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cyberclouddream · 8 months ago

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Inheritances from Mother

This can also be hidden or suppressed aspects of your mother or key maternal figure.

Aries/Mars in the 12th House

sharp intense gaze with bright eyes; high energy levels or quick metabolism; strong or angular facial features, like prominent cheekbones

impulsiveness or eagerness to take action; competitive streak, or a natural drive to "win" or come first; very direct communication style, often blunt or straightforward

prone to headaches or stress-related tension; strong cardiovascular system; quick recovery from minor injuries or illness

Talents: strong athletic ability; natural leadership skills; starting projects enthusiastically; rallying people together

Mars: hidden injuries or tendencies to ignore signs or stress or fatigue; tend to have sudden bursts of energy followed by exhaustion, benefiting from alone time, repressed anger or competitive spirit

Taurus/Venus in the 12th House

sturdy or well-defined build with natural strength; smooth, often attractive skin; love for physical comforts, like blankets, plush toys, or scented candles

stubbornness and persistence in achieving goals; appreciation for luxury, beauty or sensory pleasure; tendency to take your time, like preferring a steady, relaxed pace

struggles with weight management; sensitive throat or neck, making you prone to colds or allergies; good stamina

Talents: eye for beauty and aesthetics, whether in art or design; culinary skills, particularly at making delicious meals; strong gardening or nurturing abilities

Venus: tendencies towards indulgence or escapism, particularly through food and comfort, which can lead to weight fluctuations or emotional eating

Gemini/Mercury in the 12th House

quick movements and expressive hands; youthful appearance, often look younger than their age; clear, communicative voice, often melodic/musical or chatty

curiosity or thirst for knowledge; "gift of gab", with a tendency to talk a lot, like carrying a conversation for ages without breaking a sweat; restless mind, always jumping from what idea to the next

energetic but may experience anxiety or insomnia; respiratory issues, like allergies or asthma; fast metabolism, tend to keep their weight in check without much effort

Talents: excellent communication skills, both written and verbal; quick adaptability to new situations or environments; talent for storytelling or entertaining others through humor

Mercury: mental restlessness and difficulty expressing feelings; anxiety and overthinking, benefiting from outlets for their thoughts like journaling or talking to friends

Cancer/Moon in the 12th House

round, gentle features or a soft face; sensitive stomach or digestive system; drawn to nostalgic objects, like family heirlooms or photos

deep emotional intuition and empathy; protective instincts, especially toward family or loved ones; moodiness, emotions shift easily

sensitive digestive system, affected by stress or emotions; tendency to hold onto water weight, making hydration important; strong immune system but may feel physically off when emotionally drained

Talents: great at understanding emotions; good intuitive abilities; nurturing skills, whether in caregiving or teaching; strong artistic talents, especially in visual arts or music

Moon: strong connection to your subconscious; strong emotional sensitivity; fluctuating moods or struggles with boundaries

Leo/Sun in the 12th House

thick, voluminous hair that draws attention; strong, upright posture with natural confidence; eye-catching personal style, with a tendency towards bold colors or statement pieces

need for recognition or acknowledgement; big-hearted and generous nature, often giving freely to those they care about; natural leadership qualities, with a tendency to step into authority or inspire others

tend to recover quickly from ailments; prone to heart-related issues, if they don’t manage stress well; high energy levels, benefiting from activities like dancing or sports

Talents: charismatic or performance skills, whether in acting or music; creative talents, particularly in theater or visual arts; strong leadership abilities that motivate and uplift others

Sun: struggles with self-identity and recognition, leading to feelings of insecurity; may experience burnout from needing constant validation, which impacts their mental health and energy levels

Virgo/Mercury in the 12th House

clear, glowing skin due to focus on health and cleanliness; precise, meticulous hand movements or gestures (type to fold a fitted sheet perfectly); good physical health, with a focus on taking care of themselves

always noticing small things or obsessed with details in some way (may ask questions often); analytical thinkers, love to solve problems and make sense of things; super organized, their space tends to be tidy and efficient

health conscious, often focusing on nutrition and wellness; prone to digestive issues due to stress levels or perfectionism; good overall health but may struggle with anxiety or overthinking

Talents: exceptional organizational skills and attention to detail; analytical abilities, particularly in problem-solving or research; talents in health and wellness, whether through fitness or nutrition

Mercury: perfectionism or overcritical thoughts, potentially resulting in anxiety or health issues; difficulty in recognizing own needs

Libra/Venus in the 12th House

symmetrical facial features or well-balanced appearance; graceful movements, often with a sense of poise; knack for fashion, good at stylish or coordinated outfits

diplomatic nature, tends to see all sides; people-pleasing tendencies; love for aesthetics, beauty, and creating balance

prone to stress-related issues, especially when dealing with conflict; strong skin and overall health but may need to watch their weight; social activities often promote your overall wellbeing

Talents: diplomatic skills and ability to meditate conflicts; aesthetic talents, particularly in design or fashion; creative writing skills, especially in poetry or romantic themes

Venus: people-pleasing behaviors that mask your own needs; tendencies to be stressed or anxious in relationships (romantic, platonic, domestic)

Scorpio/Mars/Pluto in the 12th House

intense, piercing eyes that seem to “see through” people; strong physical endurance or resilience; drawn to dark or mysterious objects, like amulets or crystals

super passionate, going all in on what they love; inquisitive nature, having a knack for uncovering hidden truths; natural air of mystery, keeping people guessing

strong stamina and resilience; prone to emotional stress, which can manifest as physical symptoms; strong immune system, tends to recover well from illness

Talents: ability to understand complex emotional dynamics; talents in investigation, whether in research or detective work; creative expression through deep, impactful storytelling or art

Pluto: struggles with deep-seated fears or hidden emotions, which can manifest as intense psychological experiences

Sagittarius/Jupiter in the 12th House

long legs or a tendency towards an athletic build; strong, healthy liver and digestive system; fondness for travel gear or souvenirs from different places

adventurous spirit, always seeking new experiences; optimistic outlook, with a natural sense of humor; restlessness, always seeking freedom or something new

often need regular physical activity to feel their best; prone to accidents or injuries from their adventurous spirit; good digestion but needs to monitor caffeine intake

Talents: natural teaching abilities, especially in philosophical or cultural subjects; gifted storytelling or public speaking skills that inspire others; athletic talents, particularly in outdoor sports or activities

Jupiter: tendency to seek escapism through travel or adventure; struggles with excessive optimism, leading to disappointment when reality doesn’t match their expectations

Capricorn/Saturn in the 12th House

strong bone structure, often with prominent features; natural resilient, especially to illness; inclination towards classic or timeless objects, like leather wallets or old watches

strong sense of responsibility and duty; practicality and grounded approach to life; discipline and perseverance, often willing to work hard

strong bones; prone to stress-related issues, especially from work; tend to have good long-term health habits, benefiting from routine and discipline

Talents: strong work ethic and determination to achieve goals; natural leadership skills, especially in structured environments; talents in business or finance; particularly in strategic planning

Saturn: feelings of isolation or self-doubt, often related to stress-related health issues; challenges with letting go of control

Aquarius/Saturn/Uranus in the 12th House

unique facial features or unconventional beauty; slim or wiry build, with a tendency towards quick movements; love for tech or quirky objects that showcase their individuality

independent spirit, needing their freedom and space to be themselves; unconventional thinking, often challenging norms; friendly yet somewhat detached in social situations, hard to read sometimes

generally good health, but may experience sudden illnesses due to their busy lifestyle; prone to circulatory issues or cold extremities due to their “unique” physiology

Talents: innovative think and problem-solving abilities; talents in technology, science, or humanitarian efforts; creative expression through unique art forms or performances

Uranus: unconventional thought patterns and a sense of detachment; struggles with feeling misunderstood, which can affect emotional health and relationships

Pisces/Jupiter/Neptune in the 12th House

dreamy, often soft or gentle eyes; sensitive feet or appreciation for comfortable shoes (like therapeutic socks or shoes); drawn to water-related objects or environments, like the beach, rivers, or fountains

highly intuitive and in tune with emotions; imaginative, with a natural artistic or creative flair; empathetic and compassionate, often feeling others’ emotions deeply

sensitive immune system, often catch colds or infections more easily; prone to stress-related issues, especially if they don’t take care of their mental health; tend to escape through food or habits that aren’t always the healthiest

Talents: creative abilities in music, art, or writing that resonates with others; strong intuition and empathetic skills; tend to be good listeners; talents in healing or counseling, particularly in spiritual or holistic practices

Neptune: deep connection to collective unconscious, leading to heightened sensitivity and empathy; struggles with escapism; need to be mindful of their emotional boundaries

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unboundprompts · 6 months ago

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Hii!! I came across your blog and immediately followed since I thought I might needed some help with my fanfics, and if there's one thing I'm bad at is describing fight scenes with like guns or magic, I've been struggling to write it and did some practices and didn't like how they came out, I'm hoping if you can do some fighting prompts, I hope this isn't too much!!

How to Write Fight Scenes

-> check out @howtofightwrite , they are an excellent resource for writing realistic fight scenes.

Set the Stakes Early

Why are they fighting? Establish the stakes of the fight clearly before it begins. If the reader understands what’s at risk, they’ll feel more invested. Stakes could be personal (revenge, survival), emotional (protecting a loved one), or strategic (achieving a mission).

Use the Environment

Incorporate the setting to add depth and realism. Are they fighting in a cramped alley, an open field, or a crowded city street? Describe how the environment affects movement, line of sight, or weapon use.

Vary Sentence Length for Pacing

Short sentences create tension and speed, while longer sentences allow for brief moments of reflection or description.

Incorporate Sensory Details

Highlight the senses beyond sight to ground the reader in the fight. Describe the smell of sweat, the metallic taste of blood, the weight of a sword, or the deafening roar of a gun.

Example: “Her ears rang as the blast reverberated around the alley. Smoke filled her nose, thick and choking, but she ignored it, tightening her grip on her weapon.”

Focus on Key Moments, Not Every Movement

Avoid blow-by-blow descriptions. Instead, highlight critical moves, reactions, and turning points to keep the scene flowing and avoid overwhelming the reader.

Show Physical Strain and Fatigue

Fights take a toll, especially over time. Show characters struggling to keep up, panting, sweating, or even stumbling as exhaustion sets in.

Example: “Her arms ached, each swing feeling heavier than the last. Her breathing came fast, ragged, but she couldn’t stop now.”

Capture Emotions and Mindset

Mix action with glimpses of your characters’ thoughts and emotions. This adds depth and reminds readers why the fight matters.

Describe Injuries Believably

Injuries impact the pace and intensity of a fight. Showing injuries realistically adds tension and makes victories feel hard-won.

Example: “She hissed as pain flared in her side where his blade had grazed her. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to stand, one hand pressed to the wound.”

Build Up to a Climax

As the fight progresses, increase the stakes and bring tension to a peak. This could be a devastating blow, a risky last-minute decision, or a surprising twist.

Example: “He was backed against the wall, nowhere left to run. She raised her hand, a final spell crackling in her palm, the light casting a fierce glow in her eyes.”

Conclude with a Realistic Aftermath

Show the immediate aftermath of the fight: physical exhaustion, injuries, and the character’s emotional response. If they won, are they triumphant, relieved, or traumatized? If they lost, what happens next?

Fight Scene Prompts (with Magic)

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

As they crept down the dim hallway, the flash of gunfire exploded from behind, forcing them to dive to the ground, bullets ricocheting off the walls around them. She barely had time to pull her weapon, pressing her back to the wall as footsteps drew closer. With a steadying breath, she waited for the right moment, then spun, firing off two rounds that hit their marks with surgical precision. The hall fell silent, the smell of gunpowder hanging in the air.

Electricity crackled around his hands as he stalked toward his opponent, energy building in his fingertips. She mirrored his stance, blue flames licking up her wrists as her gaze narrowed. He made the first move, sending a bolt of lightning in her direction, but she countered with a quick flick of her wrist, sending the flames forward like a living shield. Sparks flew as their magic collided, the force of it rattling the metal beams around them.

He ducked behind the dumpster as gunfire erupted, bullets pinging off the conjured barrier that surrounded him. He gritted his teeth, feeling the strain as his shield flickered with each impact. His opponent advanced, shouting taunts over the noise, but he focused, raising one hand to push the barrier outwards, turning it from defense to offense. With a growl, he flung the shield forward like a battering ram, the force slamming his opponent back against the alley wall.

They ascended into the night sky, wind whipping around them as spells flew between them like streaks of fire. He could barely keep up, dodging her relentless attacks as the city lights twinkled below. Finally, he unleashed a burst of energy from his hands, the force spiraling outward in a shockwave. She managed to deflect it just in time, retaliating with a beam of light that sliced through the night like a comet, forcing him into a desperate mid-air roll to avoid it.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #dialogue prompt #story prompt #prompt list #ask box prompts #how to write #how to write a fight scene #fighting prompts #fight scene prompts #fight scene #writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #writing reference

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spencersmopbucket · 17 days ago

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Polar Opposites | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: When you joined the team, it was very evident to the others that you and Spencer may not get along the best. You were water and he was oil — but when working on a team, the repelling can be dangerous. Themes & Warnings: Ummm violence, hurt/comfort with Reid!, enemies to lovers

You were raised in New York. Alone. No siblings or mother.

Learning independence was quick for you. By the time you were eight, you were walking yourself to school, a keychain with the apartment key and a bottle of pepper spray dangling from it. You were tough, bull-headed, but not completely absent of warmth.

Your father was a good man. A strong one. He was on the NYPD, a conductor of justice, yet a fair one. You idolized him, even when he came home with blood on his knuckles and exhaustion in his bones. You learned early that justice wasn't always clean, and rarely kind.

You quickly learned from him.

When you were old enough, he put you into self defense classes. It wasn't much of a surprise to him that you immediately excelled.

He watched proudly as you took down grown men twice your size in the ring, never once hesitating. “You fight like your mother,” he told you once. You didn’t remember her, not really, but something about the way he said it made your chest swell.

You lived by his rules. Protect others. Never back down. Trust your gut, even when it got you in trouble.

By the time you were a teenager, you were patrolling with a police scanner on in the background of your homework, studying both algebra and 10-codes. While other girls wore lip gloss and whispered about boys, you were memorizing the NY penal code and learning how to hold a Glock.

As soon as you could, you joined your father on the force. Not quite where he was. He was pretty far up. But you made him proud, which is all you wanted.

Every commendation, every collar, every time you kept your cool when things went sideways — he’d clap a firm hand on your shoulder and say, “That’s my girl.” And that was enough. It had always been enough.

Until it wasn’t.

The night he didn’t come home changed everything.

You were the one who got the call. Not the captain. Not some rookie liaison. You. Because you were his emergency contact. Because they knew you’d want to hear it straight, from the mouth of someone who cared.

Officer down. Ambush. Three men. Two with priors, one on a vendetta. He died fighting, they said. Died protecting his partner.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t speak for almost twenty-four hours.

Instead, you scrubbed his blood out of his badge chain, boxed up his medals, and sat for hours in his worn recliner with your service pistol in your lap, staring into nothing.

The grief didn’t crush you. It carved you.

By the time you left the NYPD, you weren’t the same person. And maybe that was the point. You needed something new. Somewhere that didn’t hold his shadow in every alley, every precinct, every call sign on the radio.

The BAU wasn’t your first choice. Behavioral analysis wasn’t your strength. You didn’t have three PhDs or a mind built for chess moves and statistics. But they recruited you anyway. Hotch said your field instincts were unmatched, that you had a gut that couldn't be taught.

You were strong. Your suffering had hardened you into a diamond. But you did have a flaw. Sometimes, you rushed into things without strategy, relying on strength and impulse. You were more physically lead than others on the team, opting for the take-down rather than the talk-down.

This was what made you so different from the team's boy genius, Spencer Reid.

He wasn't the softest anymore himself. He was hardened by his abduction by Tobias Hankel, his drug addiction, his prison time, the loss of his first lover. But he didn't let it change him completely. He was still warm, like he'd been before. Still sweet. And he still did his job the same; in the same calculating, analyzing Reid way. He was more logic based than aggression based.

And that’s where you clashed.

Where you were storm and instinct, Spencer was method and measure. He needed answers before action. You needed action before the body count climbed. He quoted psychological journals; you trusted a gut that had never failed you. It was oil and water from the very beginning.

The team noticed it immediately — the sharp way you challenged his statistics, the way his mouth drew tight every time you went off-book, the way both of you refused to yield. Rossi called it "professional tension." Morgan called it "foreplay." Hotch just warned you both not to let it interfere in the field.

Of course, it did anyway.

It had been a difficult case.

A serial killer, targeting women, as was typical. It was a sensitive situation, requiring delicate action and careful steps.

The investigation went fine — smooth actually. It was easy enough to profile and find the man, but the hostage situation needed to be handled much softer.

He was holding a young woman in a cage, down below his house in a bunker. You, Reid, Prentiss, and Morgan were sent to do the confrontation.

The four of you approached the property quietly. The woods surrounding the cabin were thick and silent, the late afternoon sun bleeding orange through the trees. Reid had his tablet out, blueprints of the house and rough sketches of the underground bunker on display. You barely glanced at it.

“We can’t spook him,” Prentiss said, voice low. “If he thinks he’s cornered—”

“He might kill her,” Reid finished grimly. “He’s already escalated twice. He’s unpredictable under pressure.”

That was Spencer’s way — anticipate the worst, measure every variable. Your jaw clenched.

“Then we don’t give him time to react,” you said, cocking your weapon. “He’s not expecting a full team yet. We move fast, controlled. Get in, get her out.”

Spencer’s head shot up. “No. We stick to the protocol. We make contact, distract him, and—”

“There is no protocol for a man holding a girl in a fucking cage, Reid.”

Your voice was sharper than it needed to be, but you didn’t care. The thought of that girl locked up like an animal made your skin crawl. Every second wasted was another scar, another trauma she’d carry forever.

“Exactly. Which is why we don’t risk charging in blind,” he snapped back, stepping in front of you. “You go in there guns blazing and he could slit her throat before you even get your second step down that ladder.”

Morgan’s hand landed on your shoulder, a warning. “Both of you — not the time.”

But you weren’t done.

“Then what? We just talk to him? Offer him therapy? Hope he suddenly sees the light?”

Reid’s eyes blazed. “No. But we don’t rush in and make it worse. You want to save her? Then don’t be the reason she dies.”

It hit harder than you expected. Maybe because deep down, you knew he was right. Maybe because you hated being wrong in front of him.

The plan went Spencer’s way. At first.

You reached them. The man was sweaty, eyes wild. The girl moaned quietly in front of him, wrestling around in the heavy chains she was bound by.

Reid and Prentiss attempted a talk-down.

The unsub paced behind the girl like a panicked animal, holding a long hunting knife inches from her throat. His eyes flicked between Prentiss and Reid, twitchy and erratic, the delusion already thick in the air.

“I didn’t hurt her!” he barked. “I fed her, didn’t I?! She’s mine now — I chose her!”

You could practically feel the tension radiating off Spencer. He stood just a step in front of Prentiss, hands raised, calm as ever — but you knew him well enough to see the strain in his jaw, the slight tremble in his fingers.

“You’re not in trouble,” Spencer said gently, voice even. “You’ve been through a lot. No one wants to hurt you, we just want to help her. Let her go. We can talk, just you and me.”

The unsub twitched. “She loves me,” he muttered, jabbing the blade toward the girl’s collarbone. She whimpered again, and your own hand inched toward your holster.

“Reid,” you said quietly. A warning.

But he held up one hand. Not yet.

“You’re right,” he said to the unsub. “You did choose her. You saw something in her. That’s important. That means you care about her, right?”

The man’s breathing hitched — confused. Hopeful.

Then it happened.

She whimpered again — too loud. Too broken. Something in her tone must have snapped the illusion in his head. Because suddenly he screamed, pulled her tighter, and raised the knife.

You moved before anyone else could.

Gun drawn, aim steady, you crossed the space in two steps and tackled him. Your shoulder collided with his ribs, knocking him clean off the girl. You wrestled the knife from his hand and had him on the ground in seconds, arm wrenched behind his back.

You barely heard the girl sobbing as Prentiss rushed to her side. Barely heard Morgan’s footsteps pounding down the stairs. All you could hear was the pounding of your own pulse.

“God damn it,” Reid muttered from behind you. Not angry. Not even frustrated.

Worried.

The rest was a blur.

Back at the precinct, the girl had been taken to the hospital. The unsub was in custody. Everyone was safe.

But Spencer didn’t say a word to you until you were alone.

The motel hallway was dim and quiet, carpet patterned with decades of wear. You turned when you heard his door click shut behind him.

“You weren’t supposed to go in,” he said. Quiet. Low.

You crossed your arms. “And if I hadn’t, she might be dead.”

“She might be,” he agreed. “Or you might be. We all might've been. You can’t keep putting yourself in the line like that without thinking. You don’t get to be the only one who carries the risk. Not to mention what risk it puts on the other teammates.”

You blinked. Something about the way he said it — like you'd selfishly put everyone in danger.

Your eyes narrowed.

"How come you're always shitting on my busts, Reid? You ever think that one of these times, you might wait too long and get someone killed?"

He swallowed, his face tightening.

"Don't turn this around on me. You continuously stray from protocol like you're above the rest of us. If you just followed directions, I wouldn't have to complain."

You felt the flare of heat in your chest — insult, frustration, maybe even guilt. But underneath all of it, something deeper: hurt.

"Above the rest of you?" you repeated, voice low. Dangerous. "Is that really what you think of me?"

Reid held your stare, but there was a flicker of regret in his eyes now. He hadn’t meant to cut that deep. Or maybe he had. Maybe it had built up between you for so long, he hadn’t realized the blade was that sharp.

“I think you act like you don’t need us,” he said. “Like you don’t trust anyone but yourself. And in this job, that’s not just frustrating, it’s fatal.”

You laughed once, dryly. “Well, maybe I don’t trust anyone else. Maybe I learned a long time ago that trust doesn’t keep you alive.”

That landed. His expression cracked. Because if there was one thing Spencer Reid understood, it was the cost of trusting the wrong people. Or worse, not trusting the right ones until it was too late.

"You need to ease up. Trusting someone besides yourself might keep you alive one day," He hissed, leaning into your face. "You act like a stubborn, impulsive fool."

You scoffed, a snide smirk curling onto your face.

"That's better than constant fear and anxiety. I'd rather be too quick than too slow, Reid," your cold voice biting into him. "You're so busy tucking back into your turtle shell that you don't realize how much time you waste being afraid."

His eyes darkened, a flicker of something fierce igniting behind the calm intellect you knew so well.

“Being cautious doesn’t mean I’m afraid,” he snapped back, voice low but sharp. “It means I’m trying to think. Something you never do until after the damage is done.”

You stepped closer, your breath mingling with his in the tight hallway. “Yeah, well maybe it’s better to act first and think later than to be paralyzed by what-ifs. At least I move.”

You stood face to face, a silent snarl shared between the two of you. Spencer took another breath to snap back, but you were interrupted.

"Guys. Enough. The jet is about to take off." Prentiss said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged her off, slinging your bag over it instead.

"It's cool. I was done being questioned about my successful take-down anyways." You muttered, walking away.

Spencer watched you go, the frustration still simmering beneath his calm exterior. His jaw clenched as he ran a hand through his hair, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him. He wanted to say more; to tell you that beneath his caution was a desperate hope you’d be safe, that he cared more than he knew how to show.

