#home being place I live in this context

[distributedbyrustyquill]

Life is so much Better when I’m not at home 😁

[eowynstwin]

anatidae - conception, i.

After several happy years together, Ghost and Soap finally convince you to have their child. - ghoap x reader. audhd reader. reader has a nickname. established relationship. polyamory. baby fever. manipulative Soap. smut. breeding kink. anal sex. top Soap. bottom Ghost. sex as manipulation. - Masterlist. Ao3

Eventually, they convince you.

It is impossible to tell who your daughter’s father is for two reasons:

One, when she opens her tiny eyes, one is blue, and one is brown. Complete heterochromia, unlikely to change.

And two—with every passing day, she looks more and more like you.

Four years old; roly-poly with baby fat, little legs and arms she doesn’t quite know what to do with yet. She fills the spaces in your plural household that you did not know were empty until she found them, with her curiosity, her laughter, her boundless appetite for each minute of every day.

She’s smart. Very smart, quick not only to learn but to apply her lessons to new contexts. She sleeps through the night almost every night since the three of you brought her home, turns her nose up at nothing you offer her to eat, never wanders far from you or her fathers at the park or the store.

She’s perfect—even though she has not yet uttered a single word.

Your baby. Your Lizzie.

And actually, it’s Soap’s idea.

His eldest sister’s middle child is turning six, so the three of you pile into his car on a warm Saturday morning to make the drive to the suburbs. The MacTavish-Donnelly household overflows with children in party hats and benevolently bored parents when Ghost pulls the old Jeep up to the curb, boxing some unfortunate van in the driveway, and your trepidation is visible the moment your shoes hit the pavement.

Being your partner has uncovered a new layer of perception for Soap and Ghost; they see and hear things they previously would have ignored, because with the way you move through the world you can ignore nothing.

You described it once having a live wire for every nerve ending; everything, everywhere, screams at you all the time.

So when you pause on the sidewalk when you see a trike in the front yard, and a few adults holding punch cups on the stoop chatting, Soap knows why he hears the wrapping paper around the present in your hands crinkle, your grip tightening.

He throws an arm around your shoulder and brings his lips to your ear. “You got your wee earplugs, aye, Ducky?”

“Yes,” you whisper nervously.

You sway into him at his touch—it’s grounding, you’ve explained. It keeps you from floating away, expanding outward to try to figure out everything happening around you. Nothing beyond the sphere he and Ghost make matters so much.

He kisses the soft spot of your jaw. Ghost comes up to your other side and pulls your hand up into the crook of his arm. “We can set the place on fire, if need be.”

“Don’t burn my sister’s house down, please, LT.”

“Sink fire. Set off the alarms, that’s all.”

You give a little sniff of laughter, and, thus fortified, the three of you advance.

There’s Twister in the living room next to a table piled high with a rainbow of gifts, children tumbling around each other on the mat and laughing while music plays on the telly. Pastel streamers and balloons festoon everything (the middle child being celebrated should grow up without any proverbial complexes, Soap thinks), and confetti is abundant on the carpeted floor like a piñata molted on its way through.

There are the usual stares as they walk through the house. Soap is used to it—likes to flaunt it even, sometimes—and Ghost has never given a shit what anyone thinks. But you seem to shrink even further between them as you feel watched, curious eyes wondering if the mousy little thing between them really arrived with two men.

Luckily, they find Mary in the kitchen, and even despite how obviously harried she is, wisps of hair flying around a lopsided ponytail, Soap’s sister brightens when she sees them.

“Johnny!” she exclaims, swooping him into a hug he’ll never get too big to fall into. “And Simon and Duck! Thank goodness, we’re about to cut the cake and we might need crowd control.”

“Mary,” grunts Ghost.

“Hello Mary,” you say.

Mary releases Soap and smiles very kindly at you. Out of all his siblings, she’s been the most fond of you from the start—probably, he thinks, because she sees something to nurture in you.

At that moment, two of Mary’s children and three of Soap’s nieces and nephews, including the birthday boy, rush in to glom around Soap’s legs, and after the choruses of “Uncle Johnny!” collide with him, they backwash toward Ghost, who always has candy in the many pockets of his utility pants for them to scavenge.

Soap’s family has accommodated you well, though—they flow around you like water, barely touching, and you take the opportunity to give Mary your own hug.

“We’re doing crafts in the backyard, Duck, I thought you might like that,” his sister says, patting your back.

You pull away and give her a smile. It’s one of Soap’s favorites; small and mysterious, and completely genuine. The one that means you’re very pleased, and you don’t feel pressured to show it.

“Yes,” you say, and you vanish outside to sit with the quiet ones.

Ghost allows himself to be dragged off by the rowdier kids, leaving Soap to lean against the kitchen counter and smile at his sister; when when she lifts a cup to sip at some punch, he taps her belly with two fingers.

He’d felt it when she hugged him. A little firmness, hidden by the weight she’s never managed to lose after three pregnancies, and the loose shirt she’s likely wearing to hide the growing bump.

“Number four,” he murmurs.

Jealousy, a thin, sharp garrote, tightens in a spool around his stomach, but it’s an old feeling—one he’s learned how to ignore, until it stops aching.

(Compromise—sacrifice. It’s how a relationship between three people sustains itself. Everyone in his plurality has given something up, or learned to live with something else, or adopted new practices they might otherwise have never picked up. It’s a solid, even foundation, and the last thing Soap wants to do is take a hammer to it.)

His sister’s face softens with warmth. The glow of it suffuses the stiff lines of her posture, gentling the anxiety that has fizzed in the way she stands.

“Our last one,” she says quietly. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

“Planned?”

“No. God! Could you imagine? Mum and Dad are crazy enough.”

Soap smiles. “We turned out alright.”

Mary runs her hand over her stomach, quick but loving. “Yeah, we did. Remember me though? Swore I’d never become her, and look at me now.”

A house full of toys shoved into every corner; sippy cups in a wire drain basket by the sink. The long hem of her tunic shirt creased by tugging hands. The jamb of one door anointed with three different colors of sharpie, hatch marks measuring years of rapid growth.

Light, and warmth, and color.

“You’re happy, though,” he says.

“I am.” She aims a little grin into her cup—an expression he’s seen her make more often with every consecutive pregnancy.

A secretive curve of her lips. Tranquil, with the familiarity of some hidden insight, as if Mary can see facets of happiness that—to Johnny—remain a mystery.

“I always thought this would be you, you know,” she says. “If you married a girl, I mean. Then you and Simon got together, and I figured not, but…”

Soap settles his crossed arms lightly on his chest, sucking one cheek between his teeth. He sets his gaze on the rainbow of letter magnets on her fridge, spelling out the names of her children. “You know her. It wouldnae—wouldnae be a good idea.”

Mary nods. “And she doesn’t want any?”

“No. Neither of ‘em do.”

He feels his sister’s eyes on him. Probing, in only the way a mother of three’s can be—though even before having children, she’s always been able to see through him in a way no one else ever has.

“I dunno abou’ that,” she says eventually.

When he looks up at her, her gaze is angled elsewhere—toward the sliding glass of the back door, where a table piled high with cheap craft paints and canvas board and grubby jars of water are attended by the clan introverts. You’re the only adult sitting with them, happy not to be bothered—

But a little one comes shyly up to you, a messy painting clutched between two paint-smeared hands.

It’s Mary’s youngest, Angus—and her shyest. He comes to stand beside you with his shoulders hunched, eyes big and trepidatious as he waits for you to catch sight of him.

Soap watches you greet the lad when you notice him. The expression on your face doesn’t change; you always speak to the children the same way you speak to adults, no exaggeration, no upward pitch. Angus stretches his arms out to present his creation.

You look at the canvas when it’s offered to you, and then in a smooth motion you slide out of your chair to crouch down to the boy’s level. As Soap watches, you cross you legs and invite him to sit in your lap, and then, with as serious an expression as you might have at a gallery showing, you begin pointing at different places on the painting. One arm is wrapped loosely around little Angus’ belly, holding the child to you like a stuffed toy.

One side of the canvas is in Angus’ hand; the other is in yours.

He can’t hear what you’re saying, as he watches your mouth move, but Angus positively glows with the obvious praise you’re giving him. When he turns to look up at you, you give him your mysterious little smile—

Something hot blooms in Soap’s chest.

Then there’s a shriek of laughter in the living room, and when Soap turns to look, he sees Ghost on the Twister mat, huge body set in an arch, feet on green, hands on red.

He’s going to bitch later about his back or his knees, Soap can already hear it ringing in his ears—but right now Ghost holds position as kids crawl underneath him or do their best to clamber over him like climbing a mountain. Then, suddenly, Ghost collapses with one of their nephews worming over his belly, throwing his arms around the kid and hauling him over his shoulder.

“Bloody mountain goats, I look like a jungle gym to you?” he barks, baring his teeth in a mock-snarl. Though at home he’ll have it on as often as not, he never wears his mask around the children.

Ghost surges up to spin the boy around, and the other kids crow with laughter and demands for a turn of their own.

“Watch the lamps!” Mary cries out, undercutting her warning with a laugh. “You’re as bad as the wee ones, Simon!”

The heat in his chest billows. St. Elmo’s fire catches in his alveoli, flash-burns the lining of his lungs inward to cloak his heart in a white blaze. Heat sears his neck upward to flood across his face.

He thinks of you, belly round, breasts heavy. Ghost with a baby in his arms, a tiny thing made tinier by the bulk of his huge frame. A toddler clinging to your leg, face tipped up to look at you with adoring eyes, or napping at midday, thumb in mouth, on Soap’s chest.

It takes his breath away. The kitchen sways around him, the earth’s center of gravity shifting. A fissure crack the casket of his want.

Mary catches his eye with a knowing grin.

He starts with Ghost.

You’re going to be the harder sell. Early in the relationship, the three of you had sat down to discuss this, and you had been unequivocal—no kids. You did not want children, and you did not want to be pregnant.

It was a sensory nightmare, you’d explained. The thought of sticky hands reaching out constantly to touch you, and shrill, high voices shouting and screaming, with no knob to turn down the volume, made you shudder with fear. Piles of toys to trip over, when your balance is medium on a good day, and no moment to sit down in silence without the risk of it being interrupted by some little goblin’s insatiable demands.

Put that way, Soap could see your point. He remembers his parents’ most exhausted days, dealing with no less than five children in the house and seven for birthdays and holidays. That kind of exhaustion would weigh on anyone, but for you, it would be a different beast entirely.

And Ghost was in accord—both for your sake, and his own. By then, he had told you and Soap about the Sonoran desert, Sparks and Washington, burning down his own house with four bodies still warm inside it—one smaller than the pool of blood it lay in.

He did not want to bring something into the world so easily taken out of it.

Soap could see that too. Certain moments in the field live permanently now in the folds of his brain, bloody and ugly and grisly in the way most people only encounter through fiction. Too real to him now not to look at his nieces and nephews sometimes with dread tearing up his gut.

Soap was outvoted. Moreover, he was convinced. So he kept his desires to himself.

But that evening after the party, he can’t stop thinking about it. A little bundle with his eyes, and your mouth, and Simon’s nose. Little hands curling around his fingers. A high chair at their dinner table, right next to his place. Bedtime stories. Halloween costumes. Friday night movies, like his Dad used to set up for him and his brother and sisters, popcorn fights during action scenes and falling asleep in piles on the floor.

Soap has always wanted children. Always. He thought he could give that up, being with you and Ghost—what’s between the three of you is rare, precious, more than worth having even by itself. He loves the life he has with his little family, and he wouldn’t change it.

But expansion isn’t exactly change, is it?

The more he thinks about it, the more right it feels. The more he can already feel the weight of his child in his arms. And he knows it would make the two of you happy, even despite the trepidation you and Ghost share. Neither he nor you grew up in happy homes overflowing with love—it’s natural that neither of you can see the potential of it.

But Soap did. Soap can.

He doesn’t mind being the visionary. He’s more than willing to lead the charge. He can do the work of opening his partners’ eyes—

And he’s not above fighting dirty to do it.

It starts with getting Ghost on his back. You’re out one night teaching an evening class (bento dinner in hand, an extra square of chocolate Soap snuck in at the last moment), so the next few hours are just for them, and Soap takes possession of every minute.

It’s always a sight. Ghost is the biggest man Soap has ever been with—and to have that huge body below him, fatty muscle red and quivering, hips rolling with a needy cant as Soap slowly drags his cock in and out of him, is something that never fails to take his breath away.

He massages his hands up and down Ghost’s chest, cupping his heavy pecs and thumbing his nipples as the big man’s eyes sink closed and his bitten mouth drops open. Between them, his cock, blustery red and standing straight up, twitches every time Soap pushes in, dripping clear and messy all over his stomach.

Ghost’s hands are vice-tight on Soap’s hips, but he doesn’t urge him to speed up, doesn’t snarl at him to get on with it, like he usually might. No—Soap set the mood just right, backing Ghost into the bedroom with soft kisses up his neck and softer hands wandering up his shirt. It’s honey-sweet and slow as dripping molasses, with Ghost hot and tight around him, their groaning breaths mingling as they hang there together in the moment.

Watching Ghost’s belly jump with pleasure, Soap says—breathlessly, as if letting it slip out—“I wanna get her pregnant, Simon.”

It’s only supposed to test the waters. Take Ghost’s temperature, see where his head’s at. Soap is ready for anything—for Simon to freeze, to glare at him, even to shove him away.

But instead—

“Fffffuck,” Ghost growls, chest expanding, stomach going concave as he heaves a deep breath in.

His brows screw together, upper lip curling, and he draws so tight around Soap that he has the delirious notion that Ghost is going to pull his cock clean off. If Ghost had been blushing before, he’s positively blazing now, red blooming bright across his face and chest and all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Soap knows immediately what’s happening—Ghost is on the razor’s edge of coming.

And all it took were those six little words.

“Yeah?” he presses, blending the long thrusts he’s kept steady until now into a few short, quick ones. “Yeah? You like that idea? Her all big with our baby, Si, something we put in her? Us?”

Ghost pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, throwing his head back. “Fuck—Johnny—” he snarls.

“Did y’see her with the wee ones?” Johnny croons, pressing the heels of his hands into Ghost’s stomach. “She’d be so good with a baby, Ghost, I know it. Our baby.”

Ghost starts panting, hard, grunting like an animal with every exhale. He’s never especially talkative during sex, unless it’s to give instruction or bark an order, but now it seems that language has completely abandoned him, as he tries to get Johnny to fuck him faster with the roll of his hips, trying to thrust his cock into the open air.

As if you’re already there, already taking him, and Ghost is trying to get himself as deep inside you as he can.

Johnny wraps one hand around it, sliding his fist loosely up and down. He can practically feel Ghost’s heartbeat plunging through every raised vein. If Johnny had the flexibility, he’d bend down right now just to get it in his mouth, but as it is he contents himself with getting Ghost’s precum all over his palm and licking it off with his tongue.

“Probably take a few tries,” says Soap, closing his hand back around Ghost’s cock. “Though with two of us, probably not long. Not if we go one right after the other, every time we can, aye?”

He pauses to spit on the red, exposed crown, circled round by thumb and fingers, so he can lube up his grip. Ghost’s dense, heavy thighs shake around his hips, as Soap thrusts his cock as deep as he can and slides his hand down to Ghost’s base. He mimics the squeeze of Ghost’s ass around him—the tightness of your cunt swallowing him up—as he jacks him off, up and down at the same time he pulls in and out.

“Fuck,” Ghost breathes, “Johnny, you—Johnny—”

“Sounds good, doesnae?” Soap says. “Gettin’ her between us, not stoppin’ ‘til somethin’ takes.”

“Fuck!” Ghost shouts, and then he’s gone, balls drawing up, a stream of white jetting out so hard it lands on his chest, right in the valley of his swelling pecs. Soap fucks him through it with his hand, and slams his hips hard against Ghost’s as as he chases his own end—

“Just—like—this,” Soap growls, tether snapping, and he empties himself as deep as he can into Ghost, cock pulsing as ecstasy pours up and down his stomach. He swears he can feel every drop of cum leaving him, and worries wildly that there won’t be enough left for you later, as the intensity of his orgasm seems to empty his balls of every last reserve.

He holds himself still for a moment after, still buried in his partner, nerves alight with an ecstasy so bright and so fervent that it’s sharp enough to cut him to the bone.

He feels very present. Anchored and secure in this place and time. At home, Soap struggles often with the feeling of being tugged in a hundred different directions, all at once, myriad urges to see, do, and act all clamoring at him for attention. It’s something that keeps him alive in the field—that keeps him thriving on deployment, really—but constantly on his toes when he’s home, all safe and sound.

Always searching, it feels like. Always looking for something he needs, and almost never finding it. The feeling quietens when Ghost curls his hand around the back of his neck, or you lean your head in close to his to kiss him or to speak.

Now—it’s silent.

A father. He’s going to be a father.

Panting heavily, Ghost finds his voice—at least, enough of it to start laughing.

“Spoiled brat, you are,” he chuckles in his steel-edged tenor. “You know that? Spoiled.”

Soap grins at him, caressing one thigh. “Your fault.”

“Mm,” Ghost hums, having long known that he’ll give Soap whatever he wants. The hard cut of his mouth is pulled into a wry smile. “She ain’t gonna fold so easy, Johnny.”

Soap pulls out of his partner, and crawls up to lay next to him. “I know. S’what I like abou’ her, after all.”

Ghost hums again. He lifts one arm to wrap around Soap’s shoulders, drawing him close, idly tapping his fingers on his tricep.

“You’re gonna have to get a desk job,” he says.

His tone is thoughtful, but Soap knows the words to be absolute.

Once you’d agreed to be theirs, Ghost had retired. It had surprised Soap and you both, but Ghost treated it as the most natural thing in the world. And it didn’t take very long, after the dust settled, for Soap to see why—you needed care, more than Soap had realized, and for Ghost, that need superseded any of his desire to remain in the field.

And Ghost was good at caring for you. It seemed to come as naturally to him as breathing: remembering what you liked to eat, helping you with your stretches, using the special brushes you had to wake your nerves up every morning. Putting together a schedule and keeping you on it, making sure you got to work on time and bringing you home at the end of every day.

And as you began to flourish in receiving his care, so too did Ghost flourish in giving it.

The hard edges of him softened. The sharp tones of his voice blunted. Soap saw Ghost become a steadier version of himself than he’d ever seen before—and he saw you blossom with a happiness that, at the inception of their odd relationship, had only begun to bud.

“Lookin’ after her is one thing,” continues Ghost. “I’m alright bein’ the hardass, ‘cause you make up for where I’m shit. But a kid’s different, Johnny. You don’t get to come and go as you like with a kid. It’s all, or nothin.’”

And Soap has to be honest with himself—a corner of his stomach clenches. There is a clarity in the smell of oil and gun smoke that he’s failed to find anywhere else.

But it does not dim the sunlight shining in his chest.

He knew it would happen someday, to old age if not a bullet. So to a baby?

Better than he really could have hoped.

He swings one leg over Ghost’s hips, and pushes himself up to straddle his partner. Ghost smirks beneath him, hands rounding the curves of his waist, sliding backward to palm Soap’s ass before traveling further down to squeeze his thighs.

“Gonna be fun, LT,” Soap agrees, grinning. “I hear pregnancy makes you horny as hell.”

“Bloody fucking hell, Soap,” Ghost snorts, lifting up to one elbow and dragging him down by the neck for a kiss.

next chapter early access

author's notes: y'all wore me down. I'm writing baby fic. What has the world come to

[laceyfaeryy]

FORGET ME NOTS

MDNI 18+

butcher! simon riley x florist! reader

౨ৎ⠀ׄ⠀. ━ retired! simon riley who is a butcher in a small town suddenly finds himself infatuated with the florist across the road who gave him flowers on national flower day.

note: context warnings apply to all parts, ones in bold apply to the current part - it will be updated consistently

cw: fem! reader . stalking . dom! simon riley x sub! reader

i. part 1 ii. part 2

it was unlike simon to keep something so… different to him in his dark shabby apartment.

the bouquet of forget me nots contrasting against the dark furniture and dimly lit room. it was the only source of colour in the sea of black and greys. simon was not a flower guy, never in his life has he held a bouquet of flowers until you. normally he would’ve thrown them out, but something about that felt almost blasphemous.

for the past few days he took care of the flowers like they were the most precious things.

placed in a glass vase near the windowsill where it bloomed under the sun. simon was never a fan of the sun, too bright so he kept his curtains closed at all times. but now he had them wide open, he couldn’t risk having the only gift from you wilting away. they seemed to be the only source of life in his bare bone apartment. a constant reminder of you.

his sudden interest took a darker turn into obsession.

he started to rethink about the interaction, remembering how you were giving our flowers in national flower day, which meant that he wasn’t the only one. the thought of that made him sick. just how many people did you give the flowers to? what if another man took an interest in you?

it’s been years, since someone gave simon attention. specifically one that was not superficial. you were too good for him, where the idea of his rough scarred hands that were responsible of the so many deaths on you felt like a sin.

you were so sweet, so innocent to the harsh realities of the world where he didn’t know if he wanted to hide and shelter you, or corrupt you beyond belief.

you didn’t know it, but he followed you home every night, closing his shop a little early just to match your routine. it was funny how oblivious you were, walking in the dark as if you were walking in a field of daisies.

simon was a fucked up man and he knew it.

after all, no man spends his whole life at the military and comes out sane.

simon treated it like a game, seeing just how close he could get to you without being caught. he felt like a predator stalking its prey, his large figure hidden in the shadows as his years of experience in the military was displayed through his stealth.

ghost, that’s what they called him back then. now instead of targeting those in the field, it was you. his sweet little thing that made flowers bloom wherever you walked,

you were just so clueless, he could just take you back to his house and have you be his pretty thing that he spoiled endlessly. the thought of that made his cock swell.

it was a fucked up fantasy and he knew it.

every night he would watch you disappear into your house, watching as the lights turned on as you continued with your usual routine.

kitchen to reheat dinner, living room to watch tv, then bathroom to shower.

simon didn’t know how how long he spent watching you, but he couldn’t get enough.

it was like a thirst he couldn’t quench, not by watching you in a distance anyways.

that was until friday night.

the sound of the bell ringing was a noise that simon was accustomed to, but the moment a sweet vanilla scent filled his nostrils he knew immediately.

“don’t know my cuts too well, but i liked whatever you gave me last week, could i have it again?” your voice soft as you looked up at him with those eyes. oh. those eyes he dreamt about, the eyes that made him feel like he was falling down in a rabbit hole.

those eyes.

“‘s called a rib eye birdie,” his accent thick as he tried to hide the fact that he already had the cut wrapped nicely just for you. the marbling perfect just for you.

“right, a rib eye,” you smiled softly as you reached for your wallet, simon shaking his head. “trust me, it’s on the house.”

to you simon seemed like a gentleman, not the man who fisted his cock to the thought of fucking you in the little flower shop of yours. you grinned, pearly whites on display that made simon’s cold heart flutter just a little more.

“thanks uh..” your head tilted as you read his name tag pinned to his black apron.

“simon.”

god, what he would do to hear you say that again.

“don’t worry about it birdie,” after all, what kind of man would he be if he left you hungry during these cold winter nights?

tag list: @happysmappy @mydickishuge560 @dolli333 @madebyyicarus @l-otti @butlerslut @vampwifee @i-wanabe-yours @bluebarrybubblez @cinnamongrl2006 @akkahelenaa @yanfeiiiiii @actualpoppy @lilyalone @other-fandoms-reblogs @goonette6969 @doubledizzy22 @lucienofthelakes @arabellatreaty @tessakate @kayden666

[timmydraker]

Tim Drake first went to the Iceberg Lounge when he was seven years old.

Due to a rather unfortunate car collision his nanny, a sweet woman named Lillian, had never arrived to care for him while his parents went for dinner with their biggest sponsor. the woman lived thankfully, but when Tim realised he was home alone he grew fearful and took it upon himself to go and find his parents.

Luckily he was paranoid enough with them leaving so frequently he had… found a way to permanently track them.

Tim had only been allowed into the seedy lounge due to the fact that the bouncer on duty recognised him and knew his parents were inside.

Escorting the young boy inside after Tim very politely explained the situation, the man left him in the staff rom for the security and went to get the elder Drakes.

Who promptly betrayed Tim for so recklessly leaving the very safe mansion in Bristol on a public bus and then walking through Gotham in his pyjamas into a very respectful restaurant owned by a very important man all because his nanny was a little late-

Until an incredibly well dressed man came in, waving a cane around with a gleeful look on his face, “Jack! Janet! You didn’t tell me your little one was coming!”

Oswald Cobblepot, AKA the Penguin, didn’t seem to care for the frazzled and furious looks that quickly vanished into something appeasing from the Drakes and instead approached the wide eyed boy who just realised where exactly he was.

Tim looked up at the man and, knowing full well he was one of the most powerful mobsters in the whole world, promptly panicked and went into full faun mode, “I-I’m sorry Mister Pen- Mister Cobblepot, I was just alone and I got scared and I- I wanted my parents-“

Cobblepot, a feared man who had made his very name and appearance enough for people to run or give appeasing bow in a hopes he wouldn’t have them shot on the spot, then cooed.

Tim was then given a new set of pyjamas bought by a henchmen and was given his own room to sleep in for the night while his parents finished their dinner. Tim was given a hot chocolate with penguins shaped marshmallows and despite being in such a dangerous place, he felt so very safe.

Cobblepot tucked Tim in himself and with a somewhat dark look in his eyes said to him, “Look, kiddo, there’s… some people in this world who say they are good or that they will do good by and they don’t. These folks they, ah, don’t always seem like the type and that ain’t your fault, ya hear?”

Tim had listened with a confused expression but chose to keep the words in mind after considering how the older man had built his inheritance up to something so grand. He had to be smart, had to have good advice, even if he used said knowledge for nefarious means.

Tim had left a few hours later, half asleep in his mothers arms, with Cobblepot’s last words in his mind,

“If you ever need anything, you just come by, okay? Don’t worry, I won’t let anything bad happen ‘round ya, not anything that could make the big bat cross with you. But… if you need helps, any at all, just say the word.”

Tim didn’t exactly go and see the monster after that, not at least straight away, but when he got a sprained ankle one night after taking photos of Batman and Robin he panicked. Seen as The Iceberg Lounge was closer than the bus stop and he was really in a lot of pain, the then eight year old decided that it was better to get help quickly than have to wait for hours and only help himself.

So, Tim went to the Lounge and calmly asked the security if they could ask Mister Cobblepot if he could please come help him.

Having been told to allow the boy in if he came by, the man was already radioing to alert the boss only to widen his eyes at the very obviously swollen ankle the boy was standing on.

Picking Tim up carefully and taking him into the office room, he quickly got some ice and wrapped it around the limb.

Cobblepot had rushed in, alarmed at hearing the boy had been hurt and not having any other context, just to find himself telling the boy to be more careful when climbing around to take photos.

Tim, who had been given prescription medicine that Cobblepot had promised him was safe and the young boy had somewhat recklessly decided to trust, was then sleepy and embarrassed and accidentally confessed to taking photos of Batman.

Cobblepot had just been about to order his men to contact his parents, who were in Peru and unavailable, and was left with curiosity.

Tim showed him the actually very good photos and Cobblepot was left with a choice.

Use the boy for information on how he was finding and tracking the Bat or… leave the golden chance to get one over the Big Bat in favour of not hurting the young boy.

If he had lived even the slightest bit crueler of a life, if he had taken the marketing and business opportunity of dealing in kiddies and drugs and the things that are truely evil and not just money control, maybe he would have used the kid.

But this Cobblepot wasn’t as bitter as he could have been, all due to one interaction with Martha Wayne where the woman had chosen him to talk to in a crowd or ‘normal’ people.

He had to repay that kindness in more than just procreating her son.

So, Cobblepot bought Tim some new shoes and a new camera lense and told him come by in a few days so he could check his ankle was healing and maybe to see some more photos?

Tim then started to send printed out photos to Cobblepot every few weeks. Never really of Batman, but of everything and anything he photographed.

Cobblepot adored them and framed his favourite.

When winter came and Tim took as many photos as he could of the snowed in Gotham, the ice rinks and the penguins sat the zoo, Cobblepot had many of them framed and soon half of The Iceberg Lounge was covered in them.

When Robin died Tim went to Cobblepot and sobbed.

The man hadn’t understood why he was so upset at first even though he was a bit shaken by the boy dying, but all that mattered was the kid chose to come to him even though his parents were in town.

That night they talked a lot.

Tim confessed that he wanted to be like Robin, maybe not a hero, but brave and loud and funny and bright and not all polite wording, formal clothes and scheming for partnerships. He wanted to be someone more than a company and a last name, even if he did like his life and all of his friends.

Oswald opened up about his disability and how much he hated it. He told Tim about when Martha Wayne spoke to him like a person, greeting him without bending down or making a show of looking lower. He talked about how he wishes he was different and that he is only so cruel so people respect him.

They make a promise to each other that night.

Oswald promises to be nicer to himself so Tim won’t be worried about him, as well as a more loose promise of trying to avoid the meaner methods of his business.

Tim promises to be whoever he wants and that if her ever becomes Robin, he’ll turn a blind eye to the Lounge.

Tim does become Robin a year later, debuting two years later after his extensive training in an improved suit and with a far a more calculating and measured approach to the role than the last two.

Oswald didn’t stop dealing in weapons and some of the lesser drugs, but he did stop with the drugs that were harder to control and kept getting out of his connections. He still killed those who wronged him, but he gave one chance for improvement and instead of killing his men who failed he dropped their rank to things like janitors or waiters.

Oswald is hurt when his favourite gothamite stops coming around every few months for a chat or sending photos. He worries he upset the boy he started seeing as a family member, which makes him focus on the family aspects of his business, how it started and what he turned it into.

It’s almost a whole year later, a whole year of hearing about and seeing the new Robin get hurt on TV, that he meets the boy wonder.

Tim looks at Oswald, Batman commanding in his earpiece, in full gear and stares at the man in his full Penguin gear.

They lock eyes and Oswald just knows.

Twenty men have guns pointed at him, ready to fire when their boss says so, only to lower them when he stamps his cane down.

Awkwardly they all leave the room, knowing the boss is telling them too but consisted as to why.

Tim starts crying, feeling like he did when his parents were yelling at him when he first entered the Iceberg Lounge, and clenches his fist at his side and tries not to beg forgiveness.

Oswald, hurt that Robin is Tim and that Tim lied, is just so relieved because this means Tim wasn’t angry at him he just couldn’t be friends with a mod boss and be Robin at the same time.

The man smiles, wide and showing off his two golden teeth, he laughs heartily and shouts, “Congratulations, my boy! I can think of no one better for the role!”

Robin runs into Penguins arms, begging for forgiveness and asking for them to please not fight!

Oswald holds the boy for a moment before pulling away, “Listen, the boy behind this mask will always have a safe space in my Lounge, but the mask himself has a job to do. Leave me and the Bat to tussle, for both our sake.”

Sniffling, Tim pulls away and asks in a hopeful but resigned voice, “Can’t you just… stop?”

Oswald smiles and pulls the boy down for a quick squeeze, “You’ve already changed me a lot, but business don’t care for softies. Now, get outa here! My boys are tired so we’re… we’re gonna turn in for the night.”

Tim smiles, knowing full well that Oswald is giving into his puppy eyes but not willing to push it.

Batman, who was listening the whole time, is fucking furious, but can’t deny that Penguin has shaped up in the last few years and isn’t as much of a threat.

Robin is benched for three months and in that time trains with Barbara.

Tim visits Oswald, now named Uncle Ossie, every few months and sends him all of his photos even the odd ones from patrol.

Red Robin works with Penguin often, trading information and getting supplies for The Nest when he is too angry or petty to talk to anyone in the Cave.

Tim Drake has free access to the Lounge and often brings his friends. He knows all the workers names and has his own room next to his Uncle’s, who will always find the time to greet his boy with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek that he has managed to master with his pointed nose.

Everyone thinks Tim is apart of the mob, but considering he’s a CEO of Drake Industries and CFO and COO of Wayne Enterprises and seems to be a bit ignorant to crime statistics, they assume he’s just another rich dumbass or knows what he’s getting himself into.

Red Robin always shows up to the places encroaching on Penguins turf.

Tim Drake spends 57,000$ dollars on a cane made from a meteor that landed in the Arctic and has penguins engraved in the handle.

Red Robin yells at Red Hood for being mean to his ‘uncle’ and everyone assumes that’s why Penguin has gone soft, but when that same Red Robin single handedly beats the hell out of a mind controlled Superboy they decided it’s warranted.

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[missdynamighttt]

About the interview thing where Bakugou say "when I make love to my wife", here is a few more lines he could say! Imagine Bakugou softer when talking about that. He has a lost look and a strange smile on his face, all because of his girl.

"The bed it's our kingdom and she's my queen".

"That's where I belong. In her."

"Being a hero is just my job, something I'm good at for a while. But making love to her? There's nothing better. Knowing that I'm the only one who can make her feel like that, who can adore her like that... And she's the only one for me too. Nothing else matters. Not the fights, the danger, the villains, the paperwork, the pressure or the expectations. Just a husband and wife loving each other all night along."

And in this context, Bakugou would say that he finds pathetic and sad that a man only lasts a few minutes and only one round. Sometimes he hears his fellow heroes talk about sex and he can only feel sorry for their girlfriends, but also proud to know that his wife will never know how those girls feel, because for Katsuki Bakugou if a man is not willing to last at least all night, if each round does not last more than 10 minutes, if he does not have his woman crying with pleasure and love, If he doesn't make her not remember how many times she came, if he don't have sex with her every single day without miss, if she is not on the verge of fainting without being able to walk the next day, is the man really a man or just a poor attempt?

as your husband walks through the threshold of your home, the sound of the lock clicking behind him echoes in the quiet room. katsuki immediately notices the change in the air—there's an awkward tension that wasn't there when he left.

you’re avoiding his gaze, busily moving around the kitchen, trying to keep your mind occupied. you’re embarrassed, the thought of his words replaying in your mind again and again.

the fact that he shared such... intimate, genuine thoughts with the entire world... it wasn’t that you were ashamed, but the sudden attention on your private life caught you off-guard.

"so... you’re gonna act like you didn’t just see me on tv?" katsuki says with a hint of curiosity, and a touch of worry as he notices how your back was turned away from him.

without a word, you feel the heat of his body as he presses himself against your back, his strong hands settling on your waist. he presses his lips to the side of your neck, warm and soft against your skin. it starts off slow and gentle at first, but there’s an underlying urgency to it, a need for your attention.

"i'm sorry, baby," he murmurs between kisses. "i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, alright?"

"katsuki," you scold as he apologizes, your breath hitches when he places a particularly slow kiss on your collarbone, warmth from his affection still lingering in your chest.

"i’m sorry… but i don’t regret saying any of it. you’re my wife, and i’m fuckin' proud of it. i'm the one who gets to love you like this. i'm the one who gets to fuck you so hard you see stars."

katsuki doesn't stop kissing you, his kisses growing more insistent, but you don’t let him off the hook so easily. you finally turn around, gently pushing him back, even as your heart races.

"i just can't believe you said all that. on live tv," it’s clear you’re not mad, unsure of how to handle this side of him— this soft, unfiltered honesty as his lips trail down your neck to your shoulder.

his fiery gaze softens just a little, and then presses another kiss to your lips, this one slower, deeper, as if to reassure you. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. just… don’t ignore me, okay? it hurts."

"you’re unbelievable," your voice holds more affection than you’d like to admit. "you just gonna let millions of people know how much stamina you have, huh? bet they all think you're some kind of—"

sex god. but before you can say it, katsuki presses a firm kiss to your lips, cutting off your words, his hands slipping around your back to pull you in even closer. he doesn’t let you retreat this time, his lips working their magic on you, unable to ignore the way your body betrays you.

"don't fuckin' care. you're still my wife, sweets. you’re the only one who matters to me. maybe i just need to show you how much i love you. properly."

you scold him with a half-hearted shove, but there's no real heat behind it. "you really know how to make a woman want to kill you and kiss you at the same time, don’t you?"

as he pulls away just enough to look you in the eye, feeling the heat of his gaze. you can’t deny the way his words, his kisses, have melted the tension between you. "you know you're the only one for me, sweets. always."

"i know. but you’re still crazy for doing that."

he chuckles, pulling you close, burying his face in your hair. "yeah, well… crazy’s what you get when you’ve got an amazin' fuckin' wife like you."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ SHAMELESS KATSUKI ENJOYER NUMBER TWO OMGOMG

[anonf1writer]

Lando gives you his 4 tally mark necklace so everyone knows you're his 😍

──────────────────

written. 3,1k words. warning: suggestive language. +18. note: this took me almost two months to get done. I'm so, so sorry! I hope you're still around to read it, and I hope I didn't disappoint. Thanks for the request, it means a lot to me!

──────────────────

The context of your relationship with Lando was easy to describe: you two had met through mutual friends less than a year ago, started casually hooking up right away, and had been officially dating for over six months now.

Giving the nature of Lando’s occupation, and the attention his every move got, things were still pretty private between you, meaning that the general public new nothing about your existence yet. Or of what was happening behind closed doors. Like the fact that you had met each other’s families, that you were comfortable around each other’s friends, and that at this point your visits to his apartment had been frequent enough for you to consider his place a little bit yours, too.

For the most part, when he was traveling and busy being a Formula 1 driver, you spent your time at your own place, doing your own thing. But on those weekends when he was back, or during those rare two or three days off in between races, you joined him in a blink of an eye. No invitation needed—not anymore. Both always on the same page when it came to making the most of it, as in everything, together.

On that particular Monday night, the one that set this storyline into motion, it wasn’t any different. You and Lando were at home, his home that was slowly becoming your home, and one of your closest friends was over for some wine and food. The two of you enjoying each other’s company in the living room, laughing and gossiping on the couch, while Lando distracted himself and livestreamed with his own friends behind closed doors. Nothing big, nothing new.

Sometimes, as you two blabbered and laughed, he would pop out of the room to get a snack, to go to the restroom, or just to check up on you. Just to say hello. To make a silly joke and move on. Never a big deal. Never anything that interrupted the conversation that was going on between you and your friend. Not even when the topic shifted to your new co-worker, a guy who had joined the company you worked at less than three weeks ago, and had quickly developed a not-so-subtle crush on you.

“What about that guy from work?” your friend asked, synced with the opening of Lando’s game room door. “Is he still texting you at random hours?”

Busy chewing the last remains of your pizza, you just grimaced and shook your head. Then watched Lando cross the living room and disappear into the kitchen.

“I think…” you said, then stopped to swallow the food, “I think he finally got the message.”

“Good...” Your friend nodded, and took a sip of her wine. “What was his name again?”

“Vincent.”

Mimicking her earlier movements, you leaned in and grabbed your half-finished glass from the coffee table. And then, as you were sitting back and bringing the wine to your lips, a tiny snort left your nose, and you shook your head. All to yourself.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing... He just followed me on insta the other day.”

“Shut up...”

“Mhm…”

You sipped more of your wine, watching your friend frown as you did so.

“How did he even find you?”

“I don’t know…” You shrugged. “But he did, and then he liked a bunch of my older pictures.”

“Noooo!”

“Yeah…”

“Oh my God! Can a guy ever read the room?”

A soft chuckle left your mouth.

“I didn’t follow him back tho, so again, I think he got the message.”

“He knows you’ve got a boyfriend, right?”

You shrugged again, then shuffled on the couch, pulling your legs up and making yourself comfortable.

“Everyone at the office knows, so maybe someone told him? I don’t know.”

“Wait, so you didn’t tell him?”

“I  didn’t even tell him my name, let alone the fact that I’m dating someone I can’t really talk about.”

Your friend rolled her eyes, and then sighed. “Look, I think it’s lovely how consistent you two are on keeping each other a secret, but just this once I think you should tell him you’re dating and therefore not available.”

At that, it was your time to roll your eyes. “Or... He could realize I’ve done nothing to suggest I’m interest and back off because I don’t want him.”

“Right,” she laughed. “You’re talking about a guy that’s been acting like a creep.”

“Exactly. So if he bothers me again, I’ll raise a complaint to HR for harassing.”

You changed the topic after that, and a few minutes later Lando stepped out of the kitchen, the salad he had ordered in hands. He paused to chat a bit with you two, then kissed your temple and made his way back to the game room.

Eventually, your friend said goodbye and left Lando’s apartment, and you took a moment to clean up the mess left behind. Lando was still busy in his own world, his loud laughter vibrating through the walls and making you laugh along from time to time.

It was on your way to the bedroom that you decided to stop by. Just to let him know.

You knocked on the door once, and then another two times—the code you had unintentionally created to avoid interrupting his livestream and getting caught on camera.

“Yeah?” he shouted, but you knew better than shout back at him. Instead, you cracked the door open slightly. Barely. Only enough for you to peek inside and glance at him.

Lando’s eyes were already waiting for you, his head turned to the side while he fully leaned back into his chair.

“Heyyy…” he breathed out, lips curling up into the cutest, softest smile while he stretched his arms up in the air.

“Hey...” you whispered back, lips curling up as well.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you said quietly. “Just saying hi before I get to bed.”

Lando dropped his arms and placed his hands on his lap, then tilted his chin towards the computer.

“It’s muted,” he said. “No need to be quiet.”

You raised your eyebrows, not changing the volume of your voice as you answered, “That’s what you said last time.”

Lando’s smile got bigger, and his eyes wrinkled at the sides. Mischief and playfulness taking all over his expression at the mention of that chaotic memory—when a female voice laughed loudly in the background of an allegedly muted livestream and caused a very serious online meltdown.

“I checked twice,” Lando said, turning back to the camera and giving a thumbs up. “Right, chat? You can’t hear me right now, can ya?”

He leaned in, then, squeezing his eyes to the screen.

“See? They are all lecturing me. Lando, we can’t hear you. Mic’s off, Lando. Lando turn your mic on. Lan—”

“Okay, okay.” You rolled your eyes and pressed your temple against the frame, but a soft chuckle still left your chest at his silliness. “Got it, yeah.”

He leaned back and turned his head to you, smugness written all over him. “Told ya. I learn from my mistakes.”

He winked. And, once again, you raised your eyebrows.

“They can still see tho, can’t they? So don’t get cocky.”

“You’ve barely opened the door,” he laughed. “Not even I can see you, I doubt they’ll be able to.”

“Yeah? Just watch them read your lips or start analysing who you’re talking to so late at night.”

“C’mon…” he laughed again. Head tilting back as he faced the ceiling. “Don’t be si—”

“Ooookay…” you snorted and stepped back from the door, a little too tired to get into one of his playful arguments. “I’ll save you from finishing that sentence.”

“What? C’mon… I’m just teasing.”

“I know. You’re having fun while I’m worried trying to protect your wishes. Then tomorrow you’ll be snapping at me because someone found out you’re not alone and I’ll have to watch you overthink while trying to find ways to prove I don’t exist.”

The world paused around you.

Time paused inside the room.

You watched the moment his face fell. How his expression changed along with the drop of his shoulders. As if some unknown truth had been thrown at him.

And just like that, regret dawned on you, a tight knot twisting low in your gut as you tried to make sense of your words. Of your abrupt change of mood.

You looked down to your feet and sighed, your voice coming out like a whisper when you spoke again. “Sorry… I don’t know why I said that.”

Lando nodded.

You noticed his movements, the way he turned back to his computer and leaned forward to reach his keyboard. How he typed, then clicked a few things, and then how everything went off. Heavy silence easily filling the room.

“C’mere,” he said, once again leaning back into his chair, then fully turning it towards you. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and Lando tilted his head slightly to the side. “Please?” He stretched his arm to you. “I’m not streaming anymore, I promise.”

You checked the screen, just to be sure, then dropped your arms to your sides and sighed. Embarrassment taking over your chest—and flushing across your neck and cheeks—as you walked towards him.

Lando didn’t wait for you to stand in front of him before reaching out for your waist, hands grabbing your sides and pulling you down to his lap with the easiness of someone who had pulled that move hundreds of times before.

You gasped, even squealed a little, a smile curving your mouth as you adjusted yourself to sit on his thighs. Body to the side and legs hanging in the air. Arms circling around his neck. Eyes settling inside his gaze.

Silent.

Comfortable.

Easy.

“Sorry,” you said. Again. “Didn’t mean to snap.”

“I know,” Lando smiled, placing your hair behind your ear, then cradling your cheek. “I never tried to prove you don’t exist. You know that, right?”

“Of course, yeah.”

“Is it how I make you feel, tho? Like I’m trying to hide you or something?”

“No... C’mon... I understand why you’re so... Protective. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Ok…” He nodded, arms settling around your waist, pulling you a bit closer to him. “Just making sure.”

“Sorry for making you end the stream.”

Lando smiled. “Thank you for making me end the stream.”

A smile grew on your face, too.

There was a pause, in which he held your stare in silence as he moved one hand to the back of your neck.

“C’mere,” he said, then pulled you in, his lips brushing over yours once, then twice. Slowly. Softly. As if it was the first time he was getting a taste of them. As if he wasn’t really sure he was allowed to do that.

Your chest fluttered, and you leaned into him. Melted into him. Eyes falling shut and hands moving to curl tightly around his jumper. To hold onto its neckline like you were afraid he would suddenly stop and leave. Like he could vanish.

A low, contented hum escaped him, almost like he didn’t mean it. Like he couldn’t help it. Like he was melting into you, too. Hand pressing on the nape of your neck and arm anchoring around your waist, guiding the pace while he tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

You exhaled through your nose and followed his lead. Stomach flipping and thoughts blurring. Getting lost into the tenderness and casually of it. Into how personal, intimate, and affectionate it felt. How soft, how steady, how electric it was. The way he moved, the way he sounded, the way he tasted. How he treated you with respect and carefulness, like you were the most delicate and precious thing in the world, and yet made you feel breathless and powerless, like you could die if you didn’t get more of it. Of him. Or this.

And then, Lando pulled away. Panting. Hand still holding the back of your head and lips still brushing yours when he asked, “Who’s Victor?”

Your lips searched for him, unwillingly. Automatically. Your body craving for more before his words clicked inside your mind.

He didn’t stop you, kissing you back and allowing your mouths to ghost over each other as you spoke between kisses. Never quite gone.

“Victor?” you asked.

“Mhmm…” His nose bumped against yours, and he slipped his hand between your hair, making sure you wouldn’t lose the pace.

“I don’t… Hmm… I don’t know… Shit… Who’s Victor?”

“I don’t know…” he repeated. “Someone that’s been hitting on my girlfriend… Or so I’ve heard…”

You blinked your eyes open and flinched back. Just an inch. As far as he allowed you to. Only enough to meet his eyes.

“What?”

Lando shrugged, and you licked your lips. Trying to gather your thoughts. Trying to make sense of what the heck was going on.

“You mean Vincent?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled you back in, his lips barely touching yours before he was tilting your head back and moving them down your jaw.

“Potato, patahto,” he murmured, his warm breath hitting your neck while he kept smothering your skin. Your throat. “Still hitting on my girlfriend.”

A smirk grew on your lips, and you closed your eyes, feeling his lips kissing your sensitive spots. Feeling his tongue getting its own taste, his teeth grazing right behind.

“Didn’t know you were listening to us...”

“Was I supposed not to?”

He sucked onto your sweet spot, and you gasped. Thighs clenching and fingers twisting even tighter around his jumper.

“Fuck…” you breathed out.

“I know…” Lando murmured, brushing the tip of his nose up and down the same spot. “I wonder how many until I leave a mark…”

“You never leave any…”

“Maybe I should start…”

He kissed you again, softly, moving his mouth and making sure no inch would go unattended.

Heat built low in your belly, slow and relentless, and you shuffled on his lap—even though the position you were in didn’t allow you to feel much of him.

“Jealous?” you managed to ask.

Lando snorted and pulled away, guiding your head so you would look at him.

“Just annoyed… Pissed, actually… Why is some random guy texting you and going through your photos? Who the fuck does he think he is?”

You smiled, hands loosening up around his clothing and moving up through the back of his neck. Fingers tangling with his curls as you said, “Someone who stopped texting after I left him on read, and who never got a follow back from me…”

“Hm…” He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut while you ran your nails up and down his scalp. “Can’t say I’m not happy to hear that.”

You chuckled. “Did you think I’d react differently?”

“No…” he said, eyes meeting yours again. “But as confident in our relationship as I am, can’t ever get too comfortable, can I?”

You tilted your head, not really knowing what to say at that.

Thankfully, Lando didn’t give you too much time to think about it before he added, “Don’t want him to think you’re single, tho.”

“We don’t know if he thinks that.”

“Then I want to make sure he knows you’re taken.”

You smiled. “I’m taken, huh?”

Lando rolled his eyes, hands sliding down your spine while he stretched his back and got taller underneath you.

“You’re mine,” he said, voice an octave lower and fingers reaching to the hem of your sweater. “Just like I’m yours. Yeah?”

You nodded, curling your body to place your forehead against his. Feeling his bare touch pressing on your lower back, warm and needy.

“Yeah... You know I am… Yours.”

“I know… I want him to know, tho. Not just him, everyone.”

“Lan…” you sighed. “If this is because of what I said, you don’t have to—”

“Not saying this because of what happened,” he said. “I’m saying it because I love you and because you’re beautiful and I don’t want stupid wankers hitting on you when I’m not around.”

“Well… That’s not really fair, is it? I can’t stop girls from hitting on you while you’re not around.”

“Babe, not one single girl has flirted or—”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Loudly enough that you had to bring one hand to cover your mouth.

Lando smiled. And you noticed how something softened inside him. How he dropped his shoulders. How his touch went from greedy to affectionate. Still pulling you closer, still holding you in place, but with a different intention behind it.

 “I mean it, tho,” he said. “I don’t want to keep hiding it anymore. I heard when you said I’m someone you can’t really talk about, and I don’t want you to feel that. I want you to say ‘I’ve got a boyfriend’ and throw my name into a conversation if you feel like it. Just… Y’know… Want it to be natural.”

You pressed your lips together and sighed, pushing the playfulness aside to understand the seriousness of what he was suggesting with that.

“Okay… But just so you know, this feels natural to me. I don’t have to say ‘my boyfriend Lando Norris’ for me to talk about you. People who know me know I’m not single, the only reason why I haven’t told Vincent it’s because I haven’t really sat to chat with him. He saw me twice and decided it would be a good idea to get my number without even asking me about it.”

“Fucking idiot.” 

“Right?”

“Can’t really blame him, though… Kinda hard to look at you and not to fall in love.”

“Oh my God…” You rolled your eyes, but also smiled, shoving his shoulder playfully before hugging his neck. “Shut up.”

He did as you told, busying himself by kissing you instead of talking again.

From then on, the kissing melted into something more. The chair becoming uncomfortable to hold so much want and so much need from both of you, and your touches and steps guiding you blindly to his bedroom. To your bedroom. To your bed. Clothes getting lost along the way.

“I love you,” he said, over and over again.

Stealing your breath away.

Making you forget your name.

How you got there in the first place.

Until you were shaking and falling on top of him, his hips digging and pushing until he got the last bit of pleasure out of you. Of him. Of both.

Erratic. Intense. Everything.

The next morning, Lando left earlier than you. You didn’t even hear him, didn’t even feel him. Tangled and sprawled in the sheets. Blissfully happy. Satisfied.

You saw it when your alarm went off, though. His tally mark necklace, his number four shining in the sunlight. Right on top of his pillow. And a post it right in between the two.

For you. So everyone knows you’re mine ;) Love you. LN.

And that’s how it happened.

That’s how you ended up clasping his necklace around your neck.

And that’s how now, every time you think of him, you bring your hand to your chest and hold onto him. How you know he’s always there, like a part of you. Loving you. Whether everyone knows it...

Or not.

──────────────────

[astrogre]

Planets in the second house

Here is the 2nd house of the money series, I no longer post astrology but I decided to release what I had left. For context check out my original money houses post which explains what the 2nd house shows e.g. what kind of money. Well, since I love talking about money, let’s get into it 😁.

Jupiter in 2nd house

Jupiter here can make you a lavish spender, you can spend quite a lot here because Jupiter rules excess, and can even represent overindulgence. But spending on yourself makes you feel limitless, you feel good not only spending but also earning a lot for yourself, it improves your self esteem and only makes you further confident and joyful about yourself. This is the retail therapy placement except unlike Venus, you guys don’t do it to experience something but more so to express what is within you; abundance. You have so much, so why not? It’s very much of a “I have nothing to loose, I have more at home”. It’s like the “we have McDonald’s at home, but I’ll buy it here as well”. It’s the kind of person who orders from 3 different restaurants for one Uber eats order because they see it as: ‘why would I order from one place like a pauper when my fav dessert and coffee place can be included’. These natives refuse to accept less than they deserve. It’s either go big or go home. You own a lot of assets or you can a small amount of BIG assets worth a lot. E.g. the native can own many houses across the world in different countries OR own one big apartment complex in another country

You earn your assets in a role that requires you to to have a lot of confidence and positive attitude, like if you’re not then it can really mess up your earnings and even have clients or stakeholders question your competence or why you’re even in your position. With Jupiter also linked to travel, culture and foreign things, the way you make money will also need you to appeal to many audiences almost uniting them, for an example being an ambassador for your country while you live abroad, or learning multiple languages to communicate to clients. Your career is very much based on your personal self esteem and beliefs which makes me always look at this placement as the self employed placement, or in a high office.

Jupiter also represents teaching, or higher learning this doesn’t mean you’ll be a teacher but rather your job can make others learn from you, people look up to you as a guide, unlike sun which guides by simply existing, Jupiter here makes you express yourself in a way of which people learn, rather than just looking up to you, more like the way a students looks up to their professors, not a: “I want to be you”, but: “I want to do what you do the way you do it, because you do it best”. That’s how you guide. A guide on how to become wealthy or a guide on how to become more confident in the self. This positive ideology of yours makes you wealthy because your assets are built from the foundations of your own healthy inner self esteem, making you accept nothing but better, your bar is in heaven and anything below that is not right.

I’ve noticed natives here can talk about money assets and large sums of wealth as if they’re nothing. Talking about being a millionaire is an average Tuesday conversation. It reminds me of Elle woods in legally blonde who when asked how they got into Harvard law school they responded with “what.. like it’s hard?”. The way you guys also make money is effortless to you. It’s just the way you are. These people can find navigating their career paths easier than other placements because of the ease Jupiter brings

This is more of an observation but I’ve noticed the cockier the people are here with this placement the more they can end up earning of benefit from that. Sometimes even being flashy and bragging about your lifestyle will draw others to it because it only highlights your abundance and how you are fit to lead having such lavish things

You guys spend your money on things that help you grow. And that’s very circumstantial because in the 2nd house, for some that’s positive behavioral therapy (self value) and others it would be a new building with clean views (expansion). It is rather dependent on the sign as well. For an example: if you’re an influencer: purchasing the best jewels and house to flaunt online. An athlete: having the most stupendous savings so they can launch their own sports brand, or not be held back by sponsors budget. A mathematician may be owning the most calculation intensive advanced degree in Quantum physics regardless of the price (as the 2nd house also shows the skills needed for us to earn money) Jupiter can give you the best of the best no matter how extravagant.

E.g Selena Gomez, Jeffrey Star, Princess Diana, Madonna, Donald Trump, Megan Fox, Bill Gates, Shakira, Audrey Hepburn, Winston Churchill, Roger Federer, Charlie Sheen, Kylie Jenner

All these people are known to approach themselves with such confidence and high self esteem being leaders and earning money because of the way they see themselves and own it. They’re all the kind of people to waltz around with high end expensive items like it’s nothing because they know they deserve it, regardless if they’re politicians, royalty, business men, computer scientists, musicians, actors or athletes.

There’s so much more I could write 4 pages just on this placement but I need to write about the other planets so next, next.

Sun in the 2nd house

You’re literally known for being the wealthy one as Sun shows where we shine and can attain recognition, or you could be known as the person who’s heavily invested in their earnings or for what you spend them on, people can always be pointing out the nice things you own, this can show someone who’s always working even when they’re not on shift because they’re always invested in their income, it’s like they live on a material sphere like a finance bro or a cryptocurrency market nerd, you could have a wealthy father too. But this placement is the epithet of a rich auntie who only is known to be wealthy and thriving, or at worst could make you appear as someone overly materialistic only concerned about money, always working. But who cares, it’s where you shine the brightest.

When you spend you do it as a form of self expression. Sun in 2nd house means the things you buy are a way for you to express yourself, this can be purchasing artistic houses fine tuned to your personal preferences whether it be artistic, efficient etc. is all based on the sign. But regardless your assets, savings and possessions are rather dependent on the sign of the sun, since the sun planet doesn’t explain quantity of what’s in the house like Saturn or Jupiter but more so the level of its importance. Your personal income is VERY important to you, you need to be stable to feel secure and balanced, otherwise you can feel insecure, have a weak ego and just feel unable to function which gives you bad publicity and makes earning more further difficult.

For you, spending is something you do because “it’s how I am”. If you don’t spend it feels like at times you’re having to withhold yourself or put yourself away, dim your light. Spending money you can’t replace is a big Nono for you, your possessions are an extension of yourself, which is why it can trigger you if someone mistreats your belongings, looses them or breaks them it is very hurtful because they hold such a strong importance to you. This is the native who couldn’t be separated from that one toy as a child because it was theirs and they were one, if you want the native you must accept their assets too, which is how these people can actually be rather generous because when you feel like you can be yourself around someone you can give them your things because it’s like you’re giving that person yourself. You can also be proud of your class or maybe you can’t hide it, regardless of whether it’s lower or upper because that’s your belief or it’s set as a precedent. You’re not the most generous unless you really trust the person you’re giving to won’t do something silly.

I’ve noticed these natives can be disliked for pointing out discrepancies in the way a value or financial system works e.g Jordan Peterson, Karl Marx, Bella Hadid, I think it’s because with the sun here they can point and direct others to values that are not being talked about enough or can highlight concepts so that everyone can understand.

How you make your personal income requires you to be the forefront of a team, or a company, or a business, or a department, or a brand etc. I think of leading positions and being known for how much you earn benefiting you because the sun paves the way, is given recognition, the light directs us and forces everyone to look at your assets and focus on that part of yourself, you need to be intentional on the things you purchase because people are always assuming your earnings based on the brand or quality of what you own. When sun is in the 2nd House it means you can be a key determinant of how much you make depending on your performance, if you steal the show and take the light 🎭 at your job, your payroll commends you with a large income, the audience is happy and everyone probably knows about it because it’s essential for your job -for an example you may have to list your contractor service prices online, have received recognition as 30 under 30 in Forbes or you could be a public company that must declare its financial statement thus increasing visibility and sales.

You know everything about where and what’s going on in your accounts and pockets, this is the kind of person able to identify that they overpaid for a house or the listed equity pay in a company is not enough for the position they’re in. Your role needs you to point things out that are out of place or could be better, you make the most money when you’re in charge because the Sun leads. The rest of the planets follow.

You guys may save and spend to solidify your status and security, you need to feel embodied in your finances and can have a decent amount of savings to prevent loosing that ability to make a ‘statement of the self’. Remember the sun is tied to the ego so you can also become rather immature using money to triumph over others if negatively impacted.

Natives with this placement: E.g George Clooney, Elvis Presley, Tom Cruise, Cristiano Ronaldo, Paris Hilton, Oprah Winfrey, Kourtney Kardashian, Bella hadid, Kris Jenner, Jeffrey Epstein, Emma Roberts, Jennie Kim, Jordan Peterson, Karl Marx

Notice how they all are known for having a leading, striving image based on either income or values. Jordan Peterson being one of the well known horsemen of male self value podcasts, Oprah Winfrey listed on Forbes known for just being wealthy and exposing systems or people, kris Jenner being the founder of the kardashian Jenner enterprise as a “momager”, I could go on for each of these individuals.

Pluto in 2nd house

You only spend with purpose here, you spend your money on things that give you an upper hand, control over a system, your values or spending on a power you are supportive of. When I think of this placement I imagine it being someone who has what they call “F you money”. “Fuck you money” is the amount of financial resources required for the average person to say “Fuck you” to their employer but still be able to meet their financial commitments over the long term. That’s what you guys have, in fact it’s rather intimidating, it’s similar to the same level of freedom as Uranus has in finances except the difference is that you guys want to be free from control so that you can control others when you feel like it. Your mindset to income, assets and finances is “I want, I will have”. “It belongs to me”. You can even go by underhanded means to acquire wealth.

Pluto in 2nd house makes you spend on things you desire, things that make you not only look powerful like the sun in 2H but BECOME powerful, for an example property owners that bid obnoxiously high at auction houses for the final say (just so no one else can have the item) or the billionaires in Monaco known for their yacht parades where only the well accomplished can participate. Of course you may not be a billionaire but the point is, you spend big money on things that are of significance to your power, that speak levels of how important you are. Otherwise you have lots of money in savings that you’re waiting to spend on later for the perfect moment.

Pluto in 2nd house is not someone you want to start a legal battle with, here you guys have extensive amounts to spend for power, an arsenal for war. You won’t ever allow yourself to run dry of resources to a point where you can’t defend yourself and let others run all over you, this is the child you could NOT get lunch money from. They’d rather fight with their nails pulled out than give you what is rightfully theirs. You could have even grown up in an environment where money was power, and if you didn’t have enough it would impact your value. E.g. upper class private school, echelon family, elitist classist peers, dangerous scary people who only stopped if you were wealthy. You can also feel entitled to anything of value believing it belongs to you. This is the kind of person who when they say “I’d kill for that” or “I’d sell you if it mean it could..” you need to side eye.

This placement makes me think of Bruce Wayne (Batman) in the way the native spends, and their attitudes to money and the self, it’s like everything is a power trip and it seems the native is overly blessed with resources, “if I don’t have it all I’m nothing. But if you have less than me, you’re nothing and I’ll tell you what to do”. Johnny Depp actually has this placement. I googled his spending habits to confirm if they’re are true to my description of Pluto in 2H

As we can see he used his money to fulfill his desires, obsessions and image. He also sued the fuck out of any media or person that bad mouthed him leading him to eventually win the amber heard trial where most would have given up wasting money on the multiple cases.

The skills needed for you in your job may be things like understanding psychology, dissecting behaviors, research, actually dissecting something like a surgeon, mortician, taxidermy artist or piercing someone like a piercing artist or gang member would. You need to scare people to make that bank. (Also made me think of how Johnny depps most profitable roles were as Jack sparrow, Edward scissor hands, sweeny Todd, all to do with slicing using a sword scissors or a knife).

You earn your income by making orders, being in control, expressing your obsessive darker values, exerting intense behavior, essentially “playing the villain”. You’ll see with these natives that when they play villains or are villainised online or have a bad reputation, work in taboo subjects that’s when they start making the most money e.g.

Doja cat- her dark aesthetic , Michael B Jordan- biggest payout from Killmonger role, Vivien Leigh- 2 Grammys and most money from narcissistic power hungry role as scarlett o'hara in gone with the wind , Trisha Paytas- her never ending YouTube dramas and controversial takes which people can’t stop watching, Zoe Kravitz- playing catwoman, Rocco Siffredi- an Italian pornographic actor, director and producer. Known as the "Italian Stallion", Marilyn Manson- again known for controversies and dark imagery, Robert Downey Jr-His career has been characterized by critical and popular success in his youth, followed by a period of substance abuse and legal troubles, before a resurgence of commercial success in middle age.

Also Pluto is here it can make your finances fluctuate similarly to the way Uranus would but less frequently but FAR more dramatically. You can go from 0-100 in wealth. You can come from a very asset rich background only to loose it all or come from rages to riches. When people discover how much you earn, your income, or your spending habits etc. they’ll be really intimidated by you, scared in the way that they feel like you could make them disappear (whether that’s because you outdo them or they genuinely see your money as life threatening is circumstantial lol). You may be attracted to darker possessions like a black chic penthouse, ruby, emerald jewels, sleek cars. The classic wealthy supervillain kind of assets. Your peers are also very jealous of your income.. it’s best to keep it secret and let your power speak for itself.

Mars in 2nd House

Very similar to Pluto except you guys don’t spend for power or to triumph others but rather for passion, if your passion is to outdo peers, you’ll spend. If your passion is to protect something you’ll spend on that. You spend because it excites you and brings a drive, a sense of purpose. You LOVVEEEE working to attain income, earning your income is like a battlefield, you love putting in the effort to get it similarly to Saturn except you guys are a powerhouse, you don’t have an off button. It can also make you someone who overworks themselves, addicted to the adrelanin rush which also indicates that your job requires you to work under stress, competition or harsh environments like a politician, manual labourer, rapper, lawyer, athlete, dancer, entertainer, engineering, those people who get paid 300k to climb up tall dangerous buildings to change a light etc. Money comes in quick for you, you could be paid weekly or just large sums rather frequently. Raises aren’t unheard of with this placement because they’re always willing to negotiate rebuttal and prove their value to their client and bosses.

You guys can purchase assets as a venture pursuit, for fun, earn when you’re dissed and profit from people attacking you. Michael Jackson has this placement and one time Eminem made a diss track about him so he bought his record label and owned his music and now makes money every time Eminem disses (angers) him in the song. That’s a royalty for every curse word.

Receipts.

The way you make your income requires you to take quick action, express your aggression, and confront using your wealth, you fight with your money, so of course it can indicate competition. Here this placement can make you own the best of the best and it can be a competition to you, you want it all. It reminds me of Patrick Bateman how he couldn’t accept his peers having better business cards than him, that’s how you guys are like with your income. It also reminds me of natives who actually have this placement: Vladimir Putin, Martin Luther King, Alexander the Great, Rachel McAdams —— notice how the behaviour that made them the most income forced them to be competitive, relentless, bitchy even petty? (Regina George)

Should you discover your being paid unfairly or that your peers make more than you, you’ll be PISSED. This placement makes me imagine someone owning fast driving cars like Ferraris, race cars, motorbikes, purchase a high rise building, have insane interior decor in there home that’s loud, intense and personifies the Martian sign.

You perceive money as a way to compete, it’s like your car in a formula 1 race so obviously natives here can try to improve their car to the latest model, in other words constantly attempting to make more, own more, learn more skills for their job. You guys are highly motivated in whatever makes you money because earning that money gives you so much ambition and drive. You may be attacked and hated for your values especially in the role required to make money, it can invite danger. Yet that’s where you thrive -nobody else can do it like you.

If these natives are saving up money it’s for a plan to attack and use for later. They prefer to spend as quickly and as passionately as they like to earn money unless they’re waiting for a special occasion. E.g saving up for a car, a new home gym upgrade etc

This placement literally reminds me of 7 rings “I want it I got it”, that’s how you view money, you spend because “I want it”, “I’m driven to have more”. Like a fisherman pulling its reel, a hunter chasing its prey, gaining income is your stimulant activity

Individuals with this placement:

Vladimir Putin, Martin Luther King, Alexander the Great, Rachel McAdams, Jim Carrey, Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Jordan, Michael Jackson, Winona Ryder, Russel Brand, George W. Bush, Neymar, Richard Ramirez, Joan of Arc, Jennie Kim

Notice how all these individuals thrive off making income or attaining value with a bad boy/girl, dangerous attitude?

2nd house in Neptune

People say that having Neptune in the second house is not that good because Neptune is illusive, very wishy washy and the only way you can get money is “in your dreams”. But Neptune is the planet of even the impossible, you get money “FROM YOUR DREAMS”. Those fantasies you’ve had of making so much money you could swim in it, doing something nobody could ever imagine is a possibility with this placement because if you’ve dreamt it, it can become a reality. If you guys have always had a dream of becoming a certain person e.g a pilot, an entrepreneur, a model, inventor, a leader, singer, scientist whatever it is -that calling is your answer. I kid you not, during my research the most influential people of all different industries fall under Neptune in 2nd house. There’s a reason for that. (You’ll see the list of otherworldly accomplished people at the end)

People don’t believe you guys because they literally don’t see your value, Neptune can cause illusion, meaning others can’t see what you’re aiming for clearly. Isaac Newton literally has this placement and people thought he was crazy for asking why the apples fall down yet his vision created the future we have today. You can appear unrealistic, like you assume everything will go as planned, or that you think you’re right when you’re not, people think you’re delusional, they may even see you as dumb. At worst it reminds me of pearl from the movie Pearl who believes she was supposed to be a star. At best: Steve Jobs who has this placement and proves how he saw a future in Apple that nobody else did

Him gaining income from Pixar company that deals with imagery, fantasy and film (all things that Neptune represents) really is the cherry on top.

That’s what Neptune here makes you: a visionary, it’s as if you went back in time and brought a concept from the 2150s to our present day, people cannot fathom your values and your skills, you can seem almost too good at the way you make income, you can be entrancing, deceptive even. Neptune also represents the future, with this placement you’re able to plan, predict, fantasise or act in a way that is beyond your time and will benefit further generations. As long as you have some groundedness to act on your dream with practicality and realistic planning, you’re literally set. You set your goalpost in the sky now you’re tasked with having to learn how to fly which is why most struggle to believe in you. Don’t just say you will one day, actually act on it, do not let your dream die.

You can romanticise your job and the way you make income, you leer at a lifestyle of spending or earning lots of money, to you that’s something that just feels intuitively right. It’s like you guys close your eyes at night, wind down envisioning being in an ultra wealthy lifestyle while you’re laying in a stuffy bunk bed that you have to share with your siblings. You don’t see your reality as your end result but more so as a bus stop. You spend because “I’m promised more” you guys like to borrow from the future, you can and up spending money because you believe you’ll be paid soon or you can spend into overdraft because you need it for your success e.g an upcoming model going into overdraft to pay for her plane ticket to their debut fashion show.

It’s almost Venusian how you indulge in your assets, income and possessions except you make it look like a dream with a touch of hope, it’s like Cinderellas possessions before midnight, it’s so grandiose but if you look very clearly its not so real yet they make it their reality and like Cinderella become the princess they dreamed of being. You know those people who post their evening routines on YouTube in their penthouse showing their work environment and film their lifestyle OR those business advisors who sell courses but actually are broke renting out a mansion as an Airbnb to deceive their followers, that is exactly what it’s like for these natives. You spend your money on things that you’ve always wanted or dreamt of owning which gives of a romanticised impression of the things you own, you show the pros without the cons. I can imagine people like Nara smith having this placement because she sells a fantasy. This is also why you can be good actors. You can purchase homes, cars, art, assets etc. from your favourite tv shows for an example someone with this placement may purchase the Barbie home in real life or recreate Hannah Montanas house because they’ve always wanted it. You can also own things that are exact copies of what someone else has, maybe even dupes. Neptune likes to copy. In general the kind of assets you own are very much crafted with some kind of illusionary touch to it due to Neptunes fickle nature.

Your way of generating income requires you to sell a fantasy, or to do the impossible, you have to appeal to others, lie even, your job requires you to have ideas that make people want to believe you. You could be naive or prey on others naivety. That’s usually why Neptune 2H jobs are associated with deception. Although it points to someone being an artist (illusions) but I actually think people with this placement could work great in sales and be good persuaders, I think they could do anything, because their power is persuasive. The actors with this placement play in roles of which their characters are beyond life, have this sense of naivety to the bad, their characters complete the impossible and are a symbol of the future e.g Jennifer Lawrence (known for katniss Everdeen), Natalie Portman (Black swan and Padme)

Now when it comes to savings… I must admit you guys don’t think of potential setbacks as much as the other planets. It’s not that you fail to save long term goal but more so approach it like “I’d really like to have this much saved one day”. You can dream of a life of security but can struggle to act on it, depending on the sign of course. Possessions and income to you aren’t necessarily just resources but more so what you’re destined for. People can view your values, skills, assets etc. as a waste of time, even asking you “why would you waste your money on that?” only to realise that it’s actually a brilliant idea in the future.

Key individuals with Neptune in 2nd house:

Taylor swift- In her 2020 documentary she reads the diary she owned as a child which talked about how she wanted to succeed and was meant to be successful. Jessica McLane a former classmate to Taylor swift says she was bullied because “She was literally, 16 or 17 leaving school to pursue a career that people are telling her that she could never have.” Taylor made her dreams come true and is now a billionaire who will probably achieve a lot more of her dreams if she hasn’t done them already. She also embodies Neptune 2H because of making money from art and has been accused of deceptive behaviour like not allowing other stars to hit #1. Who would have thought that country girl would become a billionaire businesswoman? Taylor probably did.

Ted Bundy- very deceptive, income came from the nativity of people, his persuasion and lies. He used that illusion to lure in victims his possessions were not only the cars he stole from lying, the victims bodies that were never found (Neptune can hide and deceive) but also the hearts of the media, people still adore him in film, romanticising his work, his skills and charm long after the crimes he committed

Anne Frank- her diary will always be a timeless possession that still inspires millions of people to this day, I can imagine at the time of crisis they must have found the concept of her journaling during a genocide illogical and even stupid. Neptune also is associated with selflessness and to this day The Anne Frank Fonds foundation in Switzerland that collects royalties from Anne Frank's diary distributes the money to charities, education projects, and scientific research. Her income is literally given to future dreams. That’s Neptune in the 2H

Donald trump- his real estate empire shows his grandiose approach to material possessions, he’s always known he wanted more money and transformed the amount he was given into so much more

Lana del Rey- such an entrancing otherworldly voice, her voice is described as a siren even, however some argue that it’s deceptive, fake because of her live performances being so different

I would continue highlighting the many ways Neptune 2nd house has impacted people but there’s too many key individuals who have paved history with this placement.

Honourable mentions:

Isaac Newton, Natalie Portman, James Franco, Rafael Nadal, Jennifer Lawrence, Hailey Baldwin, Muhammad Ali, Kris Jenner, Grimes, Justin Bieber, Steve Jobs, Pope Francis, Olivia Rodrigo, Frank Ocean, Edgar Allan Poe, Boris Johnson, O.J. Simpson, Queen Elizabeth I of England, Sydney Sweeney, Lewis Hamilton, Judy Garland, Mitski, Russia (the literal country), Monica Lewinsky, Hedy Lamarr, and Christopher Columbus.

All these people seem so sure of themselves when they tell you how they got to where they are now today, they are so well beyond their time, scheming almost. Their skills, values, possessions, incomes are all things that transcend throughout history as something that paved the future. There is a mix of discoverers and some of these individuals were discovered and once you see what they brought with them it’s like “how come nobody knew??”. Whether it be Christopher Columbus and his findings of America (can be seen as deceptive as Native Americans were residing there), Monica Lewinsky and her affair with the president or Isaac newton and his concept of gravity. I guess we will just never understand the blinding affect Neptune has. All I can say is that if you see someone or a place/event with Neptune in 2nd house… I suggest you keep an eye on them and at least listen to their idea, no matter how unrealistic it may be.

Oh and don’t forget. If a Neptune 2nd house could benefit financially by deception, you’d never know if they are showing the truth. They get away with financial crimes anyway.

Uranus in 2nd house

You intellectualise your spending habits, you can literally justify buying the most bizarre artefact known to man and you will think through before purchasing something and justify it because it’s for “a greater cause” whether that ‘cause’ be another erratic purchase or something that impacts humanity, surprisingly you’re actually right about it’s efficiency. Uranus isn’t a dumb planet, it’s… unique. You have a ‘think smarter not harder’ mindset when it comes to choosing what to buy, it reminds me of those self cleaning vacuum robots that people buy because it fits a niche purpose. You can make spending, earning income or attaining wealth a utilitarian journey, they can even see it as an advancement for humanity, like their pockets are a gift to the people which is why they’re associated with philanthropy, being inventors, activism etc.

These natives are giving but it must be for the right reason. You’d have to pitch to them first for them to support your philanthropic endeavour. Some of you go so far to renounce all your belongings and live in poverty. Many times they are reliant on the philanthropy or giving from others. People’s support may give them assets.

You can spend on specifically niche erratic things like a pet giraffe, a taxidermy raccoon butt sharpener, very random I know -but that’s the point! It’s like people can huddle around your possessions, your house, your car and think that’s so cool or even find it kind of weird, random, funny or just deranged. Sometimes people can look at your belongings and ask themselves ‘what am I even looking at right now?’. Regardless of their reaction people are always shocked, shocked by what you own, how much you own (could be surprisingly wealthy/surprisingly poor) or why you do the things you do. I always see Uranus as that weird kid who got bullied in secondary school which is what these natives may be seen as when it comes to your assets, you may have people trying to label your style, define it, which is why Uranus in 2nd house is associated with owning one of a kind possessions, like a once in a lifetime made car, these natives literally would pre order the Tesla cyber truck unironically, obviously you may have a different style to the cybertruck -but I mean that’s the level of strangeness they exhibit when it comes to their possessions. People can get why you buy the the things you have , it’s cool, unique, intellectual and a conversation starter but… they’re still shocked because although it makes sense, it defies what is normal.

Your home could be filled with weird stuff, whether it be antiques, a maximalist room, taxidermy, anime body pillows or a fully functional robot, that’s the thing, you just don’t know with these individuals. The property and assets you own could be extremely efficient for your needs but very erratic. You may not even live in the property you own, Uranus is detached. You may want to be free from earning income, the 2H shows how you make money and your relationship with it therefore natives here generate income in a way that doesn’t burden them and feels like something they’d do for fun, due to the detachment of Uranus they could work in fields that aren’t congruent with themselves, something they wouldn’t usually be interested in or they can make money by aiding in the freedom of others.

It’s not that you don’t value money, you only value what it can do for you. If it can’t serve the purpose you’re seeking for then it’s pretty much just there and you’ll either spend it on something erratic or save it up to do something erratic. These natives aren’t very good at saving. But since planets here show how you store money, if they do save, Uranus 2nd housers are very witty with it, probably have the best interest rates, investments in cryptocurrency, strange ways of saving storing money that blows peoples minds like “how did you think of that?”. Uranus makes your finances become a spectacle even. Going from high to low very frequently, it’s unstable but these natives (as much as they complain about it) won’t do anything to change except letting go of their assets of course, this is because they want a quick fix to their financial stress, they don’t want to worry about money, they just detach. They have bigger fish to fry. You can stay in the same home for years no matter how much income rises due to it being efficient, I’ve also observed these natives appear humble in their earnings regardless of how much they may make.

The skills needed for you to make your income is most definitely invention, intelligence, you have to think in ways not done before, not tested or tried, kind of like marinette from miraculous ladybug using her lucky charm finding an unpredictable, bizarre way of using it. You need to be odd to do your job, only someone who is eccentric could make money the way that you do, the way you generate income is also liberating for you, people are shocked with what you do to make money, you could have a very niche job that not many people dream of- not because they don’t want it, but because it’s so unique they didn’t know it even existed. It’s almost as if your job is made just for you, you’re set apart from even those in the same field as you and if that industry requires innovation you are the best of your peers, your income is made by expressing parts of yourself that are usually constrained as Uranus liberates, it is rebellion, which is why you do your job so well, it’s a playing field for that side of you, and how you go against authority.

Also for each of the planets in this 2nd house series, I’ve observed that actors make the most income from the roles that fall under their 2nd house planet. With the actors who have Uranus here they usually play in pioneering, leading, out of the box thinking roles etc.:

Benedict Cumberbatch- Played as Sherlock holmes (role required themes of intellect, eccentricity, thinking outside of the box to be Sherlock) same with Dr Strange (very ironic because Uranus literally represents things that are weird). Also he invested in startups such as Tentrr, a camping app, and ScribbleChat, a texting app, (Uranus represents technology)

Andy Samberg- Played as lead detective Jake Brooklyn 99 (very intelligent, unpredictable wordplay involved, solving things, putting bad guys away, emotionally detached)

Adrien Brody- played as Władysław Szpilman in The Pianist (a role where the character had up and down assets, had to constantly think out of the box to survive, used his skills to rebel his circumstances to get by yet never fully reaching financial stability)

You defy by making someone financially suffer for their wrongs, like going on strike, neglecting a clients investment, abandoning assets, you can boycott or fund certain causes. You’re also the kind of person who would do their job for free. You can be petty with finances and buy weird stuff because you can, invest because it contributes to something. You’re intellectual with where you put your money.

Key Individuals with this placement:

George r.r Martin- author of the Game of thrones series, asoiaf is definitely such an innovative piece of fiction, deals with themes of liberation, freedom and is so unhinged it’s unheard of.

Emma Frances Chamberlain- American YouTuber. Time Magazine included her on its list of The 25 Most Influential People On The Internet, writing that "Chamberlain pioneered an approach to vlogging that shook up YouTube’s unofficial style guide. (Income from technology, pioneering, quirkiness, thinking out of the ordinary. All Uranus themes)

Lord Byron- British poet, behaved as if income didn’t exist, very wealthy yet very broke and practically ran away from raising income, died fighting for Greek independence. kept a bear in his room while he was a student at Trinity College in the early 1800s. He's said to have purchased the bear in defiance of the rules that banned students from keeping dogs in college. (Uranus freedom, unhinged and erratic themes while owning weird stuff)

Jacqueline du Pré - a British cellist, today acknowledged as one of the greatest exponents of the instrument. Her interpretation of this work has been described as "definitive" and "legendary. (Unique vision, pioneering)

Yves Saint Laurent- founded his eponymous fashion label. He is regarded as being among the foremost fashion designers in the twentieth century. Yves Saint Laurent can be credited with both spurring the couture's rise from its 1960s ashes and with finally rendering ready-to-wear reputable. (Standing out in his industry, thinking out the box, rebellion to norms)

City of Geneva, Switzerland- long history of income from watchmaking and machinery. (Uranus represents technology and industrial development)

South Korea- makes 70% of its GDP from its electronic exports. The world's second-largest producer of semi-conductors. (Uranus technology and innovative thinking.)

Honourable mentions:

J.R.R. Tolkien (author of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings), Malcom X, Venus Williams, Jackie Chan, Avril Lavigne, South Korea (the literal country), Pakistan (the literal country), Lewis Carrol (author of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and its sequel Through the Looking-Glass, he was also a mathematician and logician), Pablo Picasso, Tiger Woods, Uma Thurman, Francis of Assisi, Sofia Richie, Queen Elizabeth 2nd, Benedict Cumberbatch, Marilyn Manson, Simone de Beauvoir, Gillian Leigh Anderson, Nina Simone, Adrien Brody

All of these individuals made the most when they thought outside of the box and did something different to what people expected, shocking the public makes them wealthy. It’s interesting how I also observed that someone tends to fund these natives lifestyles since they cannot fund it themselves. Notice how these individuals are so swept up with the skill or causes they need to generate income instead of actually making the money? The only way I can imagine these natives being filthy rich is if they pursue something they love and abides by their erratic values, otherwise they’ll see it as a chore and try to run away from it.

Saturn in the 2nd house

This placement reminds me of Ebeneezer Scrooge, you guys can be extremely wealthy yet very frugal, you can be respected for how you approach your possessions, always making sure they’re in fine quality for the cheapest price. You stretch your money, coupons, discounts, comparing quotes, getting home renovations but for the most price effective way, OR you can feel like you constantly don’t own enough and feel worthless without your assets, like a turtle without a shell, you can feel like a disgrace if you don’t have enough. People with this placement don’t like to spend too much at all unless there’s aspects and other planets in the 2nd house, this is because Saturn is where there is restriction. You can spend your life focusing on financial discipline. Saturn here can make you excellent planners when it comes to budgeting your finances. You don’t want to feel financially unstable and won’t let that happen under your watch.

Saturn is a strict teacher that teaches you discipline. Therefore you probably have had some unfortunate experiences when it comes to not only your assets, possessions and income but also your self worth. Your things could have been forcefully taken away, home auctioned, grown up poor/in debt, been hyper aware of your family’s finances or there’s just a constant fear that you will end up penniless if you don’t make every penny count. You will spend to exert your mandatory authority, for an example you may spend to bail a family member, spend to own company equity or stocks, pay for your business property mortgage, to pay employees, spending is a responsibility.

You’re always working for your income in one way or another. Which is exactly why you have the potential to earn a LOT. Saturn is also the area we master the most in our lifetime due to discipline, you’ll eventually rule authority and overcome your financial inconsistencies if you’re still struggling to be stable with your income, especially more so if you’re an Aquarius or Capricorn rising. It is often said that this happens by or during the age you’ll be when Saturn returns to the sign it was in when you were born. Aka. Saturn return. Also if you are a cap or Aquarius rising money is ALWAYS on your mind, it haunts you even, you may not purchase things because of your hyper awareness of its status symbolism, knowing it can make you appear less dignified.

The skills required for you to make income are being in charge, working on being the first or best in your field. Like Prince the musician, Zendaya, King Charles III, Snoop Dog. All of them hold a certain kind of authority and respect is held to their name because of the discipline shown in their lives that grants them income, if they don’t like how they’re being treated professionally they’ll let you know and not do business with you again. These natives work dutifully, to make more money it requires more authority, more responsibility, the more they take on in cutthroat environments the more they make income. Working under you is also borderline violation of human right act, you like to make your employees work like dogs 🥲, because that’s what you do to yourself.

You need to have dedication, put in the hard work, sacrifice the time, stand in authority, become the one that makes the decisions, stand up for yourself and better the systems put in place, your authority is a gift and the gateway to expanding your earnings and possessions. Your income is based from you delegating, planning, strategising. You are the patrons of charity, You can own heirlooms passed down to generations, own ‘old money’ aesthetic assets like historical buildings, classic cars, vintage furniture, blood money diamonds, established status symbols that most recognise as prestige, OR on the other end you can be extremely frugal, the cheapest car, cheapest most efficient home without having extra costs. It’s seriously a hit or miss with this placement because Saturn likes to restrict, but also likes to make you master so it’s a journey.

Of all the planets Saturn in the 2nd house is the best one at saving. Money and assets are saved in locked, bonded accounts, heavily restricted, guarded with lots of authorization needed for transactions. This is the person with biometric passwords and 3 safe words then a signature just to pay for sandwich bread. You guys NEED stability and your savings are heavy because you desperately feel you need to pinch onto every penny ‘just in case’. Where Jupiter feels entitled to income, possessions and assets, you on the other hand feel honoured. You spend because “I must” you earn because “It’s a necessity” there’s a level of stress that comes from managing your wealth. If saturn is alone here you guys can stay at the same company climbing up the ranks because you believe that income, wealth the material things are worth waiting for. You are dutiful to your job position and take work very seriously. It can feel frustrating because money can take a while to come in or it’s like you have to work harder than others to get what you want and when you see others do it, it’s irritating. But you must remember that you also have authority, you guys call the shots, that’s where your dedication and hard work takes you, although other people may take the easy route they never “master” like you do. Unlike them, you guys make the generational wealth, that’s why so many royals have this placement. Your income, your assets and possessions last a LONGGGGG time, passing onto generations, the kind of assets that allowed your great grandchildren to become millionaires, it reminds me of when Donald trump says “my father gave me a small loan of 1 million dollars” your assets are a foundation for exponential growth. When you invest in stocks gradually you really make it grow, if you own equity of companies that asset grows over time. You make the most once you commit to a financial plan like a business or investment and continually contribute to it year after year, you are sooo dedicated and uphold your duties without failure which is why you do it better than the other planets. This placement also makes you extremely wealthy once you retire, I know your retirement fund is beautiful.

When people see your possessions, your house, car or anything they can really respect you, it goes two ways. They can either think you worked very hard to get where you are and hold you in high regard or they can be impressed with how you’re able to restrain yourself from spending too much and appreciate your dedication to being a cheapskate.

Key Individuals with this placement:

Zendaya- owning classic vintage assets and multiple real estate, only affiliated with status symbols, the reason she makes so much money as an actress is because of how highly respected she is, she’s also is authoritative and fired her agent because they couldn’t assert themselves against racism in her career

Arnold Schwarzenegger- actor, billions businessman, former politician and body builder, he’s known for his incredible discipline that lead him to wealth, he was a millionaire before he was an actor because of his real estate investments, his hard work on himself such as body building helped his acting career(Saturn builds overtime), he has such an intricate well planned investment portfolio and he is known for his discipline/financial advice. And let’s be honest, who else would write a book called “Be Useful” other than a Saturn influenced individual?

King Charles 3rd- where do I start with this man. He’s literally known to be SUCH a stingy man. Whenever I think of the worst of this placement I think of him right here, he farms organically, skips lunch to save money, he is known as very hard working doing paperwork past midnight everyday, Saturn authority manifested as a literal king, his staff and advisors are held extremely accountable working strenuously. Just read about his day to day life and his financial dealings if you want to understand this placement properly

Roger Federer– Tennis legend with unparalleled discipline in his sport. Federer’s financial success comes from consistent hard work, endorsements, and investments. He also exemplifies Saturn’s respect for tradition and authority, being a revered figure both on and off the court.

Honorable mentions:Clint Eastwood, Jacqueline Kennedy, Friedrich Nietzsche, Kate Moss, Kendrick Lamar, François Fillon, Stephen King, Grimes, Roger Federer, Dominique Strauss-Kahn, Steven Spielberg, Prince Philip Mountbatten, Duke of Edinburgh, John Cena, Donald Glover, Diego Maradona, Richard Branson, Shaquille O’Neal, Rosé (K-pop), Jules Verne, George Lucas, Jane Austen, Los Angeles California, Saudi Arabia, Madrid Spain.

Notice how these individuals tend to establish themselves in fields that require immense patience and long-term dedication. Whether through meticulous planning, as seen with Roger Federer’s career longevity, or by creating something enduring, like George Lucas’s Star Wars legacy, these natives focus on building something that will outlast them. Many of them also seem to handle wealth as if it's more of a responsibility than a pleasure—often using their resources to invest in ventures, support others, or leave behind a legacy.

Interestingly, it’s common to see these individuals gaining respect for their resourcefulness and ability to work within constraints. Even when their industries were cutthroat, they approached challenges methodically, often turning setbacks into stepping stones. I can imagine these natives feeling a deep need to prove their worth through results, and their income seems to reflect the amount of structure and discipline they bring to their craft. They’re not the type to take shortcuts; instead, they value integrity and careful strategy, which is why their success often grows slowly but steadily.

You might also observe that these natives often tie their self-worth to their ability to maintain control over their financial or professional lives. I can imagine that they find financial freedom not through extravagance but through security and stability, knowing they’ve created a safety net for themselves and those they care about. Their wealth isn’t just a display of success; it’s a testament to their ability to master life’s challenges and leave something of value behind.

Venus in the 2nd house

Tell me you’re blessed without telling me you’re blessed. Venus is literally at home in this house. Not only do you guys have such a soothing voice you just ooze sensuality, hence why Elvis Presley, David Bekham, