both countries are frequently very isolated and underserved by their local governments. But the difference now that I live in the US is stark.

Because here, the roads dominate. Freeways break up everything, and while there's a few nice commercial areas near me - streets with interesting shops and things to see - you cannot just hop a bus or train to access them, and even then, they don't flow naturally into the same sort of area the next suburb over: there's always a massive fucking multi-lane roadway in between, and the distance, even if walkable in theory, can be difficult to navigate on foot, because it's not designed with foot traffic in mind. You have to drive, and if you can't do that, then those places may as well not exist - and overwhelmingly, what you're left with access to instead are strip malls: clusters of random chain stores linked by a massive carpark and frequently situated in places with nothing else nearby; or at least, nothing else you can easily access without having to drive and park again.

And I genuinely think that this is a big part of why America has become so dependent on Amazon, as well as big box, everything-under-the-sun stores like Target and Wallmart: because without an abundance of accessible, walkable, local commercial centers, with all the greater variety they provide, they're the easiest, most efficient way for a car-dependent commuter populace - especially one so frequently time-poor, overworked, and underpaid - to buy shit.

Which suggests to me, very strongly, that one of the best ways to combat the dominance of not just Amazon, but big box chain stores, is to build functional public transport and walkable communities with decent commercial zoning - because the more people can easily access a variety of goods local to them, the less they'll need to be reliant on a few megacorps. So in the event that you needed another reason to support walkable communities and public transit: this is it. Fuck Amazon.

there is no ethical consumption under capitalism

Years ago now, I remember seeing the rape prevention advice so frequently given to young women - things like dressing sensibly, not going out late, never being alone, always watching your drink - reframed as meaning, essentially, "make sure he rapes the other girl." This struck a powerful chord with me, because it cuts right to the heart of the matter: that telling someone how to lower their own chances of victimhood doesn't stop perpetrators from existing. Instead, it treats the existence of perpetrators as a foregone conclusion, such that the only thing anyone can do is try, by their own actions, to be a less appealing or more difficult victim.

And the thing is, ever since the assassination of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, I've kept on thinking about how, in this day and age, CEOs of big companies often have an equal or greater impact on the day to day lives of regular people than our elected officials, and yet we have almost no legal way to redress any grievances against them - even when their actions, as in the case of Thompson's stewardship of UHC, arguably see them perpetrating manslaughter at scale through tactics like claims denial. That this is a real, recurring thing that happens makes the American healthcare insurance industry a particularly pernicious example, but it's far from being the only one. Because the original premise of the free market - the idea that we effectively "vote" for or against businesses with our dollars, thereby causing them to sink or swim on their individual merits - is utterly broken, and has been for decades, assuming it was ever true at all. In this age of megacorporations and global supply chains, the vast majority of people are dependent on corporations for necessities such as gas, electricity, internet access, water, food, housing and medical care, which means the consumer base is, to all intents and purposes, a captive market. We might not have to buy a specific brand, but we have to buy a brand, and as businesses are constantly competing with one another to bring in profits, not just for the company and its workers, but for C-suites and shareholders - profits that increasingly come at the expense of workers and consumers alike - the greediest, most inhumane corporations set the financial yardstick against which all others are then, of necessity, measured. Which means that, while businesses are not obliged to be greedy and inhumane in order to exist, overwhelmingly, they become greedy and humane in order to compete, because capitalism encourages it, and because there are precious few legal restrictions to stop them from doing so. At the same time, a handful of megacorporations own so many market-dominating brands that, without both significant personal wealth and the time and resources to find viable alternatives, it's all but impossible to avoid them, while the ubiquity of the global supply chain means that, even if you can keep track of which company owns which brand, it's much, much harder to establish which suppliers provide the components that are used in the products bearing their labels. Consider, for instance, how many mainstream American brands are functionally run on sweatshop labour in other parts of the world: places where these big corporations have outsourced their workforce to skirt the already minimal labour and wage protections they'd be obliged to adhere to in the US, all to produce (say) electronics whose elevated sticker price passes a profit on to the company, but without resulting in higher wages for either the sweatshop workers overseas or the American employees selling the products in branded US stores.

When basically every major electronics corporation is engaged in similar business practices, there is no "vote" our money can bring that causes the industry itself to be better regulated - and as wealthy, powerful lobbyists from these industries continue to pay exorbitant sums of money to politicians to keep government regulation at a minimum, even our actual votes can do little to effect any sort of change. But even in those rare instances where new regulations are passed, for multinational corporations, laws passed in one country overwhelmingly don't prevent them from acting abusively overseas, exploiting more desperate populations and cash-poor governments to the same greedy, inhumane ends. And where the ultimate legal penalty for proven transgressions is, more often than not, a fine - which is to say, a fee; which is to say, an amount which, while astronomical by the standards of regular people, still frequently costs the company less than the profits earned through their unethical practices, and which is paid from corporate coffers rather than the bank accounts of the CEOs who made the decisions - big corporations are, in essence, free to act as badly as they can afford to; which is to say, very. Contrary to the promise of the free market, therefore, we as consumers cannot meaningfully "vote" with our dollars in a way that causes "good" businesses to rise to the top, because everything is too interconnected. Our choices under global capitalism are meaningless, because there is no other system we can financially support that stands in opposition to it, and while there are still small businesses and companies who try to operate ethically, both their comparative smallness and their interdependent reliance on the global supply chain means that, even if we feel better about our choices, we're not exerting any meaningful pressure on the system we're trying to change. Which means that, under the free market, trying to be an ethical consumer is functionally equivalent to a young woman dressing modestly, not going out alone and minding her drink at parties in order to avoid being raped. We're not preventing corporate predation or sending a message to corporate predators: we're just making sure they screw other worker, the other consumer, the other guy.

All of which is to say: while I'd prefer not to live in a world where shooting someone dead in the street is considered a valid means of redressing grievances, what the murder of Brian Thompson has shown is that, if you provide no meaningful recourse for justice against abusive, exploitative members of the 1%, then violence done to those people will have the feel of justice, because it fills the void left by the lack of consequences for their actions. It's the same reason why people had little sympathy for the jackass OceanGate CEO who killed himself in his imploding sub, or anyone whose yacht has been attacked by orcas - it's just intensified here, because where the OceanGate CEO was felled by hubris and the yachts were random casualties, whoever killed Thomspon did so deliberately, because of what he did. It was direct action against a man whose policies very arguably constituted manslaughter at scale; a crime which ought to be a crime, but which has, to date, been permitted under the law. And if the law wouldn't stop him, can anyone be surprised that someone might act outside the law in retaliation - or that regular people would cheer for them when they did?

[see-arcane]

You know the one good thing about being a pessimist?

It feels great to be proven wrong.

Bravo, Bobby Egg.

I was so happily surprised by this. This film went through a fantastic puberty between the leaked script and the screen. The main points to note:

-No, Ellen is not hot for Count Orlok. She and Thomas are 110% in love. There are even certain Harker-flavored quotes thrown in to prove as much. (Details under the cut.)

-Count Orlok is a terrifying bastard and a half. Significantly more imposing than classic Orlok’s spindly rigor mortis-stiff figure and only wearing a sliver of Dracula’s performative charm. He is a Devil-Death archetype playing a monster who operates in deceit and contracts to wring out what he wants. That and a lot of corpses.

-This film is so beautiful. No gothic touch is skipped.

In sum, I more than like this film. I love it. It isn’t perfect, because no film can be, but damn. I am so proud of this nightmare you made, Bobby Egg.

SPOILERS FOR Nosferatu (2024) BELOW

-Getting some cons out of the way. There are points where a few of the actors lean maybe a bit too heavy on the ham-and-cheese in their deliveries (I’ll not blame the kids, they’re very young, but yeesh. That’s some cartoon acting.)

Yes, the g-slur is still used; though while I wish it hadn’t appeared in Eggers’ script at all, it does make sense within the context of the setting, i.e. Thomas and the Innkeeper probably only having the one word they know, same as in Dracula. And yes, naked teenage girl-on-a-horse does happen for the vampire hunt scene. Whee.

-Now, an early pro: Eggers nixed the ‘hot teen girl tries to pickpocket Thomas’ bit, and the ‘land of phantoms and thieves’ line never happens. All that happens after Thomas wakes in the inn—post witnessing the vampire slaying in the local graveyard, mud on his shoes to prove it was real—is he discovers himself utterly alone. No people, no horse. Cue the long walk.

-Ellen doing the ‘Come to me,’ bit early on is her in adolescence. It’s revealed that her Weird Girl elements have been turned up to 11, tragic lonely past included (replete with dad threatening to send her to a madhouse), and her prayer was just for company. The psychic ping was picked up by Orlok, who took advantage, turning an isolated and desperate barely-more-than-a-kid’s wish into a ‘covenant.’

-Thomas was met not long after this, cue them being genuinely in love <3

-Knock Does Not Jerk Off On Screen. If he does, his back is to us, and Little Knock is covered with some occult tablet or suchlike while he’s doing his ritual business. Also he kills a guy in his cell. Using his teeth.

-Castle time! Thomas is greeted by a driverless carriage at a crossroads and seems to be hypnotized into stepping in. A lot of things Thomas does once in Orlok’s territory seem to very clearly have psychic puppet strings attached. That and some increasing terror on Thomas’ part. There is no warm Dracula-style welcome from Orlok when he arrives, but a terse and strange leading to the dinner table where paperwork is demanded.

- We get a glimpse of this version of the Count’s ego. Thomas calls him sir. Orlok demands Thomas address him as my lord. And then we get the bread cutting scene. Thomas’ thumb bleeds. Orlok get far too interested. His voice, a very guttural and rasping bass, turns into something closer to an animal trilling and growling. Thomas is paralyzed beside the fire; cut away as Orlok closes in.

-Ellen and Anna Harding have a bit of a Mina and Lucy deal going on at the beach. It’s sweet <3 (Prepare for pain </3)

 - Orlok starts getting tricky. He 1) borrows (steals) Ellen’s locket from Thomas and 2) Tricks Thomas into signing a contract to ‘sell’ Ellen/break their marriage via a strange contract in a language Thomas can’t read, with Orlok using the prop of some gold to imply that this is merely a document in ~his native language~ to complete the property sale. Thomas signs, less for the gold than to be gone from the castle and back to Ellen…only for Orlok to insist Thomas is not well. He must stay the night.

- No mind games here. Just Thomas pleading to leave and Orlok’s parting word being that he will stay, and that he will obey his orders.

-Orlok has already chomped Thomas on the tiddy as of last night. Next night, after Thomas almost lands a blow on him in the coffin—Orlok sleeps with his Orcock out in the box, by the way, alongside several rats—Orlok wills Thomas to unlock the door he shut between them. Cue Thomas being tranced onto the bed, pounced on, and basically dry-humped by Orlok as he drinks Thomas all but dry. Thomas is left that way, only to be woken by Orlok’s wolves—he has those too!—and go clambering out the window, dropping to the river below.

-Orlok makes Ellen’s life hell. Holy fuck. The 1838 quality ‘medicine’ definitely doesn’t help—corsets for correcting posture, draining blood because there’s too much in there, binding to the bedposts to stop sleepwalking, general drugging etc etc—but FUCK. Lily-Rose Depp did a great and terrible job of reproducing shaking fits and some of the faces and sounds she made had me thinking I might choke on my own tongue. And for all the sexually provocative poses/noises that happen, every time she comes out of it it’s clear that she hates this. It’s on par with psychic rape.

-The only times we see Ellen respond positively~ to Orlok’s dream-advances is when she’s telling Thomas about the ‘marrying Death’ dream where everyone died and she was deliriously happy and then the infamous trailer line about Thomas not being able to satisfy her as Orlok can~~~

Well guess what.

Guess fucking what.

That was Orlok leaning on her brain. The same way he did to Thomas when, eventually, after the nuns rescue him and pray the plague/vampirism out and he makes it home while half-dead, he lays in bed with Ellen and gets a panic attack combined with Orlok’s image being grafted over Ellen’s face…

…a reverse of the illusion Orlok gave him in the castle, with Thomas imagining it was Ellen on top of him instead. The effect terrifies Thomas all over again and he unwittingly tosses Ellen away, I can't breathe, get off of me, get off!

-Orlok does his murder snacking. Knock, who escaped, offers to find and kill Thomas to please the Count, literally on his hands and knees. Orlok calls him a dog and backhands him, insisting Ellen must be given, not stolen.

-Orlok has already visited Ellen by this time. He presses her to keep her deal with him. She tells him, flat out, I abhor you. In response, Orlok grabs her and chucks her like a ragdoll in a rage. He fumes, telling her he will give her three nights to pledge herself to him, and in the meantime he will start killing. (RIP to Anna and her little girls, the latter of whom ORLOK KILLS IN FRONT OF HER, EATING THEIR THROATS OUT AS SHE ENTERS THEIR ROOM.)

-Before all that, he spins bullshit about Thomas ~selling her to him for mere gold~. A technical truth that Ellen, mid-Orlok spell, spits back at Thomas amid a rage, along with details that are likewise based in only a granule of reality; but which Orlok did not mention in their scene together. Things like Thomas being weak and childish, that he ‘fell into Orlok’s arms like a fainting woman.’ Interesting choice of spin there, Orlok. But whatever.

This all culminates in what is either reality or a dream or a blend of both as Thomas makes sudden desperate love to her, Ellen weirdly heady about it, telling him yes yes yes they will show Orlok their love. Cue her snapping back to full cognizance (awake? dreaming?) as her eyes and mouth spurt blood in a vision. She collapses in fear and tears as Thomas holds her. AND THEN:

-Ellen. Drops. The I am unclean line. She wants Thomas away from her, she is not worthy, she puts him in danger.

-Thomas goes full Jonathan and clings to her. Nonsense. I love you. I love you. I love you.

-V i n d i c a t i o n

-Anyway.

-Dafoe-Von Franz-Van Helsing is a kooky science occultist. Finds a book that Knock had which fills the role of highlighting Orlok as Solomonari (hey, Scholomance shout out!) and Knock as a would-be beneficiary. Also includes the ‘maiden offers her body and blood to the monster to kill it via sunrise’ bit.

-While he reads this, he does NOT actually spell any of these details out to Ellen when they have their secret mini talk about tricking Thomas into hunting for the coffin with him and Sievers. He gives her a big ~you're the only one who can save us magic maiden martyr~ pep talk, but that's it. Meanwhile, Ellen was already preparing to offer herself to save Thomas and whoever’s left in Wisborg. Not the same kind of agency as the original, but still better than I was expecting.

-Harding, Thomas’ rich friend whose wife and children got drinked to death, dies of plague in the family tomb. They burn the bodies.

-In the ruin Orlok bought, cue the iron stake slamming down as they open the coffin..! But whoops. Knock’s in the box, not Orlok. Von Franz says Ellen offering herself is the only way~ Thomas doesn’t waste time throttling him, just makes a run for their home.

-Too late, of course. Orlok is there (with a very cool homage to the original stalking shadow silhouette routine) and Ellen welcomes him. While they are both naked in bed and it’s implied that they are/or intend to have sex, the bulk of the scene centers on Orlok taking Ellen’s blood from her breast. No clear shot of the Orcock on screen for that bit—Bobby Egg saved that pleasure for the Count flashing Thomas at the castle.

-Orlok’s death throes. Are so. Fucking. Cool. Definitely up there with one of the best vampiric demises I’ve ever seen on film. No spoilers there. You’ve got to see it.

-Heartbreak o’ Clock as Thomas bursts in just as Orlok has died and as Ellen is dying under him. There’s time for them to hold hands. And then she’s gone.

-We close on Von Franz popping up with some poetic soliloquy shit and a bunch of lilacs. The final beat is an overhead shot of Ellen, the Maiden, laying under the now-skeletal Orlok, as Death. Looks almost like a painting. Unlike the implication in the leaked script, she does not look happy/at peace. Simply asleep. The End.

-Other important notes:

1) Orlok has a little combover’s worth of hair on top and mighty and powerful ‘stache. Not Dracula-white, but it is there. Finally.

 2) The guy who plays Dr. Sievers has Alan Rickman’s voice. If he isn’t in opera, he should be.

3) I was too late to get a popcorn coffin box. I shall be in mourning until the New Year.

4) Bobby Egg if you can give me one more gift, let it be a deleted scene of Thomas beating Von Franz over the head with the iron stake, please and thank you <3

[yamumsyadadd]

missing sister (2)

Part 1

there will be 1 more in this series, set in the future.

“Nena, wake up. Noah? We need to leave.” Waking up was very disorienting. This was certainly not the bed from Keira’s apartment. It was too comfy, too warm and safe. 

“Alexia?” 

“Yes nena. You slept here last night. You’re coming with me and Olga. She’s going to drop me off at training and then you two are going to hang out.” 

Weird but okay. Begrudgingly, you got up. Taking the clothes handed to me from Olga and letting her guide me through to the bathroom. There were a lot of fancy things in there. Some smelt very nice, others did not. 

The hot shower and fancy products felt good. As soon as you stepped foot in the living area, Olga and Alexia stopped talking. Both turning to smile at me and usher you to the door. The car ride was quiet until we arrived at the training ground. 

“You’ll go with Olga today, I’ll talk to Keira and Lucy. We will see you later okay?” You nodded, not looking at her as she got out of the car. 

“Avísame si pasa algo. Mi amor, por favor, no la dejes fuera de tu vista. Te quiero.” She kissed Olga and walked away. 

Olga patted the front seat she was previously sitting in. “Mi amiga, piano. You like piano yes?” 

“I do yes.” 

“Perfecto! We go.” Her smile was infectious. There was something about Olga, the way she seemed to live so carefree. She was confident, within herself, her relationship with Alexia and her job. 

“Claudia Habla inglés. She good.” She led us up a small alleyway between two house, finally reaching someone’s backyard. There was a fire pit in the middle, couches and chairs surrounded it. Whoever lived here was very popular. 

“¡Hola Olga! ¡Como en!” The cheerful voice belonged to a blonde curly haired woman who has just as many tattoos as María. 

“Hola, Claud. Esta es Noah, la chica de la que te hablé”.

“HI Noah, I’m Claudia. Olga says you like the piano?” You nodded your head, hiding slightly behind Olga, “come this way, I have an old Steinway & Sons.” 

The piano was beautiful, situated in what looked to be a reading room. One wall covered in books, the other covered in paintings and photos, the main wall with big windows. It was like out of a movie. 

You sat down at the piano and started to play. It felt like only a few minutes had passed before Claudia and Olga came in for lunch. 

“What is that?” You pointed towards the weird cake looking thing on the table. 

“Tortilla.” Olga sat down, taking a drink and giving you a look to do the same. 

“It’s basically an omelette. Eggs, potatoes, oil, onion.  I have tomato sauce if you want it?” 

“Sure. Thanks.” It had the same texture as a normal omelette but it tasted better. It was heavier, thanks to the potatoes. Spanish food was mostly better than English, expect for the fish and chips. Nothing topped ours. 

No one spoke during lunch time, or while we cleaned up. 

“Have you heard from Alexia?” You asked Olga quietly. She shook her head, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You went back and sat at the piano, staying there until a very stressed Olga came in. 

The conversation between Alexia, Keira and Lucy was over and we needed to leave.

“After practice we need to talk please Keira. Lucia come too.” Alexia was firm but not unkind with her voice. 

From the moment Keira, Lucy and Alexia sat down, Keira was on edge, ready to defend whatever her little sister did. 

“Noah is with Olga, at Claudia’s house. She has said some things, I’ve noticed some things and no doubt Lucy too.” Alexia started, she didn’t want to come off aggressive or accuse her of anything. 

“What Alexia? What has Noah said?” 

“You know she’s plays piano? Draws very good too. Better than Mapi, better than anyone I’ve seen. She feels as though you, and your parents do not care about her, see her-“

“that’s ridiculous! We all care about her! She’s just a dramatic teenage.” 

“Keira.” Lucy saw it. She’s seen it from the beginning. Birthdays were missed in favour of Keira’s games, every time she spoke to the Walsh parents all they would talk about was Keira, never Noah. If she didn’t know Noah existed, there would be no trace. “She was going to music school in London. She’d catch the train, stay with Leah and come home. Your parents never noticed because they were never around. From an outsider, you wouldn’t know Noah existed to your parents, or really to you.” 

“What the hell are you saying Lucy? I talk about her, I care about her. I took her in didn’t I? She’s here because I took her instead of letting them ship her off to a boarding school!” Keira was defensive, she didn’t want to believe what both Alexia and Lucy were saying. 

“She’s given up a lot for you, because of you.” Alexia said. 

“I never asked her too!” 

“For fuck sake Kei. She’s a child. A child. She didn’t have a choice. You have been so consumed by your own life, your own relationships that you can’t even see it. She’s 16, yet she acts like an adult because that’s the only way people will take notice of her.” 

There was only silence that followed for the next few minutes. 

“I spoke to Leah, which for the record was hard because she speaks so fast and her accent is worse than yours, but I suggest you talk to her, then talk to Noah but don’t get defensive. Listen to what she has to say, really listen. Itll be hard to hear it but I think it’s needed.” Alexia stood up, squeezing Keira’s shoulder then leaving. Sending Olga a text to bring Noah home so Keira or Lucy could pick her up. 

“What the hell do I do Lucy?” 

“Do as capi said, talk to Leah, then listen to Noah.” 

“Have you known the entire time?” 

“No. I told you during the world cup what she told me, but I don’t think that was the full story.” 

“I just thought she didn’t want to be there, that she was missing her friends, her life, I didn’t realise it was something more.” 

Silence took over the trio, their drinks empty, minds full. 

“What do I do?” Keira asked. 

“Listen to her, don’t interrupt her or anything. Let her tell you how she’s been feeling and what’s been happening.” 

“Is she at your apartment?” 

“No she’s with Olga but I’ll message her to bring her back.” 

It didn’t take long for the trio to arrive at Alexia and Olga’s apartment, you were still beaming from happiness until Lucy and Keira walked in. It was a weird feeling, having a happy day seemingly ripped through your fingers when Keira said the simple words of ‘we need to talk.’ 

The drive back to Keira’s was rough. Everyone was anxious, no one said a word. The futile attempt to escape to your room the second you entered was halted by Lucy’s strong arms guiding you to the couch. 

“I want you to tell me everything. I will not talk, I will not make judgment or anything but I need to know Noah.” Keira said, she tried to be firm, but it came out more as a plea. 

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Don’t play dumb. You’re a completely different kid with Alexia and Olga, even with Leah. Why?” 

“Why?” You scoffed, “can’t you figure it out yourself?” 

“No because what I thought was that you were just a bad kid. I was told you were skipping school, sneaking out, doing drugs. But here, here you’re different so what gives?” 

“It wasn’t sneaking out or skipping school. Technically.” Keira gave you a look so you continued, “anytime I asked to go out, ma and dad would just say ‘do whatever, we won’t be home later’, blah blah blah. It wasn’t sneaking only ever sneaking out when they had friends over and needed to keep up appearances. As for the skipping school, I was enrolled in special music and art classes at the TAFE, then I’d go to London for classes on Saturday’s.” 

“And the drugs? Vapping?” 

“I tried weed once. That’s all I swear. I didn’t like the feeling so I didn’t do it again. The others did but I didn’t. And yeah I’ve vaped, not since I’ve been here though.” 

“Ma and dad never said anything about your music classes.“ 

“Yeah because they didn’t know, or care. I’m not sure but I didn’t want to find out.” 

“Why didn’t you come to me? You went to Leah, even Lucy but you wouldn’t come to me. Why Noah?” Keira was getting frustrated, she was hurt and confused. 

“how could I? You were here or busy with your life in Manchester. You said it yourself, you believed what they told you. Everything was always about you Keira, not me. I was always told not to both you because you were busy. Every year it got worse, missing birthdays, missing Christmas, missing art shows or recitals.” 

The tears that had formed in both yours and Keira’s eyes were now free flowing. Lucy was sat in the armchair, Narla curled up at her feet. She was there purely to keep the peace, to make sure both sides were heard. 

“My art is good. Really good. Olga paid me to make a drawing for Alexia, Jana has asked me to draw a photo of her and Jill in Amsterdam, so many people have paid me for commission art. I have thousands saved and I was planning on leaving as soon as I turned 18. I taught Leah how to play the piano, I’ve sold music sheets, done a Christmas concert at the London Music Hall. I get good grades, good enough that I can go to college in America if I want, but no one knows because no one cares.”

“I care.” Keira chocked back a sob, feeling a mixture of pride and guilt. Guilt for being so wrapped up in her own world that she forgot to include you in hers. “I care noodle. I’m so proud of you truly. I want to fix this. Fix it all. Please just tell me what I need to do.” 

“Don’t make me go back. Not to Manchester, if I have to go back I’ll stay in London or-“

“You’re not going back, Noah.” Lucy said firmly. Yes you were Keira’s sister, but for the majority of your life, Lucy was around. So to her, you were also her sister and she felt just as bad as Keira. “You’ll either stay here with Keira, or you can stay with me. Alexia and Olga would even take you too. Maybe we need to do a custody agreement between the four of us.” 

Before you had a chance to do anything, Keira launched herself into your body. Hugging you as tight as humanly possible. You’d give her the benefit of doubt, she didn’t know but it didn’t excuse anything. 

The relationship between you and your parents was less than good, but it didn’t really matter to you. You had your art and your music. No one could take that away from you. 

By winter break, things with Keira were better. Not perfect, but you were sisters so that was unlikely. Her plan was to go home to England for Christmas, however you didn’t want to. Alexia and Olga both agreed you’d come with them and with their help, Keira agreed. 

When Olga finally gifted the hand drawn photo to Alexia, there were a lot of tears. Alexia rugby tackled you to the ground, kissing all over your face while crying happy tears. Eli thanked you as well, in a much more gentle way. 

It was the first Christmas that things felt good. You weren’t around purely to keep up appearances, you didn’t have to hide away or force conversation with anyone. 

Maybe Spain was where you’d find a home, and a person to share that home with. 

[heavyhitterheaux]

Good Intentions

See Me Through You Fic

Synopsis: An argument between you and your twin ultimately leads to an argument between you and your fiancé who calls you out about your actions and tells you how being overprotective isn't a good thing

Pairing: Fiancé!Joe Burrow x Fiancée!Reader

Series Masterlist

Requested by: by boo @hoodharlow 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

AN: This takes place during Ja'Marr's rookie season. You are still at LSU and taking summer classes

The last thing your twin ever wanted to do was hurt your feelings, but all in all he had had enough and had reached his limit when it came to you being overprotective.

At this point, it was honestly suffocating.

It had been this way since the two of you were born and although Ja'Marr was grateful to be able to get along with his sibling since he knew not everyone did, something had to give. Yes, the two of you would talk to each other multiple times a day, but it seemed as if his phone had been ringing nonstop since he landed in Cincinnati.

As soon as he was going to text you and tell you that he wanted to talk about the situation, his phone was ringing indicating that it was you….

Again.

Taking a deep breath, Ja'Marr answered.

“Yes, Pebbles?”

“Bam Bam! Are you okay? How's everything going? I miss you. Did you eat breakfast already and take your vitamins?”

“I'm fine. I was fine when you called me two hours ago too…. at six in the morning. I miss you too. And yes to both of those questions.”

“It's just so weird not having you here and I hate it. I'm so proud of you, though. I always knew you would make it to the NFL because I saw your potential and how good you were. What do you have planned for today?” You asked as you were currently at the nail salon trying to decide on the color that you wanted.

You would be reunited with both your brother and fiancé in three weeks and you had been counting down until the last minute.

“Same plan that I had two hours ago. Just trying to get settled. Go explore the city a little bit.”

“Okay, well I guess I'll let you do that. I like how you're still getting an early start.” You told him as it was still barely eight in the morning.

“Wait, Pebbles can we talk?”

“We'll talk later when I call you back. I'm at the nail salon. Give me like an hour or two. They're ready for me. Love you!”

“Love you too.” Ja'Marr quietly said before the two of you hung up and he quickly looked up at Joe who was sitting across from him and half asleep himself since you had requested once again for him to head over to Ja'Marr's to check on him.

“You have got to tell her because this is insane. I feel like I've seen you more in the past week than I did my whole two years at LSU.” Joe told him as he shook his head.

“I just… I don't want to make her feel bad because I know she means well.” 

“But this cannot keep happening. I'm surprised she hasn't told me to make you move in with me so I can keep an eye on you. That's probably going to happen by the end of the day.”

“I'll talk to her once she calls me back later.” Ja'Marr replied, but if he was being honest he was actually dreading this conversation.

“You mean in five minutes?” Joe asked and Ja'Marr couldn't help but to laugh.

“I should time it and see how long it takes for her to actually do it.”

“Well in the meantime, I'm going back to sleep. But I know I won't be able to sleep for long before she's calling me back too.” Joe said as he got up and grabbed his keys making his way towards the door.

“I just hope she doesn't take it the wrong way.”

“I think everything will die down once she's actually here in person.”

—

When you had finally gotten out of the nail salon after admiring them and taking multiple pictures and had got settled in your car, you called Joe to see what he was up to and to also check on your brother. It was hard not being able to be with your brother as well as your fiancé since you had gotten accustomed to having both of them. 

You were taking a few summer classes which delayed you spending time with him in Cincinnati. Luckily, you only had a few weeks left until you would be able to.

“Hi baby! My nails are pink! I took a picture and sent it to you.” You proudly told Joe as he had you on speaker and was looking at the picture as you were telling him.

“I love them. Can't wait to feel them scratching down my back.”

“I… behave yourself!”

“I am behaving! I can't help that I miss my girl.”

“Aww, I miss you too. I just wanted to take this class so it will lessen my load come next semester. Anyway, babe, can you go and check on Ja'Marr?” You sweetly asked and Joe couldn't help but to roll his eyes and was thankful that it wasn't a facetime call. He knew that it was only a matter of time.

“Baby, I was literally just over there three hours ago. I'm not going over there again.” Joe told you as he was trying to make himself a smoothie and started to get ingredients out of the fridge.

“But I have to know if he's okay!”

“Y/N, are you going to let him be an adult or…?”

“He's my baby brother! And you told me that you would look out for him once he got to Cincy. And since when is he an adult?! He is still three in my eyes!”

“Princess, I am looking out for him, but you are being extremely overprotective and Ja'Marr is scared to say anything because he doesn't want to hurt your feelings. How long are you going to try and hold his hand for? And he became an adult the minute that he turned eighteen.”

“If he had a problem with me calling him so much, he would tell me. He tells me everything.” You said and Joe scoffed.

“Uh? What was that sound for? See, you're the youngest so you probably don't understand! I have been looking out for him since forever! I have so many responsibilities on my shoulders being the oldest.”

“Older by three minutes. And you need to calm down and let him be. You are in the wrong here, but won't admit it. Nothing wrong with checking on him, but babe this is borderline obsessive.” Joe explained to you as he was now cutting up the fruit he wanted to put in his smoothie.

“Joey, what the hell!? He's the only sibling I have.”

“I'm your fiancé and I'm always going to be honest with you. I don't care if it's something you don't want to hear or agree with.” 

“There is literally nothing wrong with what I'm doing.” 

Joe couldn't help but to roll his eyes once more. 

“Okay, baby. Since you don't think it's bothering him, hang up and call him. Then call me back and tell me what he says.”

“Fine, you’ll see.” You said as you shrugged even though Joe couldn't see you.

Once you hung up with him, you called your twin and he didn't even give you a proper greeting before he started to go off on you.

“Y/N, what could you possibly ask me about now?”

“Whoa, what's the attitude for? And I thought you wanted to talk to me? You always want to talk to me.”  You asked as you were caught off guard.

“Don't you have class, or practice, or SOMETHING that you can occupy your time with instead of calling me every five minutes?”

“I… Ja'Marr I just want to make sure you’re okay. You're my baby brother and my twin. Only one I have.”

“Yes, I know and you will NOT let me fucking breathe. Like got damn. I've only been here a damn week and all of my calls are basically from you every two minutes. Yes, Joe is checking on me and making sure I'm good. But I don't need a babysitter. He's also getting annoyed because you tell him to come and check on me ten times a day!” Ja'Marr told you unable to hold back any longer. 

“But… you turned your location off. I need to know where you are. You never turn it off. What's up with that?”

“NO YOU DON'T. I'm good, that's all you need to know. All you have been doing ever since I got drafted was be extremely overprotective! Mom and dad aren't even this bad.” He told you as he was being completely honest.

It was quiet for a few seconds before you decided to say anything, obviously hurt by his reaction.

“If I'm bothering you, I'll stop. I just miss you is all. But I can see that I'm causing more harm than good. So I'll hang up now.” You said with tears threatening to fall from your eyes. 

“Wait, Pebbles, I just…” Now Ja'Marr was regretting his approach because he now knew for a fact that he had hurt your feelings which he was trying to avoid doing.

“Bye, have a good rest of your day.” 

You didn't give him a chance to finish as you quickly hung up and wiped away the tears that did end up falling. Figuring that you were also probably bothering your fiancé just as Ja'Marr mentioned, you decided to send him a text instead of calling him again.

You- I'll stop asking for you to check on him

Joey- Baby, I don't mind checking on him. Just tone it down a little bit. I promise you that he's okay. If he wasn’t, you would be the first person I told.

You- No, I'm not asking anymore at all. If he wants to talk to me, he will and I'll leave it at that. I guess I'm bothering you too so I'll let you be. Talk to you whenever.

Joey- Princess, stop being ridiculous. You aren't bothering me.

You- Ja'Marr said otherwise so goodnight

“Shit.” Joe muttered underneath his breath before typing a response back to you.

Joey- It is literally 11 in the morning and you're being petty

You- I can tell time, goodnight like I said

For the rest of the day, your phone had been blown up by Joe but you weren't budging. Ja’Marr had been eerily quiet, but you definitely weren't about to say anything to him.

He wanted space so that was what he was going to get. 

If he felt like you were being extremely overprotective and also bothering Joe with your antics, you were simply going to keep your distance.

About a week had passed and Ja'Marr honestly felt weird.

He hadn't talked to his big sister and since it was out of the ordinary, when certain things happened he didn't have anyone he would immediately run and tell about it.

That person had been you.

He had been leaving you messages here and there with no response from you.

Joe wasn't any better and you would be sending him one word answers to his text messages while declining his facetime calls despite him wanting to call a truce.

He came to the conclusion that you were obviously still hurt by the argument that had taken place, but he needed to fix this before you came to see him in two weeks.

Well, if you still wanted to see him, that is. 

Because as of right now he wasn't so sure. 

It was now around six in the evening when you and Erin had just gotten back from going shopping and you had begun to put away your clothes in your closet when you heard Erin's phone ring as she was sitting on your bed.

“Oh no.” She breathed out and you looked at her in confusion.

“What?”

“Your baby daddy is calling me.” She told you and you quickly rolled your eyes.

One thing about Joe is if he knew you were mad at him, nine times out of ten he's calling Erin to check on you because he knows that you'll keep ignoring him.

“I'm not talking to him right now.”

“Wait, didn’t you tell him goodnight at 11 in the morning the other day?” She asked while laughing.

“Yes, and I meant it.”

“Let’s see what he wants.” Erin replied as you quickly shook your head no before exclaiming it.

“NO!”

“Too late. Hi Joey!” Erin said as she waved at him with you quickly rolling your eyes.

Great, it was a facetime call too.

“Hey Erin, where's Y/N?”

“In front of me and I told her to call you so that the two of you could make up but she's being stubborn.” She told him and you promptly rolled your eyes.

“Can you pass her the phone?” He politely asked and she quickly nodded. 

“Sure.”

It took a minute for you to take the phone from her, but once you did, you didn't greet your fiancé but simply stared at him.

“Baby….”

“What? What do you want?”

“Lose the attitude. And I’m just checking on you, have you talked to your twin at all?”

“Nope, and I don't plan on it. He asked me if I had something to occupy my time with instead of bothering him and here we are. And I thought I told you goodnight already?”

“Princess, he wants to talk to you and apologize but you wouldn't know that since apparently you've been ignoring him. And you told me that damn near a week ago. We communicate with each other in this relationship and this needs to end tonight.”

“Okay, can I get back to watching my shows now?” You asked as you had now moved from your room to the living room and turned on Netflix with Erin behind you.

“No, talk to him first and then we need to talk.”

“Well I don't know how that's going to happen because I'm not calling him.” 

“There's no need to, he's right here.” Joe told you and quickly passed the phone to Ja'Marr.

“Wait, what?”

“Pebbles….”

“Wow, the minute I say I'm going to stop calling you, look who decides to come crawling back?” You told him and Ja'Marr quickly rolled his eyes.

“You need to shut your petty ass up so I can apologize.”

“I will jump through this phone and tackle you. Fuck a D-line.” You shot back and he let out a deep sigh.

“Like I was saying because I am ignoring that last statement. I never meant to hurt your feelings and it did come out kind of harsh.”

“Kind of? That's putting it lightly.” You muttered as you were deciding which show you wanted to catch up on.

“Y/N!”

“I'm just telling it like it is.”

“Anyway, I'm sorry but we have got to come to a compromise because we can't keep doing this.”

You sighed before answering him, but quickly nodded in agreement.

“I'm sorry too, but the only way I'm forgiving you is if you door dash me some food.”

“Already done. Honey old bay wings, all flats. Should be there in the next ten minutes.”

“Oh, you are definitely trying to get back on my good side. But on a serious note, I promise to give you more space and I never want you to feel like I'm suffocating you. I just… it's kinda lonely here now. I do have Erin and Alisha but…. I have literally never been away from you.” You confessed as Ja'Marr nodded.

“I know and it's going to take some time for us to adjust. But we'll get there. We good now?”

“Yes, we're good.”

“Now stop being a petty ass fiancée to my best friend.” Ja'Marr said as he eyed you and handed Joe back the phone.

“Babe?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I'm sorry and you know I love you. And yes I need to work on my communication when it comes to you and stop shutting you out.” You told him while you got up off the couch to grab a drink from the fridge.

“I don't know how many times that I have to remind you that I'm not him. I care about how you feel and am always willing to meet you halfway. I asked you to marry me for a reason. I love you too.” 

“Sometimes I swear I don't deserve you.” You whispered and Joe simply shook his head.

“We deserve each other and we're going to continue to make our relationship stronger because once I slip that ring on your finger next summer, that's it. You're mine forever and whatever problems may arise, we simply have to figure it out together. We're a team, okay?”

“Okay.” You quietly said as you smiled at him.

"See you in two weeks, princess?” Joe asked with excitement dripping from his voice.

“Two weeks and not a day more.”

[bestlilithian]

My experiences with synastry

8th house synastry

By far, my favorite. Intense, transcendal, deep. It goes beyond the physical and mental, reaches straight into your soul. The sexual tension is palpable, and at the same time it feels like home.

( do note that i have pluto influencing my ic and moon so your and my idea of 'home' might be a bit different ♡ lmao )

Moon in 8th house:

- absolute favorite. the connection runs deep, if you let it. when you meet this person you will know pretty early on that the potentional for intense bonding is immense. for every person i met with this, after a while i look in their eyes and think 'we could absolutely ruin eachother in the best way possible'.

- the sexual tension breaches the physical and turns almost emotional. like, 'i want to fuck you so hard that you cry' type shit. of course, every 8th house connection has some kind of sexual electricity constantly present, but i've found that w this placement, it's .. profound.

- so far , i've only been the house person, and i've found that the way the moon person looks at me is like nothing i've seen before. i mean, the eye contact being intense is a given w any 8th overlay but w this one it's ... wow. it's a simultaneous pleading to 'come closer, enter my world, feel my essence' and a threat to 'stay away, you see to far into me, you know too much'.

- it's obsessive. on my side (house) at least. by obsessive i mean ... obsessive. one of them is a crush that i haven't been able to put out for a fucking year, even with no contact. in fact, funnily enough, when i thought i was totally over it, all it took was to see her again and make eye contact - immediately, i was thrown for a loop. we didn't even exchange words directly, it was a group setting .. but the eye contact was absolutely enough. crazy.

- as the house person, i feel like the moon person can feel that i see straight through them. another thing i've noticed is that the moon person usually seems a little intimidated/nervous around me, especially at first.

- the thing with this overlay is that it can get hard to take real action on the connection because it's anything but lighthearted. you can clearly tell that if you pursue it, it's gonna get deep and that can range from inconvenient to uncomfortable, or even scary for someone who's not used to 8th house/pluto/scorpio energy.

Lilith in 8th house

- the sexual tension. is. insane. i'm talking .. concerning. i've had this w a friend, a guy who's not my type in the slightest (and i dont really like guys in general, mind you), but there's this kind of ... sexual energy in the air. like, we're not gonna do anything about it, but it's there. and it's not even physical, for me at least - i dont find him attractive physically its just .. a compulsive feeling.

- now, when i have it w someone i actually find attractive, even a little bit, it gets scaled up to the extreme. the moment i see this person, i'm immediately attracted to them. instant. they don't even have to be my type, but if they are - my god, if they are ...

- i am usually lilith in this overlay, and i often find myself wanting to corrupt the house person, to pull them into my dark erotic world. this synastry really brings out my lilith energy even more.

- as lilith i love teasing the house person & i want to see them squirm. i wanna dominate them & see them fall apart beneath me (in the best way possible)

- this is very much a 'i can ruin them' type connection (not in a malicious way)

- i automatically feel confident around this person, no matter if i felt insecure the rest of the day; its like the house person awakens my dark feminine energy just w their presence (and thats a damn good feeling)

Sun & Mercury in 8th house

- honestly this ones interesting; if your connection is platonic, it wont add weird undertones, if its not , it will heighten the attraction significantly.

- it will be really easy and satisfying to talk about your secrets, your past, your traumas, your pain, as well as your kinks, sexual preferences & sexual experiences w this person.

- you will be able to tell this person the naked, blunt truth about them to their face, and vice versa, esp eith mercury in 8th overlay

sun conjunct lilith

- i was lilith and its .. fun. sun brings out my 'bad' side. the fun one.

- as lilith, i find sun really cute, and i try to figure them out, cause i feel like they arent really as naive & innocent as they seem to be.

- sun may be a little scared of lilith here. :)

pluto conjunct lilith

- i have yet to experience this but from what i've heard i love, love, love .

- think bonnie n clyde, mr and mrs smith. they can appreciate eachothers shadow and its very exciting

- hearsay says the sex is mindblowing but i cant confirm or deny

pluto conjunct ascendant

- my mothers pluto is conjunct my ascendant and she literally fucked me up royally soo be careful w this one yall

- pluto will try to control the ascendant and have power over them

- pluto tries to control ascendants behavior, appearance, mannerisms, social etiquett, even food intake sometimes

- i have never seen this be a healthy dynamic but i would love to be proven wrong

lilith square ascendant

every time a man's lilith squares my ascendant, an angel dies. i swear to fucking god, this synastry is a hot, headache-inducing mess.

now, ive only ever had this with men so take it w a grain of salt.

whenever a mans lilith squared my ascendant, the situation was the same:

he had a crush, and then there was .. me. he loved one girl, truly, but had an intense, weird, sexual obsession with me (that often scared him).

he was extremely attracted to me, but reluctant to admit it directly. wanted to 'tame' me, make me 'well-behaved'. we argued at least once within 24h of knowing eachother.

heavy sexual tension, but in a irritating, conflicting way. reallyy intense eye contact, but almost forbidden.

they all, at some point, iced me out in one way or another, deliberately avoided me, seemingly for no reason.

lilith in 7th house

this ones weird.

- we kinda have beef, but not really

- we either completely agree with eachother or utterly disagree

- mixed feelings

- switching between liking and disliking eachother

- sexual tension, but in an annoying way

[bloggerspam]

Merry Christmas Eve! We're in the home stretch now. :)

===

"Alright Ghost of the Here and Now,"

Jason grumbles with false bravado, "Lay it on me. What are you gonna show me? Bruce yelling at me? Alfred's disappointment? Dickie's New and Exciting Life?"

Danny simply stares at him in silent disappointment. The ghost is floating, his legs gone and merged into a ghostly tail. He's floating this way and that, humming as he observes Jason slumped on his bed.

Jason huffs, impatient after his ordeal with Dani, and decides to be a little shit. "Do you change sizes too? Like the one in the book does?"

Danny considers him for a moment, before smiling. Jason blinks, and suddenly Danny is gone.

He straightens up, looking this way and that for the ghost. He couldn't have just..left, right?

A little chirrup freezes him, looking down at his lap towards the source of the sound.

Danny, apparently, can change sizes.

He looks exactly the same, just miniature now, in his lap. Ghostly tail a little longer, face and eyes a little more rounder, hands little paws.

Just a little guy.

"Huh." Jason cradles Danny in his palms, bringing him up to his face, "Cool. Can you talk like that too? Or just the chirping?"

Baby Danny grins, tiny teeth sharp, as the miniature medallion on his chest begins to whir. He reaches up and boops Jason on the nose, causing him to blink against not just the action but also the sudden flash of green.

When his eyes open up again, Jason is sitting on the ledge of an unfamiliar building overlooking an unfamiliar city.

"This is Jump City." Danny's voice startles him, almost making him flinch off the building. Thankfully, his bat-training kicks in so he doesn't fall.

"Think happy thoughts." Not so thankfully, Danny, now back to human size, pushes him off the building anyway.

He screams, hands automatically reaching to grab for a grapple gun that isn't there. Fuck.

Fuck!!!

Jason tries to look for a ledge, anything to break his fall, when suddenly and abruptly his fall stops.

A moment of vertigo later, he realizes he's been grabbed by some unknown force and is floating.

"You didn't think happy thoughts." He looks around and notices that Danny is below him, looking up with a shit-eating grin.

"O-only psychopaths," Jason breathes out through his sheer panic, "Would think happy thoughts when they're falling off a fucking building."

Danny chortles out a loud laugh, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Besides," Jason gulps to get his heart back in control, "You're not Peter Pan."

"You're right." Danny floats around and above him, Jason's body floating to follow, "But much as we joke about it, I'm not the Ghost of Christmas Present either."

"I guess it would be pointless to show me something I already know." Jason surmises, finally getting his heart in control. Danny must have some kind of telekinesis, different from Dani.

"I'd argue against that," Danny shrugs, "But I have a feeling you're good at twisting things."

"I resent that." Jason huffs, "I see what I see."

"Debatable." Danny huffs back, finally finding the building he was looking for and touching them down on a very large T-shaped building. "Besides, I've got something you won't be able to finagle your way out of."

"Finagle," Jason scoffs, "Whatever. Where even are we? Weird fucking shape for a building."

"It's Titans Tower." Danny smirks, walking up a set of stairs to the helipad, "You know, your brother's home?"

Jason jolts, looking around more closely. He hasn't been to the Tower yet, though Dickie promised he would bring him Christmas Break. It's….

"Really in your face huh?" Danny chuckles, "And I thought my house was obnoxious."

"It…sure is something." Jason agrees, wondering what Bruce thinks about all this.

He must know, right? Bruce ‘paranoid is my state of being’ Wayne couldn't have been okay with this. Titans Tower is glaringly obvious, on its own little island just a little bit away from the city. Was this Dickie's idea? Rebellion? And Bruce just lets him?

Then again, Dickie is the golden child. Can't do no wrong, even now he supposes.

But Dickie can't be serious, right? Like, he's just got his superhero base just….out there. For all and sundry to just. Know.

How can Dickie even sleep at night?

Danny grabs his hand suddenly, pulling him off to the side of the helipad and putting a finger to his lips. Jason nods, knowing the deal by now.

A second later, they go invisible just as the noise of an aircraft enters the sky.

They wait as the aircraft lands, watching as the Titans empty out in an exhausted jumble. They jostle each other, ribbing and bantering and familiar. Jason recognizes them from Dickie's pictures, feeling a pang of something go through him at how comfortable each and every one of them are with each other.

"Rob." Cyborg suddenly jolts up, frantically tapping at something on the computer on his arm.

"It's Nightwing, Cy." Dickie, in his Nightwing uniform, chuckles as he emerges from behind the pack to step onto the roof. "Robin is my darling brother now, remember?"

Jason bites his lip, to prevent any noise from coming out. Danny squeezes his hand and he realizes he's stepped forward a bit, towards Dickie.

He looks…the same, but different. His hair's reaching his butt, for God's sake. He always kept it long, but it couldn't have been that long, right? It was at his shoulders or something the last time he saw his brother. His uniform is a little different too: he's got padded gauntlets to go with his utility belt now.

He looks haggard, tired smile and slumping shoulders and all.

"Dick." Cyborg's voice is grave, making Jason tense. What happened? "Comms are back online."

Dickie straightens up, exhausted playfulness suddenly alert and serious. He pulls out a communicator from his utility belt and scans the multitude of messages he seems to be receiving.

Jason watches as the other Titans do the same, all reacting in staggered effect as they each have varied amounts of notifications.

It's Starfire's reaction that makes Jason pull against Danny's grip. A hand covers his mouth, the other arm coming around to grip at Jason and keep him still as he struggles.

Starfire has a hand covering her mouth, dropping the communicator and frantically going over to Dickie who is, who's…

Something breaks in Nightwing's hands. His communicator? Jason didn't even know he was that strong, didn't know that was possible. But no, it seems to be fine, just cracked to all hell with a missing antenna—

Nightwing presses some buttons, Starfire fretting around him, hovering as the others stand tense and ready to start…start what?

What the fuck is going on? Jason bites at Danny's hand, but Danny doesn't even fucking flinch. What the fuck is going on!

"Batman." Nightwing's voice is a growl, causing shivers through his spine, stilling him in fear. He's never seen Dickie this mad.

"Why the fuck," Nightwing clenches his fist, body coiled tense like he's about to strike, "is the Gotham Gazette saying my little brother is dead."

A pin could be dropped 3 miles away, and Jason would be able to hear it.

"It doesn't fucking matter that I was off planet, he's my little brother!"

Jason can't breathe. You'll meet her, Danny had said, And then you'll die.

"YOU HAD HIS FUCKING FUNERAL WITHOUT ME, BRUCE!" Nightwing is screaming, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. The rest of the Titans huddle together, watching warily.

Jason can't fucking see anymore, things are blurring. He's never seen Dickie this distraught, and he can't believe Bruce would do that. He can't—He really did die.

Somehow, even when told point blank, Jason didn't actually think about what would happen after his death.

Some part of him thinks it wouldn't have mattered much anyway, a street kid like him.

But Dickie is screaming hoarsely into the communicator at Bruce, and Bruce held a funeral for him.

Even though Jason knew they would, at least to a certain extent, it still surprises him.

It's a conflicting feeling, this trust and fear.

It feels like ages, with Dickie's rage acting as white noise, before Jason can get a grip.

He's being held, he thinks, can feel the way Danny's chest rises and falls against his back. The hand over his mouth is gone, migrated to his chest and pushing lightly as if to coax Jason into breathing. A makeshift CPR.

The other hand is being gripped by Jason's hands against his stomach. Jason almost lets go, or at least wants to, but realizes he can't bring himself to.

He stares at where Dick is crumpled on the ground with his teammates surrounding him and doesn't know what to think, how to feel, what to do now.

He just watches as Dickie grieves.

Grieves him.

"I'm going to fucking kill him." Dickie finally mutters to the ground. The rest of the Titans wisely say nothing.

His brother gathers himself up and marches back into the aircraft they came in on, growling out a "I'm going to Gotham. Cyborg's in charge."

Starfire reaches out to him to place a hand on his shoulder delicately. Dickie holds it for a moment, breathing, but shakes his head with a whisper. Jason is too far away to hear it, but Starfire nods with a crumpled expression and lets him go.

Soon, the aircraft lifts up and the Titans vacate the roof.

"Why did you show me this?" Jason croaks out.

Danny makes them both visible, getting them both floating up into the sky. Unlike Gotham, there is no smog to hide in here at Jump City.

It's clear blue skies and good weather days Jason's not used to seeing. Danny lets them hover there, making a sort of glowing green platform for Jason to sit upon. It's grounding, tethers Jason to something so he doesn't float away emotionally either.

"You see what you see." Danny answers with a shrug. It should sound smug, the way he throws Jason's words back at him, but all it sounds like is exhaustion. "You ever think about what you don't?"

"No point," Jason’s voice is small, a facsimile of confidence, still shaken by this side of Dickie he's never known. "They don't wanna show me, then it's not for me."

"Street Kid logic." Danny hums as he floats lazily around Jason on the platform. "Mind your business, and nobody minds you."

"Nothing's free," Jason agrees, "Even love comes at a cost."

Danny's nose wrinkles as he flips to float on his stomach, as if he's just rolling around on a bed and not in the middle of the sky. He lays his cheek down on the cross of his arms, feet kicking behind him like a teenager looking bored.

Danny is around Jason's age, so maybe he is bored. But he highly doubts it with the way Danny's eyes run over him like sharp knives running down his skin along the face of the blade. Not quite cutting, but the danger is there if you move it the wrong way.

"My little sister was an experiment," Danny says, apropos of nothing, "She was brainwashed and groomed by her creator."

What the fuck do you even say to that? Luckily, Danny doesn't seem to need Jason to say anything.

"His one downfall was that he allowed her to read books." Danny smirked, "Got her smart. When she was sent to kill me, I talked her out of it by giving her information. She didn't really believe me at first, but eventually, she learned for herself. She asked questions, she saw with her own two eyes. She grew,"

Danny sits up in the air, crisscross applesauce, sitting gently across from Jason on the platform.

"You wanted to know who your birth mother was." Danny shrugs, "So she showed you."

Danny reaches over to pry Jason's hands apart. He'd be digging his nails into his palms without thinking. Danny looks over his hands, blowing a cold breath over them to soothe the ache.

"You focused on Sheila abandoning you. You saw how similar you were to a broken-down Willis. You took in the way Catherine deteriorated, the way the drugs made her chase the high instead of staying with you."

Danny's glowing green gaze sears into Jason, making him feel small and unimportant in the way that the stars make you feel. The enormity of space condensed into deep black pupils.

"You should have focused on the more important things: Willis’ love for Sheila, unanswered but enduring. Catherine choosing you, time and again, when she was just a stranger—when she didn't have to, until she couldn't anymore. Dick grieving you with the kind of anger that burns a whole world down."

Danny sighs, the medallion clicking into a spin, whirling at a speed that blurs.

"I'll ask you again: You see what you see, Jason Todd." Danny lifts a hand, snapping his fingers. "But do you ever think about what you don't?"

The platform below them hollows out, the sound of a snap echoing, before they fall in a glowing green light.

Jason doesn't really have time to scream when he tumbles down onto cold linoleum flooring.

"What the fuck?" Jason spits out, instead of thinking about Danny's words, "Where are we now?"

"Place called Nanda Parbat." Danny's voice floats above him, and when he looks up Danny's scanning their surroundings. It makes him tense up, joining him as he straightens up.

They're inside a room of some sort. A lab, maybe. There're a couple of large tubes, pods? The pods are all white, with only a small window high up to show what's inside.

"Why are we here?" Jason whispers as Danny floats towards one in particular.

"Damian Wayne was created using the DNA of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, the daughter of the Demon Head of the League of Assassins." Jason lifts, no doubt Danny's telekinesis, to peer into the window Danny is gesturing to. "He is artificially aged up over the course of 2 months until he is developed enough as a toddler to undergo training as the heir of Ra's Al Ghul."

Through the window, Jason can see a baby floating in the glowing green water that fills the pod. It's a boy, with black hair and darker skin, pudgy hands clenched like fists. He looks about 2 years old.

"He'll be about four years old when he's let out," Danny continues, "And when he turns approximately 12 years old, his life at the League is threatened so he is sent to Gotham."

"Bruce has a kid?" Jason breathes out, thoughts racing in a loop. He has a kid, a real one. What will happen to Dickie? What will happen to him?

"He has several," Danny smiles, Jason can hear it in his voice even if he can't tear his eyes away from the baby floating before him, "But yes, Damian will be the only blood son."

"Dickie is one thing, but I don't count." Jason winces, "Not…not anymore."

Danny clicks his tongue, making a face. He grabs Jason and that tingling feeling washes over him again as they walk through several walls and floors until they're peeking through a floor to watch what looks like a training session from the ceiling.

It's a girl, he thinks. Short bobbed hair, black as night, skin pale just like Jason's. She looks about his age and is being harshly trained by a man who shares the same eyes.

They watch for only a minute or two before Jason feels the need to beat the shit out of the guy, Danny yanking him up and floating them through to the building's rooftop.

"Cassandra Cain." Danny explains, "born and raised as a weapon for her father, for the League. Eventually, she comes in contact with Bruce. The rest, as they say, is history. She's your one and only (legal) older sister."

The medallion whirs again, a portal opening up that Danny wastes no time pulling them through.

Jason is getting whiplash.

They step onto another rooftop, the air tasting familiar. Looking around, Jason recognizes the Narrows.

Danny points to a lit-up window, where they can see a small family having a raucous dinner. A man and woman, African Americans, sit across from each other pointing forks and laughing at each other. There's an equally dark-skinned toddler slapping at his high chair, smile wide and messy with baby food.

"That baby, Duke Thomas, goes through a war." Danny explains, "He carries the Robin mantle in the way that soldiers carry cigarettes, and becomes a beacon for Gotham. Bruce brings him in when his parents are unable to."

Danny grabs his hand once more, dragging him into a run across almost familiar rooftops.

He stops them and points at a dimly lit window, where you can just see a desk lamp lighting up the room.

"Stephanie Brown, by her own volition, never gets adopted." A girl opens the window to look out, crossing her arms and laying her head on them. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulder, blowing into the breeze as she searches the sky for stars hidden in the smog. "But her Robin brought a little bit of laughter, a little bit of fun, after years of hurt and pain."

Jason watches as Stephanie seemingly gives up, huffing a little and shutting the window before the light is summarily turned off for the night.

"You still haven't answered me," Jason whispers, volume just above the now humming whorl of the medallion hanging on Danny's neck. "Why are we here?"

Danny still doesn't answer, pulling them through the new portal to a rooftop. One that Jason is intimately familiar with from a different angle.

Jason looks to his left, to a rooftop just three buildings away, where his favorite gargoyle sits sentinel over Gotham. The sky is clearer than before, a different night from the Gotham they just stepped away from, ever-present smog no longer crowding the night sky.

The stars are still far away, but the moon is bright, like a spotlight highlighting Jason's favorite refuge.

"That's—" Jason starts to say, but Danny's arm stops him. He's pointing to the right, to a rooftop across the street.

It takes Jason a moment, several in fact, before he sees it. Before he sees them.

There's someone hiding in the depths of the shadows, small and eerily still. Jason wouldn't have been able to see them, if not for the reflection of a camera lens.

"Timothy Drake Wayne." Danny drops his arm, stopping Jason from taking any steps further out of the shadows they're hiding in, "Is too smart, too self-sacrificing, too self-deprecating, and too numb to the world."

"He takes Robin with a clenched fist, takes the brunt of a lot of hits, and honestly?" Danny chuckles humorlessly, "If it weren't for him, Batman would have been dead several times over."

As if his name summoned him, Batman grapples onto the scene, stopping just beside the gargoyle.

Jason flinches. He doesn't know how he knows, but this Batman is different from his Batman.

There's something desperate and…almost threatening about this Batman.

Like a hurt animal.

This must be after Jason's death, he didn't know that Bruce knew he had a favorite gargoyle, but he wouldn't be surprised.

Apparently, this Timothy character knew, so why wouldn't Batman?

Jason feels like he should be more surprised, or at least disturbed, that some random civilian knows this much about him. If Timothy knows Jason's favorite gargoyle, he must have been following them for a while.

He doesn't know what to feel, the whiplash cocktail of feelings swarming through his system. The truth about his parents, these future Robins and siblings, Dickie's rage and grief, and now he has to combat an apparent stalker turned sibling and a grieving Batman.

It's almost too much.

"After your death, Batman gets a little…violent." Danny's voice pulls him back, tugging him out of the shadows through another portal, away from the visage of a brooding Batman, too far away to hear the clicking of a camera.

"Tim asks Dick to come back first, having known your secret identities for a while now." They walk through a large hallway, similar to Wayne Manor, but without any of the personality Alfred works so hard to maintain. "But Dick refused, so Tim took it upon himself."

This mansion is sterile, straight out of a magazine. The paintings are impersonal and expensive, the decor is sparse but tasteful, and everything looks so…slate.

There's none of the warm wood tones Wayne Manor has, each book and decoration modern and cold and empty.

Danny brings his finger up to his lips to signal the need for quiet as they once more go invisible, phasing through a nondescript door.

It's a bedroom, a little cluttered and slightly messy, with more personality than the entirety of the rest of the Mansion.

Not that that's saying much.

The room is still way cleaner than Jason's, by virtue of just…a lack of things.

There's a bed, unmade crumpled, and a nightstand that houses a single alarm clock and lamp. A skateboard leans against the bookshelf, crammed to the gills with a variety of textbooks and nonfiction novels. A small pile of clothes crowds a half-full hamper, and Jason almost trips on a pair of shoes tossed at the closet door carelessly.

Nothing hangs on the walls, and the colors of the room range from blue to blue to blue.

The desk has a computer on it, with a screensaver being a newspaper clipping that Jason is intimately familiar with: The one single blurry photo of Batman and Dickie's Robin the Gotham Gazette managed to get. An empty mug stained with brown sludge sits on the corner of the desk, right next to what looks like two spare high-end cameras.

Someone lives here, clearly, but it still feels so…empty. Only hints of a person in a Mansion that screams of loneliness.

Danny tugs them over to stand near the desk, floating them up slightly at a good vantage point just as a door, different from the one they entered through, swings open.

A boy, dark-haired and blue-eyed just like Bruce. He's small, pale, and so concentrated on the strip of film in his hands that Jason's surprised he doesn't run into anything as he beelines to his desk.

The boy carefully starts to cut the film into negatives, placing them into a box he pulls out of a safety deposit box that had been hidden under his bed.

The box is full of negatives but in the dark Jason can't even hope to guess what's on them.

The boy then gets up to go to the bookshelf, pulling out a Textbook to reveal a second layer of what looks like photo albums behind, taking one and bringing it to the desk.

When he opens it, Jason is surprised to see most of the pictures are of him.

Of Robin, the second.

Holy shit.

Holy shit, he suspected but he didn't—This is Timothy Drake Wayne?

"What happened to you?" Timothy whispers to the Jason in the photos, "What really happened? Nightwing won't come back, and Batman…I have to do something."

Jason wants to say something, but he doesn't know what. He leans forward but is pulled back up through the ceiling once more.

"He's…just a kid." Jason says into the Gotham sky. He seems to be up here a lot, on this ghost adventure.

Jason realizes, for as much as Robin flies through Gotham, he's never really taken the time to just enjoy the sky. He's not sure he's in the right mind to do so now, but maybe when this is all over…

"You're just a kid." Danny points out before his voice goes low. "He's only two years younger than you."

That doesn't make sense. Jason is average-sized for his age, having bulked up under Alfred's care for the past year or so.

Timothy's a Drake, Jason recognizes the name now. They're…They're neighbors. For a given definition of neighbors when there’re acres between their mansions. 

Is that how the kid knows about them? Timothy is smaller than Jason was when he was still living on the streets.

"What time is it right now?" Jason asks as Danny conjures up another platform for Jason to lay back on. It's both harder and softer than he expected.

"Hmm…" Danny drifts around him once more, circling and circling. "I'd say about 9pm."

"…I don't think I've ever seen the Drake Mansion lit up, despite being neighbors." Jason keeps his volume low, maybe hoping for his words to get lost in the breeze.

"Well, there is a lot of space between Wayne Manor and the Drake residence." Danny reasons.

"It's 9pm, Danny." Jason's voice rises, slowly but steadily in heated reprimand. "It's 9pm, and his mansion is cold with no sign of any adult. He's two years younger than me. Where are his parents? Fuck, big house like that, where's the fucking babysitter? Or, or—or a fucking servant, whatever rich people fucking do!"

Jason pants, angry and tired and wrung out like a used towel. Danny lets him get his breathing together, the silence percolating like blood spilled from a ragged wound.

"I never liked Batman, y'know. Not really." Jason is getting real fucking tired of Danny's subject changes.

"Child soldiers, all of you." Danny continues, ignoring the way Jason hisses and rearing up for a fight, "And I was never much one for billionaires in the first place."

Danny drifts closer, coming to sit beside an irate Jason trying to keep his breathing even.

"But Tim?" Danny huffs out a little laugh, "I get Tim—I get the neglected parents, and feeling responsible for things beyond me, bigger than me. I get having unending curiosity and restless bones. I even get taking your mentors by the collars and shaking sense into them."

"I get taking the brunt and blame and the short end of the stick and still getting back up." Danny looks up to the sky, still so oddly clear, and sighs. "I get being the little guy."

Jason laughs humorlessly and disbelievingly. "Tiny Tim."

Danny snaps, pointing a finger at him with a cheeky smile. "Tiny Tim. Funny how it works out huh?"

"Does Tim…" Jason carefully asks, "Does Tim die in my future?"

"He doesn't—no rest for the wicked I suppose." Danny shrugs. "Not for lack of trying, you and Damian try to kill him at least once. Steph even tosses a brick at him."

Jason sputters.

Danny laughs, loud and raucous, before settling down and wiping a stray tear away. "He lives, all who come after him fail." Danny suddenly becomes very grave. "There are worse things than Death, Jason Todd. Take it from me. But whilst Tim may be self-sacrificing, he's always enjoyed the little things."

“Very poetic.” Jason sits up, bringing a knee up to lean his arm on. “Thematic too.”

Danny smiles, leaning back on his arms to continue watching the night stars barely visible through the city light pollution. “You asked me why we’re here. You’ve asked us who we are and how we know these things, and I told you the truth.”

Jason opens his mouth to say something, but is stopped by Danny’s glowing green eyes. “We’re ghosts, of a sort. Living, breathing ghosts here to show you a different way of life for the benefit of one specific individual.” Danny smiles sardonically, “The chance to ‘prevent your death’ was purely incidental.”

 Jason, for some reason, relaxes at that. He remembers Danny’s words from earlier in this long, long evening.

Your death, in the grand scheme of things, doesn't really affect much of anything at all.

Emotional whiplash be damned, he’s got a choice.

He has the power. 

“I wanted to show you what you would be losing if you started over.” Danny continues, “If you still decide to chase after Sheila, to die and come back remade, your memories of tonight will simply fade away.”

Danny starts to float, holding out a hand for Jason to take. He does so wordlessly.

“If you take the chance, then these people are what you will be losing.” Danny smirks, medallion humming as it starts to tick, “These people are the people you’ll have to find again.”

This time when they fall through the portal, it’s a familiar place and they’re already invisible.

Jason takes the cue and keeps his mouth shut as they float through Commissioner Gordan’s apartment to a familiar bedroom. 

Babs is sitting on her bed, legs tucked to the side to make room for Dickie, who is slumped kneeling on the floor beside her.

He’s using her lap as a pillow, resting his arms on her thighs and—and crying.

“I miss him too.” Babs is cooing at him, petting his hair, muttering nonsense and shedding tears herself. 

Jason feels a heat pooling in the back of his eyes, a sticky feeling clogging up his throat as he bites his lip to keep from making sounds. 

He’s shaking as he's pulled through the window, taking a familiar route back to the Manor. Danny keeps them invisible, gentle mercy as Jason sniffles and rubs at his face. 

“If–” Jason stutters out, “Did…did it have to be me? Couldn’t—couldn’t you guys have offered it to Dickie? Or Babs? Fix her legs?”

“She’s not broken, Jason.” Danny’s voice is soft, but firm. “Legs or not, Barbara Gordon endures and chooses her path. Batgirl might be retired, but it’s a mantle that can be picked up, and Oracle will live on to watch over Gotham.”

Cowed, Jason stays silent as they arrive at the Manor. 

They drift through the entrance of the Cave, and Jason’s about to ask why they’re entering this way when he’s interrupted by a sudden crash!

“Take it down!” Bruce’s familiar growl is yelling. “You had no right—”

“I will not allow you to forget, Master Bruce.” Alfie’s voice is smooth, cold. 

Bruce is breathing heavily, barely restraining himself. Alfie stands tall and stoic, as usual, against him, right in front of—

Is that his uniform?

It’s—it’s tattered and ruined.

Put up in a macabre display of a fallen soldier, a memorial of a battle lost.

Sometimes, Jason forgets that Alfie used to be a military man.

Before Jason can even fully understand the situation, they phase upwards, turning this way and that before he’s gently deposited onto his bed once more.

Jason, true to form, falls back to starfish on his bed again. 

“That was shitty of you.” Jason rumbles, “You didn’t have to—you didn’t have to show me that.”

“I did.” Danny argues, “Otherwise you’d try and say something stupid, like ‘Bruce doesn’t care’ or ‘I’m not actually his kid’ or whatever bullshit you think with that backwards brain of yours.”

“Hey!” Jason tosses a pillow at Danny. 

Danny, the asshole, lets it fall through him to hit his bookshelf.  “Bet you’re thinking something like I’m not even worth it.”

Jason wisely does not say anything to that, opting to curl up under his sheets.

“Dani gave you what you wanted to know. I gave you what you don’t know.” Danny sighs, a mechanical whir following it at an almost distant pace. 

“I guess Dan’s just gotta show you what you should know. Or maybe what future you already does know?” Jason stills at that, curling the blankets around him tighter and rolling himself into a little cocoon.

Danny chuckles mirthlessly when he realizes Jason won’t answer. “I thought it was the whole Red Hood thing you had going on, but you’re really just like that huh? No wonder Dan relates to you.”

“I resent that.” A low rumbling voice cuts in. Dan.

Jason peeks out from his blanket burrito to watch as Danny goes up to the larger man with a wide grin. 

“Dani did a number on him,” Danny reports with the kind of shit-eating tone only younger siblings can have. “And I didn’t help.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Figures you guys would leave me to clean up your messes.”

“Refreshing isn’t it?” Danny’s grin goes sharp as he takes off the medallion, “To be on the other side of the equation.”

Dan groans, but obligingly bends down so that Danny can place the medallion around the older man’s neck. 

Danny then switches places with Dan, stepping halfway through the portal with only his upper body peeking out as his older counterpart floats down to stand next to Jason’s bed. 

Danny waves, changing his voice into this dramatic tone, theatre-like, “And now I leave you with the Ghost of Christmas yet to come!”

“You mean the future?” Jason chuckles tiredly, “Must I?”

The portal pops out of existence, Danny’s laughter echoing just a little bit with it in answer.

A Christmas Carol AU

Inspired by a prompt found in the @haunting-heroes-creative-games :) (i.e. back on my shit again)

When a 15 year old Jason, pissed at Bruce for taking Robin away from him, finds his birth certificate he realizes Catherine Todd is not his real mother.

Just as he resolves to go out and search for his birth mother, Jason finds himself accosted by three ghosts in his room, talking about A Christmas Carol of all things.

===

"So, what? We're gonna Christmas Carol him?"

Dan scoffs, crossing his bulky arms with an unimpressed look. "We hated that movie."

"I didn't." Dani chirps, disturbingly cheery, "I didn't see it!"

"We hate Christmas," Danny corrects, "But the movie was alright, and the logic is sound."

"I don't hate Christmas," Dani once again interjects cheerily, "I've never participated!"

"Sound my ass," Dan growls over her, throwing his hands up. "We don't even know this guy!"

"Minor detail." Danny insists, "Tuck can look him up."

"He's a fucking Bat, Danny." Dan scrunches up his face, pinching the bridge of his nose just like Vlad does when he's disgruntled with any of Dad's shenanigans.

"He's a Robin, actually." Dani pipes in, "And he's just a kid. How hard is it gonna be to pretend to be this kid's Ghosts?"

"You're a kid," Dan reminds her, crossing his arms, "And you didn't believe me when I told you sticking a fork in the outlet would shock you."

"I believed you," Dani sniffs haughtily, crossing her arms and pointing her nose up with a snooty voice, "The warning simply did not deter me from doing it anyway."

"We don't have to convince him we're his Ghosts, or even that we knew him before," Danny reasons, needling, "We just have to convince him that we're…"

He hums, pointing at Dani. "Past."

He points at himself, "Present."

He points at Dan, "Future."

Dani does a little cheer, arms up and twirling into the air before landing with her legs over Dan's shoulders, hands and head settling atop Dan's fiery, but harmless, hair. It flickers, before going limp into long white strands that Dani messes up by gently scrunching up the strands and running her fingers through them.

Dan lets her, huffing and looking weirdly like a downtrodden, wet cat. "Why am I future?"

"Because." Danny doesn't continue, because he knows it makes Dan annoyed. True to form, his scowl gets worse, like sucking on a lemon. They all know why anyway.

Dani grins, triumphant and knowing, letting her voice go real deep, "The future," she intones into Dan's hair, "is here."

"The future is now," Danny corrects her, but doesn't lose his smile, floating up to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"The future is already here," Dan mumbles his correction, or is it a follow-up? "It's just not evenly distributed."

"How about you distribute some of those muscles, Gibson," Danny sighs, shaking his head "Waiting for puberty is such a drag, and we both know you didn't get the mass from Vlad's side of the family."

Dan makes a moue of disgust, but it serves him right. The consequences of his own actions, and whatnot. He looks up at Dani, who simply shrugs. "I think you'll do great." She leans down to give him two pats on the arm.

"So how's acting out A Christmas Carol gonna help us stop this Jason guy from blowing up?" Dani fiddles with Dan's hair, tongue poking out as she attempts a braid, "Will he even see us? Ghosts in this dimension taste funny."

"He'll be able to see us, it's magically rich enough for some ghosts to maintain a semblance of themselves," Danny explains for the third time. Dani and Dan hum at different pitches, and even though Danny is the common denominator he kind of hates that Vlad has more of a lasting impression on them. "The ectoplasm here is scarce and mostly corrupted, though, so it's rare."

"So there's lotsa bad ghosts here?" Dani eyes the messy braid she's made, proud, even as Dan's silky hair immediately causes it to fall apart, "Or 'mentally unsound' or whatever Frostbite called it."

"No," Dan grumbles, annoyed and indulging all at once, "Corruption begets ecto-rot, but the scarcity means they're not strong enough to actually retain their sense of self enough to rot."

"Shades," Danny explains when Dani looks even more confused, "There's lots of shades."

"Is this one of the Olympian dimensions?" Dani groans, flopping over Dan's shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, "I love Pandora and all, but if I see Zeus again I'm gonna lose it."

"It's one of the hero dimensions," Danny hums, taking over braiding Dan's hair the way Jazz made him when they were little, "There's a couple of Amazons walking about, but on the whole no Olympians."

"I don't know why he didn't just dump me in a Norse dimension." Dan leans back and closes his eyes to their ministrations. "Especially with my current occupation."

The three of them are sitting in Dan's apartment, a large loft studio located somewhere in the UK of the aforementioned hero-dimension. Alber-something, Danny can't remember. Doesn't need to, it being a different dimension from his anyway.

Dan doesn't have a lot of things: a sofa and TV, a bed in the corner, a decent but small kitchen. They're still trying to figure out decorations, but Dan on the whole is a minimalist so it's been slow going.

He's working as a bartender these nights, whiling away his odd existence now that his form has stabilized.

And wasn't that a trip? Learning that hey, adult lightning halfas shouldn't really be mixed with teenage ice halfas, actually!

Apparently, ectoplasm can become corrupted if you try to combine incompatible sources.

Apparently, side effects include (but are not limited to) unmitigated violence and a devastating need for vengeance.

Sound familiar?

"This dimension has a lot of time continuity errors," Danny reminds him, "Dropping you here gave the least amount of pushback."

"Yeah, yeah," Dan flaps a lazy hand, "Praise be the speedforce and flashpoints and whatnot."

"Plus," Dani adds softly, absent-minded as she watches Danny finish up the braid, "Lotsa heroes to help out if you relapse."

Dan heaves a slow, controlled sigh. Danny and Dani both pretend they don't notice.

"Is it bad?" Dan doesn't open his eyes, his voice is so low Danny can only hear him by virtue of his ghost powers, "Like me levels bad?"

"No." Danny shakes his head, leaning into his older self, his older brother of sorts, "He decapitated eight crime lords, killed a couple of assassins, maybe an innocent or two depending on your definition of things."

"Past tense?" Dan scrunches his nose. They all hate how confusing Time Shenanigans are.

"He's living as Red Hood, right this very moment."

"Red Hood?" Dani questions, "That his hero name?"

"Crime lord alias." Danny corrects her, "But he's more of a vigilante these days. Has a bat on his chest and everything."

"But it's bad enough to warrant a trip to the past." Dan points out, "Bad enough for us to try and persuade him. Does he relapse?"

"Not…exactly." Danny scrunches his face, not wanting to explain Clockwork's ambiguity.

Dani floats to spread over Danny and Dan's laps, sprawling out and purring like a cat. Self-soothing, though it's more for their benefit than hers.

"Like Dani said, there’re lots of heroes here, and he doesn't have powers." Danny continues, petting at Dani's soft hair, "The world doesn't end. He doesn't have the means to, even with the ecto-rot."

Danny pauses, and chooses his words deliberately and carefully. "And deep down, Jason Todd is a hero through and through. Relapse would be…difficult. His Obsession is similar to yours."

Dan lets that sit for a moment, but nods, Danny moving a little with the motion. The tension slowly bleeds out as they wait like that, enjoying each other's company.

"If the world doesn't end," Dani whispers, "Why is Clockwork sending all of us?"

Danny thinks on that, on his meeting with Clockwork. The Ancient's voice when he explained what would happen.

He thinks about Jason Todd, about Bruce Wayne, and Catherine, and Sheila. He thinks about Batman, and Robin.

He thinks about Dick Grayson and Tim Drake, about Damian Al Ghul, about Cassandra Cain, and all of Jason's Outlaws.

He thinks about a tattered uniform that stays up in a glass case for a long, long time.

Most of all, he thinks about Dan.

He thinks about regrets and one bad day away.

And then he stops thinking about it, because sometimes the past is the past, and other times, it's the future that never happens that haunts you instead.

"You know, Dani." He settles on, "I'm not sure. He probably has his reasons."

Dan leans heavier onto him, and they lean together like that, with Dani in their laps.

Ghosts of decisions made, unmade, and never to be.

Follow the story on AO3 here!

[thoughtfulfiction]

The Game Plan

Author’s note: Merry Christmas Bolt fam🩵Still working on rewrites but I needed to write something new to get inspired. I am done with school so I’ll hopefully be able to get fics out more often!

Last time he was this nervous, he stood on shaky legs in front of a New York crowd accepting the William V. Campbell trophy. Public speaking wasn’t his favorite thing in the world and he hated talking about himself. But this was about a hundred times more important. And more nerve wracking.

When Justin suggested flying to your hometown to spend some time with your parents, you didn’t bat an eye. You’d been talking about making a trip back home after the season was over and were elated to discover that he was on the same page. Now that the time had come and you were looking at him as he drove the rental car to your family home, you couldn't help but think maybe he was regretting his decision. The man was constantly fidgeting in his seat, his grip on the steering wheel tight, eyes full of stress and semi concern.

"You okay?" You furrowed your eyebrows at him, urging your boyfriend to let you in on whatever was causing him such turmoil.

"What? Oh yeah no, I'm fine." He knew that sounded less than convincing. "It's just weird with the season being over. Almost like I have to learn how to relax again. This week will be good though."

Nodding in understanding, you place a hand on his leg hoping that the simple touch will ease his mind. Little did you know he was in the midst of a huge inner crisis. Justin rehearsed what he was going to say a few more times before pulling into your parent's driveway. Swallowing down his nerves, he grabbed your suitcase and his, walking toward the front door feeling like his legs weighed a ton each.

Your mom had already taken you away to the kitchen by the time he walked in, immediately lost in conversation about work and life while your dad grabbed one of the bags out of Justin's hands. The two men trudged up the stairs to drop off the bags, exchanging pleasantries and getting settled in before heading to the backyard to cook. Your dad loved Justin. He was the perfect partner for you, a perfect mix of fun/exciting and responsible/caring. He had seen you fall more and more in love with the quarterback over the years which made it easy to love him too. And getting to talk about football all day with someone who actually valued such intimate conversations about the sport helped.

All of the distracting small talk was out of the way, Justin had complimented your dad on his new grill and the improvements he'd made on the backyard and they had unpacked some of the nitty gritty details of the season and who your dad thought they should draft as perfect additions to the roster for the next season and the only thing that remained was the pit of nerves in his stomach that hadn't disappeared since boarding the plane.

"Something on your mind?" Your dad was observant, not really one to beat around the bush. He'd noticed a slight edge to Justin's voice since the two of you had arrived and was really trying to wait to give him some time. He'd obviously gotten too impatient. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Justin's had relationships before. Not many times, but he's felt security and love in other people, seeing a future with them and thought about what the rest of his life would look like. Being with you was not only the most serious relationship he'd ever been in but he found himself constantly planning for the future and setting his family up for long-term success, a family that he now couldn't envision without you. He swallowed thickly, suddenly overcome with emotion at the words that he needed to express to your father. "There is something on my mind actually," he clears his throat, trying really hard to maintain eye contact and not look down at the grill. "I wanted to come here first thing to ask you for your permission."

"My...permission?"

"Your permission, your blessing. Either one. Or both." Your boyfriend rambles on nervously, the words tumbling out of his mouth completely out of order and unlike anything he’d just spent time practicing.

Your dad still looks at him, confused. Justin sighs, "I love your daughter more than anything in the world. She’s the greatest thing in my life and I never thought I’d have the opportunity to be with someone so special. Now that I’ve gotten to be with her I don’t ever want to let her go and...it's really important for me to ask you before I propose."

In that moment it all begins to click and your dad nods. Here was one of the most calm and collected quarterbacks in the NFL stumbling over his words out of nerves because he wanted to ask for permission before getting engaged. A man who's build could arguably be compared to ancient Greek deities was a mere mortal when it came to you and it took every ounce of your dad's strength not to crack a smile. "You came all this way to ask me if you can marry my daughter. So you could do this in person?" The younger man nods. "Before I answer, can you promise me one thing?"

"Anything." Justin says without hesitation. He didn't care what he had to do, he just knew he was going to do it no matter what it took.

Your dad looks toward the house, watching you and your mom laughing while getting the sides set on the table. He looks back at Justin, eyes brimming with tears. "She is my greatest treasure. Promise me you will treat her like nothing less than that."

"I will sir, you have my word."

Justin holds out a hand and your dad pulls him in for a hug. "Welcome to the family son," patting him on the back. The quarterback swore he heard a crack in the other man’s voice but said nothing.

You watched the exchange from the kitchen, slightly confused because your dad didn't exactly give out free hugs like they were Halloween candy. "What is happening out there?"

Your mom catches her husband's eye at the end of the hug, seeing him point at his ring finger and trying to contain her excitement. "I'm sure it's nothing," she smiles, handing you another plate to set on the table, "Justin probably asked him if he wants to golf tomorrow. You know he's been trying to get more into it and bringing an NFL quarterback in front of all of his friends is definitely going to boost his confidence." The two of you stood in silence for a bit until you seemed satisfied with that answer and the two men were back inside, immediately distracting you from asking any further questions as conversation flowed as the food and wine were consumed. Justin helped your mom wash the dishes that night, deep in some secret conversation filled with sporadic giggles and all you could think about was how lucky you were to find someone that fit in so seamlessly. Little did you know they were planning a surprise that you'd never forget.

Step one? Find the perfect ring.

"Isabella, I need a favor," Justin takes a seat at the counter next to his sister-in-law. "You need to distract y/n for a couple hours so I can go through her phone."

Placing her own phone down, she looks at him like he's grown another head. "Why in the hell would I do that? Why would YOU do that?” The more she talks the more visibly upset she looks and Justin is severely regretting not being more specific.

“It’s—it’s not what you think. I just—”

She holds up a finger to keep him from explaining himself any more. “I just want you to know that I’m never thought you’d be one of those people and it’s really disappointing.”

He sighs, looking around to make sure that you aren’t walking in any time soon. “I heard you guys talking last week. About how you had a bunch of videos in your Tik Tok likes that helped you plan your wedding. Then she mentioned that she’s been saving some rings that she thinks would look good on her and I need to see those. So I can design the best ring.”

The tension in her body is instantly released and her features are filled with relief. She holds a hand over her mouth to hide a happy squeal before taking a moment to compose herself so she doesn’t give anything away when she sees you. “You’re proposing,” she whispers leaning in close so no one else can hear.

He leans in too, a wide grin on his face. “I’m proposing.”

“I’ll keep her busy,” she promises, giving him a fist bump.

A girls only DIY spa night in gave him the perfect outlet to grabbing your phone. As soon as the cucumber slices were on your eyelids and Isabella gave him the sign, your cellphone was in his hand and he got to work. He screenshotted 13 different ring designs, jotting down some notes in his own phone, looking at various ring styles and the cut that would best match the style that you were looking for. Then he jotted down some local jewelers to visit and design the ring in person, going as far as flying your best friend to Oregon for a few days under false pretenses that she had a work trip in the area and decided to stay at the ranch since it was nicer than a hotel.

Approximately four weeks after his initial meeting with the jeweler, Justin held the velvet box in his hands and admired everyone’s hard work. He’d had a hand in designing every crevice of the ring that looked much smaller in between his fingers as he examined the diamond. Fresh nerves were beginning to set in as the moment became more and more tangible and real. Once he found a secure spot to hide the ring, he moved forward with the next part of his master plan.

Step two? Come up with proposal ideas.

The beautiful thing about the offseason was that you still had to work remotely, so you’d be in your office in one corner of the house and after his morning workout he had all the free time in the world. The bad thing about that was that he had all this free time to sit and think about how he was going to set up an unforgettable proposal. Luckily, some of his receivers had come down for a Nike promo event and to throw so he had people to bounce ideas off of.

“What about this? I take her to Sofi and propose in the middle of the stadium with just the two of us. We have the video board showing monumental moments of our relationship and as she’s watching I just get down on a knee.”

Ladd takes a sip of water, making eye contact with Derius, who says nothing. Justin continues pacing, taking the collective silence as a sign to suggest something else.

“Don’t everyone jump up at once,” he lets out a nervous laugh, wracking his brain. “Maybe I could drive us to Napa Valley with dinner and some music?” That suggestion earned more interaction, some guys nodded, recalling their own proposals and having him take some pointers from their experiences. There was a time where he couldn’t log onto Instagram without seeing one of his teammates getting engaged and the only thing that made him more nervous than proposing was the media circus that would result from the news getting out. Yes, he wanted it to be special and intimate but the thought of the social media team getting their hands on it and invading your privacy was a little scary. Somehow he had to push that thought out of his mind and tackle one problem at a time.

“Private beach proposal in Hawaii?”

Simi stands up at the suggestion, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Sounds beautiful in theory, but aren’t you scared of having the ring so close to the water?”

“Yeah what if you’re so nervous that you drop the box and it’s washed away by the tide,” Ladd notes. “The less distracting things around you the better. Helps you focus on just her.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem, he’s obsessed,” Patrick says, walking by just to chastise his brother. Justin flips him off without uttering a word, an unwavering focus on the task at hand.

Nothing seemed right, some ideas were too flashy, too cheesy. He wanted to show you how much you meant to him, how you’d changed his perspective on life and balancing work and your relationship. That it was possible to do both because the right person brings things out of you that you didn’t even know where there. How do you encompass all of those feelings into one perfect location?

“I’m not gonna lie,” Simi says, voice full of sincerity. “You gotta let the perfect time come to you, you’ll know when the time is right. Trust me.”

Justin had no other choice at this point. He spent the next few weeks holding onto the ring, desperately looking for the right time. Spending all this time stressing and planning and plotting had really taken him away from you. There was an unspoken distance between the two of you and it had become increasingly upsetting. Even when you were in the same room it felt like he was miles away, stuck in his own head, shutting you out completely. You were starting to think that he was looking for a way out and couldn’t decide on a way to let you down easy. The thought of him tip toeing around a breakup made you nauseous.

“Why haven’t you done it yet? You can’t keep putting this off forever,” you heard Mitch say one morning after you came home earlier than expected from an in-person work meeting. Usually you wouldn’t eavesdrop, but Justin’s behavior hadn’t exactly given you a vote of confidence in the state of your relationship. You couldn’t even really remember the last time you went on a date without him looking like he was seconds away from getting sick.

Justin on the other hand had spent every dinner date thinking about whether or not this was the moment. Walking around with the ring in his pocket everywhere he went just in case, deathly afraid of you finding it on accident. That thought alone, of him walking in the house to you holding that ring box not only made him want to cry a little at the ruined surprise but also make him feel like throwing up. And he was tired of hearing everyone and their mom ask him when he was going to pull the trigger and propose.

Especially when he felt like it was happening every single day.

“I’m not putting it off! I just—this is harder than I thought. It’s not just something to check off the to-do list. I gotta do it right or I’m not doing it at all.”

He felt so bad about dumping you that he was putting it off…so he could do it the right way? What even is the right way to end a relationship? You didn’t want to stick around to find out, making your way back outside to sit in your car and think about your next move.

“Justin is planning on dumping me.” You sighed into the phone, calling your best friend.

“What? Where did you get that from?”

You spent the next 20 minutes explaining to her all the signs. His weird behavior, always on his phone but will never let you see what he’s doing or who he’s talking to. You feel like he’s hiding something but he makes sure to only give you minor details saying he’s planning a trip with the guys or talking to his agent about taking on different endorsements. It all just seems too fishy. Why is he torturing you like this by stringing you along? Should you just break up with him first?

“You have to act normal like you don’t suspect anything,” you hear at the other end of the line. Her voice is calm and reassuring which is nice because the last thing you needed to hear was that she didn’t believe you. “If he’s breaking up with you then let him explain him himself. Justin has never been someone to do things without a purpose and you know he’d never do anything knowing that it would hurt you.”

She had a point. “Fine. You’re right, I’ll hear him out and figure it out after I gather all the information. Thank you for talking me off the ledge.”

“You’re welcome.” As soon as you hung up the phone, your friend texted Justin that he should start acting a bit more casual because you were freaking out.

The next evening, he surprised you with a bonfire movie night.

“What’s all this?”

Justin pats the spot on the outdoor couch next to him, welcoming you to take a seat. “An apology? I’m sorry I’ve been off lately. There’s been a lot on my mind and I got so lost in my head that I’ve been neglecting you but that stops today. It had nothing to do with how I feel about you at all, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Care to share with the class what was bothering you for so long?”

You cuddle into his side, a sense of comfort immediately taking over the constant state of unease that previously surrounded you. Looking up at him, he places a gentle kiss on your lips, so soft it leaves you wanting more. “It doesn’t matter now, all that I care about,” he sneaks another kiss, “is being right here with you.”

“Well in that case,” you whisper, “we should make s’mores.”

Justin laughs, kissing you on the cheek and rising to his feet, helping you up before heading into the kitchen. The tray on the counter was loaded with various snack items, Reese’s cups, pretzels and strawberries along with normal s’more ingredients. As you made your way back to the bonfire and began to dig in, a thought popped into your mind while enjoying the stillness.

“We can’t do things like this in LA. You can’t beat the scenery out there and the background noise of the traffic isn’t exactly the most romantic.”

He looks up at the sky full of stars, remembering exactly why he bought land out here in the first place. “I’ve always thought about raising our future kids here. Los Angeles is where I work but this is home, they can grow up and be normal kids here. Play outside, go fishing, experience a childhood that has lasting memories. Not sitting in traffic for hours and never seeing a real tree.”

“Our kids?”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation. “I think about Coach getting our son his first pair of khakis.”

You laugh, picturing it in your head, “and he’d probably get our daughter a custom pair of cleats to wear pregame.”

“Exactly,” he throws his head back to laugh at the image of mini versions of you and him being spoiled by his head coach. He grabs another strawberry, dipping it in the melted chocolate and feeding it to you. “How many kids do you want?”

“Let’s say it at the same time.”

He counts down from five, saying “three” at the same time you do.

Looking at each other in shock, you burst into laughter at the fact that you have identical answers despite the fact that you’d never openly spoken about it. You each knew the other wanted children but just didn’t know exactly how many. Justin felt like his heart might burst with an uncomfortable and overwhelming amount of happiness. If it wasn’t clear then, it is now.

There, in that moment, nothing seemed more perfect. He looked down at your hands, spotting the manicure you’d gotten last week before attending a wedding. Simi’s words came flooding back, you’ll know when the time is right.

And that time was right now.

“I’m gonna head inside and grab another water, do you want anything?”

“I think I’m okay. Thank you though,” you barely acknowledged the exchange, wrapped up in finding the perfect movie to watch as you scrolled through all the streaming services. Today, the most simply normal day was about to be extraordinary and his feet couldn’t carry him inside fast enough to grab the ring.

His heart was beating in his ears walking back outside. He clears his throat to get your attention and the look on his face makes you stand. “What happened?”

“I spent so long trying to create the perfect moment. But I just realized that every moment with you is perfect.”

Your voice catches in your throat and you’re forced to speak in a hushed tone. “What are you doing?”

He takes a deep breath, holding the box firmly in his hand. “I love you. You’re the one I want to build a home with, create a family with, grow old with and everything in between that this life has to offer. I’m sorry it took me so long, that I spent so much time trying to capture some picturesque scene that we’ll remember forever. You and I, right here is memorable. Being with you is all I’ve ever need, all I’ll ever need. For the rest of my life.” He opens the box and you audibly gasp, everything in your body tingling and buzzing with excitement. Everything made sense now, his nerves, the secrecy…everything. He was trying to make all of your dreams come true.

Holding your hand in one and the box in the other, he gets down on one knee. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you respond immediately, sounding out of breath while wiping a tear from your eye. “A thousand times yes, of course I’ll marry you!” Sliding the ring that fits exactly like it was tailored to your finger, he stands up and wraps his arms around you, a small tear escaping him.

Justin kisses you, a passionate deep kiss, relieved that everything had gone even better than he’d imagined, pulling you in so close that you can feel his steady heartbeat. His movements were long and slow, a slight grin against your lips as you give into belonging to each other. Lost in paradise he leaned his forehead against yours, both of your eyes still closed in awe that this actually just happened.

“Here’s to a lifetime of perfect moments and sometimes the best plan is no plan. I love you Justin, this is amazing I couldn’t ask for anything more incredible.” You pulled away, opening your eyes to look at your hand. “And this ring? You’re crazy.”

“I am crazy. Crazy about you,” he kisses you on the forehead, running his hand across your fingers. “I love you so much, fiancée.”

[cheriladycl01]

I’m part of nature right? Photograph me! - Zhou Guanyu x Photographer! Reader

Plot: You’re a nature photographer… but end up at an F1 race?

You’d worked for the national geographic since you could remember. It started with you submitting a picture you took, age 10 on your first camera for the CountryFile Calendar. Then you’re parents helped you make an account online where you posted all your ‘professional’ pictures on. And then you went to university and managed to get an internship with the national geographic where you’d worked your way up ever since.

You’d always loved nature so being able to travel all the time for your job around the world to see what it had to offer was your favourite thing.

You’d been in Japan for about a year covering Fuji and an upcoming documentary, getting loads of content while exploring the country for all it had to offer and making tons of local friends.

One of those local friends was a fellow photographer and invited to an F1 race which was where he took his pictures.

You’d agreed to come after seeing the expensive and once in a lifetime paddock tickets being flashed in front of your face before prepping your camera and everything you might need.

You didn’t know what to expect.

“Lots of car noises, lots of people, it’s hard to get the pictures especially of the drivers as they’re constantly on the move. And the cars … they’re even harder to get” the friend says as he starts to take picture of a driver in orange who’s walking away in his race suit towards the mechanics in the garage.

“Yeah I can tell it’s so different yet so similar to nature in a weird way” you grin.

Yes, there was hours that you were waiting with just the whisps of wind around you and little scurries of feet or tails going through the grass until there were fights between Stags on a cliff. Or a baby monkey peaking out from behind his mother. Which here, amongst all the chaos you were waiting for the one moment … the opposite yet the same.

And do you did. You waited getting the perfect shots of some of the drivers. One that took you most by surprise was Zhou Guanyu in the Neon Green and Black racing suit that matched his car.

“Who’s that?” You ask the friend who looks away from his camera lens pointed towards one of the garages.

“Mmmm he’s the Chinese driver for Sauber. Or Stake. They have a really long ass name so it’s kinda confusing but his name is Zhou Guanyu” he offers looking at where you’re concentrated on.

“I like his helmet. It has cute little animals on it!” You grin having taking a picture of the helmet held down by his leg rather than the driver himself.

Once it came to the actual race you spent lots of time trying to fix your settings to fit the car. There was so much going on that you could get and you didn’t really know where to start and what to have your lens focus on. It was incredibly overwhelming.

You got some good pictures, some even encapsulating your love on nature in them. Using the cherry blossom around the track.

You were looking around the paddock for your friend who you’d come with, camera held against your chest the neck strap holding most of the weight.

As you pause in the middle of the busy walkway to look around for anything familiar you hear a voice shout to you.

“Hey! Watch out!” The voice says, and at first you didn’t register that they were talking to you, until you were pulled to one side.

You look just where you were stood to see a driver go zooming past on a scooter. No regard for anything other than their destination.

“You’ve got to be careful it’s busy here” the same voice says and it’s the first time you look up at them.

It was the guy you’d noticed earlier except now he wasn’t in his green and black race suit. He was actually really fashionable, your fingers twitched on instinct at your camera. Whenever you saw something pretty you had to take a picture and right now he read the prettiest thing around.

“Are you okay?” He asks at your silence.

“Erm, yes sorry I - it was my fault I was looking for my friend and I think I got a little lost. It’s my first time taking pictures at a race, you see I’m usuallya photographer in nature. But I’ve been living in Japan for a while now and this friend asked me to come here to Suzuka with him as he takes pictures of the cars and … now I’m rambling and you probably don’t care” you smile awkwardly at the man in front of you who wears a grin.

“It’s okay, keep talking. I could listen to you all day, you have a pretty voice” he smirks and when you look at his whole face your brain sort of short circuits.

God he was pretty.

“I erm, well did you want to see the pictures I took! I think I got one of your car. But erm I didn’t get many because I had this spot and was taking pictures of the cars with the cherry blossom, see look at this red car, I think that’s the Ferrari right?” You ask showing him the picture of the red car surrounded by the cherry blossom you’d found. “But you’re car colours didn’t really look great with the light pink, but I got some really cool pics of you when it started to rain see!” You smile showing him the picture you’d got.

“Woah these are really cool! You said you photographed nature?” He asks cocking his head to the side.

“Oh yeah! I work for the national geographic, it’s like a ma-“ you start but he just laughs.

“I’m… familiar with the national geographic, that’s pretty impressive” he grins and you blush forgetting that you’d worked for a big international company and not a small niche side shop in Manchester anymore.

“Oh, right yeah of course you are!” You stutter awkwardly.

“You know I’m part of nature why don’t you photograph me?” He asks in a teasing tone.

“Actually, I’d love too, right now where the sun is setting it’s getting the perfect sheen across your eyes and then the backdrop of the track is super cool and with this lens it will come out super clear and… sorry” you say looking down and he just laughs.

“Go on take the picture” he prompts making you grin and take a careful step back, making sure you aren’t in the way. You snap a few pictures of him, he seems to naturally look good on camera. It was actually like the camera was secretly drawn to him.

“Maybe we could grab a coffee and you can show me round your favourite places in Japan while you show me your photos?” He asks confidently and your brain malfunctions once again, as you’re about to snap the last picture.

Was this guy asking you on a date? You couldn’t help but wonder to yourself as you watched his face ease into a smile as he patiently waited for you answer.

“YES” you blurt out before covering your mouth embarrassed by how brash you’d sounded.

“Sorry erm yes I would love too! When are you … like done up around here I’m not too familiar with … it all” you laugh looking around the paddock that’s starting to be packed away.

“I can leave now, I just have to check out with the team. Why don’t you wait for me by the paddock entrance and we can get the train to where you’re going to take me?” He asks and you nod, he gives your hand a little squeeze before running off towards the Stake hospitality.

You say goodbye to your friend who you found on your way out, who didn’t want to leave you all alone at first not believing who you were meeting but when you assured him you’d be okay he nodded and left.

You were waiting for what felt like hours until you saw Zhou come running towards you.

“Sorry that took longer than I expected. Now where were we?” He asks with a smile taking your hand.

“To the train station. We’re going to Osaka” you smile. It was one of your favourite (that was easily accessible) places in Japan.

“I’ve never been! I’m very excited” he grins as you guys walk out and towards the train station.

You guys spent the evening in Osaka, you showed him all your favourite street foods, and the first places you’d visited. You told him the story where you’d got lost and an old Japanese man tired to help you, with your broken mix of English and the Japanese you’d picked up.

He didn’t really have many stories but he was more than happy to listen to you. Chip in every now and then when he felt necessary or had something of value to say.

“Next year you can come to China, not just for the race but I think you’ll enjoy taking pictures there!” He smiles and you grin.

“That’s actually my next assignment” you admit.

“What?!” He asks in shock.

“I’m on the Asia leg right now. We normally switch out every few years so before Japan I was in Cambodia for 2 months, then Japan and then I’m moving into China” you explain.

“You know what, we might just be soulmates” he teases as he bites into the Tokoyaki you’d brought for him to try bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Yeah?” You laugh, taking a bite of your own salty deep fried goodness.

“Mmmmm yeah” he smiles.

y/user

Liked by zhouguanyu24 and others

y/user: Really different environment this weekend in 🇯🇵. Really had a great time learning what it takes to be a car photographer and it’s really not for the weak. I think I’ll stick with nature for now.

View all comments

zhouguanyu24: it was nice to meet you. I hope to see you at another race 🏁

-> y/user: it was incredible to meet you too!

fan1: who is this KYMILLMAN wannabe

-> fan2: she’s a photographer for the national geo. She went to an f1 race for leisure and obviously got some of the best pictures ever

fan3: my goat

fan4: who did you have the most fun meeting?

-> y/user: meeting Zhou was the highlight of my trip 👍🏼

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Day out in Japan 🇯🇵

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part ii: you shined a light on your home

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚

<<< part one

Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.

He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.

“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—

Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.

“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.

Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.

“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.

“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.

“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”

Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:

“What the fuck, man?”

And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.

But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.

He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.

But there isn’t.

“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.

That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.

“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.

Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.

“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Well. Fuck.

Fuck.

“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving��like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—

“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—

“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”

He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.

Until…Steve.

And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.

“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.

Bullshit.

Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.

“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—

Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.

But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.

But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—

“How the fuck do you—”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.

It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.

But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.

Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.

But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.

Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.

“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.

Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.

“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”

Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.

He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.

“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.

The kid’s fucking scared.

And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?

That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.

“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.

It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.

Say it.

“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”

And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?

(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.

It’s with his Steve, and no other.)

“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:

“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”

Okay. Rude.

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.

He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—

“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—

“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”

And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.

Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.

“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:

“He doesn’t want me around.”

He doesn’t want you—

“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:

“When we actually get to see him at all.”

“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—

“Not Steve.”

Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.

It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.

“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.

“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.

“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.

“Being invisible hurts the worst.”

Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”

“You’re together.”

Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.

“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.

Ever.

But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—

“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”

Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:

“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.

And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.

“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”

Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.

As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.

“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He feels…actually?

Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.

“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.

“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—

“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”

Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.

“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”

He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.

“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.

“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.

“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.

Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.

And then they…weren’t.

“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.

But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?

“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—

Wait.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.

He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.

More like his heart, but. Same idea.

And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.

And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…

never gonna leave you all alone again

He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.

Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…

Did he leave his Stevie alone?

No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.

Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.

Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.

But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.

And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.

“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:

“Fix it, man.”

And Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.

But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.

He’s sitting here being unwanted already.

Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.

for @kultiras🖤

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divider credit here

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

CoD girlies (gender neutral), this one is for you. (but also Sam Wilson coded. anyway)

So. My mom was flying home and she had a stopover in The Big Fucking Airport in Chicago, I don't remember the name right now. The point is, she gets Chicago Pizza for me. And cheesecake.

And on the flight home, she is sat next to a military boy (boy is her designation, not mine. She's three weeks away from seventy, this is not a helpful description)

And she starts talking to him, because that is who my mother is, she finds out that he's coming home for the holidays and then he's getting stationed and such-and-such base.

At some point, because of who she is as a person, and because she had spent nearly two months Momming and Grandmothering as hard as she could and had not yet turned it down, she asks this young man if he is hungry. Is he hungry? Does he need food? She has pizza. Would he like the pizza? Oh, no, no it's okay! Take the pizza! it's fine!

He then reveals that this is the first food he's had all day (it's like 4pm) and my mom :0 and finds more food to give him. As they deplane she gives him $20 which is the last of her American cash. This is the end of the story

My mom. is so, so close to being the meddling matchmaker the sitcoms of my youth promised me she would be, and she drops the ball EVERY. TIME.

However, the point is now I can't stop thinking about this with the CoD boys. Maybe it's not even a few weeks before Christmas, maybe it's the day of due to bad luck or whatever idk idk doesn't matter

Honestly Ghost is objectively the funniest just because he'd be about two feet taller than her and she would absolutely not be intimidated by him. At some point she would share stories from before she retired and would say something about how she "had to take down a big boy like you once" and that "I told him it was a good thing my daughters weren't in town". I'm sorry he would be so fucking endeared by this. And he'd track her down somehow to say thanks or to pay her back and then obviously he gets invited in for baked goods and falls in love with you (me)

Gaz is so effortlessly charming. He asks if he can Venmo her money, and she has no idea what that is. Paypal? She doesn't have one. Her daughter does that, she's not very tech savvy, you know? She goes off on a tangent about having to use a typewriter to write papers in college. Gaz is undeterred--could he send it to this daughter and she could pass it on? Then again, maybe this is a teenager, and him having the number of a random teenager feels weird. He's out of time, they're deplaning. She's hard to keep track of, a short woman, but he's, well, Gaz. He spots her making for a car at the curb, the driver's door opening, and presumably the daughter getting out. Gaz makes a beeline for them. After a moment of confusion, you get introduced to Gaz, who tries to explain the situation while you're being yelled at by airport security and honked at by other drivers. It's not ideal--but he gets your number. He waits maybe an hour before texting you.

Soap is the hardest. My mom struggles so much with British accents so I think she'd get about half of what he says to start with. He'd call her bonnie (cos he's a charmer like that) and she wouldn't know what it means. I think she shows him a LOT of grandkid pictures and he's fully endeared by how she knows her oldest grandchild likes linkin park and slipknot while having no clue who they are. Soap is the one who tracks her to the pickup area and books it to your car so neither of you have to lift her luggage ("your mam said you have shoulder troubles, cannae let you make it worse, aye?"). Something something your hands brush as you reach for the same piece of luggage

Price would be a little awkward until she weasels his age out of him and then she realizes: ah! baby age! boy! (man's 40 max). I think he'd be better at getting her to talk, she's absolutely whipping out her phone (complaining about how it's old and doesn't have enough memory) and showing him pictures of the grandkids and a rundown of their hobbies and trash talking my sister's in-laws just a little. I can imagine her realizing he doesn't have a ride and volunteering you to drop him off at a hotel. You pull up to the curb and are like. Who the fuck is this man towering over my mother. He winds up in the front seat because his legs are longer and he turns so he can keep talking to your mom which is pretty sweet to be honest. You drop him off and it's not til you finally get home and start hauling luggage out that you realize he's left something in your car, maybe his phone or a watch, something important. And you heave a big sigh, haul all the luggage in, hug you mom, and trudge back to the car to drive back to the hotel. Or maybe your mom tells you to return it tomorrow, it's too late and it's raining. And the next afternoon she sends you to the hotel with fresh baked goods for him. He asks you out to lunch and suddenly it's 5 hours later and your mom thinks you're dead in a ditch somewhere because you haven't answered her texts. It's because you're too busy flirting.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; "but it's weird that it happened twice". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Uh,” Superboy says, blinking his way too pretty eyes at him, and then Tucker has another sexuality crisis and also Danny’s mom yanks the door open and beams brightly at them. Tucker hears ghostly screams of undying rage coming from the kitchen, along with Fenton-ly screams of “TAKE THAT, GHOST!” So like, also situation normal, for Fentonworks. 

Except for the superhero he’s currently bear-hugging on the front step, anyway. 

“Oh, hello there, Tucker!” Mrs. Fenton greets brightly, then looks briefly surprised by Superboy’s presence. “Who’s your friend, dear?” 

“Um,” Tucker says, then rips his hands off Superboy and himself back out of the other’s personal space and nearly falls off the stoop in the process. “Hi, Mrs. Fenton! Mrs. Danny’s Mom! Uh! This is–” oh god how did he not think to think of a fake name for Superboy, he thinks desperately, then just panics and goes with the first Street Fighter character that pops into his head–“Cam! Cam Lee! Friend of mine. My friend. Who is mine. We, uh, met on the internet? Cam really likes . . . cosplay. And . . . stuff.” 

Jesus, how was the first character he thought of Cammy? Cammy! The clone of the evil dude, even! The clone who wears a leotard with a thong in literally all her most iconic designs! 

Please, please let Superboy not ask where he got the name idea. Ever. 

Mrs. Fenton’s surprised look immediately melts into one of those weird sappy ones adults get when they’re being insane and thinking grown-ass teenagers are being “cute” or whatever, and she folds her hands together and coos. Tucker has one perfect, crystal-clear moment of oh no in his head before she says, “Oh, that’s so sweet, Tucker! Jack! Say hello to Tucker, he brought his boyfriend!” 

“Boyfriend?!” Superboy sputters the exact same way he said “pretty boy”. Tucker will never know peace again, he is now intimately aware. Also, apparently Danny’s mom is taking his apparent bisexuality better than he is, which is honestly just embarrassing. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear, is this a crossplay?” Mrs. Fenton asks with a concerned little frown, then calls back to Mr. Fenton again: “I mean girlfriend, sorry!” 

“Hello, Tucker! Hello, Tucker’s girlfriend!” Mr. Fenton yells cheerfully as Tucker catches a glimpse of him tackling their struggling refrigerator through the kitchen door before they both go rolling out of view with a series of obnoxiously loud crashing sounds. “Nice to meet youuuuu!” 

Tucker absolutely, absolutely should not have picked anything with any semblance whatsoever to a gender-neutral name. Sue him, okay, his best friends are named “Danny” and “Sam”, “Dani” and “Val” are also things, and “Tucker” is in fact only slightly an improvement on any of that. Frick, even “Jazz” isn’t technically that gendered! There’s definitely at least a dude Transformer named that, if nothing else! 

“So nice to meet you, dear,” Mrs. Fenton says, beaming brightly at Superboy. “Oh, aren’t you pretty! Love the hair, you kids are so creative!” 

“I–I–” Superboy stutters, bright red and half-frozen, and Tucker will definitely, definitely never know peace again.

[sluttiebabydoll]

GOOD PUPPY

pairing; john b x pup!reader

summary; john b makes a new treat to enjoy watching you have while you’re in that puppy state of mind that he just loves putting you in 

content; forced pup play, cum eating, bondage (collar and leash), butt plug

authors note; first fic here... YAY!

you can tell when john b gets home that he’s in a bad mood. he slams the door when he enters and steps heavily through the house. you’re aware that can only mean one thing for you. 

no words are spoken, but you feel his warmth creep up behind you, and then you feel the familiar piece of leather wrap around your neck and be clipped at the back by two large, calloused hands. you fight just a little, oh you really don’t feel like being a pup right now. 

you whimper and pull just a little bit in an attempt to escape but it’s fruitless. you writhe for a second or too but suddenly john bs hands are on your shoulders, pushing you down onto your knees on the floor. it’s now that you give up. 

he unzips the back of your dress and pulls it off your body along with your panites, leaving you completely naked, the way he says a pup should always be. his hand pushes your forward and you catch yourself, ending up on all fours. 

then you feel a cold pressure in your ass, and the little buttplug with an attached fluffy tail is inserted into you. just like that, you feel your mind glazing over, a learned behaviour. it’s automatic, the moment he dresses you up as a puppy you become a puppy, you can’t help it, it always happens whether you want it to or not. 

you whine in protest as he connects you to your leash and pulls you backwards. you can still see the sandwich you were making on the counter. you’re hungry, you want your food. you whine again, pulling forward, towards the food that you want to have. 

john b chuckles, speaking for the first time in this whole interaction. “you hungry puppy?” he speaks condescendingly, still pulling you away, “wanna eat something?” he asks, tugging you back before tapping on your shoulder to command you to sit. 

you do as you’re told, still whimpering sadly with your desire to eat. john b chuckles, “I’ll feed you pup. don’t you fret.” you expect him then to go and grab your sandwich and drop it into your food bowl on the floor for you to eat with your face, but he doesn’t. instead he walks over to the freezer and pulls something else out. 

you squint to see what the item is, you get a glimpse of a little light pink silicone mat, one side has suction cups on and the other side is somewhat textured and spread over with a kind of white substance. it’s a lick mat, coated in yoghurt you assume.  

he sticks the mat to the wall and then steps back, letting you look at it apprehensively. then he speaks, “go on puppy.” he smirks, “go lick it like a good pup.” you frown, not so sure about the new thing. john b kicks you forward, back onto all fours and closer to the mat on the wall. 

you tentatively approach it, sticking your tongue out nervously and then you lick it. instead of the sweet taste of yoghurt that you were expecting. instead you’re met with a dreadfully familiar salty flavour. cum. john b’s cum specifically. smeared all over the mat for you to lick away. 

john b coaxes you, “lick it up puppy. made such a special treat, just for you.” he tells you. you know its a lie, this is for him, for him to gain pleasure from watching you lick his cum off the mat like nothing but an animal. none of this is for you. 

you lick again, and then again, and then again. you lick for minutes on end. the coldness and the texture from the mat makes your tongue feel so weird. it’s all numb and tingly. your mind goes the same way as you fully sink into that puppy headspace. 

you barely even noticed that you’ve licked the mat dry, john b has to pull your leash back, restricting you bread as you involuntarily shuffle backwards. he kneels down to you, horrid smirk plastered across his face, “good puppy. such a good girl lickin’ all that up for me.” 

you sniff, wrinkling your nose and pushing your head forward to collide with his chest. he chuckles, “gonna keep bein’ a good puppy for me tonight yeah? got plenty more treats for ya.”