But for now, he let the silence stretch, knowing this was just one battle in a longer war between you. And maybe, just maybe, there was a way to bridge the gap, if only you’d both lower your guards.

The jet ride was tense. You didn't even look at Spencer, opting to pretend he wasn't there. He couldn't help but glance at you, the brooding look always on your face no different than usual. He sighed, returning to his book.

Back at the office, you shoved your go-bag back into your locker. The photo of your father glinted at you, stuck to the back of the door. You knew what he would've said.

You traced the edges of the photo with a tired finger, the worn image of your father — a man who’d always been your anchor in chaos — reminding you of the rules he drilled into you:

"Protect others."

"Never back down."

"Trust your gut."

"I'm so proud of you, kid."

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat, the weight of those words settling deep inside you. You’d carried his lessons like armor all these years — tough, unyielding, sometimes too sharp to wield without cutting yourself.

You stared at his image for a few more seconds, before turning away.

You jumped. Morgan, standing behind you.

"Jesus." You said, taking a deep breath. "Don't sneak up on me like that, dude."

Morgan chuckled, his usual easy grin softening the tension in the room. “Yeah, well, somebody’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

He glanced at the photo taped inside your locker. “Your old man sounds like a hell of a guy.”

You nodded, voice quieter now. “He was. Still is… in a way.”

Morgan leaned against the lockers, folding his arms. “You know, you don’t always have to carry all that weight alone. Not here. Not with us.”

You met his eyes, the sincerity there catching you off guard. For a moment, the walls you’d built felt a little less necessary.

"... Thank you."

Morgan nodded, leaning against the lockers.

"I heard you and Reid had a little spat in the hotel earlier."

You rolled your eyes, grumbling. Of course, Prentiss would've squealed.

Morgan’s grin widened, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Yeah, I heard. Something about Spencer getting a little too in your space?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “He’s got a knack for pushing buttons. Doesn’t know when to quit.”

Morgan shook his head, chuckling low. “That guy’s all brain and nerves. Sometimes he forgets there’s a person behind all that genius.”

You glanced away, feeling a mix of irritation and something softer beneath it. “I get it, but I’m not exactly easy to handle either.”

He leaned against the locker beside yours, eyes steady. “Look, I get it. You did what you had to do back there. You saved that girl.”

Your jaw tightened. “You think I don’t know that?”

Morgan shook his head. “No, I’m saying I see it. You’re a damn good agent. One of the best. But sometimes being the best means knowing when to slow down.”

You scoffed, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Slowing down gets people killed.”

Morgan didn’t flinch. “It’s not about slowing down all the time. It’s about picking your moments. You got guts, no doubt. But guts without control? That’s a problem.”

You finally met his gaze, raw and honest. “So what am I supposed to do, Morgan? Wait around for the bad guy to slit her throat? Let the clock run out?”

He studied you for a beat, then responded slowly. “No. But you gotta trust the team. Not just yourself. We got your six. We all do. Even Reid. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

You swallowed hard. The weight of his words settled in your chest. It was easier said than done. You were used to standing on your own — had been for as long as you could remember.

Morgan clapped a hand on your shoulder, solid and reassuring. “Your dad taught you to protect others, right?”

Your eyes flickered to the photo taped inside your locker, the man who was everything steady in your world.

Morgan smiled softly. “Yeah. And that means sometimes you gotta step back, watch the angles, think a few moves ahead. That’s how you protect the team and yourself.”

The tension between you seemed to ease, just a little. You weren’t used to advice that didn’t come with judgment, but this was different. It was real.

Morgan gave you a wink. “You’re a hell of a cop. Don’t forget, sometimes the smartest move is patience. Not just power.”

You nodded, the edges of your defenses softening just enough for a flicker of respect. “Thanks, Morgan. I’ll try.”

“Try?” He grinned. “No try. You’ll do it.”

You smirked back. “Yeah? You confident in me?”

“Hell yeah. Just gotta let the team catch up sometimes. And don't forget,” he said, nudging your shoulder. "We could all learn some things from you too. Even Reid, when he decides to get his head out of his ass."

You snickered, rolling your eyes and turning back to your locker, shutting it.

“Thanks for the reality check.”

“Anytime,” he said, before turning and walking away, leaving you with something you didn’t realize you needed — a little hope.

The next case came quickly. You almost weren't ready for it.

Your headphones blared into your ears as you trained in the sparring room, sweating as you bounced around a punching bag. Your gloves squeaked with every moment you made, punching into the bag with preciseness and toughness.

Your phone rang.

You yanked a glove off with your teeth and fumbled for your phone, the sweat on your fingers making it harder to swipe. The name on the screen — Hotch — made your stomach tighten. You were still riding the edge of your last conversation with Morgan, and now, here came another case.

“Yeah?” you answered, a little breathless.

Hotch’s voice was calm, clipped. “Briefing room. Twenty minutes.”

You wiped your brow with the back of your forearm. “Copy that.”

He hung up without another word.

You stood there for a beat, the bass of your music still thumping in one ear. The punching bag rocked gently beside you, evidence of your focused aggression. But the tension in your shoulders hadn’t eased. If anything, it pulled tighter.

Another case. Another town. Another family ruined. You loved this job but sometimes, it felt like it never let you breathe.

With a grunt, you unwrapped your gloves, tossing them in your gym bag. As you pulled your hoodie over your damp sports bra and headed for the showers, Morgan’s words echoed back in your head:

“Sometimes the smartest move is patience. Not just power.”

You smirked faintly to yourself, voice muttering under your breath, “Yeah, well... I hope patience works on serial killers too.”

You had no idea what you were walking into, but you knew this much: you'd face it head-on.

Just like always.

You pulled your work clothes on quickly and headed for the bullpen, tossing your hair into a ponytail.

The rest of the team was already there, relieved to see you walk in.

"Sorry. I was training." You said quietly, joining them at the table.

Hotch gave you a nod — his version of “no problem.” Reid glanced up from the file in his hands, his eyes catching yours for a moment before flicking back down. You weren’t sure what that look meant, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Victim number three was found this morning,” Hotch began, passing a photo across the table. “Female, early thirties. Same MO. Ligature marks, posed postmortem, and a red ribbon tied around the wrist.”

You leaned forward, studying the image. “Same as the others. No signs of forced entry?”

JJ shook her head. “Nothing. It’s like they let the killer in willingly.”

You crossed your arms, thoughts already sharpening like blades. “So he’s charming, disarming. Makes them feel safe… until he doesn’t.”

Morgan pointed at the map. “All victims lived alone, all in a five-mile radius. He’s hunting in a comfort zone.”

Spencer cleared his throat, hesitant but determined. “Geographical profiling supports that. He’s probably familiar with the area -- might even live or work nearby.”

You glanced at him again, this time holding the look for a second longer. “Then we start knocking on doors.”

Prentiss gave a wry smile. “I like it when you get fired up.”

You shrugged, grabbing a file. “Better than sitting on our hands.”

Hotch raised a brow. “Let’s keep it focused. Morgan, you and (Y/N) check in with local businesses. Reid, JJ, and Prentiss, canvass the neighborhood. I’ll coordinate with local PD.”

You nodded.

"I know that PD pretty well. My dad and I worked with them for a couple of years. I'll pitch in with the communications."

Hotch gave a curt nod, clearly appreciating the initiative. “Good. Familiarity could speed things up. Just make sure they loop everything back to me.”

You gave him a short, respectful salute. “You got it, boss.”

Morgan shot you a quick grin as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “You sure you’re not trying to take Hotch’s job?”

You smirked. “Please. I’d make a terrible brooding authority figure.”

Hotch didn’t even look up from the map he was marking. “I’m standing right here.”

You and Morgan exchanged a glance, both biting back laughter.

As the team filed out, Reid hesitated at the edge of the room. He glanced at you, like he wanted to say something, but then just gave a slight nod and walked away with JJ and Prentiss.

Your eyes lingered on his back for a second before you turned and fell into step beside Morgan.

“So,” he said as you headed for the SUV, “you and local PD go way back?”

You nodded. “Yeah. My dad and I used to consult on cases when I was younger. He was training me even before I joined the Bureau. Some of those officers were practically family for a while.”

Morgan nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a thoughtful smile. “That explains a lot.”

“What does?”

“You move like someone who’s been doing this their whole life. It’s in your blood.”

You paused at the passenger door, his words landing heavier than he probably intended.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “It is.”

Morgan didn’t push. He just clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Then let’s go show ‘em how it’s done.”

You gave him a small smile. “Hell yeah.”

You slid into the seat, heart steadier than it had been in days. Maybe the next few hours would be hell. Maybe this case would crack something raw in you. But with Morgan’s support at your side and your father’s instincts still pulsing through your veins, you weren’t going in blind.

You were ready to hunt.

No sooner had you and Morgan hit the pavement than the scent of tension in the air thickened, like something dark had just passed through and left its mark. The PD station felt different now than it did when you were younger. Familiar faces looked more worn, more guarded.

“Agent (L/N),” one of the lieutenants greeted you with a surprised smile. “Heard you were coming in. Damn, you look more and more like your old man every time I see you.”

You gave him a short nod, your voice quiet. “Thanks, Lieutenant. Wish it were under better circumstances.”

Morgan stood back slightly, letting you take the lead. He watched as you moved through the room with purpose; calm, steady, authoritative in your own way. You weren’t trying to be your father, but his legacy lingered around you like armor.

“We’ve already pulled security cam footage from nearby businesses,” the lieutenant explained. “We can have it queued up for you in five.”

“Perfect. Let’s get started.”

Morgan leaned over to you as they set things up in the back room. “You’ve got them listening to you like you’re already in charge.”

You gave a tired shrug. “My dad never tolerated anyone doing half a job. I guess that stuck.”

He studied your face for a moment — sharp, focused, a little worn around the eyes. Then he said, “You know, you don’t always have to be the one holding it all together.”

You glanced at him, surprised.

“You said that already,” you reminded him.

He shrugged. “You didn’t listen the first time.”

You laughed under your breath, but your eyes softened. “I’m listening now.”

Before either of you could say more, an officer called you over. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

The footage was grainy but clear enough: a figure pacing outside a bakery at midnight. Twitchy. Darting glances. Then dragging something — someone — down an alley.

Morgan muttered under his breath. “Looks like our guy.”

Your expression shifted instantly. Calm became alert. You pointed to the timestamp. “That’s two hours before the last body was found. He was still escalating.”

The lieutenant nodded grimly. “He’s getting bolder.”

Morgan stepped beside you, already scanning the angle, escape routes, signage. “What do you want to do?”

You took a breath, already forming a plan.

“We start there,” you said, pointing to the alley. “We follow the trail. And this time, we end it before he escalates again.”

Morgan gave a sharp nod. “Now that’s the kind of leadership I can get behind.”

You smirked faintly. “Don’t get used to it.”

He grinned back. “Too late.”

You quickly phoned the rest of the team, getting them in on it. It was decided.

You'd be bait — the youngest on the team. The prettiest, Prentiss had claimed. But it would take something you weren't exactly versed in.

Patience. Calculation. Thought before decision.

You, of course, had too look like less than an agent. That night, you had to get prepared, dressing down from your usual slacks and dress shirt and opting for a more.. casual.. look.

Garcia, JJ, and Prentiss just couldn't wait to get their hands on you. It was a once in a life time opportunity.

You barely made it into the hotel room before the ambush.

“There she is!” Prentiss announced, arms crossed with a smug grin. JJ was already holding up two hangers, each with an outfit. Garcia was seated cross-legged on the bed with a massive makeup bag splayed open in front of her like a battlefield.

You blinked. “Did you guys.. Were you waiting for me?”

JJ smirked. “Garcia brought supplies.”

Garcia didn’t even look up. “Sweet cheeks, I have been dreaming of this day since you joined the team. And now… finally…” She lifted a compact like a weapon forged in heaven. “The day has come.”

“This isn’t a makeover montage,” you muttered.

“Oh, but it is,” Prentiss said, grabbing your wrist and tugging you into the middle of the room. “You’re going undercover as vulnerable, off-duty eye candy. We’re making sure you sell it.”

“Guys,” you sighed. “This isn’t Clueless. I’m bait for a serial killer, not a Tinder date.”

“Exactly,” JJ said, tossing a pair of stockings onto the bed. “So you need to look like someone who doesn’t know she’s being watched. Not like someone who could break someone’s nose with two fingers.”

The scene was a bar. Wasting some time inside of it, sipping on a few prop drinks all alone, before stumbling out into the alley where he'd most likely take his chances on you.

You had to look the part. The mysterious, lonely temptress who would go quietly if grabbed.

You were forced into a short, red dress, one that hugged your curves and showed off the length of your smooth legs. Your hair was curled, natural makeup on your already pretty face.

You were gorgeous. Not that you weren't usually. But this was much different than your slick-back ponytail and business only outfit, a gun hanging from your holster.

Garcia let out a dramatic gasp when you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Oh. My. God.” she breathed, eyes widening. “You’re not just bait, you're irresistible temptation. Marry me.”

Prentiss gave a low whistle. “Remind me to never stand next to you in public again.”

JJ smirked. “He won’t stand a chance. Poor bastard.”

You tugged at the hem of the red dress, fidgeting. It was shorter than anything you usually wore. Hell, it was shorter than anything Garcia usually wore. “I feel like a walking target.”

“That’s the point,” Prentiss said, coming up behind you to fix a loose curl. “But don’t forget. You’re still the most dangerous one in the room.”

Garcia handed you a tiny clutch with your wire and phone inside. “And just in case he gets any ideas before the alley, Reid and Morgan will be watching from the bar. Hotch and I are set up in the surveillance van. You’re never alone.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror again. It was surreal, like staring at a version of yourself that only existed in smoke and mirrors. A version soft enough to lure in a killer. A version smart enough to trap him.

You took a breath. Deep. Steady.

“I can do this,” you muttered.

“You will do this,” JJ corrected firmly, her voice resolute. “And when you bring this guy down, I want my red dress back.”

You laughed softly, the nerves settling into something colder, more useful. “You got it.”

As the three women saw you off, Prentiss stopped you with a hand on your arm. “Hey. You’re more than bait. You’re the one drawing him out. That makes you the one in control.”

You stepped outside, meeting Morgan and Reid at the undercover vehicle, a sleek black SUV. They stood talking by the passenger's door, only noticing you approaching when you got close.

Morgan was the first to look up; and his reaction was immediate.

His brows rose, a low whistle slipping out as he took in your appearance. “Damn. Remind me what we’re trying to catch again? Because I think you just stunned me.”

Reid, less composed, blinked rapidly. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Y-You, uh, wow. You look…” His brain clearly short-circuited.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Careful, boys. I’m armed.”

Morgan laughed, clapping Reid on the back as if to snap him out of his stupor. “You good, pretty boy? Need a second to reboot?”

Reid cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets and very intentionally looking at the SUV instead of you. “I’m fine. Let's move out.”

Without another word, Reid hopped into the car, leaving you and Derek in silence. You rolled your eyes as Derek opened the door to let you get in.

Morgan held the door open with a crooked grin. “You know, I’ve seen you break a man’s nose with the butt of your Glock… but somehow, this might be the most dangerous I’ve ever seen you.”

You scoffed, climbing into the SUV. “Save it for Garcia.”

In a few short minutes, you were at your destination. You got out, securing the wire into a hidden place as Reid and Morgan looked around. You tossed your curls behind your shoulder and cleared your throat.

"Alright. In the bar for fifteen minutes, twenty at most. If he approaches you, play coy. If he doesn't, we still have a chance to lure him in the back alley," Morgan explained, securing his own wire and tucking his gun. "We're more likely to see him out there. He's struck in that area quite a few times."

You nodded.

"Don't be afraid. We'll be right there with you, just at a distance. If you're ever too uncomfortable to stand it, call for us."

You made a gesture of agreement to Morgan before finally glancing at Reid, who cleared his throat.

"Just.. Don't jump the gun." He said. He somewhat failed to keep the entitlement in his voice. You wondered what was plaguing him, but nonetheless, you ignored it, rolling your eyes.

"I got it, Reid. Don't worry. Your teachings will be on my psyche the whole time."

Reid’s jaw ticked slightly, clearly unsatisfied with your response but unwilling to push further — at least not in front of Morgan.

Morgan, on the other hand, was watching the two of you like he was sitting court-side. “Alright, kids,” he said, breaking the tension with a raised brow. “Let’s not make this a pissing contest. We’ve got a predator to catch, not egos to babysit.”

You smirked, giving Morgan a thumbs up as you reached for the bar door. But before you could step out, Reid finally spoke again, softer this time, less sharp.

“Just… be careful. Please.”

You paused, turning slightly to look at him. There it was. Underneath all the attitude and irritation — the worry. The fear. The unspoken something that had been simmering between you both since that stupid hotel argument.

You gave a nod. “I will.”

And then you stepped out, heels clicking against the pavement, shoulders square, mask slipping into place.

You weren’t the agent now. You were the bait.

For a while, it was dead.

You sat at the bar, sipping on a "vodka soda," looking around. You tried your best to keep your emotions off from your face, opting for a more bored look. Your legs were crossed. People filtered in, people filtered out. The music changed. Drinks were poured, people surrounded you. A few approached, but not the one you needed.

You checked the time subtly, tilting your wrist just enough to catch the glint of the watch Garcia had modified for comms. Seventeen minutes. A little longer than planned, but not enough to call it yet. You could feel their eyes on you, Morgan’s and Reid’s from their respective vantage points, watching every shift of your posture like hawks.

The bartop was sticky, the lighting dim, casting sultry shadows that you knew looked calculated from afar. You took another slow sip, letting your eyes drift across the room again. A man at the end of the bar caught your gaze, held it for a beat too long.

But he turned away. Not him.

Your fingers tapped lightly against your glass, nails clicking in a slow rhythm.

Patience. Not just power.

You breathed out through your nose, subtle and quiet. You could play this game.

Just when your boredom began to feel a little too real, movement in your periphery made your eyes flick. A man near the jukebox — tall, late 30s, scruffy beard, not quite drunk but deliberately slow in his movements. Alone. Observing. Not playing music.

He looked at you.

You tilted your head slightly, uncrossing and recrossing your legs. Deliberate. Casual. Vulnerable.

He didn’t move.

But now you knew.

That was him.

And he was watching.

You cleared your throat, turning away and looking disinterested, until you felt his presence get closer and closer. Then, he was right beside you.

"Out here all alone?"

You didn’t look at him right away. You let the question hang for a beat, took a slow sip of your drink, kept your eyes ahead like someone unsure whether to entertain the voice or pretend they hadn’t heard it.

Then you turned, just a little. Just enough for your lashes to lift slowly, eyes finding his. Soft. Unassuming.

You gave a half-smile. “Depends who’s asking.”

He chuckled lowly, like he’d practiced it. Like he wanted it to sound charming but didn’t quite have the tone right. “Just someone who hates to see a pretty girl looking so bored.”

You glanced around the room lazily, then back at him. “Well. Not exactly a thrilling place to be alone.”

His eyes scanned you too thoroughly. It made your skin crawl, but you didn’t flinch.

He leaned on the bar beside you. “Maybe I could change that.”

You shifted, letting your knee graze his thigh — accidentally, on purpose. “Maybe you could.”

From the comms in your ear, you could barely catch Morgan’s low voice: “He’s on her. Stay ready.”

You gave the stranger one last smile before looking down into your glass. “Buy me a refill?”

He motioned to the bartender. “Vodka soda, right?”

You nodded. “Good memory.”

He grinned, and that time it reached his eyes. Just a flash. Something darker.

Bingo.

Your heart kicked up. But your face never betrayed it. You leaned in, just slightly, pretending to laugh at something he hadn’t said.

You held a conversation easily, as if you'd been doing this forever. You barely nursed your drink, immersing yourself into fooling him more than anything else. You crossed your fingers.

And soon, it came. The question you needed.

"You wanna get out of here?" He asked gruffly, a hand coming up to stroke your exposed collar bone. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to snap his arm, slam him to the floor and cuff him immediately.

But you thought about what Spencer had said.

Contemplation. Patience. The art of being cautious. It was just as useful as the fire you usually lit onto anyone you apprehended.

You took a slow breath through your nose, keeping your smile soft, a little shy. You let your eyes flick down, like you were considering it. Like you hadn’t just felt bile rise in your throat at the weight of his hand.

This was the moment. The danger curled just beneath your skin, thrumming like a second pulse.

“Yeah,” you said, voice a little breathier, like nerves. “I could use some air.”

He smiled — victory, hunger, maybe both — and slid off his stool, his hand brushing down your arm as if he had the right.

Morgan’s voice was calm but firm in your earpiece. “She’s moving. Everyone hold position. Reid, keep visual.”

You followed him toward the door, a little slower than necessary, stumbling just enough to play into it. “Sorry,” you muttered with a nervous laugh. “Maybe I had one too many.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, holding the door open. “I’ll take care of you.”

The night hit you like a slap of reality — cold, quiet, real. Your heels clicked against pavement as he guided you down the sidewalk, toward the alley behind the bar.

Your breath hitched. Not from fear. From instinct. The part of you that was still an agent. Still ready to fight, to break him, to stop this before he could touch another woman.

But you stayed in character. You stayed the part.

“Reid,” Morgan’s voice came again. “Do you have eyes?”

There was a long beat before Spencer replied, voice low, strained. “Yes. He’s guiding her down the alley. Don’t move yet.”

You felt it in his voice. You'd felt it since your argument. The tension. The fear. The anticipation. There was something different about the way Reid talked to you, talked about you, ever since your moment in the hotel.

You turned to the man, letting yourself wobble just enough, brushing against him like you needed balance. His hand found your waist too easily.

“You okay?” he asked.

You gave him a soft laugh. “Yeah. Just… a little dizzy.”

“Don’t worry.” His grip tightened. “I’ve got you.”

And then, just like that, he started to lead you into the dark.

Any second now.

Then, moments later, his grip on you became stronger. More direct. Less friendly.

"What are you—"

Without another word, you were slammed up against the brick, his dirty hands all over you. Frantically searching for something. Pain echoed through your body as he continued ruffling your clothes, pulling at your hair.

You frowned, struggling.

"Please, don't—"

"Shut up, bitch! I know you're a cop." He snapped, jerking you slightly.

Your jaw dropped. You felt as though you had cold water thrown over you, dripping down your spine into your heels.

"But I'm not." You attempted meekly.

Cautious. Don't fight yet. Contemplate your choices.

He snickered snidely.

"Officer L/n. I know your father, sweetheart. Or knew him," He said, his clammy breath fanning into your face. "He got my friends put away for life. And then there you were, following right in his footsteps."

He dragged you away from the brick wall, grabbing you by your face. A knife glinted in his other hand.

The cold edge of the blade caught the faint glow of the alley light, flickering like a warning. Your breath caught in your throat. Your hands were still raised — not in surrender, but in precision. Timing.

"Where's the fuckin' wire? Tell me or I'm slitting your throat and dropping you right here."

You swallowed hard, keeping your voice steady despite the pounding in your chest. “I don’t have a wire on me.”

His eyes flashed with suspicion, narrowing dangerously. “Bullshit.”

"Please.." You muttered.

Wait. Wait. Wait.

"Where. Is. The. Wire?!" He snapped, pressing the knife into you.

You froze for a heartbeat as the knife pressed sharper against your skin, a searing line of cold fire that threatened to break through your calm. Your breath hitched but you forced it back down, steady and slow, every nerve screaming for you to act.

“Wait,” you whispered, eyes locking with his — steady, unflinching. “You want the wire? I'll give it to you. I'm begging you not to do this.”

His grip tightened, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, just a flash. Then, the knife pressed harder, enough to nick you, enough to cause a drop of blood to drizzle down. You hissed, tears collecting in your eyes.

Before the knife could press deeper, Reid sprang forward in a sudden burst of strength and precision — the kind of controlled force you usually wielded yourself.

He grabbed the man’s wrist, wrenching the knife away in one smooth motion. The blade clattered to the ground.

Without hesitation, Reid twisted the man’s arm behind his back and slammed him face-first against the brick wall with a sharp grunt.

The attacker struggled, but Reid’s grip was ironclad. He never did take-downs. He never felt like it was time. He valued a talk-down, a chance for the Unsub to see the light without an altercation. But something had snapped.

Reid’s breathing was heavier, eyes sharp and fierce — something you’d never seen in him before. The usual hesitation and quiet intellect gave way to raw, unyielding force. It was like watching a different side of him come alive, the side you’d been expecting all along but had never truly witnessed until now. The others had claimed to see it since he'd come home from prison, but it had never been revealed to you.

He hissed quietly, “Don’t move.”

You slumped against the wall, breathing heavily with a hand clutched to your neck. Blood flowed steadily, but not at a dangerous rate. Just enough to need a med team, but not enough to be scared. You stared up at the sky, frowning.

Morgan and Hotch came after, taking the Unsub from Reid, who was pressing him harder and harder against the wall every second as if he'd personally offended him with his existence.

Hotch immediately stepped in, his voice calm but authoritative. “Easy, Reid. Let him breathe.”

Morgan was already pulling out a medical kit, kneeling beside you quickly. “You good? That cut’s nasty, we can’t patch it up on-site.”

You gave a stiff nod, biting back the sting. “I’m fine. Just… keep him away.”

Reid’s jaw clenched, but he finally loosened his grip, stepping back reluctantly as the cuffs clicked shut around the Unsub’s wrists.

Your eyes met his, a quiet understanding passing between you both— raw tension still lingering, but also something deeper. You’d both taken a page from each other’s book tonight: your strength and resolve, his patience and calculated caution.

Morgan glanced at the three of you, breaking the moment with a grin. “Alright, bait and backup — that’s how we bring down monsters."

You rolled your eyes as you pressed the gauze to the side of your neck. "All in a day's work."

Morgan hummed.

"You need a hospital. I can drive—"

"I can do it." Reid interrupted quietly, looking at you more than he was Morgan.

You cleared your throat, nodding.

Reid’s eyes softened just a fraction as he reached out, carefully taking your hand to steady you. “Let’s get you patched up properly.”

Morgan gave you both a teasing smirk, but wisely kept his distance as Reid helped you into the SUV.

The ride was silent. The quick treatment in the hospital was silent, too. You allowed them to clean and stitch you up, flinching every few moments, before your eyes met Reid's again.

There was something different. There was no irritation or arrogance in his brown eyes like what he normally directed towards you. It was only softness. Just simply watching you, like it was a normal habit of his that he could do all day. Thick with tension. Words unsaid.

You couldn't lie. It made you blush. You looked away.

The conversation didn't ensue until the ride back to the hotel.

The engine hummed low as the SUV slipped down the dark road, headlights casting long, sweeping shadows across the pavement. Reid drove slower than usual: cautious, thoughtful. His fingers gripped the wheel with a quiet intensity, knuckles pale.

You sat beside him, your body angled slightly toward the window, but your eyes drifted, again and again, to his face. To the way his jaw tensed and relaxed like he was chewing on words. Like he couldn’t hold them in much longer.

He broke the silence.

"You did perfectly." He said quietly.

Your eyes flicked to him, surprised by the softness in his tone.

“Didn’t feel perfect,” you muttered, fingers brushing the gauze at your neck. “I let him get too close.”

“That was the point,” Reid said, glancing at you before returning his gaze to the road. “You had him completely. You waited. You didn’t react too soon. That’s what saved your life.”

You gave a small, dry laugh. “I thought I’d be the one snapping his wrist and pressing his face into the wall. Guess we traded roles.”

Reid’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, something more fragile. “You’ve always been better at brute force. I just never thought I’d actually need to use it.”

You leaned back in your seat, watching him. “So what changed?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept driving, eyes steady, lips parted slightly like the words were there, just hesitant to form.

Finally, he spoke, voice barely audible. “The second I saw him touch you, I didn’t think. I didn’t weigh the risk or the outcomes. I just… moved.”

Your throat tightened. “Why?”

He inhaled slowly. “Because if something had happened to you, if I had waited even a second longer, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself. It's hard enough to accept that you were hurt at all.”

You looked down at your lap, quiet for a beat. “I didn’t think you liked me that much.”

Reid frowned, squeezing the wheel.

"Name.. I don't dislike you." He said hoarsely. "I admire you, to be truthful. You're brave. Strong. Everything I want to be and have struggled to be my whole life," his voice was just above a whisper as he stole a glance your way.

"But I worry. All the time. I worry that something will go wrong and I'll lose another person. Another member of the team. And someone that I.." He trailed off.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest.

“Someone that you…?” you echoed gently, coaxing the rest out of him.

Reid’s jaw clenched. He exhaled shakily through his nose, like the truth physically hurt to say aloud.

“Someone that I like. Someone I care about,” he said at last, voice quiet but unwavering. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t want it to. You make me insane, half the time. You drive me completely up the wall.”

You smiled faintly, despite the tension thick in the car.

“But then I watch you work. Or I hear you laugh. Or you look at me like I’m not broken, like I’m not damaged goods. And I—I can’t unfeel it.”

Silence blanketed the car once more, but this time it was full of unsaid things that didn’t need words. It buzzed with the gravity of what had finally cracked open between you.

He pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, putting the car in park. His eyes slid over to yours again.

You reached out slowly, resting your fingers gently over his. He looked down at your hand, then up into your eyes, as if trying to make sure this was real.

You gave a soft, knowing smile. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

Reid huffed a breath, almost a laugh, though his eyes were still glassy with everything he hadn’t said before tonight. “I thought you hated me.”

“I thought you were too good for me.”

His gaze flicked to your neck, then back to your eyes. “No one’s too good for you.”

"You are." You snorted. "I'm mean. Closed off. I don't listen."

Reid shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re protective,” he corrected gently. “You carry the weight for everyone else so they don’t have to. And you listen more than you think — not always to words, but to people. To their actions, their patterns. That’s why you’re good at this.”

You looked away, swallowing hard, your throat tight. “Still. You’re… kind. And soft. And patient. You make people feel safe just by being in the room. I make people flinch.”

Reid’s hand turned beneath yours, his fingers slipping between yours with quiet certainty. “I don't flinch.”

Your eyes snapped back to his, caught off guard by the quiet conviction in his voice. There was no teasing, no hesitation, no irritation in his tone — just truth. Solid and unwavering.

You stared at him for a beat, breath shallow. “No,” you whispered. “You don’t.”

Reid tilted his head slightly, his gaze dipping to your lips for just a second before returning to your eyes. “I see you. All of you. And I don’t flinch.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest like an anchor: grounding, calming, terrifying in the best way. No one had ever looked at you like this. Not with fear. Not with judgment. But with… something gentler. Something that threatened to undo every wall you’d ever built.

“You’re not scared of me,” you said quietly, like you were still trying to convince yourself.

“I’m scared for you, every time you throw yourself into harms' way,” he admitted, voice barely above a breath. “But never of you.”

There was a pause. Heavy. Electric.

And then, in the dark hush of the SUV, with the sounds of the city and the glow of the streetlights casting soft shadows across his face, you leaned in.

"Reid?"

"Call me Spencer."

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes.

"Spencer?"

His name lingered on your tongue, warm and unfamiliar in that intimate kind of way, like a secret finally spoken aloud.

He gave the faintest nod, eyes flicking down to your lips again, and this time he didn’t look away.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice rough around the edges, like he already knew what you were going to say but needed to hear it anyway.

Your breath caught, lips parting slightly. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”

He blinked. “What?”

You tilted your head, your smile barely there. “The staring. The tension. The way you act like I’m a walking risk assessment.”

Spencer’s lips tugged up, sheepish but unrepentant. “I didn’t want to cross a line.”

“You didn’t.” Your voice softened, fingers still tangled with his. “You didn’t cross anything.”

He leaned in a little closer, enough for his breath to ghost across your cheek.

“Then can I?” he whispered.

Your heart thudded once, hard, before you nodded.

“Yes. Please.”

And then, he kissed you.

Slow. Intentional. Like he’d waited a lifetime for permission.

And you, well, for once, you didn’t think. You didn’t fight.

You just let yourself feel.

You knew your father would've liked him.

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aphrodicci · 10 months ago

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ᴛʜᴇ 0° ɪɴ ᴀꜱᴛʀᴏʟᴏɢʏ - ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴅ

paid chart readings are closing this sunday 23:59 :)

involves my own research along with the help of janduz.

paid chart readings are being closed tomorrow 23:59, keep in mind on sunday there'll be a sale for everything, make sure you get a spot before someone gets yours!

+ includes venus persona chart + feminine archetype readings

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THE DEGREE IN THE SIGNS.

THE DEGREE IN THE PLANETS.

THE DEGREE IN THE HOUSES.

♇ the 0° in astrology is about countless possibilities, so much potential and opportunities. it is about everything that exists and everything in everything. boundless potential of someone. something that can be perceived as omnipotent.

♇ the 0° is a critical degree whenever it's associated with a cardinal sign [aries, cancer, libra and capricorn].

what does it mean when the 0° occurs a lot in a chart?

it means the person needs to learn the potential they have, learning when and how to start something and finishing it. being one with themselves and understanding that they're an individual and not a herd.

THE 0° IN THE SIGNS

♇ 0° in aries - a critical degree. person becomes more independent, assertive and competitive. being someone who can face trials and tribulations. social cues is important for person, can be very self-disciplined or impulsive.

♇ 0° in taurus - other-worldly beauty. great at cooking or baking, and can be very fierce and stubborn. could come off as very bratty and possessive. very stubborn people.

♇ 0° in gemini - the ultimate chatter-box. very intelligent, fast and a quick-thinker and very creative. unlimited ideas, could be a twin. believer of a superior existence. protective over siblings, likely has a good or cordial relationship with them, could have twins.

♇ 0° in cancer - a critical degree. inevitable legacy or will, making a name for yourself. could have large breast. marrying + making a family; could be very traditional and even conservative. having a child is low-key inevitable.

♇ 0° in leo - fame degree. boundless potential to become popular. very generous people and can be very talented. though there could be moments when they are selfish. brilliant hair, could have a God-complex, could be very childish.

♇ 0° in virgo - can be very critical. talented/skilled employee. knows how to research well, which could mean they could be potential stalkers. sociable and knows social etiquette, can be people who think about their physique too much.

♇ 0° in libra - can be very stylish, excellent at make-up, easily likeable, people pleasers, but can be diplomatic. the degree is critical in libra. could find themselves becoming leaders and mediators. very strong beauty, can be problem solvers or very indecisive, and sometime they could be self-righteous and judgemental.

♇ 0° in scorpio - financially and sexually driven people. very secretive, can be mass-worshiped. continuous transformation, could look different a lot. can be combative, very psychic and could be prone to getting into accidents.

♇ 0° in sagittarius - very intelligent people, can be very instigative, could love arguments and debates. others can find them really funny; having great vision of the future and can be a great envisionists, directors, designers and producers. secret family, babies out of wedlock. could become a priest, or be successful in law or mathematics.

♇ 0° in capricorn - great business people, excellent with coming up with new ideas. critical degree in capricorn. respected by those around them, very intelligent individuals, could have a successful business.

♇ 0° in aquarius - geniuses. new ideas every second. can be people with a God-complex, very independent, and have the ability to be famous, influencing others and can gain much wealth.

♇ 0° in pisces - dreamers, and intuitive, psychic and prophetic people. can be very kind and communicative or very shady. can gain success through the arts or in business. should be careful of not falling into delusional episodes.

THE 0° IN PLANETS

♱ 0° in sun - youthful soul, has a very big destiny. can be very authoritarian, or can have people like that in their lives. fame and attention could come to them very quickly.

♱ 0° in moon - very sensitive and secretive. can be naive but empathetic towards life. follows the heard, a good friend, can be very intuitive, creative, especially with music, can attract fame as well.

♱ 0° in mercury - very smart people, skilled hands, chatterbox. very funny. twins in the family, success with marketing. could get good grades easily. psychic and writers, can be combative, guides to other people and mischievous. try not to fall into the habit of stealing.

♱ 0° in venus - true lovers, figuring out style. mediators, success in beauty/fashion related things. can be naive and stubborn, or could have sisters or female relatives like that. meaningful relationships with women, marrying someone who is wealthy/famous, and can get easily irritated.

♱ 0° in mars - unmatched ambition. being people who are competitive, work hard and play hard. being those with strong relationship with men, if underdeveloped could want validation too much. anger issues, playful and dominant and bed. fame within sports.

♱ 0° in jupiter - can mean abundant person, joyful person. easier life, likely to be kind and wealthy or have a spouse who is one. can be flamboyant and anointed. easily gifted and intelligent people, funny and can be easy to talk to. fame can be reached by teaching, publishing, trading or even directing. can be too greedy.

♱ 0° in saturn - their craft and hard-work being respected, much responsibilities. ability to gain wealth, building a foundation, becoming less restrictive; confident with life-path and can be someone who is admired by others. could speak of getting your family out of poverty.

♱ 0° in uranus - ability to do anything. achieving fame online. a popular friend, geniuses and thinking out of the box. can be someone who can be a leader, a rebel, a humanitarian and could like helping communities.

♱ 0° in neptune - can have a huge God-complex, victim complex or martyr complex. could fall into religious and spiritual psychosis. can manifest things really easily, very psychic dreams as well, can become a superstar.

♱ 0° in pluto - transformative people. can be people who are easily influenced, or can become influencers. strong power, head-strong people and have the ability to make much money, excellent at sex.

♱ 0° in north node - people with this can have a huge destiny. the magician, can make anything come true. can have a strong temper and can be very vengeful, much people around them might think they're soulmates with the native.

♱ 0° in black moon lilith - can easily impact other people. very charismatic, turning people against each other; being in their head too much, sex symbol, very sexual and can be into black magic.

THE 0° IN THE HOUSES

♇ 0° in the first house - likely to be popular, have the potential to be famous. these people can have so much charm and charisma. could look different a lot, very handsome faces.

♇ 0° in the second house - money-makers. can mimic really well. excellent cooks or singers. can make a business out of anything. can have a commanding/mature voice. very pretty people.

♇ 0° in the third house - persuasive, can be funny people. can be people who can write really well, can talk a lot and can be people who can read through people, or read people in general. this can imply that someone can be a really good thief, and could know how to guide people.

♇ 0° in the fourth house - money maker, can make a name for themselves. motherly and protective over loved ones, and can be people who are leaders, great designers and beautiful children.

♇ 0° the fifth house - fame! beautiful children and can be people who are very talented. glamorous and flamboyant. this degree can mean talent can be built very easily with them. could have much lovers as well.

♇ 0° in the sixth house - very hard-working people. can easily win against competition. are naturally competitive against other people. very observant and snarky, can be organised and strict about schedule. can easily build a skill.

♇ 0° in the seventh house - easily gets into relationships, likely likeable people, could easily influence others and can be people who know how to others wrapped around their fingers. charmers and flirts, can be low-key critical.

♇ 0° in the eighth house - money-makers, adaptable people. moving in silence, and can get secrets from other people easily. can make a legacy for themselves, and can be people who find it easy to explore their sexuality. great in bed.

♇ 0° in the ninth house - intelligent people, travellers and can be people who guide others. admired, kind and funny, but can be very straight-forward. very inventive people and creative. talented in trading, could have a God-complex.

♇ 0° in the tenth house - critical degree here, only a bit as its the house and not the capricorn sign itself. can become famous, easily liked or respected by other people. having a good connection with a parental figure, or becomes a good parental figure. can be people who are ambitious, goal-oriented for their legacy and dream home, could have a member in their family who is famous.

♇ 0° in the eleventh house - can easily make friends, humanitarians, can find themselves to be a leader of a friendship group. wealthy people. a best friend. popularity online or in their community. having a big audience, they can be trendy and authentic people. another indicator of having a God-complex.

♇ 0° in the twelfth house - very psychic people. fame, humanitarians and empathetic. can be people who are clairvoyant or have a clair. can get intuitive downloads, vivid and lucid dreaming. having much secret admirers or enemies, even stalkers.

masterlist

degree theory masterlist

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starrylanex · 4 months ago

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Hate to Love, Bucky Barnes

wordcount: 4.5k; pairings: b.b x avenger!reader; ‘ko-fi’ special;

summary: You and Bucky have always hated each other, but when a mission forces you to rely on him, tensions start turning into something else.

----

You are already in a bad mood when you walk into the conference room, coffee in hand, hoping for a quick briefing so you could move on with your day. but the moment you saw Bucky Barnes leaning against the table with his arms crossed, looking just as irritated as you felt, you knew the universe had other plans.

Great. Just great.

You took a seat as far from him as possible, ignoring the way his steel blue eyes flickered towards you before looking away just as quickly. The feeling was mutual. You weren't sure what started this war between the two of you, but it had only worsened over time, every mission together ended in shouting matches, every sparring session turned into a match, and every conversation ended with clenched fists and gritted teeth.

At this point everyone knew just to avoid pairing the two of you together.

"Alright, let's get started." Steve said as he stood at the front of the room, a file in hand. "We've got an intel retrieval mission, classified HYDRA data stolen by a group of ex HYDRA agents in Berlin. It's a two person job. Stealth and efficiency are key."

You nodded along until Steve flipped the file open and slid it across the table towards you. "You two are going in."

Your head snapped up so fast that you were surprised you didn't get whiplash. "What?"

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. "No way."

Steve sighed, already anticipating the reaction. "Yes, way. You are the best infiltration duo we have."

Bucky laughed dryly. "Since when?"

"Since the rest of the team is either off world or on their own missions," Natasha chimed in, smirking like she was enjoying thus way too much. You narrowed your eyes at her, trying to tell her that she was dead. "Congrats lovebirds."

Your glare deepened. Oh, you were so going to kill her. "There has to be someone else, what about you, Nat?"

Steve crossed his arms. "No one's better suited for this and Natasha is going on another mission related to yours at the same time. You are both excellent at going unnoticed, you can handle yourselves in a fight and whether you like it or not, you work well together under pressure."

You snorted, "That's debatable."

Bucky leaned back in his chair, you not having realized that he had sat down next to you, as if trying to irritate you as much as he could and gave you a once over with an unimpressed expression. "Yeah, and some of us don't play well with the others."

Your grip tightened around your coffee cup. "Oh, I'd work just fine if my partner wasn't a brooding, stubborn, pain in the a-"

"Enough." Steve held up a hand, using his, Ooh I am so serious tone, before the argument between the two of you could escalate even more. "Like it or not, you leave in two hours. Get packed."

You exhaled sharply, jaw clenched as you stood up, snatching the file from the table. You refused to look at Bucky as you turned on your heels and stormed out, but you could feel his glare burning into back of your head.

This was going to be a disaster.

You stormed down the hallway, flipping through the mission file with more aggression than necessary, the pages crinkling under your fingers. Two days in Berlin, minimum. Shared safe house. Surveillance. Stealth. No backup unless absolutely necessary. It wasn't the mission details that made your stomach tighten, it was the him part.

Bucky Barnes. The human embodiment of a headache.

This wasn't just going to be a disaster. This was going to be torture.

continue...

#fanfic #x reader #mcu bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #marvel mcu #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader

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eternal-evergreens · 8 months ago

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｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - II " ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Attempted Non/Con, Stalking, Violence, Age Gaps, Teacher/Student, Caretaker/Ward, One Suicide Joke, Bullying,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

What…what does that mean?

Darling? Surely, they don’t mean it the way you think they mean it…

…But, if that were the case, why would it be written in red and pink? You think back on all the strange occurrences of the day and come to a horrifying realization.

Beauty: 7/6 Your beauty is beyond measure. Robin wants to be your best friend. Love: 100% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Lust: 40% Whitney wants to own you. Love: 50% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar is obsessed with you. Love: 100% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney is conflicted. Love: 77% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Love: 25% Lust: 99% You’re Leighton’s favorite. Love: 10% Lust: 85% Your fellow students desire you.

When they say “Darling,” they mean it as in the victim of a yandere.

This...this isn't DoL.

Your phone buzzes. You’ve gotten a text.

Congratulations! You’ve made a key discovery and found a fragment of the true nature of this world.

What the fuck does that mean? Wait, this thing can read your thoughts?

View fragment? Y/N

Yes. If you can go home, yes.

There are 7 total fragments. Fragments found: 2 Fragments remaining: 5 Fragment 1: Welcome to the alpha of Degrees of Lewdity! If you want to avoid trouble, dress modestly and stick to safe, well-lit areas. Nights are particularly dangerous. Dressing lewd will attract attention, both good and bad. The new school year starts tomorrow at 09:00. The bus service is the easiest way to get around town. Don’t forget your uniform and backpack!

You remember getting this message. So, that was a fragment, then? Why weren’t you notified before? Did you need to unlock something first?

Fragment 2: This is a world full of yanderes, so be careful! Balance your social stats between fascination, love, lust, jealousy, and devotion to survive. A quick guide on these crucial four states is provided below: Fascination indicates how enthralled your yandere is by the idea of you. It’s dangerous to let this get too high! Love indicates how much a yandere values the authentic you. Putting on airs will lower your yandere’s love, but may be necessary at times. Having a negative love will lead to more dangerous encounters. Lust indicates carnal desire. Higher lust can aid in negotiations if you’re willing to reward them, but if this stat goes up too much, they won’t be willing to hear you out before taking what they want. Jealousy indicates the yandere’s volatility and desire to monopolize you. Some yanderes’ jealousy will go up if you don’t spend enough time with them. Devotion indicates how far the yandere is willing to go out of their way for you. Having this stat means you can make use of your yanderes, but they may also use their devotion in less productive ways.

Seems like every fragment reveals one truth about the world, as well as some tips on how to make use of the information it provides.

Your phone buzzes.

System error. Please reboot.

You look down at your phone with curiosity. What happened? Not knowing what else to do, you restart your phone and open it again.

Your social tabs have been updated with more accurate information. View tabs? Y/N

Yes.

Social Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible Primary relationships Robin The Orphan Robin wants to be your best friend. Facination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Lust: 40% Confidence: 0% Trauma: 0% Whitney The Bully Whitney wants to own you. Facination: 50% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Dominance: 50% Lust: 100% Kylar The Loner Kylar is obsessed with you. Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 30% Jealousy: 55% Lust: 90% Sydney The Faithful ? Sydney is conflicted. Fascination: 77% Love: 0% Devotion: 20% Purity: 44% Lust: 66% Other relationships: Bailey The Caretaker Bailey doesn’t want you to leave. Fascination: 25% Love: 0% Lust: 99% Devotion: 1% Leighton The Headmaster You’re Leighton’s favorite. Fascination: 16% Love: 0% Lust: 85% Devotion: 0% Reputation The police aren’t concerned with you, and have no evidence linking you to any crime. The atmosphere in the orphanage is calm. You are considered a normal student by teachers. Your fellow students desire you. Lust: 100% Status: 50%

Before you can properly digest this new information, your phone buzzes again.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked a new quest. You have just discovered two secrets of the world, and with it, your understanding becomes clearer. ++Awareness. You feel as if you are on the verge of remembering something important. Discover all there is to know about this place, and perhaps you may be granted the opportunity to escape it. View questpage? Y/N

You might be able to go home? You quickly hit the yes button and keep reading.

Main questline >Find the remaining fragments and discover the true nature of this world. >Meet the remaining love interests. Time-sensitive >Bailey wants £100 on Sunday.

…You have to meet the remaining love interests? Doesn’t that mean getting kidnapped?! You stare at your phone dejectedly as you roll over in bed. You’ll worry about that later. For now, you just need to rest. You close your eyes, but you can’t get comfortable. Your phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time, and you lazily pull it out to check.

You’ve unlocked a new quest! Your bed is uncomfortable. All rest points are reduced by half. Nightmares are more intense. Every rest has a 5% chance of waking you up sore. Save up your funds and buy a comfortable bed! Current funds: £186 Funds needed: £2400 Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste. Current funds: £186 Funds needed: ??? Rewards: Triple current rest points, nightmares reduced Penalty: None Bonus Rewards: +Love to all LI’s, passive stress and trauma decay faster while inside.

Money again, huh? Typical. Still, the rewards are pretty good. You’ll have to do it later. For now, you should probably go to work to make it happen. You change out of your uniform and head to the office building, where you approach the kiosk and apply as a temp. It’s a somewhat risky job, but the pay is one of the best, especially once you start getting bonuses.

Your manager this time is a trim man named Marcus. He shows you around the building and you get to work. It’s not too bad, though your clothes get caught in the shredder more times than you’d like to admit, at least you didn’t fall in the koi pond.

Before you realize it, it’s 22:00. Dark once again. Dark in Doltown with a constantly maxed allure.

Fuck.

You go downstairs and are debating whether you should risk the bus or the streets when a growling pair of yellow eyes meets your gaze.

“If I get molested by a dog, I’m actually gonna kill myself,” you say to no one in particular, immediately turning to the direction of the nearest bus stop.

That’s another reason you should work at the dog pound from time to time, actually. Completing various tasks there makes the streets safer at night and beastiality encounters less frequent.

You end up having to use your sole pepper spray charge on two men from the bus, leaving you unprotected and uneasy. You open your phone and turn on the flashlight, but your eye is caught by your status. Right under the blurb telling you about your current state, is purple text reading: “Something is watching you.”

An idea strikes you. It’s bold, it’s risky, it’s—

This is stupid, you think to yourself. This is so, so stupid. You follow your flashlight to a secluded, dead-end alleyway. There’s only one way for someone to come in here. You check your phone. Something is watching you.

“Hello?” You call out. “I know you’re watching me. Come out already.” You hear a rustling near the garbage bags, then see a short figure dart out and make a run for it. You were expecting this, though, so you immediately break out into a sprint and give chase. You aren’t very fast, but your legs are longer, and you quickly catch up. “Gotcha,” you say, hand on their shoulder as you turn them to face you. “Kylar.”

“H-how did you know?”

“Forget that. Just know I’m not mad.”

“Y-you aren’t?” There’s a twinge of hope in his voice. Time to crush it.

“I’m not. Not yet, anyway.” Kylar looks confused. “I hear you’re good at chemistry. Can you make pepper spray?”

“How did you-”

“Can you?” You say, allowing your voice to take on a flirtatious lull as you lean in close. “I’d be very happy if you could.” You bat your eyelashes and Kylar gulps. He tries to nod but ends up hitting your head with his own by accident. +Pain

“Good,” you say. “I want you to make pepper spray for me. Make sure I never run out, and you can follow me to your heart's content. Deal?” You hold out your hand for him to take. Kylar considers it for a moment, then takes your hand. ++Devotion. You shake, but he doesn’t let go. Not wanting to provoke him, you leave it, and Kylar ends up walking you home. It’s silly, but you actually feel a little safer walking with him. +Love.

Together, you reach the orphanage’s entrance. Kylar looks like he wants to ask you to stay the night but quickly flushes and runs away.

Thank God.

You climb into bed. It isn’t very comfortable.

———————

It is the 6th of September, 2022. -It has been 2 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £357 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are alert Stress: You are calm Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are confident Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You walk with Robin to school but part ways after reaching the courtyard. You aren’t sure where Robin goes when you part, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter. You head to the library but are surprised to find that Sydney isn’t there. You guess he must have overslept at the temple again, which means he won’t be back until lunch.

You suddenly wish you knew where Robin went after arriving at school. It’s probably more dangerous to wander around looking for him, though. So you settle down with a textbook until it’s time for class. When you check your school progress, you’re delighted to see every subject at nearly a 50% understanding for the week already. You’re on track.

The science project is assigned. You decide to do one on lichen. The money will help a lot, and it’ll be a good chance to meet Avery for your quest, too.

Someone spills acid on you during class. It was probably supposed to hit your shirt, but because of how you can’t button it up past your chest, it ended up hitting your breast instead. You spent the rest of class in the infirmary getting lectured about lab safety. Luckily, it was hardly even a first-degree burn. It’ll heal in no time, she said.

+Pain +Willpower

You return just in time to be late for math. +Delinquency

“Detention,” River says, not bothering to look up from the whiteboard.

“But—”

“Don’t talk back to me.” ++Delinquency

You nod, though you doubt he can see it, and look for a seat. The room is full, save for one seat in the back next to Whitney. It’s covered in boxes full of heavy textbooks.

Your phone buzzes.

>Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harassment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Ask someone to move +Delinquency -Dominance >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You sigh and march over to a toned boy sitting in the front. You try to smile but end up grimacing instead. “Could I sit here?” You ask. The boy laughs. River shoots you a look. -Status +Deliquency

>Get physical ++Delinquency +Status ? >Move the boxes and sit next to Whitney +Fatigue -Dominance Increases chance of harrasment >Sit in Whitney’s lap (Promiscuity 4) +++Dominance +++Lust -Jealousy >Leave the classroom +++Delinquency

You grit your teeth and walk over to Whitney, who pats his lap mockingly. You turn away from him to pick up the boxes, and he lifts your skirt up. You don’t think anyone saw, but it was still humiliating. You quickly move the boxes and sit down, trying to focus on the lesson. You’re doing pretty well despite your low grade, but sitting next to Whitney is definitely not helping. About halfway through the lesson, he throws a note at you, and despite your better judgment, you open it.

“show us your panties slut”

>Flash (Exhibitionism 1) +Lust +Dominance >Throw away -Dominance >Correct the note and throw back (English: Very difficult) --Dominance

You try to correct the note, but find nothing wrong. You toss it in a nearby bin instead.

-Dominance

The rest of class passes, and although Whitney tries to undo your bra strap again, he reaches for the back instead of the front, leaving you protected.

You go to English next, your previous encounter with Whitney leaving you motivated to do well. You see Kylar sitting in the back. You ignore him and focus on the lesson instead. It’s boring, but you need the grade, so you muddle through it.

You try to muddle through it, anyway. The person behind you keeps kicking your seat, and then looking away every time you turn to face him.

>Tell the teacher -Status +English >Endure +Stress >Move seats +Delinquency

You quietly inform the teacher of your predicament, and she sends the boy to another seat. Some students snicker at you, but you’re able to finish the lesson in peace. -Status +English

The bell rings, and you head to lunch. Robin is eating with some others from the orphanage; they seem to be having fun. Sydney is sitting behind a large pile of books; he looks stressed. Kylar is eating alone, stabbing food with a fork; he looks bored.

>Sit with Robin +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Sydney +Love -Stress -Jealousy >Sit with Kylar +Love -Jealousy +++Pepper spray charge >Eat Lunch -Stress

You sit with Kylar, and hope no one notices. He immediately perks up upon seeing you. “I-I got you this,” he says, handing you a pepper spray canister. “Should keep the perverts away.”

You gained 20 pepper spray charges! Talk to Kylar each week to refill. >Take it but say nothing -Love >Take it and thank +Love +Devotion >Take it and kiss ++Lust ++Devotion >Take it and reward +++Lust +++Devotion

You thank him sincerely, and the two of you spend the rest of lunch together. +Love +Devotion

After eating, you buy a coffee and head to the library, walking up to Sydney. “Welcome back!” He chirps from behind the desk. He looks exhausted despite the chipper tone. You hand him the coffee.

“Don’t overwork yourself,” you say, smiling. Sydney looks surprised but quickly smiles and takes the coffee from you. You look down at the stacks of books on his desk. +Love “Anything I can help with?”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you say firmly. You feel bad just leaving him there, plus…

>Help Sydney +Love +Devotion +School -Sydney’s purity

Well, how can you turn that down? Aside from the purity loss, those are all pretty damn good.

“Well, if you don’t mind,” he says, fidgeting a little. “Could you help me stamp these books?” You nod, and Sydney lets you in behind the counter. +Love +Devotion +School

The two of you chat while you work, and it actually ends up being pretty enjoyable! -Stress -Trauma +Love

Your hands brush with Sydney's while you work. -Sydney'd purity.

“Hey, Syd! Oh, and [First], too!” Someone says, walking up to the counter. It’s Sirris, Sydney’s father and your science teacher. “How are you doing, love bug?” Sydney looks embarrassed but still answers. “Oops! I forgot I’m not supposed to call you that at school. Sorry, hon.” You get the feeling he did it on purpose, but if Sydney also thinks this, he doesn’t say anything. The two of them chat for a little bit, with Sirris mostly ignoring your presence. You feel a little awkward, but it’s cute to see the two of them getting along so well. Sirris leaves after a few minutes, waving to you both.

You smile at Sydney. “Seems like you and Dad are pretty close, huh?” He flushes.

“L-let’s get back to work,” he says. You decide not to tease him further. The two of you finish the rest of the work in silence, and the bell rings, so you get up and head to History class.

A mousy girl is sitting in your seat next to Robin. You ask her to move, but she won’t budge. You already have detention today, so you decide not to push it and sit somewhere else. Robin looks at you sadly from across the room +Jealousy

You’re called up by Winter to demonstrate the pillory in front of the class, you hesitate to step up, but, remembering Leighton’s punishments, decide to risk it. Unfortunately, luck is not on your side, and Winter is called out while you’re still locked in the pillory.

“Who thinks the lesson should continue?” Says a slight boy. He gets up from his seat and begins to saunter over, but Robin stands up, too, and blocks his path forward.

“Stop,” he says, tone even and steady.

“Oh? And what’re you going to do about it?” The slight boy asks. Robin seems to falter for a moment, and the slight boy takes advantage, pushing past him and walking up behind you. You don’t see what happens next, but one moment Robin is in front of you, and the next, he’s gone. You hear a smacking noise behind you, and then a thud as if something had just hit the ground. The class looks incredulous. Winter walks back in.

“Assaulting another student? I expected better from you, Robin,” he says.

“Wait, I can explain–”

“Detention.”

The slight boy smacks your ass on the way back to his seat.

+Trauma +Stress

You go to swimming, but your earlier run-in with acid leaves you unable to participate, so you just sit by the pool in your swimsuit until class is over. When you get back, you notice your underwear is missing. You put your clothes on over your swimsuit. It looks a little funny from the front, but it’s better than nothing.

Actually, you might start doing this more often. A swimsuit is tight and harder to get off, no one can unclasp your bra, you don’t have to change, and it’ll actually cover your boobs, even with the shirt unbuttoned. This is a great idea, you think to yourself, feeling a little proud.

You start to walk to the front courtyard when your phone reminds you of your detention. Shit. You’d forgotten. At least Robin will be there with you?

Sighing, you head back inside.

“Keep writing, and don’t stop until I tell you to,” Leighton says. You glance at Robin, who’s working diligently. You decide to work hard, too. +Fatigue

Robin asks to walk home with you, but you tell him you’re going to the park instead. He waves you off, but there’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before. +Jealousy

You go to the park and meet Avery, asking for help gathering Lichen. You tell him about your school project, and he offers to take you out for drinks. You don’t really want to get involved with him, but you’re a little afraid of refusing him.

>Go for drinks +Facination +Dominance +Love? >Refuse -Love +Lust +Rage

None of those options look good, but you remember the guide saying that negative love leads to more dangerous encounters. You take his hand, and the two of you go out. The place he picked is cute, and the employees there seem to recognize him.

“Can I recommend you a drink?” He asks. “I think I know what you’ll like.”

>Buy Avery’s recommendation +Facination +Dominance +Stress >Pick your own drink +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

You pick your own drink and the two of you find a quiet corner to sit down in. +Love -Stress -Dominance -Fascination -Endearment

Your phone buzzes.

You’re on a date with Avery! How do you want to conduct yourself? >Act cute +Facination +Endearment >Act shy +Facination -Endearment >Act aloof --Endearment ++Lust >Be natural -Facination +???

You choose to act natural, hoping he’ll lose interest in you. You don’t voice any complaints, but you don’t bother to hide your discomfort, either. You fidget, you avoid eye-contact, and you don’t listen when he speaks to you.

-Fascination --Endearment +Love

When the date is over, Avery looks annoyed. He doesn’t say anything to you as he walks you to the exit, though his hand still rests on the small of your back.

You go to the manhole next. You don’t really want to, but you want that lichen. Luckily, you encounter no problems getting it. But that says nothing about what happens after.

You’re accosted by a giant lizard. If the game hadn’t told you what it was, you would have thought it was a crocodile based on its sheer size alone. It attacks you from behind, and you struggle to get it off your back. It claws at your clothing, leaving it worse for wear, but you’re able to roll over onto your back. The lizard is pinned underneath you now, but you still can’t reach it. You roll over and feel your shirt rip, exposing your back. You reach into your bag and pull out your pepper spray, aiming for the lizard’s eyes. It scurries away, leaving you panting in the sewers. You get a good workout.

You want to leave, but you still need that Lichen.

You crawl out of the sewers and head to the tailor, who offers to fix your clothes for £29.99. You accept and head to the office building, where you work as a temp for the next few hours, fighting through the exhaustion. You make £126.

You pass out on your way home and wake up in the hospital. Dr. Harper introduces himself and asks a few questions, but you leave out any details that could cause him to ask you to go to “therapy” with him. You’re discharged soon after, and Bailey picks you up.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he says.

When you get home, it’s already past midnight. You don’t bother putting on Pajamas, just stripping and hopping under the covers.

…

……

………

You should’ve worn clothes, you think to yourself as you feel Kylar’s breath on your face. He’s hard; you can feel the outline of his penis through the blanket. You try to steady your breathing, too embarrassed to open your eyes. He shifts on top of you, and then lifts your blanket from your body. You react without thinking, immediately sitting up in a panic. You just barely avoid colliding with him. Your eyes meet his, and he looks down, getting a fully unobstructed view of your breasts. He flushes deeply and scrambles away. ++Lust

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stand up to close your window. You notice that it doesn’t have a lock.

You put on pajamas before going back to bed this time and wonder if you can find some way to board it up. You close your eyes, but rest never comes. You’re too on edge. You roll in bed for hours, never relaxing enough to fall back asleep. When you finally give up, it’s already 06:00. You remember your idea from earlier, and decide to wear your swimsuit under your uniform today.

It is the 7th of September, 2022. -It has been 3 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn. -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £454 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are uneasy Control: You are insecure Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

You decide to spend some time in the garden growing daisies. It’s relaxing. By the time you finish, your hands are covered in dirt, and it’s 07:30. You wash your hands and go to Robin’s room to play video games for the next half hour.

“This one’s a cooperative game,” he says. “It’s known for being really difficult.”

“How do I play?” You ask, taking the controller. Robin leans over, wrapping an arm behind your back and taking your hands in his as he guides your hands to the correct positioning, fingers lingering over yours for a moment longer than necessary. You feel his breath on your skin as he walks you through the controls, his head over your shoulder and his arms still wrapped around you. +Lust

The two of you play for a little bit. Neither of you are very good, but you have a good time regardless. -Stress -Trauma

You and Robin are about to walk to school together when a car pulls up beside you. You brace yourself for the worst, but the window rolls down to reveal Avery instead. “I thought I recognized you,” he says, smiling warmly. “How about I give you a lift?” He glances dismissively at Robin.”Your little friend can come along, too.” Robin looks at you, clearly nervous.

>Ride with Avery +Robin’s jealousy >Ride with Avery and Robin +??? >Walk with Robin -Love +Lust +Rage -Robin’s jealousy

You try to smile at Robin, but it comes out strained. You hop into the car with Avery. Robin reluctantly follows your lead. You try to act naturally, bringing Robin into the conversation whenever Avery ignores him. Robin seems happy you’re paying attention to him, but still extremely out of place. -Robin’s Jealousy +Robin’s love +Avery’s love -Avery’s Fascination

Avery leaves, and you head to the library. Sydney isn’t there, so you study by yourself until it’s time to go to Science. A group of students pass by you in the halls; they leer at you but don’t say anything.

Science, math, and English all pass by without incident, for once. You feel yourself begin to relax as you head to the canteen, only to jump when an arm wraps around your shoulders. You turn around. It’s Whitney.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “But I don’t want anything here. Come with us to get a snack.” Your sense of control wavers. Fearful of his intentions, you shove Whitney off of you and try to run, but he grabs your arm. Delinquents pull out their phones and circle around you. You lift the arm he’s holding and swing it to the side, using the created opportunity to elbow him with your unobstructed arm. He staggers and lets go of your arm, nearly falling but just barely managing to regain his balance. You rush to the least populated area of the circle and try to push past the delinquents, but they grab you and push you back in instead.

You reach for your pepper spray but notice your backpack has been taken from you. You glance behind you, and sure enough, a group of students are rifling around your things. You lunge for them, but they toss it to the students across from them, playing keep-away.

Whitney is glaring at you from the other side of the ring. He rushes you, and you fail to dodge. He pushes you to the ground, his friends scattering out of reach. You headbutt him on the way down, but he’s got your arms in a tight grip. You struggle against his hold, kicking and squirming under him. Whitney sits over you, straddling your waist and holding your arms in place beside your head. His face is inches from yours, and you can feel his heavy breath on your skin.

You try to bridge him, but he’s too heavy. You’re quickly losing strength, and Whitney can tell your struggles are becoming weaker. “Just give up,” he says. “Or I might have to do something worse.” Your sense of control weakens. He leans down over you, rubbing his penis against your stomach. You freeze, a sense of cold, numbing dread overtaking you as Whitney climbs off of you. He offers a hand to help you up, and you, briefly forgetting your situation, take it.

He pulls you up and into his arms with surprising strength, smirking at you as your noses brush. He releases your hand but still wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you from leaving.

“Can I have my bag back?” You ask, hopefully. Whitney looks over your shoulder at the people rifling through your things. One of them reaches for the side zipper you keep your pepper spray in, and you freeze.

“She’s got pepper spray!” The short boy exclaims.

“Holy shit,” a lithe girl says.

Whitney releases you from his grip on your waist but soon grabs your arm and forces it behind you. You move your left leg around his and plant it on the ground, then you twist yourself away from him until your arm is beside you again. You plant your other foot and lift your left, kicking him in the back of his knee. He falls, but you fall with him. He lets go when you land, and you roll over off of him, quickly standing. You kick him in the groin for good measure and then walk up to the delinquent, holding your backpack and pepper spray. You hold out your hand expectantly and hands it to you stiffly. +Status

You decide to skip lunch and go to the mall instead. You pick up a keychain with a latch and attach your pepper spray to it, hooking it onto your skirt’s belt loop. It took you a while to find the right kind of keychain, and by the time you’re back on campus, it’s already 13:06. +Deliquency

You quickly head into history class, where Winter takes note of your tardiness, and sit next to Robin. He notices your ruffled hair and asks if you’re okay. You smile at him as you take your seat, but he seems unconvinced. You spend the rest of History daydreaming.

When you get to your swimming lesson, you don’t even have to get naked. Your swimsuit is already under your uniform, so all you have to do is take them off. Your injury yesterday has healed well enough to allow you into the pool, too, so you get to improve your swimming grade. It isn’t until after the lesson is over, and you emerge from the pool, dripping wet, that you realize the fatal flaw with your underwear idea.

You have to put clothes on over your wet swimsuit.

Not seeing any other viable option, you put your clothes on over your wet swimsuit. The fabric clings to your body, but it does that anyway. You leave the changing room and head to detention, trying to ignore the stares of your peers as they gawk at your see-through shirt (they can’t even see anything through it, you aren’t sure what they’re staring at.).

Detention only takes ten minutes, so you’re still able to walk home with Robin. He doesn’t say anything, but you catch him taking peeks at your chest every so often. +Love +Lust +Stress

You go to the temple after changing and pick up some pink lichen for your science fair project.

You think about the last sample of lichen you need and wonder if a £500 prize is worth being molested by ghost tentacles. You wonder if £2,000 is worth being hunted with a vengeance every blood moon.

You do need the money…

———————

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videolari · 3 months ago

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ISTANBUL OBESİTY CENTER

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astrojulia · 4 months ago

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Planets in the 2nd House: Insights on Prosperity

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Sun in the 2nd House

The Sun in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity reveals a deep connection between you and your financial security and self-esteem. The 2nd House is directly associated with money, material possessions, and how you value and acquire resources. With the Sun here, you tend to seek a material status that reflects your identity, being capable of achieving wealth through a strong sense of purpose and determination. However, there may be a tendency to overly identify with what you possess, leading to an emotional dependency on material goods.

This placement suggests that you have a natural energy for attracting prosperity. Your self-confidence tends to strengthen when you achieve financial stability, making you feel more secure and capable. However, there is a risk of becoming obsessed with acquiring resources and losing sight of the balance between pursuing wealth and enjoying other areas of life. This excessive focus can lead to frustrations, as you may realize that true satisfaction does not come solely from material accumulation.

That said, the Sun in the 2nd House can also be an excellent indication that you have the potential to build a solid estate. You can achieve great financial success by realizing that your vital energy is directly linked to what you create and maintain throughout life. The key is not to let yourself be dominated by the need to "have," but rather to understand that true prosperity comes from confidence in yourself and your abilities.

Moon in the 2nd House

The Moon in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity indicates that your emotions are strongly tied to your financial resources and material possessions. You tend to feel a great sense of emotional security when there is financial stability, and any instability in this area can cause discomfort and uncertainty. However, your pursuit of prosperity may be driven not only by the need to accumulate but also by the need to feel that you have something that makes you feel secure and cared for.

This placement also suggests that you highly value protection and care for what you possess, being someone who dedicates themselves to building a comfortable and stable environment. However, the Moon can make your emotions vulnerable to financial fluctuations, which may lead to excessive worries about the future or a tendency to depend more on what you have than on your internal confidence. This behavior can hinder the creation of a steady financial flow, as emotions interfere with decision-making.

That said, the Moon in the 2nd House also brings an intuitive ability to perceive opportunities for material growth. You may naturally feel drawn to environments and activities that guarantee financial security, and by trusting your intuition, you can achieve stability and prosperity. The challenge is to balance your emotions and not let financial fluctuations overly affect your self-esteem or your sense of personal value.

Mercury in the 2nd House

Mercury in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity indicates that you have a quick and analytical mind, especially when it comes to financial matters and material possessions. You tend to seek a deep understanding of how to generate and manage money, often using your intelligence and communication skills to create opportunities. However, this quest for information can lead to mental overload, causing you to worry excessively about details and lose sight of the bigger picture of prosperity.

Your ability to negotiate and handle financial transactions is remarkable, but the risk is that you may focus too much on strategy and numbers, potentially distancing yourself from the emotional connection to what truly matters. While your mind is always alert to opportunities for wealth accumulation, you may struggle to feel truly satisfied, as there is always something more to learn or achieve. This placement can make you highly adaptable to changes in the market and financial circumstances, but it can also create a sense of emotional instability if you cannot balance your expectations.

That said, Mercury in the 2nd House can also be a great advantage for creating diversified income sources. You can thrive by using your creative and logical mind to explore different financial paths, such as investments or ventures. By trusting in your ability to learn and communicate, you have the chance to achieve lasting prosperity, provided you can balance your thinking with an attitude of confidence and patience regarding results.

Venus in the 2nd House

Venus in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity suggests that you have a natural and harmonious relationship with money and material possessions. Your approach to wealth tends to be smooth and attractive, and you can easily attract financial opportunities, often through your charming personality or the way you interact with others. However, the risk is that you may prioritize aesthetic pleasure and comfort over building a solid financial foundation, which can lead to a certain superficiality in financial choices.

You may feel more motivated to acquire things that represent beauty and quality, making your consumption decisions more impulsive and tied to immediate satisfaction. That said, this placement can also bring the ability to generate wealth through artistic talents or areas related to pleasure, such as fashion, design, or entertainment. The attraction to luxuries and durable goods can contribute to your success, but the temptation to spend more than necessary can sometimes put your financial stability at risk.

On the other hand, Venus in the 2nd House can also provide a great ability to make profitable business deals and partnerships. You know how to value what you have and can transform your resources into something even more valuable. By maintaining a balance between the desire for comfort and the need for practicality, you can create stable and lasting prosperity without sacrificing the beauty and pleasure that life has to offer.

Mars in the 2nd House

Mars in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity reveals that you have a dynamic and energetic approach when it comes to financial matters and material possessions. Your willpower and determination to achieve prosperity are remarkable, and you do not hesitate to take the initiative to increase your income sources. However, this intense energy can lead you to act impulsively or rush into financial decisions, which may sometimes result in unexpected losses or challenges.

You have a tremendous capacity for hard work and ambition, being able to fight for your financial security with vigor. However, this drive can lead to frustration if results are not immediate, as Mars tends to prefer quick and direct actions. When patience is not cultivated, you may feel demotivated or dissatisfied, especially if the fruits of your financial efforts take longer than expected to appear.

That said, Mars in the 2nd House also brings an excellent ability to generate wealth through action and personal effort. You are very capable of achieving great material possessions by channeling your energy into hard work and innovation. The key to lasting prosperity lies in balancing your impulsiveness with a strategic vision, so that your actions are more sustainable and bring stable results over time.

Jupiter in the 2nd House

Jupiter in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity indicates that you have exceptional potential to achieve financial and material abundance. Your expansive vision and natural optimism help you attract growth opportunities, and you often manage to increase your resources through investments, negotiations, or even luck. However, this placement can also lead to a certain excess, causing you to spend more than necessary or take high financial risks, relying too much on luck.

With Jupiter in the 2nd House, you tend to have a generous attitude toward money and material possessions, which facilitates the creation of wealth but can also result in a tendency to disperse your resources in pursuit of immediate pleasure. While your expansive energy can generate abundance, a lack of attention to detail can harm the consistency of your finances. This means you may experience financial ups and downs, making it important to adopt a more balanced approach to ensure long-term prosperity.

That said, Jupiter in the 2nd House also offers the opportunity to transform your positive vision into a steady flow of wealth. By learning to balance your confidence with prudence, you can achieve lasting financial stability. Your ability to see potential in everything around you and seize opportunities can be a key to a prosperous life, as long as you keep your feet on the ground and are cautious about excessive optimism.

Saturn in the 2nd House

Saturn in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity indicates that you have a serious and disciplined approach to money and material possessions. Your way of handling finances tends to be cautious and focused on building a solid and lasting foundation. However, this placement can bring a sense of limitation or difficulty in achieving prosperity, especially if you feel overwhelmed by financial responsibilities or fear scarcity.

You have a great capacity for hard work and perseverance, which helps you accumulate assets and wealth over time. However, it can be challenging for you to find immediate pleasure in the process of acquiring money, as Saturn tends to demand patience and long-term focus. This focus on stable and concrete results can sometimes lead to frustration, especially when you feel that progress is slower than you would like.

That said, Saturn in the 2nd House also offers the opportunity to create prosperity in a stable and secure way, although the path to wealth may be longer and more demanding. If you maintain your disciplined and persistent approach, you will be able to achieve solid financial security, creating a lasting legacy. The secret lies in not letting obstacles discourage you but using your ability to overcome challenges to build a strong foundation for the future.

Uranus in the 2nd House

Uranus in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity suggests that you have a unique and innovative approach to money and material possessions. Your way of generating and managing wealth is unpredictable and creative, and you are likely to find financial opportunities in unusual places. However, this eccentric nature can result in sudden or unexpected gains, but also unexpected losses, as you tend to seek unconventional solutions that are not always stable.

You may be drawn to non-traditional ways of earning money, such as investments in innovative technologies, alternative businesses, or even entrepreneurship. However, your pursuit of freedom and financial independence may lead you to take financial risks, which can result in instability if you do not carefully evaluate the available options. The constant change and innovation that Uranus brings to the 2nd House can make it difficult to create a solid and steady financial foundation.

That said, Uranus in the 2nd House also brings the possibility of creating wealth in revolutionary and forward-thinking ways. You may be able to generate prosperity by adopting new ideas and methods, often challenging conventional norms. The secret to making the most of this placement lies in balancing your need for innovation with a strategic vision, so that you can build lasting prosperity without being overly impulsive or unpredictable in your financial decisions.

Neptune in the 2nd House

Neptune in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity indicates that you have a more idealistic and intuitive approach to money and material possessions. Your perception of wealth tends to be linked to spiritual values or a desire for transcendence, which can make it harder for you to focus on the practical aspects of material accumulation. However, this connection to the mystical can also attract sources of prosperity in unconventional ways, often through creativity or inspired actions.

You may be drawn to ventures involving art, spirituality, or service to others, which can sometimes cause the financial side to be overlooked in favor of a greater purpose. However, this attitude can lead to confusion or disorganization in finances, especially if you do not set clear boundaries or take care of your material security. It may be difficult for you to deal with financial reality in a practical way, as Neptune tends to blur clarity in this area.

That said, Neptune in the 2nd House can also be a powerful force of inspiration and wealth creation through more subtle and spiritual paths. When you manage to balance your intuition with practical action, you can attract prosperity in unexpected ways. The secret lies in learning to handle financial ambiguity realistically, without losing connection with your idealistic vision of a more prosperous future aligned with your higher values.

Pluto in the 2nd House

Pluto in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity suggests that you have a deep and transformative relationship with money and material possessions. Your approach to wealth is intense and often marked by significant transformations, whether in how you acquire or manage your resources. However, this placement can also bring challenges, such as fear of scarcity or a tendency to excessively control resources, which can create financial tensions.

You have the ability to reinvent yourself and seek power through prosperity, being capable of creating new income sources or transforming your financial vision. However, this pursuit of power and control can lead to conflicts, especially if you feel threatened by unexpected changes in your financial situation. The risk is that you may focus so much on protecting your assets that you become overly possessive or defensive, which can affect your peace of mind and relationships.

On the other hand, Pluto in the 2nd House also offers the opportunity to achieve great financial accomplishments by deeply transforming your relationship with money. By confronting your fears and learning to let go of control, you can create more sustainable and meaningful prosperity. The key lies in understanding that true wealth comes from a process of self-awareness and transformation, allowing you to build a solid and resilient foundation for the future.

North Node in the 2nd House

The North Node in the 2nd House in the Natal Chart of Prosperity indicates that your life journey is deeply connected to learning about financial security and personal valuation. You are destined to develop a more balanced relationship with material possessions, learning to trust in your ability to generate resources and recognize your own worth. However, the challenge may be overcoming the tendency to focus excessively on spiritual or abstract matters, ignoring the importance of building a solid financial foundation.

You may feel an urge to abandon material concerns in pursuit of inner or spiritual growth, but true prosperity will come when you learn to integrate your material ambitions with your emotional needs. The North Node in the 2nd House suggests that you need to invest in building a stable financial foundation, developing a more practical understanding of how to generate and manage your resources. However, the struggle may arise when you feel that focusing on money compromises your deeper values.

By following the path indicated by the North Node, you can achieve lasting prosperity, learning to create a healthy balance between the material and emotional worlds. This placement also suggests that you have the potential to become financially independent, not only through personal effort but also by recognizing and utilizing your talents and skills in a pragmatic way. By trusting in this evolutionary process, you can build a solid foundation for prosperity that reflects your true essence.

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#astrojulia #astrology #astroblr #witchblr #all about astrology #astro community #astro observations #astrojulia talks #natal chart #astro placements #i am sorry if you don't have any planet at the 2nd house #I do #and I wanted to analyse it

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d-z20 · 7 months ago

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Caught in the Crossfire (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You're an FBI agent and get partnered with Agent Vidal on a big case. When the mission goes wrong and Rio gets shot, you are forced to stay at a safehouse together.

-OR-

They say orgasms are good for pain relief so you fuck Rio to make the pain go away 🙃

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mention of gangs, gunfight, hurt (gunshot wound), smut, fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: They is me, I am they, I say orgasms are effective pain relief. Oh and this is another requested fic :)

AO3 link | Master List

Rio leans against the desk, tapping a pen against the stack of files she’s just dropped with a flourish. Her eyes pin you with a challenging stare. “Five bucks says you screw up this case before the week’s out.”

You glance up from your laptop, unimpressed. “Bold talk from someone who hasn’t cracked a case this big since Quantico. What’s the matter? Rusty?”

This was the rhythm of your partnership: sharp words, sharper looks, and a constant undercurrent of rivalry. You’d both been top recruits at the academy, though on completely different tracks—Rio had excelled at strategy and undercover work, while you were a natural at analysis and tactical planning. When you’d been paired for this joint case six months ago, it was clear you were opposites in every sense, and it made working together a special kind of hell.

The task force had been chasing a dangerous gang involved in arms trafficking. Their network spanned multiple cities, but all signs pointed to the heart of their operations being a hidden warehouse in the city. The gang was clever—covering their tracks with misdirection and red herrings—which made your job of piecing together clues exhausting. But a major break had come two weeks ago when Rio went undercover, infiltrating the gang as a low-level buyer. She’d managed to secure critical intel about their shipment routes and a few key players, but her cover had been blown when one of the gang members got too suspicious.

You’d both known the risk when she took the job, and while you’d been impressed by her quick thinking, you couldn’t ignore the danger that still lingered. Now, you were both back at square one, tracking their movements, one step closer to the warehouse and the showdown tonight.

“Tonight’s operation better go off without a hitch,” you grumble, glancing back down at the laptop. The tension between the two of you, always present when working these kinds of cases, never seems to go away.

Rio smirks and straightens up, walking closer as she flicks through some of the paperwork right next to your laptop.

“You’re standing too close,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the sudden proximity.

Rio doesn’t budge, standing tall with that usual confidence. “You’re the one who can’t stand my brilliance that close to your face, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying to focus on the case. “You just make everything more difficult.”

She smirks, eyes flicking to your lips as she leans in slightly. “I think you like it that way.”

—

The two of you sit in the cramped surveillance van, tracking the comings and goings of gang members through grainy security footage.

“Don’t get yourself killed tonight,” Rio mutters, strapping on her bulletproof vest. Her tone is teasing, but you catch the flicker of genuine concern behind her words.

“I’m not the one who’s always charging into danger,” you shoot back, pulling on your own vest.

“Someone has to, or we’d be stuck analysing spreadsheets all day,” she says, smirking.

Despite the banter, the tension in the air is palpable. This operation is the culmination of months of work, and failure isn’t an option.

—

The warehouse is eerily quiet when you enter. Your movements are synchronised—Rio leads the way, gun raised, while you keep watch.

“They’re here,” Rio whispers, gesturing toward the far end of the warehouse.

You nod, heart hammering in your chest. The two of you move closer to the group of gang members gathered around crates of weapons. Everything is going according to plan—until it isn’t.

A lookout you hadn’t accounted for shouts a warning. Instantly, all hell breaks loose. Bullets rain down as the gang opens fire.

“Take cover!” Rio shouts, pulling you behind a stack of crates.

You return fire, pulse racing as you try to assess the situation. “We’ve got to fall back!”

“Not yet,” Rio says, jaw tight. She pops up to return fire, but then a sudden cry of pain tears through the air. A bullet strikes her shoulder, and she collapses to the ground.

“Rio!” you shout, stomach dropping. Without thinking, you drag her behind a steel beam, using it for better cover.

“Stay down!” You bark, positioning yourself in front of her to shield her from the continuing onslaught.

“Don’t—” Rio winces, gripping her shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. I can still—”

“Shut up and focus on not passing out,” you snap, returning fire as the adrenaline courses through your veins. The gang is closing in, and panic gnaws at you. You need to get her out of here.

—

The minutes before the rest of the task force storm the warehouse feel like hours; Rio is bleeding heavily from her wound, and all colour has faded from her face. The remaining gang members are finally subdued in a chaotic flurry of shouting and gunfire.

You don’t move from your position until the scene is secure. When it’s finally clear, you turn to Rio, voice tight. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she mutters, her face pale but her signature smirk still intact. “But hey, you were pretty heroic back there. Almost makes me like you.”

“Save your breath,” you say, though relief is slowly replacing the panic that has gripped you earlier.

The on-site medic patches her up as best as they can; she was lucky the bullet went straight through, but her wound still needs close monitoring. You learn that a high-ranking gang member had slipped away at the start of all the chaos, but not before getting a good look at you and Rio. Since you know their network is likely everywhere, you decide transporting her to a hospital is too risky. You need a safehouse—a remote location where she can recover while you regroup.

—

The cabin is small, tucked away in a far-out forest. It’s equipped with basic supplies, offering the isolation you need to keep a low profile. You enter first, checking the place out. Then, you return to Rio, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, her arm in a sling, bandages covering her shoulder.

You linger by the door, watching her with an uncharacteristic softness you rarely show.

“If you’re here to scold me for getting shot, you can save it,” Rio says, her voice light but tired.

You step inside, setting a bottle of water down on the nightstand. “Actually, I’m here to make sure you don’t bleed out from being a stubborn idiot.”

“Touché,” she says, lips curving into a faint smile.

You hesitate, then take a seat beside her, the usual distance between you feeling smaller now. “You scared me back there,” you admit quietly, glancing down at her bandaged shoulder. “Don’t do that again.”

Her gaze softens as she looks at you. “I wasn’t planning on making it a habit. But you…” Her smirk returns, though it’s gentler this time. “You were incredible.”

Your cheeks heat, but you quickly brush it off with a shrug. “Someone had to keep you alive; the paperwork would’ve been horrendous otherwise.”

You turn towards her, carefully peeling off the bloody bandages on her shoulder. Your fingers brush against her skin as you work, and though Rio winces, she doesn’t utter a word of protest. The silence between you feels heavy but not uncomfortable.

As you apply the fresh bandages, you glance up, catching her watching you with an unreadable expression. Her lips quirk into a faint smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re too quiet,” you say softly, trying to distract her. “That’s not like you.”

“Trying not to ruin the moment,” she teases, though her voice is quieter than usual.

Your hands linger for a moment after you finish, your gaze falling to the wound. “You need to be more careful,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She tilts her head, her smirk softening into something more sincere. “And miss the chance to see you play nursemaid? No way.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but your hand remains against her shoulder, your thumb grazing the edge of the bandage. Silence stretches between you, comfortable yet charged with the unspoken things neither of you have said before.

Finally, Rio speaks again, her voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to risk yourself like that.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. “Of course I did. I couldn’t just leave you.”

Her eyes hold yours, steady and searching, and for the first time, you don’t feel the need to look away. Her lips part, and she leans in, testing the waters with a soft kiss. It’s gentle, hesitant, but when you don’t pull away, she deepens the kiss.

You feel the weight of everything unravelling between you. The kiss is slow at first, exploring, but then it quickly becomes urgent and heated. Hands roam, pushing past the boundaries of what had been comfortable before. You feel her press into you, her warmth seeping into your skin, making you forget everything but the two of you.

When you pull away, breathless, her eyes are dark with something more than desire. “I want something with you,” she whispers, “something real.”

You kiss her again, this time with no hesitation, pulling her closer, as if you could somehow make up for all the time you’ve spent pretending not to like her. You take your time, making sure to be gentle with Rio’s injury, always mindful of her shoulder. As you kiss, your hands are careful, exploring her without rushing. You help her undress slowly, checking in with her each time, making sure she’s comfortable.

She groans softly when your lips trace her jaw, your fingers grazing across the tender spots where her bandages are. You can feel the heat between you building, but you stop to kiss her forehead, your breath shaky as you say, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Rio’s eyes soften, her fingers threading through your hair. “You never could,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

You take your time, letting the moment stretch, the room filling with soft breaths and the quiet rustle of fabric. Every movement is deliberate, every touch mindful of the vulnerability hanging in the air.

Your hands move to her good shoulder, slipping under the strap of her tank top. The fabric slides away easily, baring more of her to your gaze. She doesn’t flinch, her smirk fading into something softer, more open.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them.

Rio lets out a soft laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Flattery? You should’ve tried that six months ago.”

You grin, leaning in to kiss the edge of her smirk, letting your lips linger on her skin. “Shut up, Rio,” you whisper, your voice tinged with affection.

Her hand finds your waist, tugging you closer with surprising strength for someone who’d been shot hours ago. You go willingly, straddling her carefully as your lips reconnect, the kiss growing deeper. Heat coils in your chest, spreading outward as her touch becomes bolder, her fingers sliding under your shirt.

You break the kiss only long enough to pull your top over your head, tossing it aside before leaning back in. Her lips move to your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone, each one sending sparks through you. You gasp softly when her teeth graze your skin, her smirk returning against your neck.

“You like that?” She teases, her voice low and rough.

“Maybe,” you reply, breathless but playful. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Her answer is wordless, her good hand slipping down your back, finding every sensitive spot with ease. You shiver under her touch, your own hands exploring her, mapping the curve of her waist and the muscles of her back.

You’re careful not to put pressure on her injured shoulder, but Rio doesn’t seem to care about her pain. She pulls you closer, her body warm against yours, her breaths coming faster now.

You press your forehead to hers, your hands cupping her face. “Tell me if it’s too much,” you whisper, your voice thick with concern.

She shakes her head, her eyes blazing with determination. “The only thing too much is how long it took us to get here.”

Her words undo you, and you close the distance again, your kisses turning hungrier. You guide her gently back onto the bed, her good arm still wrapped around you as you settle over her. You continue your path down Rio’s body, lips pressing softly against every inch of skin you uncover. Your hands trail after your mouth, fingers tracing the delicate curve of her waist and the softness of her hips. Her body reacts to your touch, each shiver and soft gasp urging you on, drawing you deeper into the moment.

When your lips reach the hollow of her stomach, you pause, your hands resting on either side of her hips. You glance up at her, catching the way her chest rises and falls in anticipation, her hand gripping the sheets beneath her. The sight of her laid bare before you, trusting and vulnerable, sends a wave of warmth coursing through you. You press a kiss to her skin, just below her ribs, before continuing lower.

Your hands move carefully, sliding down her thighs, coaxing them apart with a gentle nudge. She complies without hesitation, her breath catching as you trail soft kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. You take your time, teasing, your mouth lingering just long enough to leave her trembling, her good hand reaching down to tangle in your hair.

“Please,” she murmurs, her voice breathy and full of need, and it’s all the encouragement you need.

You shift lower, your hands resting lightly on her thighs, holding her steady as your lips finally find her. The first touch is tentative and exploratory, but the way her body responds—back arching, a soft moan slipping from her lips—spurs you on. Your tongue moves slowly at first, drawing circles, learning what makes her gasp and writhe beneath you. You use your fingers to spread her gently, your movements precise and deliberate, ensuring every sensation is heightened.

Her reactions guide you, every sigh and breathless plea telling you exactly what she needs. When you slip a finger inside her, she tenses for a moment before relaxing, her body welcoming your touch. You match the rhythm of your hand to the movements of your tongue, building a steady pace that has her gripping the sheets tightly, her head tipping back as her moans grow louder.

Her body begins to tremble, her breathing ragged as she nears the edge. You don’t falter, your movements becoming more focused, more insistent, until she finally cries out, her body arching sharply as she shatters beneath you. You hold her through it, your hands steady on her thighs, your mouth gentle as you help her ride out the waves of her climax.

When she finally comes down, her body relaxes, her limbs heavy as she lies back against the bed, chest heaving. You crawl back up to her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach, her collarbone, and finally her lips. She kisses you back with a lazy, satisfied fervour, her hand cupping your cheek as if to keep you close.

You rest beside her, your fingers resting gently on her chest. The silence between you feels easy now, filled with something unspoken but understood. Rio tilts her head to meet your eyes; her smirk softened into something sincere.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” she teases, her voice quiet but laced with affection.

You smirk back, brushing a stray hair from her face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Guess I’ll have to stick around to find out.”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with promise, and for once, you don’t feel the need to deflect. You lean in, pressing a final kiss to her forehead as her eyes drift closed, exhaustion finally claiming her.

—

You wake to the faint light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Rio is still beside you, her face softened in sleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. You watch her for a moment, a quiet smile tugging at your lips before you carefully slip out of bed, pulling the blanket up over her.

The cabin’s kitchen is small, almost comically so, but you’re determined to make breakfast. You rummage through the limited supplies, finding eggs and a questionable loaf of bread. Cracking the eggs into a pan, you curse softly when some of the shell slips in. The stove sputters, and the toast burns on one side before you can flip it.

“Do you always declare war on breakfast?” Rio’s voice startles you, and you whip around to see her leaning against the doorframe, her arm still in its sling.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be resting,” you scold, pointing the spatula at her.

She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk. “I’d rather take my chances with gunfire than whatever you’re cooking.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the stove. “I’m making you breakfast, so sit down and let me work my magic.”

Rio pads over to the table, still smirking. “If this kills me, make sure they write ‘death by toast’ on my gravestone.”

“Har, har,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. As you set the slightly overcooked meal in front of her, she looks up at you with an amused glint in her eyes.

“You’re really taking this whole ‘overprotective partner’ thing seriously, huh?” She teases, though her voice softens as she adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You sit across from her, leaning your chin on your hand. “Someone has to look out for you. You’re not exactly great at self-preservation.”

Rio smiles, a genuine warmth in her gaze that makes your chest ache. “I don’t mind it. Feels… nice. Safe.” Her fingers brush yours on the table, a small but deliberate gesture. “Guess I’m sticking around for more than just the breakfast disasters.”

Your laugh is soft, but your voice carries a tenderness you rarely let slip. “I’ll try not to burn the toast next time.”

“Don’t change too much,” Rio says, her smirk returning as she takes a bite of the slightly charred toast. “I kind of like you the way you are.”

Her words settle between you, light and teasing but laced with a sincerity that fills the room with warmth. For the first time, the future doesn’t feel like something to fear—it feels like something you might actually look forward to.

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leclerc-hs · 1 year ago

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don't wake the kids - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you got his daughter to finally fall asleep but risk waking her up not too long later warnings: 18+, slight smut, oral (f-receiving), bad french (please correct me i was tired while writing this lmao), not proofread!!!! word count: 1608 author’s note: i think i’ll write more for them bc i like the idea of single dad charles LMAO. this was fun xoxoxo

PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THERE WAS SOMETHING about Mr. Leclerc that always made you stare at him in admiration. Maybe it was the fact that he always excelled at everything he did. For instance, raising a daughter on his own couldn’t have been easy. Hell, merely spending a single night watching over his kid has you feeling thoroughly drained. So, when Charles came home to you sprawled along his couch with the TV on a low volume, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, the sight brought a grin to his lips. You were the absolute cutest thing he had ever seen. Aside from his own daughter of course.

You weren’t even aware of the impact you left on him and his daughter. There wasn’t a day where you weren’t mentioned by his daughter. She adored you, and he did too.

“Comment était-elle?” How was she? His voice was deep as he dropped his keys on the table of the entry way table. “Fatiguée?” Tired?

You barely moved as he approached the room, too comfortable to even sit all the way up for him. His hands rest in the pockets of his dress pants as he leaned up against the arch of the living room, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes never straying from yours.

You felt yourself swallowing harshly at the sight of him. He’s so fucking hot. “Elle était un ange!” She was an angel! There was a soft glow of moonlight that seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle radiance on the room as you whispered those words. You were whispering, careful to not wake her in the next room over. But also, in attempt to hide the desire in your voice. It would be a complete lie if you said you didn’t find him attractive. If you didn’t think about him that way.

With a subtle exhalation, Charles gracefully moved away from the archway, making his way towards the couch. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his head finding a comfortable perch on the back cushions, a gentle smile gracing his features. His legs extended languidly, and the contours of his thigh muscles subtly asserted themselves through the delicate fabric of his dress pants.

Turning his head to look at you, “Would you mind staying in the spare room tonight?”

His eyes, an enchanting shade of green, held you captive in a mesmerizing trance. Lost in their depths, his question became a distant echo, momentarily forgotten in the captivating allure of those verdant depths.

It wasn’t an abnormal question. At least, not anymore it wasn’t. You’ve been watching his daughter for months now and have occasionally crashed at his when it was too late at night. When you didn’t answer right away, lost in thought, Charles felt the need to wearily add an “I’m too tired to take you home.”

It’s not that you didn’t have your license, but you didn’t have a car. And because it meant more money, you always said yes. At least you always told yourself it was for the money. But it really was for all the times you got to see a shirtless Charles in the morning. His hair all disheveled, eyes full of sleep. The rasp in his voice. And also, the breakfast.

His hand swiftly dropped to your exposed thigh, the tennis skirt adorning your body doing little to cover you. He patted the area right above your knee softly for your attention, “Je suppose que tu n’as pas de vêtements; je vais te trouver quelque chose.” I assume you don’t have clothes; I’ll grab you something. The touch was so miniscule, so quick, that you could barely grasp the concept that it happened before he was already standing.

Although staying over wasn’t new, borrowing his clothes was.

You found yourself unable to speak as he stood from the couch and made his way to his room. The air was charged with a delicate tension. You were convinced it was the suit that had you stumbling for words, or maybe the fact you haven’t had sex in months and Charles is just that fucking hot, and in front of you, looking at you, touching you.

“J’espère que cela est assez bon.” I hope these are good enough. Bathed in the gentle luminescence of the room, Charles gazes down at you with an intensity the captures the essence of the moment. In his hands, he holds a neatly folded pile of clothes, extending them toward you with a certain grace. A faint, sleepy smile graces your lips as you accept them.

With a languid elegance, you begin to rise from the comfort of the couch, only to find Charles extending his hand toward you. His fingers confidently entwine with yours, pulling you up. Although, it seems Charles underestimated his strength because you are sent flying to your feet, awkwardly tripping in the process. But before you can make a total fool of yourself, Charles is slipping an arm around your waist, holding you to his chest.

You can feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment, “Je suis tellement désole.” I’m so sorry.

You feel Charles laugh reverberate in his chest, making you more alert of just how close you two were. “Ne sois pas désolée.” Don’t be sorry.

In that suspended moment, time seemed to stretch, creating a timeless place where you and Charles were encapsulated. Locked in a shared gaze, the world outside this intimate bubble ceased to exist. Uncertainty lingered in the air, an unspoken question hovering between you two. Charles’ firm hold persisted, grounding the moment in the tangible warmth of his touch.

As the stillness enveloped you, his eyes were fixated on your flushed cheeks, a canvas painted in hues of warmth. The intensity of his gaze conveyed an admiration that transcended words. To Charles, the sight of your blushing complexion was nothing short of captivating – an endearing revelation of vulnerability that only heightened your allure.

“Tellement jolie,” So pretty. The words were so soft. Barely audible if it wasn’t for your proximity. It was as if he didn’t even know he said them out loud.

You felt frozen while trying to decide if this was a dream or not. But when the pads of Charles thumbs made way to your face, tracing your bottom lip slowly, you knew you were fucked.

“Est-ce que je peux?” Can I?

You wanted to scream. Yes! You felt your stomach churning with need. But externally, you were calm. You needed to be quiet.

You made the move to nod your head when his lips collided with yours. It was slow and tentative at first. Like he was trying to test the waters. He pulled away for a moment, eyes staring into yours once again, as if he needed to make sure you were okay with this.

But as soon as he saw your lips draw into a smile, he knew he was fucked.

The second time your lips met it was feverish and messy. All tongue and no air. The clothes that he handed you previously, now lay on the floor in a messy pile, your hands sliding around his neck. You both go tumbling down onto the couch.

He groaned quietly into your mouth – a sound as if the taste of you was something he craved his whole life. His hands dropped from your jaw, closing around your neck, as you felt him push your further into the couch cushion with the weight of his body.

“J’ai besoin de toi,” I need you. You managed to slip the words out, your fingers trailing through his hair on the back of his head.

Before you had the chance to press your lips back together, he was pulling away, leaving you breathless and a little confused until his hands dropped to the waistband of your skirt. His fingers shoving their way in and pulling them down, your underwear being yanked off in the process. His gaze met yours once more, filled with anticipation and eagerness.

“Tu as l’air tellement putain de bien comme ça.” You look so fucking good like this.

Like this. Spread out and beneath him. Completely bare and whimpering for him.

You could hear him curse to himself as he draped your leg over his shoulder, seeing how wet you already were.

The first drag of his tongue on you was enough to make your back arch instantly. He groaned, his nose brushing against your clit as he dipped his tongue inside of you. Every dip of his tongue sent you bucking your hips harder against him. And he loved it.

With every stoke of his tongue, your fingers fisted his hair tighter. You began to buck your hips, so close to reaching your orgasm, but he denied. His hands were quick to push your hips down onto the couch. He wanted to hear you beg.

“Charles,” you sighed softly.

“Hm?” You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking. His tongue was placing slow licks to your clit, light enough to keep you right on the edge.

“S’il te plaît.” Please.

Charles was back sucking on your clit in less than a second, his hands sliding up to your covered breasts, squeezing them. He moaned into your pussy, the sound enough to send you spiraling over the edge. You gripped onto anything that was near and placed it over your face, trying to cover the moans that were escaping your lips.

Your body shook as you pressed the pillow into your face. He licked you as you came down and didn’t stop until you were practically shoving him off.

His lips were glossy and puffy, coated with you. A smirk on his face as he stood up and looked down at you completely flushed on his couch, half bare. You looked at the bulge of his cock, pressing against the seams of his dress pants, and then back up at his eyes.

“Bedroom?”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #don’t wake the kids cl16

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fflrrrtt · 8 days ago

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Recognition

(Pro-Hero Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

Synopsis: After years of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights in medical school and residency, you’re offered the chance of a lifetime: a position as a physician in Japan. With the public interest in healthcare on the rise, the elite Medical Unit has just been established, and you don’t hesitate to accept.

You have a one-track mind: to excel. It’s expected. It’s career-focused. No distractions…until you cross paths with a certain blonde.

(total chapters: approx. 5): One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Note: This is highkey inspired by a post I read from @azzo0 where reader's a med student and I want to explore this profession for this short-chapter fic I'm cooking. I also want to take this time to say that reading the works of @ofmermaidstories , @andypantsx3 , @willowser , and @thetrashywritingwitch for literal YEARS actually pushed me to brush-off my writer's block and cultivate my writing skills. So if you see this, tysm muah <3 - from a not-so-popular fic author.

Enjoy!

“Pro Hero Dynamight surged from rank 15 to 5!” The newscaster’s voice was loud and proud, and the sounds of explosions could be heard from the television placed on the wall. Then, the screen pans to a familiar green-haired man, One for All Hero, Deku, speaking gently to the cheery live reporter as Dynamight stood by him, brooding as usual. It was the aftermath of a villain fight—a quick fight at that.

“They really got the public hooked, huh?” Dr. Miyano says before she shoves rice and curry into her mouth using the spoon she bought at a merchandise store, it was a minimalist design of Creati. The cafeteria was filled with chirpy health professionals—some were talking to each other, some watching TV, and some were ready for seconds as they stood up, went back to the cafeteria line, and already dished out their debit cards and IDs to be scanned.

“I’m not surprised,” you remarked, sloshing the ready-to-go glass of coffee you just ordered at the vending machine. Ever since the new generation of heroes rose, the crime rate plummeted and, of course, the heroes gained a shit ton of popularity, especially the U.A alumnis because they played key role in defeating Shigaraki and All for One, “they literally saved Japan and the whole world by extension.”

Lunch went by in a blur—literally because it’s only a 30-minute duration. You and Miyano walked into the physician’s lounge, greeting coworkers and putting the now-empty bentos in your respective lunch bags. “You think we’re gonna meet them?” Dr. Miyano says aloud, zipping her lunch bag.

You snide, “yeah, we’ll meet them one on one if we’re…A, we’re in the middle of a villain attack. B, we’re tending to them, and C, one of us is in the Medical Unit, which is a competitive sector. Totally easy.” you fix your white coat and apply lip gloss—you gotta atleast look presentable even though you were running on only two hours sleep from the damn graveyard shift you took last night. “Alright, I’ll see you later.” At that, you left the room to do your patient rounds, prescribe medicine in doctor appointments, and the like.

After your afternoon shift, you headed to a nice cafe—to unwind and do a quick email browse before you shut your damn brain off. Upon entering, you were met with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, calming your nerves. Soft jazz plays in the background as guests sink into plush chairs, sipping lattes and chatting beneath shelves lined with well-loved books. You greeted the barista, flashing a curt smile before stating your order, and this time, you added a pastry—you know, just to treat yourself after your tiring shift.

Sitting on a comfortable plush chair, you bring out your laptop, turn it on, and start browsing through your emails, double-checking to ensure you don’t miss a single damn thing. A notification popped up from your calendar: GUN SHOOTING RANGE at noon this Saturday. An open tab of an online shop that you’ve been browsing last night. Rubbing your eyes, you look out the window in thought. It’s easy to get burnt out when you overwork yourself, which you knew ever since you chose to be in pre-med during your undergraduate years. You honestly thought of being a hero, entering as a hero medic, but it was just never for you.

A familiar barista approaches you, holding a tray of your order, breaking you out of your stupor. You smile again as he places them on the cool wooden table. “Thanks. How’s the college thus far, Ben?” you ask.

“It’s ok! The Japanese literature class is lowkey kicking my ass.” he says, rubbing the back of his head, “Kinda started to question the major I chose, but how about you, doc? I remember you briefly brought up a Medical Unit application.”

Oh my fuck. I was literally avoiding to think about this shit, damnit. You’ve been doing a great job suppressing this feeling of what? Butterflies? No—it’s maggots, definitely. You stirred your drink, taking a sip to act unaffected, “It’s going to be released tomorrow.” You say as cool as a cucumber, but mentally? Oh girl, your mind is doing laps.

“Well, you’ll definitely get in! You’re one of the hardest-working doctors I’ve met. That’s not me trying to mooch off of you or anything. I’m just being truthful,”

“Thanks. I hope.” The conversation ended when one of his coworkers called his name, leaving you alone with your thoughts and idling laptop. After a while, you left, seemingly satisfied with the quick relaxation you had using public transit to head home.

The sun begins to set, coloring the sky a dark hue, and the stars start to fill up space, shining bright as you pressed a code to enter the condominium building. The place is neither super luxurious nor janky. Your condo is simple, yet spacious and affordable. Your mom really did make sure that you’re financially literate. You changed out of your work clothes, followed your nightly routine, and not giving a damn about the outside world. It didn’t take long for you to drift to sleep minutes after taking a melatonin pill.

“Ma, you don’t have to worry a goddamn thing. I’ll take care of it,” you grumble, phone placed by your ear, walking out of the train station with purpose, it’s early morning and your back hurts from the fuck ass mattress you slept on last night “I’ll pay for my little brother’s tuition. All I want from you is to relax! Goodness sake, I know you’re handling grandfather’s business, and it’s stressful. Just don’t worry about—” A public commotion cuts you off, “I’ll call you later.” You hang up, eye twitching because the short route you always go to is filled with crowds of people. It’s literally 7 am..what could be happening now?!

“Red Riot!! We love you!!” a man screams, people gushing over the unbreakable hero. The two police cars are there to put the handcuffed villain in the vehicle.

Red Riot chuckled, and you could just sense the signature panty-dropping shark-toothed grin he’d show to the public. Hell, even guys admit they have a crush on this guy and bought the Red Riot-themed calendar. As much as you would like to see the hero in person, you have work to do, so you briskly walk to a different path. “Hey, miss!” his voice was loud, and you thought none of it until you felt a tap on the shoulder. You turned around, and lo and behold. The hero stands before you. He’s tall as hell, clad in his hero uniform, “Oh..uh, doc, you dropped this.” he hands you your condo key.

Your brain buffered for a quick second, “Thanks,” you took the key, “I didn’t notice.” “It’s okay!” he smiles, and it looked like he was expecting something from you, but eventually settled with, “hope you have a great day!”

“Yeah. You too..!” You walked away while the crowd went even wilder. You missed the way Dynamite arrived at the scene, red piercing eyes glancing at you before calling out to him in a raspy voice.

And at the physician’s lounge? You were surrounded by your colleagues, asking so many questions about your interaction with the hero. “Omg, what was he like?”

“He’s so damn fine. Did you take pictures with him? An autograph?”

“Did you ask for his number?” “I would sell my kidney for him.”

You admitted that you didn’t ask him for anything and just expressed appreciation for picking up your house key. Of course, they clowned you, but you just laughed it off. However, the atmosphere soon shifted as everyone received a message from the medical director’s assistant about a meeting. Your heart dropped outta your ass as everyone hurried to the big meeting room, feeling excited, nervous, and curious.

Once everyone is situated, the well-esteemed director, Dr. Lee, stands unwavering at the podium. That alone has every health professional sit up and take notice. His eyes were sharp behind the wire-rimmed glasses. “Good Morning. As you are all aware, the Medical Unit has announced the results for the top three ‘pillars’.” He paused for dramatic effect, and it didn’t fail. Everyone stilled; it was pure silence. You seriously heard someone gulp behind you, and you fight the urge to bite your fingernails. Fuck.

“And I’ve received a memo that one of you was chosen out of the thousands of applicants across Japan,” he continues, “It is commendable and we couldn’t be any prouder.” his assistant comes up to him, handing a small envelope. The silence stretches, and the tension is palpable. You literally felt all your senses shutting down like you’re astral projecting. “The Medical Unit is a new sector that integrates medicine in not just the hero world, but also the general, support, and management courses. This cultivates an expansive understanding.” The rest of Dr. Lee’s explanation of the Medical unit became static to you, in exchange of mulling over your brave choice of applying.

It’s not like you’re not confident in your abilities. Hell, you managed to get into a top medical school. You’re well-rounded and you know the ropes. You’ve dealt with the real shit outside academics, molding you into a strong professional that you are today…It’s just that sometimes those intrusive thoughts have their way of making you overthink and compare yourself to others. Are your credentials enough? Is this laughable? Are you stupid for believing that you have a shot at this? All you want is to excel in life and thrive. Maybe be someone in this world. Make a mark that influences those around you…

All of your thoughts dissipated when you felt a nudge on your arm from Miyano, “Dude. dude.”

“..huh?” You blinked, and all of a sudden, you felt all eyes on you, including the medical director, whose eyebrow was raised. Your eyes dart everywhere, making eye contact with everyone. “I assume you’re Dr. L/N.” Dr. Lee’s voice echoes.

“Yes. I am,” you said aloud, not showing any weakness. Eyes resolved. Posture assertive and ready, bracing yourself to be told that you’re rejected from the Medical Unit.

“Congratulations.” And that was not something you’re ready for.

Thank you for reading! Oh and I totes enjoy feedback, asks, anything!!! Keep an eye out for updates! Oh and if anyone wants to be added on my tag list, lmk!!! My ao3 is flrtt

#bakugo x reader #mha x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bhna x reader #post-chapter 431 #pro-hero Bakugo Katsuki

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cottonlemonade · 2 months ago

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Marriage Of Convenience [part 8]

word count: 2667 || avg. reading time: 11 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, slice of life

warnings: tooth rotting

synopsis: Marriage is not a big deal, right? Anyone can do it and it comes with a whole lot of benefits! That's why your friend proposes to you one morning with all the elegance and romance of an empty pudding cup.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]

“How long has he been standing there?”

The shop owner looked at her employee, then followed her gaze to look at the young man outside studying the pre-arranged flower bouquets in deep serious thought. With a quick check of her watch, she said, “About 15 minutes.”

“Shouldn’t we help him?”

“He’s been avoiding eye contact, I think he’ll run if we get too close.”

The employee snorted and went back to sorting through a new shipment of twigs and greens, snapping off broken leaves before placing the long, pristine stems into a water-filled bucket, while the owner went over the books.

“Oh, he found one!”, the employee whispered excitedly as the man outside bent down to pick one of the bigger bouquets, “Nevermind, he put it back down. - Wait, nope! He took it again. - Hello, sir. Did you find what you were looking for?”

The young man nodded and paid with a friendly smile, then grabbed his carry-on and left the store, ringing the small bell above the door as he did.

“Do you think it’s for his girlfriend?”, the employee wondered, watching the man halt in front of the store and looking down at the flowers.

“Oh, is something wrong with them? Looks like he is talking to himself. - Eh? He just - did you see? He just gave them to an elderly woman. - Aaand he’s gone. - Wait no, nevermind. There he is again. What's up with this guy?”

The shop owner looked up once more, watching the obviously emotionally torn man pick up a much smaller bouquet this time, with only a handful of the same flowers.

“Hello again, sir.”, the employee greeted with every ounce of non-judgmental professionalism when the man placed some cash on the counter, “Excellent choice. Do you need it wra- Oh, no? Alright then, have a nice day! - There he goes. Weirdo.”

You jumped off the couch when you heard the keys slot into the front door, then remembered that “playing hard to get” was a thing, and so simply walked instead of ran down the corridor.

“I’m home.”, Tetsuro announced unnecessarily.

“Welcome back.”

“These are for you.”, he said, holding out the flowers, before adding with a nervous chuckle, “Don’t eat them all at once.”

“What?”

“Nothing. - So, how was your weekend?”

“Pretty good. Did some laundry.”

He nodded, mildly impressed.

“Did you use the new fabric softener?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Very soft.”

Very robotically, Tetsuro stretched out his hand to touch your sleeve.

“Very soft.”, he confirmed.

Rocking slightly on the balls of your feet, you waited, and when he didn’t say anything either, you gestured vaguely behind yourself.

“I’ll… let you come inside and put these in some water.”, then turned on your heel and stiffly walked to the kitchen.

“So.”, he said a few minutes later, taking the seat next to you in the living room, hands on his knees, rubbing them awkwardly back and forth. You weren’t any better. You had your fingers slotted between your thighs and focused on a fake plant on the TV console.

“So.”

“We’re attracted to each other.”

“Yup.”

“Hm. You sure?”

“100%. Crazy about you.”

“Huh. Same here.”

“Sorry.”, you said with a frown.

He placed a hand on your shoulder for comfort.

“Don’t beat yourself up. Neither of us could have possibly seen this coming.”

“I know, but what are we going to do?”

“If you give me like two hours, I’ll put together a new PowerPoint?”, he offered.

“Honestly, I think I just really wanna kiss you.”

His head snapped to the side, and his eyes widened.

“If you want.”, you added quickly.

“I-“, he cleared his throat, “You sure?”

“Hm mh.”, you finally tore your eyes away from the plant and looked at him, almost squirming in your seat from giddy excitement.

He turned to the side to face you for a better angle, shrugging with equally flustered laughter, “Yeah. - I mean, yeah, this is normal. We’re married. Would be weird if we didn’t.”

“Absolutely. Really, we’re being weird by not … kissing and stuff.”

“Completely agree. I can imagine our neighbors must have been whispering about this for months.”

“Are you stalling?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Oh I want to.”, he assured you, and you saw his adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed before he grabbed the back of the sofa and leaned in.

“Waitwaitwait-“, you had your hand against his chest to hold him back and could feel your heart pounding up to your ears, while his beat just as hard beneath your fingers, “My lips feel a bit dry.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth without him moving an inch.

“They look fine to me.”, he said in a low tone you’d never heard before. Somehow, your nervousness seemed to have calmed him down.

“Nope, definitely dry.” With shaking fingers you fished a tube of lip balm from your pocket and he watched patiently but with a cocked brow how you thoroughly and slowly applied it.

“D-do you want some?”

Without waiting for an answer, you touched the tip of the balm to his perfectly smooth lips, but your hand was so shaky that you smudged it a bit. He smirked and, with his other hand, gently grabbed your wrist to steady you. Since he didn’t hold you in place, you could apply the balm more easily, absolutely mesmerized by how shiny and even more inviting his lips now looked.

“And?”, he asked teasingly once you were done, not letting go of your wrist.

“I don’t think this is your color.”, you used your thumb to wipe it off again, feeling electricity surge through your body at the touch, “Do you want another one?”

“Now who is stalling?”, he chuckled.

“I’m just saying, I have a bunch more in my room, I can-“

In the midst of your ramble, you had tried to get up off the couch, but his hand tightened on your wrist, pulling you to sit back down. Your breath hitched.

“It’s gonna be okay.”, he said quietly.

“I know.”, you murmured.

You had kissed your fair share of people in your life, but somehow had really underestimated just how strong your feelings for him had grown in such a short amount of time.

Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but the feeling of him, the smell of him, the taste of him.

You involuntarily hummed into the kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. A blind grab for his collar let you pull him closer, and he shifted, hand moving from the back of the couch to your waist to hold and squeeze as you lay back, him towering over you.

More so on instinct than anything else, the tip of your tongue slipped between your lips when he pulled away, decidedly out of breath.

“You good?”, he asked.

You wished you could take a picture of your husband’s blush, his lips tinted and smeared from your lip balm.

“Yes.”

“Sublime.”

Tetsuro lowered himself again, deepening the kiss while you giggled, and he loosened his grip on your wrist only to entwine his fingers with yours.

Your lips were still plump and tender from the kissing, and while the shower got rid of the remaining lip balm smears on your mouth and neck, the sensation was now permanently burned into your brain. Your husband stood next to you in the bathroom that evening, brushing his teeth alongside you, every so often making eye contact in the mirror, only for both of you to look away with shy, frothy smiles.

“Oh!”, he said suddenly and quickly rinsed out the foam before straightening again, “I forgot to give you your present!”

You began bouncing excitedly on the spot as he hurried out of the bathroom, giving you enough time to finish up your own brushing.

“Close your eyes.”, came his voice from outside the open door.

“Why?”

“Because your husband asked you.”

“But you didn’t ask-“

“Just close your eyes, darling.”

There was fluttering in your stomach at the nickname, accompanied by some deep satisfaction that this previously trivial endearment now turned you into goo. You did as you were told.

“Closed?”

“Yup.”

You heard the shuffling of his slippers on the floor and a moment later felt him step behind you.

“Okay. Open.”

It took you a moment to focus because seeing him so close behind you in the reflection was rather distracting. The necklace dangled from either side of his large hands, hovering over your shoulders. Your eyes widened when you recognized it.

“How did you…!”

“I called ahead and they had it in Osaka.”, he said and maybe it was just your imagination, but his usual grin seemed a lot softer than before.

You didn’t know what to say. All you could think of was to raise your hand and just kind of wiggle your finger to show off the ring.

“It matches.”

“It does, doesn’t it.”

When you were too frozen to move, he held the delicate chain in one hand to brush your hair out of your neck, the soft touch of his fingertips made you want to lean your back against his chest, but that felt counterproductive, so you finally reached up to help him. He inched a little closer to fiddle with the clasp, and his breath grazed your skin, making your poor heart pound once again.

“All done.”, he said quietly, his hands moving to rest on your arm and hip. In the reflection, you watched as he hesitated, his lips so close to your shoulder that you felt the heat radiating from them.

“Do it.”, you encouraged gently.

Your eyes met in the mirror.

“Do what?”

“Whatever you wanted to do just now…”

Unfortunately, you caught the glint of mischief too late and so couldn’t stop him before he bit you. It wasn’t painful - more a nip than a bite - but you yelped on instinct, and he leapt out of the bathroom with you hot on his tail.

In the hallway, he spun around, waiting to pounce, and you shrieked again in delight when he wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand dipping into your doughy middle, and he nommed you again.

“Sto-hoop!”, you laughed. Your husband turned you to face him and cupped your cheeks in both his hands, peppering your forehead, nose, and lips with pecks before beaming into a longer, minty-fresh kiss. You swayed from side to side as he maneuvered you backwards until you were trapped between him and the wall. With fistfuls of his shirt, you tugged him close to you, your head swimming from his honestly straight-up unfair kissing skills.

“Thank you.”, you said sweetly when he drew away for air.

“Looks pretty.”, he noted, and from the way he looked at you, it wasn’t clear if he meant the necklace or the blush creeping along your cheeks and ears.

“Ahem… yeah. We~”, you lengthened the word, “should go to bed.”

“Really? Oh okay. Yeah.”

He followed you to your door and didn’t halt where he usually did.

“Uhm, Tetsu?”

“Hm?”

“Goodnight?”

“What? I thought… shouldn’t we sleep in the same bed?”

“Why?”

“I dunno, feels right? It’s fine if you’re not ready, though.”

“I mean… I guess I am, but I didn’t think it would happen… now.”

“So, when you thought about me this weekend…Was this not the first thing on your mind?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m trying to be mysterious and aloof here.”

He laughed and gave you another kiss.

“We’ll wait then. Today was a lot, I get it.”

More kisses were placed on your lips, and one last one on your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, darling.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched him go down the hall to his room.

Kuroo lay awake - of course, he did. If he weren’t so hellbent on staying quiet so you could sleep, he would have yelled into his pillow and flopped around on his bed as if he were doing the worm on the dance floor. He had known for weeks now that he was in love with you, but initially had no intention of ever bringing it up to not make the marriage uncomfortable. The sheets rustled when he rolled over and looked out his window, finding patches of night sky between the tall buildings to focus on. Tokyo was never actually quiet, but at least the honking had ceased, and the rushing of the cars turned into soothing white noise. Without thinking about it, he reached up to touch his lips, suppressing a new wave of need to woop and cheer into the darkness of his room. It didn’t take long for his phone to be in his hand, and he scrolled through the weekend’s texts between you and him, grinning wider and wider until… bzzt.

“Hey, so I wanted to ask”, began the text from you, “if you need help with your silk bonnet? I know the first couple of times can be tricky to put it on.”

He shot up and yanked the perfectly fastened bonnet off his head, before replying, “Oh yeah, I’m really struggling here. Thanks, darling.”

Stupidly, he smoothed out his sleep shirt, looking around the room in the small light of his bedside lamp he switched on to check if anything needed to be tidied. When he heard your bedroom door open, he just shoved his entire hamper into his wardrobe and was just straightening some stray papers on his desk when you knocked.

Just like the first time, he sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at you while you fumbled with the fabric. He would have liked to grab the backs of your thighs to pull you in, kissing the softness of your tummy, but figured he should keep it casual.

“Voilà.”, you said, running your fingers along the hem to make sure no hair was untucked.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

His eyes landed on the necklace that you hadn’t taken off yet. It sat right on top of an already fading mark he left on your skin when he had gotten carried away on the couch.

“So… okay. I’m gonna go back. - Sleep tight!”

“Wait.”

“Yeah?”

He tried to come up with an excuse for you to stay longer, but it all sounded idiotic in his silk-bonneted head. But not to worry. You beat him to it.

“You know, actually, on second thought, I don’t feel comfortable walking all the way back in the dark by myself.”

He quickly caught on and played along, nodding with pretend earnestness.

“I think it would be for the best if you stayed the night here. For safety. Would make me feel better, personally.”

“Of course.”

“You get it.”

You lay down side by side, your hands so close to each other on the comforter that your pinkies were barely touching.

“Sooo… lights out?”, he asked.

“Not yet.”

He turned to look at you with a nervous but teasing grin.

“I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“I do. - I do… but…”

“But?”

“I wasn’t done getting kissed yet.”

“I see~ Well”, he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “we can’t have that.”

“It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be fine.”

“At this point, are you saying it to me or yourself?”, he asked, highly amused, and watched you fix your hair in the reflection of your phone for the hundredth time.

“Both. I think. - Where did I put the fruit?”

Your husband gestured simply at a large, fancy basket at your feet on the doorstep.

“Right.”

He smiled and gently grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head for an easy kiss.

“He likes you. Don’t worry.”

And without waiting for a reply, he rang the doorbell, hoisting the fruit basket into his arms.

“Tetsuro?”, Mr Kuroo blinked in surprise, “Y/n dear. What brings you two back so soon?”

Tetsuro shrugged, “Hey, dad, so, funny story.”

art: @freaka_loonyz on Instagram, X, Pinterest and TikTok

taglist: @etsuniiru @nocaffeineallowedtome @princessshart @aldebrana @grassbutneo @melimelisworld @yatoatyourservice @ranscutedoll @remiratboi @armeenix @doodle-with-rhy @bingbongsupremacy @theloveonagiseishiroslife @bakingcurosity @changkleta @nifflermini

The absolute biggest thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for listening to me ramble about this story for months, encouraging me through writer’s block, editing and brainstorming ✨🫶🏻

And thank you to every single one of you who read it til the end and for your comments and reblogs. You are amazing! I hope you liked it 🌱 the story ends here.

[masterlist]

#kuroo x chubby reader #husband kuroo #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #chubby reader #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo testuro #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n

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wonyowonyo · 2 months ago

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Rulebreaker's Rush (P. Chaeyoung / Rosé X M! Reader)

Wc: 7.5k

Y/N, a rebellious running back who breaks rules, gets shy and flees when caught by Rosé, the strict student council president. Their lively clashes ignite a romance, urging Y/N to face his feelings and stop running from love.

A/N: Back to back drops baby, emptying my long overdue unfinished stuffs one by one so tune in for more, as always hope yall enjoyed this one!

The Deimon High sports field pulsed with the raw energy of the Deimon Devil Bats’ afternoon practice. The sun dipped low, casting golden streaks across the grass, while the air crackled with grunts, shouts, and the sharp thud of pads colliding. At the heart of the chaos was Y/N, the team’s elusive running back, weaving through a gauntlet of tackling dummies with the grace of a shonen protagonist dodging a villain’s strike. His legs blurred, his eyes gleamed with focus, and his movements screamed speed.

“Y/N! Stop daydreaming and hit those dummies harder!”

Hyem’s voice sliced through the noise, sharp as a blade. The demonic quarterback stood on the sidelines, his hair catching the light, twirling a rifle like it was a toy. A burst of gunfire—blanks, mercifully—punctuated his words, making the team flinch. “You wanna be benched for the next game, ya lousy punk?!”

“N-No way, Captain!” Y/N stammered, slamming into a dummy with enough force to make it groan. Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he flashed a cheeky grin. Surviving Hyem’s reign of terror required two rules: never show weakness, and never get caught breaking the rules. Y/N was a master at the first and an artist at the second.

His mind, though, wasn’t fully on football. Hidden in his gym bag, buried under a pile of sweaty towels, was his latest contraband: a stack of limited-edition Shonen Jump manga, banned on campus for “distracting students from academic excellence.” He’d smuggled them in during lunch, slipping through the crowded halls like a running back dodging tacklers, all while evading the student council’s patrols. Those rule-enforcers were relentless, led by the most terrifying of them all: Roseanne Park or Rosé for short, the student council president, known as the Iron Lady. Poised, sharp-tongued, with a glare that could make a delinquent confess on the spot, she was a legend. Rumor had it she’d once caught a kid with gum and made him write a 500-word essay on oral hygiene. Gum.

Y/N shuddered, adjusting his helmet. Rosé wouldn’t catch him. He was too fast, too clever. As practice wound down, Hyem barked an order for sprints, and Y/N took off, the wind whistling past his ears. His teammates lagged behind, panting, while he crossed the finish line, chest heaving, grinning like he’d just pulled off a heist. Which, in a way, he had.

The locker room reeked of sweat, cheap body spray, and the faint glow of victory. Y/N slumped onto a bench, peeling off his pads, his gym bag at his feet. The other Devil Bats were either showering or bickering over who’d landed the most tackles, leaving him a rare pocket of quiet. Perfect. Time to check the goods.

With a quick glance to ensure no one was watching, he unzipped his bag. There they were: three pristine Shonen Jump issues, their covers bursting with colorful heroes and villains. His heart gave a little leap—these were the special editions with bonus art, the kind kids on X were begging to trade for. He’d risked detention for these, and it was worth every second. He could already picture himself sprawled in his dorm, flipping through epic battles while munching on smuggled Pocky. Life didn’t get sweeter.

“Nice work today, Y/N!” Aye, his loudmouth best friend, bounded over, his monkey-like grin wide enough to split his face. “You were zippin’ past those dummies like MAX SPEED, yo!” He mimed Y/N’s run, flailing his arms like a windmill.

“Keep it down, Aye,” Y/N hissed, shoving the manga deeper into his bag. “I’m trying to stay low-key here.”

“Low-key? You?” Aye’s cackle echoed off the lockers. “You’re about as subtle as Hyem’s gunfire, man!”

Y/N opened his mouth to retort, but a voice cut through the locker room like a katana through bamboo.

“Y/N.”

His heart stopped. That voice—crisp, commanding, with a faint Australian lilt—was unmistakable. He turned, slow as a horror movie victim, and there she was: Rosé Park, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her student council armband glinting like a badge of judgment. Her long, honey-blonde hair was tied back, and her dark eyes pinned Y/N like a butterfly to a board. Her uniform—blazer, skirt, tie—looked like it belonged on a general, not a high schooler.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked, her tone calm but laced with the promise of trouble.

Y/N’s mouth went dry. His brain screamed, Run! but his body froze, clutching the bag like a lifeline. “N-Nothing, Prez!” he stammered, his voice cracking. “Just, uh, gym stuff! Sweaty towels! You don’t wanna see that!”

Rosé’s eyebrow arched, a single, devastating move that said she saw through his lie like it was tissue paper. She took a step forward, and the air seemed to chill. “Hand it over,” she said, extending a hand. “Now.”

Y/N didn’t think. He ran.

His legs sprang into action, bag slung over his shoulder, as he bolted out of the locker room. Manga pages fluttered behind him, spilling like incriminating confetti. Rosé’s voice rang out—“Y/N, stop!”—but he was already halfway down the hall, his football reflexes kicking into overdrive. This wasn’t just a chase; it was a game, and he was the running back, weaving through the defense.

The school’s halls were a labyrinth of lockers, posters, and wide-eyed students. Y/N vaulted over a stray backpack, slid under a teacher’s rolling cart, and juked past a cluster of freshmen like they were linebackers. His heart pounded, not just from the sprint but from the thrill. He was untouchable, unstoppable, the fastest kid at Deimon High—

“Y/N, you’re only making this worse!” Rosé’s voice was closer now, far too close. He risked a glance back and nearly tripped. She was running, her skirt swishing like a cape, her face a mix of determination and exasperation. How was she so fast?! She wasn’t even sweating, her steps precise, like she’d mapped out his every dodge.

Students lined the halls, cheering like they were at a sports match. “Go, Y/N!” a kid shouted. “Bust him, Prez!” another countered. Y/N gritted his teeth, pushing harder. No way was he getting caught. Not today.

He rounded a corner, the courtyard in sight. Freedom! He could lose her in the open, maybe hide in the gardening club’s shed. His legs burned, but he grinned, picturing the manga safe, Rosé left in the dust.

A stray Shonen Jump slipped from his bag, flapping to the ground. Rosé’s foot pinned it before he could blink.

“Got you,” she said, not even out of breath.

Y/N didn’t wait for the lecture. With a desperate lunge, he dove through a side door, tumbling into a storage closet. The door slammed shut, plunging him into darkness. He crouched among brooms and buckets, heart hammering, trying not to wheeze. The bag was still with him, thank the stars, but one manga was gone. A small price for freedom.

Outside, Rosé’s footsteps paused. Y/N held his breath, praying she’d move on.

Her voice came through the door, low and almost… amused? “You can’t run forever, Y/N. Why do you always make this so difficult?” A pause, then, quieter, like she was speaking to herself: “He’s… kind of impressive, though. That speed.”

Y/N’s brain short-circuited. Impressive? Rosé Park, the Iron Lady, had just complimented him? His face burned, and he pressed his hands to his cheeks, trying to process. Was she toying with him? Or… did she actually notice him? Like, notice notice him? His heart did a weird flip, and for a moment, he forgot he was a fugitive.

Then his foot nudged a mop. It clattered to the floor with a deafening CRASH.

The door flew open, and there was Rosé, silhouetted against the hallway light like an avenging angel. Y/N yelped, scrambling back, but there was nowhere to go. She stepped inside, arms crossed, her expression a blend of annoyance and something softer, harder to read.

“Y/N,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You’re a menace.” She picked up the fallen manga, flipping through it with a frown. “This is what you risked detention for? A comic book?”

“It’s not just a comic book!” Y/N blurted, then clamped his mouth shut. Great, now he sounded like a nerd. “I mean… uh…”

Rosé’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “I should confiscate this and write you up.” She paused, her eyes meeting his. “But I’ll let you off. This time. Don’t test me again.”

Y/N nodded so fast he might’ve given himself whiplash. “Y-Yes, Prez! Won’t happen again! Promise!”

She rolled her eyes, tossing the manga back to him. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Y/N stumbled back to the field, legs wobbly, clutching his bag like it was his last shred of dignity. Practice was wrapping up, the team stretching under Hyem’s predatory gaze. He tried to blend in, but his brain was a whirlwind. Rosé had let him go. She’d called him impressive. And that almost-smile? It was seared into his memory like a manga panel.

“Oi, Y/N!” Hyem’s voice snapped him out of it. The quarterback leaned against a goalpost, flipping through a notebook labeled “Blackmail Material” in his jagged scrawl. “What’s with the dumb look? Got a crush on the student council prez or somethin’?”

Y/N’s face went nuclear. “W-What?! No! Shut up, Captain!” He flailed, which only made it worse.

Aye, stretching nearby, perked up like a dog hearing a treat bag. “YO! Y/N’s in loooove?!” He struck a dramatic pose, pointing at Y/N. “The speedy delinquent and the Iron Lady! MAX ROMANCE!”

“Knock it off!” Y/N hissed, tackling Aye into the grass. Aye cackled, flopping like a fish, while Hyem’s laugh echoed like a villain’s. The rest of the team started chanting “Y/N and Rosé!” until Y/N wanted to dig a hole and disappear.

As he trudged to the showers, manga safe but his pride in tatters, Y/N couldn’t shake Rosé’s words. Kind of impressive. He glanced at the Shonen Jump in his bag, its cover hero grinning defiantly. Maybe, just maybe, he could impress her again—without breaking the rules. Or at least, without getting caught.

That night, in his dorm, Y/N sprawled on his bed, staring at a Shonen Jump cover. Rosé’s warning echoed in his head, but it felt less like a threat and more like a challenge. He grinned, heart racing. Game on, Prez.

The Deimon High cafeteria buzzed with the midday chaos of hungry teens, a battlefield of clattering trays, shouted orders, and the faint smell of overcooked rice. Y/N slouched at a corner table, his gym bag tucked under his seat, still buzzing from his close call with Rosé Park a few days ago. The memory of her almost-smile—and that “kind of impressive” comment—had been looping in his head like a catchy anime opening. He hadn’t dared smuggle manga since, but the itch to break rules was like a mosquito bite he couldn’t stop scratching. And today, he had a new plan. A big one.

“Yo, Y/N, you sure about this?” Aye whispered, leaning across the table, his monkey-like grin equal parts excitement and nerves. His hair bobbed as he glanced around, like they were plotting a bank heist instead of a lunch prank. “If the Iron Lady catches us, we’re toast!”

“Relax, Aye,” Y/N said, flashing a cocky grin that didn’t quite mask his own jitters. “Rosé’s stuck in a student council meeting. I checked the schedule. We’re golden.” He patted the bag under the table, where a contraband hot plate and two packs of instant ramen—spicy shrimp flavor, the good stuff—lay hidden. The school’s “no outside food” rule was strict, but Y/N wasn’t about to survive on soggy cafeteria katsu forever. This was rebellion. This was freedom.

Aye’s eyes sparkled with admiration. “MAX GUTS, man! Cooking ramen right under their noses? You’re a legend!” He mimed slurping noodles, complete with exaggerated sound effects. “Slrrrp! This is gonna be the ultimate lunch revolution!”

Y/N chuckled, but his stomach twisted. Rosé’s warning still echoed: Don’t test me again. He shook it off, picturing her in some stuffy meeting, far from the cafeteria. No way she’d catch him this time. He was Y/N, the Devil Bats’ fastest running back, master of dodging both tacklers and trouble. Right?

Unbeknownst to him, a snitchy freshman had overheard their plan and slipped a note to the student council. And Rosé Park, never one to miss a beat, was already on her way.

The plan was simple: plug in the hot plate under the table, boil water, cook the ramen, and scarf it down before anyone noticed. Y/N had practiced the setup in his dorm, timing it like a football play. But, as anyone knows, no plan survives contact with the enemy—or a faulty hot plate.

He and Aye hunched over the table, shielding the hot plate with their trays. Y/N plugged it in, the faint hum blending with the cafeteria din. The water started to bubble, and the spicy shrimp aroma wafted up, making his mouth water. “Almost there,” he whispered, tossing in the noodles. Aye was practically vibrating, clutching a pair of chopsticks like they were a sacred relic.

Then the hot plate sparked. A tiny, angry pop of electricity, followed by a puff of smoke. Y/N’s eyes widened. “Oh, crap—”

The hot plate shorted out with a loud BZZT, sending the pot of half-cooked ramen flying. Noodles splattered across the table, broth splashed onto Aye’s shirt, and the spicy scent exploded into the air. The cafeteria went silent for a split second, every head turning to their table. Then chaos erupted.

“FOOD FIGHT!” some genius yelled, and the room descended into madness. Rice balls soared like missiles, juice cartons burst midair, and a stray bread roll clocked a kid in the forehead. Y/N ducked a flying onigiri, grabbing his bag and hissing, “Aye, we gotta go!”

But before he could bolt, a voice cut through the pandemonium like a referee’s whistle.

“Y/N!”

His heart plummeted. There, striding through the chaos like a shonen hero stepping onto a battlefield, was Rosé Park. Her student council armband gleamed, her honey-blonde hair swayed, and her dark eyes zeroed in on him with laser precision. She didn’t even flinch as a stray dumpling sailed past her head. “Really, Y/N?” she said, her Australian lilt sharp with exasperation. “Again?”

Y/N’s bravado melted like ice cream in a microwave. His face burned, and he stammered, “P-Prez! I-I can explain!” But his legs had other ideas. He snatched his bag and sprinted, weaving through the food-flinging mob, Rosé hot on his heels.

The cafeteria was a war zone, but Y/N was in his element—dodging, ducking, and diving like he was on the football field. He leaped over a toppled chair, slid past a kid wielding a tray of mashed potatoes, and nearly made it to the exit. Nearly.

The crowd surged, pushing him back, and he collided with something solid. Not a table. Not a wall. Rosé. Her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist with a grip that was somehow both firm and gentle. “Not this time, Y/N,” she said, her voice low, her eyes glinting with a mix of annoyance and—amusement?

Y/N’s brain short-circuited. They were pressed close in the chaotic crowd, her face inches from his, her faint lavender scent cutting through the ramen fumes. His heart jackhammered, and his cheeks went nuclear. “I-I’m sorry, Prez!” he blurted, his voice cracking like a middle schooler’s. “It was just ramen! I swear!”

Rosé’s lips twitched, a smirk breaking through her stern facade. “You’re faster on the field than you are at escaping me,” she teased, her Aussie accent curling around the words. Y/N’s knees wobbled. Was she flirting? No, no way, she was the Iron Lady, she didn’t flirt, she—

“GET A ROOM, YA IDIOTS!” Hyem’s voice boomed from across the cafeteria. The quarterback stood on a table, cackling, a soda can in hand like a grenade. He lobbed it, and Y/N ducked, pulling Rosé down with him. The can sailed over their heads, exploding against a wall in a fizzy spray.

Rosé sighed, releasing his wrist. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, but there was a spark in her eyes, like she was enjoying the chaos just a little.

The food fight ended with a teacher’s megaphone and a lot of detention slips. Y/N, as the apparent instigator, got the worst of it: cleaning the entire cafeteria, alone, under Rosé’s supervision. He stood in the now-empty room, mop in hand, grumbling as he scrubbed broth stains off a table. His gym bag, miraculously noodle-free, sat nearby, a reminder of his failed rebellion.

Rosé leaned against a wall, arms crossed, her blazer slightly rumpled from the chaos. “You know, Y/N,” she said, her tone dry, “if you put half as much effort into following rules as you do breaking them, you’d be unstoppable.”

Y/N snorted, glancing at her. “Rules are boring, Prez. Where’s the fun in that?” He expected a lecture, but Rosé just shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She grabbed a rag and started wiping down a table nearby, her movements precise but relaxed.

He blinked. “You’re… helping? Isn’t that, like, beneath the Iron Lady?”

She shot him a look, half-annoyed, half-playful. “Someone has to make sure you don’t slack off. And don’t call me that.” But her cheeks pinked slightly, and Y/N’s stomach did a weird flip. They worked in silence for a bit, the only sounds the squeak of the mop and the distant hum of the school.

Then he heard it—Rosé, humming softly. It was faint, but unmistakable: the opening theme to Hunter x Hunter, one of his favorite anime. His jaw dropped. “No way,” he blurted. “You watch that?!”

Rosé froze, her rag mid-swipe, her face flushing. “What? I—Focus on cleaning!” she snapped, but her voice was flustered, and she turned away, scrubbing the table with unnecessary vigor.

Y/N grinned, his shyness melting into mischief. “Didn’t peg you for an anime fan, Prez. Got any other secrets? You cosplay on weekends or something?”

“Shut up, Y/N,” she growled, but there was no real heat in it. She flicked a bit of water at him, and he laughed, dodging like it was a tackle. For a moment, the cafeteria didn’t feel like a punishment—it felt like… something else.

By the time they finished, the cafeteria gleamed, and Y/N’s arms ached. He slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to bolt, when Rosé stopped him. “Not so fast,” she said, holding out a clipboard. “You’re assisting the student council at the next football game. Crowd control, setup, that sort of thing. Consider it part of your punishment.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “What?! The game? But I’m playing in it!” The thought of Rosé watching his every move—on and off the field—made his stomach lurch. Part panic, part… excitement?

Rosé’s eyes narrowed, but there was a teasing edge to her voice. “Then you’d better behave, or I’ll bench you myself.” She turned to leave, pausing at the door. “And Y/N? No more ramen stunts.”

He nodded dumbly, watching her go, her silhouette framed by the hallway light. As soon as she was out of sight, Aye pounced, materializing like a ninja. “YO! You and the Prez were totally vibin’ in there! MAX CHEMISTRY!”

“Shut up, Aye!” Y/N hissed, shoving him. But Hyem’s cackle echoed from the hall, where the quarterback lounged, flipping through his blackmail notebook. “Heh, looks like our speedy punk’s got a new play: wooing the Iron Lady. Need some pointers, kid?”

Y/N’s face burned as he stormed off, Aye’s laughter chasing him. But deep down, he couldn’t stop replaying Rosé’s hum, her smirk, the way she’d helped him clean. Maybe this game day duty wouldn’t be so bad.

That night, Y/N practiced late on the field, running drills under the floodlights. He fumbled a catch, groaning as Rosé’s face flashed in his mind. How was he supposed to focus with her watching him? He glanced at the stands, half-expecting to see her there, and his heart skipped. Game day was gonna be a whole new kind of challenge.

The Deimon High stadium buzzed with pre-game energy, a cauldron of cheering students, blaring horns, and the sharp scent of popcorn and grass. The Deimon Devil Bats were set to face the Ojo White Knights, a rival team with a defense like a steel wall. Y/N stood in the locker room, lacing his cleats, his heart pounding with the familiar thrill of game day. As the team’s star running back, he lived for these moments—dodging tacklers, sprinting for the end zone, the crowd roaring his name. But today, his mind was split. Rosé Park, the Iron Lady herself, would be watching from the stands, clipboard in hand, ready to enforce his “student council punishment” from the cafeteria fiasco.

He still couldn’t shake the memory of her humming Hunter x Hunter in the cafeteria, or the way her smirk had made his stomach flip. Since then, he’d been extra careful—no manga smuggling, no ramen stunts. But the itch to break rules was like a splinter under his skin, and Hyem, the devilish quarterback, knew exactly how to prod it.

“Oi, Y/N,” Hyem called, leaning against a locker, his grin sharp as a switchblade. He held up a small packet labeled “Itching Powder: Industrial Strength.” “Wanna give the White Knights a little… motivation? Slip this into their jerseys, and they’ll be scratching instead of tackling. Kekeke!” His laugh was pure chaos, and his eyes gleamed with mischief.

Y/N hesitated, glancing at the packet. It was a classic Hyem scheme—dirty, effective, and so tempting. “I dunno, Captain,” he muttered, rubbing his neck. “Rosé’s got me on a leash. If she catches me…”

Hyem’s grin widened, like a shark smelling blood. “What, scared of your girlfriend? Man up, punk. You’re a Devil Bat, not a choir boy.” He tossed the packet, and Y/N caught it reflexively, his pulse spiking.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Y/N spluttered, his face heating up. But the packet felt like a dare, and Y/N’s rebellious streak roared to life. Just a quick prank, in and out. Rosé would be busy with crowd control, right? He stuffed the packet into his shorts, grinning. “Fine. But if I get caught, I’m blaming you.”

Hyem cackled, firing his rifle into the ceiling. “That’s the spirit! Now move, ya sneaky bastard!”

Y/N slipped out of the locker room, heart racing, and crept toward the White Knights’ changing area. He moved like a ninja, ducking behind water coolers and weaving through equipment bags, his football reflexes making him a ghost. The packet crinkled in his pocket, and he couldn’t help but giggle like a manga villain. This was gonna be legendary—

“Y/N.” Rosé’s voice hit him like a linebacker. She stood at the end of the hall, arms crossed, her student council armband glinting like a warning sign. Her honey-blonde hair was tied back, and her dark eyes bored into him, sharp enough to cut glass. “What are you doing?”

Y/N froze, the packet burning a hole in his pocket. His cocky grin melted into a stammer. “P-Prez! I-I was just… uh… checking the… water pressure?” His voice cracked, and he cursed his traitor brain.

Rosé’s eyebrow arched, her signature move of doom. “With itching powder?” She nodded at his pocket, where the packet’s edge peeked out. Y/N’s stomach dropped. How did she always know?

Y/N’s mind raced, searching for an escape, but Rosé’s gaze pinned him like a butterfly. The hallway felt smaller, the air thicker, and his usual instinct to run fizzled under her scrutiny. He clutched the packet behind his back, his face burning. “Okay, fine, it’s itching powder,” he admitted, voice low. “But I haven’t done anything yet! I was just… thinking about it.”

Rosé stepped closer, her boots clicking on the tile. “Thinking about it?” she repeated, her Australian lilt sharp with disbelief. “You’re this close to suspension, Y/N. One more stunt, and you’re off the team. Is that what you want?”

The words hit like a punch. Y/N’s eyes widened, his bravado crumbling. Getting kicked off the Devil Bats? That was his life, his freedom, his everything. He pictured the field without him, Hyem’s gunfire replaced by disappointment, Aye’s cheers silenced. And Rosé, watching from the stands, not with that spark of amusement but with… nothing.

“N-No, Prez,” he stammered, his voice softer, raw. “I don’t want that. I swear, I’ll do better. Just… give me a chance. Let me play today. I’ll win it clean, no tricks.” His eyes met hers, pleading, and for once, he didn’t look away.

Rosé studied him, her expression unreadable. The hallway was silent, save for the distant roar of the crowd. Then, slowly, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Fine,” she said. “But I’m watching you, Y/N. One misstep, and you’re done.” She held out her hand. “The powder. Now.”

Y/N handed it over, his fingers brushing hers for a split second. His heart skipped, and he yanked his hand back, blushing like an idiot. Rosé pocketed the packet, her lips twitching like she was fighting a smile. “Get to the field,” she said, turning away. “And don’t make me regret this.”

Y/N nodded, bolting for the locker room, his pulse hammering. Rosé’s words echoed in his head, but so did her gaze—intense, but not cold. Was she rooting for him, just a little? The thought made his chest tight, and he shook it off, lacing up for the game. He had to focus. This was his shot to prove himself—to Hyem, to Rosé, to everyone.

The stadium was a coliseum of noise and light, the stands packed with screaming fans waving Deimon banners. The Devil Bats faced the White Knights in a clash of titans, the score tied at 14-14 in the final quarter. Y/N stood on the field, sweat soaking his jersey, his breath visible in the cool evening air. Every muscle burned, but his eyes blazed with determination. This was his moment.

Hyem barked the play, his grin feral. “Y/N, you’re up! Run the Ghost, and don’t screw it up!” The “Devil Bat Ghost” was Y/N’s signature move, a fake-out that left defenders grasping at air. Y/N nodded, adrenaline flooding his veins. He glanced at the stands, spotting Rosé near the front, her clipboard clutched tight, her eyes locked on him. His heart thudded, but he channeled it into focus.

The ball snapped, and Y/N exploded forward, the world slowing to a heartbeat. The White Knights’ linebackers charged, massive and unrelenting, but Y/N was a phantom. He spun left, then right, his feet barely touching the ground, leaving one defender sprawling. Another lunged, arms wide, but Y/N faked a cut, his body blurring in a perfect Devil Bat Ghost. The crowd gasped as he slipped through, a streak of red and black, the end zone in sight.

A final defender loomed, a mountain of muscle. Y/N gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of speed into his legs. He juked, twisted, and leaped, diving over the defender’s outstretched arms. The stadium erupted as he landed in the end zone, the ball clutched tight, the scoreboard flashing:

Deimon 20, Ojo 14.

Y/N rolled to his feet, panting, the crowd’s roar washing over him like a tidal wave. Aye tackled him in a bear hug, yelling, “MAX TOUCHDOWN!” Hyem cackled, firing his rifle into the air. But Y/N’s eyes flicked to the stands. Rosé was still there, her clipboard lowered, her lips parted slightly. Was that… awe? Her gaze met his, and for a heartbeat, the stadium faded, leaving just them.

The game ended with a narrow Deimon victory, the Devil Bats mobbed by cheering fans. Y/N stood on the field, sweaty and exhausted, but grinning like he’d conquered the world. His teammates slapped his back, Aye chanting “Y/N! Y/N!” like a hype man. But his attention drifted to the sidelines, where Rosé approached, her boots crunching on the grass.

She stopped in front of him, arms crossed, her expression a mix of sternness and something softer. “You kept your word,” she said, her voice cutting through the post-game chaos. “No tricks. And that run…” She paused, her eyes flicking over him, taking in his dirt-streaked jersey and wild grin. “Your speed’s incredible.”

Y/N’s face lit up, his exhaustion forgotten. Rosé Park, complimenting him again? His heart did a backflip, and before he could stop himself, he blurted, “W-Wanna grab ramen sometime? Y’know, legally?” His voice cracked, and he winced, expecting her to shut him down.

Rosé blinked, caught off guard. Then, to his shock, she laughed—a real, warm laugh that made her eyes crinkle. “Only if you stop running from me,” she teased, her Aussie accent curling around the words like a melody. Y/N’s jaw dropped, his cheeks burning. Was she… flirting? For real?

Before he could respond, Aye’s voice boomed from behind. “YO! Y/N’S SCORING OFF THE FIELD TOO!” The wide receiver struck a dramatic pose, pointing at them, while Hyem cackled nearby, scribbling in his blackmail notebook. Y/N spun, mortified, shouting, “Shut up, Aye!” but Rosé just shook her head, her smile lingering.

“Go shower,” she said, turning to leave. “You smell like a locker room. And Y/N? Don’t think this gets you off probation.” But her tone was playful, and as she walked away, Y/N caught her glancing back, just for a second.

Y/N trudged to the locker room, still buzzing from the win and Rosé’s words. His teammates were in high spirits, reenacting his touchdown with exaggerated flair. But Hyem and Aye had other plans. They cornered him near the showers, Hyem’s grin downright evil.

“So, lover boy,” Hyem said, flipping open his notebook. “Need help sealing the deal with the Iron Lady? I’ve got ideas. Rig the scoreboard to flash ‘Y/N <3 Rosé,’ maybe some fireworks…” He trailed off, cackling as Y/N’s face turned beet red.

“NO! Leave her alone!” Y/N yelped, flailing. Aye piled on, slinging an arm around him. “C’mon, man, we’re your wingmen! MAX SUPPORT! Gotta make the Prez swoon!”

Y/N shoved them off, grabbing his towel and sprinting for the showers. “You’re both insane!” he shouted, but their laughter chased him. As he stood under the hot water, washing off the game’s grime, he couldn’t stop smiling. Rosé’s laugh, her challenge to stop running—it felt like a new play, one he was dying to run.

Outside, Aye and Hyem schemed, their whispers drifting through the locker room. “Give it time,” Hyem muttered, smirking. “That punk’s already hooked.”

Later that night, Y/N lay in his dorm, staring at the ceiling, the Shonen Jump from his first run-in with Rosé on his desk. Her words—incredible, stop running—played on repeat, mingling with the roar of the crowd. Probation or not, game day had changed something. He grinned, heart racing. The festival was next, and with Rosé watching, he’d have to play his best game yet—on and off the field.

The Deimon High school festival was a kaleidoscope of chaos and joy, the campus alive with flickering lanterns, sizzling yakisoba stalls, and the laughter of students weaving through the crowd. Y/N trudged along a bustling path, lugging a heavy box of paper cranes, his usual swagger dampened by the weight of his latest punishment. Rosé Park, the Iron Lady of the student council, had sentenced him to festival prep after his itching powder stunt at the game—a step up from the cafeteria cleanup, but still a blow to his Devil Bats pride. He was supposed to be Deimon’s star running back, not a delivery boy for decorations.

“Pick up the pace, Y/N!” Rosé’s voice sliced through the festival din, crisp yet tinged with that Australian lilt that sent a shiver down his spine. She stood near a takoyaki stall, clipboard in hand, directing volunteers like a general on a battlefield. Her honey-blonde hair was loose, catching the golden glow of the lanterns, and her casual sweater and jeans softened her usual Iron Lady aura. She looked… approachable. Almost too pretty to be real.

“Yeah, yeah, Prez,” Y/N grumbled, setting the box on a table with a huff. He wiped sweat from his brow, stealing a glance at her. Ever since the game against the White Knights, where he’d nailed the Devil Bat Ghost and blurted out that ramen invite, Rosé had been stuck in his head like a shoujo manga heroine. Her laugh on the field, her teasing “stop running,” the way she’d looked at him—it was messing with his focus. But he was still on probation, and she was still the rule-enforcing president. No room for slip-ups.

Rosé caught his stare and tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing playfully. “What’s that look? Plotting another prank?” Her tone was stern, but a smile tugged at her lips, and Y/N’s heart did a clumsy flip.

“N-Nope, all clear!” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just… admiring your clipboard skills, Prez.” He flashed a grin, hoping it hid his blush.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks pinked slightly, and she turned to adjust a lantern. “Flattery won’t get you out of work,” she muttered, but there was a warmth in her voice that made his grin widen.

They teamed up to hang a string of paper cranes, their shoulders brushing as they reached for the same hook. Y/N’s fingers fumbled, the string slipping, and Rosé sighed, taking it from him. “Like this,” she said, her hands deft as she tied a knot, her fingertips grazing his. The touch was brief, electric, and Y/N’s breath hitched, his face burning like he’d sprinted a full field.

“T-Thanks,” he mumbled, scratching his neck, praying she didn’t hear his heartbeat. She glanced at him, her eyes softening, and for a moment, the festival’s noise faded, leaving just them—cranes swaying, her smile sneaking through, his chest tight with something new.

As dusk settled, the festival glowed under a velvet sky, the stalls twinkling like a constellation of dreams. Y/N slumped on a bench, catching his breath, while Aye scarfed down a tower of takoyaki beside him. The wide receiver’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Yo, Y/N, wanna make this festival MAX EPIC? I got something big.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, wary but curious. “Aye, if this is another food fight, I’m out. Rosé’s got me on lockdown after the itching powder thing.” He could still hear her warning from game day, sharp but tinged with trust: One misstep, and you’re done.

Aye grinned, pulling a small, suspiciously heavy bag from his jacket. “Fireworks,” he said, like he was unveiling a sacred relic. “The real deal—banned for safety reasons. We set these off during the festival climax, and bam! We’re legends. The crowd’ll lose it!”

Y/N’s stomach knotted. Fireworks were a hard no in Rosé’s rulebook, and he’d sworn to behave after nearly losing his spot on the team. But the image of bright, booming lights, the crowd cheering like they did for his touchdowns—it tugged at his rebellious streak. His fingers twitched, tempted. “Aye, if Rosé catches me, I’m toast. Like, expelled toast.”

Aye scoffed, tossing a takoyaki and catching it midair. “She’s swamped running this circus! You’re the fastest guy at Deimon, man. In and out, MAX STEALTH! C’mon, you owe me for the ramen cover-up.”

Y/N glanced at Rosé across the festival, where she was helping a kid win a goldfish, her laugh soft and unguarded. His chest ached—she’d trusted him, believed in him. But Aye’s grin was infectious, and the fireworks promised glory. “Fine,” he muttered, snatching the bag. “But you’re dead if this backfires.”

He slipped into the shadows, heading for a quiet corner near the sports field. His heart raced, half-thrill, half-guilt, as he set up the fireworks, his hands steady despite his nerves. He pictured the crowd’s awe, the sky ablaze—then froze as a voice cut through the dark.

“Y/N, again?”

Rosé stood behind him, arms crossed, her eyes a storm of frustration and disbelief. The fuse sparked, and Y/N’s bravado shattered. “P-Prez! I-I wasn’t—okay, I was, but—” His voice cracked, and his instincts screamed run. He bolted, the bag bouncing against his hip.

The festival blurred as Y/N sprinted, lanterns flashing past, stalls a kaleidoscope of color. His legs pumped, weaving through the crowd like he was dodging tacklers, but Rosé was relentless, her steps quick and determined. “Y/N, stop!” she called, her voice carrying over the festival’s hum. It was their first chase all over again—him the elusive running back, her the unyielding pursuer—but this time, the weight of his choices pressed heavier.

He veered toward the sports field, his sanctuary, where the festival lights dimmed and the stars shone bright. His lungs burned, but his mind was a tempest. Why did he keep doing this? Breaking rules, running from her? He skidded to a stop by the goalpost, panting, and turned to face her. Rosé slowed, her chest heaving, her expression a mix of anger and something raw—hurt.

“Why?” she demanded, stepping closer, her voice trembling. “Why do you keep breaking rules, Y/N? I trusted you. After the game, I thought…” She trailed off, her eyes searching his, and the vulnerability in them hit like a tackle.

Y/N’s throat tightened. He dropped the bag, the fireworks clattering to the grass. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Breaking rules… it’s like running. It makes me feel free, like nothing can catch me. But you…” He met her gaze, his heart pounding like it did before a touchdown. “You make me wanna stop, Rosé. I don’t wanna run from you. I wanna stay. ‘Cause you see me—all of me.”

Rosé’s eyes widened, her stern facade crumbling. The festival’s distant music wove through the silence, and for a moment, they were just two teens under the stars, the world holding its breath. “Y/N,” she said softly, stepping closer, close enough that he could smell her lavender shampoo. “I’ve always seen you. Your speed, your heart. But I need you to trust me, too. No more hiding.”

His shyness surged, but he pushed through, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m trying, Rosé. I… I really like you. And I’m scared I’ll screw this up.” His face burned, but he held her gaze, his confession hanging like a shoujo manga panel, all sparkles and heartbeats.

Rosé’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re such an idiot,” she murmured, but her voice was warm, almost tender. She picked up a single firework, turning it over in her hands. “One,” she said, meeting his eyes, a shy smile breaking through. “We’ll set off one. Together. But that’s it.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped, then he grinned, his heart soaring like a touchdown run. “Deal.” They lit the fuse, stepping back as the firework rocketed skyward, bursting in a cascade of gold and blue. The light bathed them, and Rosé’s smile—rare, radiant—stole his breath. Their hands brushed as they watched, and he didn’t pull away, the warmth of her fingers anchoring him in place.

The festival hummed on, but Y/N and Rosé lingered near the sports field, reluctant to rejoin the chaos. They wandered to a quiet stall selling floating lanterns, the kind you lit and released to carry wishes skyward. Rosé paused, her fingers tracing a lantern’s delicate paper, her expression soft. “Want to try?” she asked, glancing at Y/N with a shy spark in her eyes.

Y/N’s heart skipped. “Uh, sure, Prez. But if I wish for no more probation, you gonna veto it?” He grinned, but his voice was softer, nervous, like he was stepping onto new turf.

She laughed, the sound light and unguarded, and handed him a lantern. “Write your wish first, rulebreaker. Then we’ll see.” Her tone was teasing, but her gaze held something deeper, like she was daring him to be honest.

They sat cross-legged on the grass, the lantern between them, a marker shared as they scribbled their wishes. Y/N hesitated, his pen hovering. He glanced at Rosé, her hair glowing under the festival lights, her focus on her own writing. His chest tightened—she was the reason he wanted to be better, to stop running. He wrote quickly, shielding it from her, his cheeks warm.

Rosé finished hers, her handwriting neat but guarded. She caught him peeking and flicked his forehead. “No cheating,” she said, but her smile was playful, and she leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he fumbled the marker, earning another laugh.

They lit the lantern together, their fingers tangling briefly as they held it aloft. The flame flickered, casting a golden glow across their faces, and Y/N’s breath caught at how close they were, her eyes reflecting the light like stars. “Ready?” she whispered, and he nodded, too flustered to speak.

They released the lantern, watching it drift upward, joining a constellation of others in the sky. Y/N’s heart pounded, his wish—to be someone Rosé could rely on—floating with it. He glanced at her, catching a wistful look on her face. “What’d you wish for, Prez?” he asked, half-teasing, half-hoping.

Rosé smirked, nudging him. “None of your business, Y/N. But… maybe it’s not so different from yours.” Her voice was soft, her blush barely visible, and Y/N’s heart did a full-on Devil Bat Ghost, dodging all his doubts.

They sat there, shoulders touching, the festival’s hum a distant melody. For once, Y/N didn’t feel the urge to run—just to stay, right there, with her.

The festival wound down, the crowd thinning as the final (approved) fireworks lit the sky in bursts of red and silver. Y/N and Rosé sat on a grassy hill, soda cans in hand, their yukatas rumpled from the day’s chaos. The air was cool, sweet with the scent of grilled squid, and their shoulders brushed, a quiet intimacy settling between them.

“You’re still on probation,” Rosé said, her tone teasing as she sipped her drink. “Don’t think one firework and a lantern get you off the hook.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back on his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Prez. But I’m gonna try, y’know? Be less… chaotic.” He glanced at her, his voice softening. “For you.”

Rosé’s cheeks flushed, and she nudged his shoulder, her touch lingering. “Good. I’ll keep you in check.” Her smile was soft, her eyes catching the firework glow, and Y/N’s heart soared, like he’d just scored the winning touchdown.

Their moment was shattered by Hyem’s cackle. “Oi, lovebirds!” The quarterback stormed up, dragging a protesting Aye. “Cleanup duty, Y/N! No slacking!” Aye, waving a skewer, shouted, “MAX POWER COUPLE!” as the Devil Bats cheered below, waving sparklers and chanting, “Y/N and Rosé!”

Y/N groaned, burying his face in his hands, but Rosé laughed, standing and pulling him up. Her hand lingered in his, warm and steady, and she leaned in, whispering, “You’re not running this time, right?” Her breath tickled his ear, and he grinned, his face burning.

“Nope,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I’m staying, Prez.” They joined the cleanup, her laughter mingling with his, the festival’s glow wrapping them in promise.

Game day dawned bright, the stadium pulsing with anticipation. Y/N stood on the field, lacing his cleats, the familiar rush of adrenaline in his veins. The Devil Bats faced a new rival, and he was ready to dazzle, to run, to win. But today, his eyes weren’t just on the end zone.

He glanced at the stands, spotting Rosé in the front row, her student council armband swapped for a handmade sign: “Go Y/N!” in bold, glittery letters. She caught his gaze and waved, her smile bright and unguarded, a sparkler in the daylight. Y/N’s heart soared, and he winked at her, bold and playful. She rolled her eyes, but her blush betrayed her, and the crowd’s cheer felt like it was for them.

Hyem clapped his shoulder, smirking. “Focus, punk. Save the mushy stuff for after we crush ‘em.” Y/N laughed, pulling on his helmet. The whistle blew, and he took off, legs a blur, the field his canvas. He wasn’t running from anything—not rules, not Rosé, not himself. He was running toward her, toward trust, toward a future painted in lantern light and firework sparks.

The moment froze like a manga panel: Y/N sprinting, Rosé’s sign gleaming, their story just beginning under the stadium’s roar.

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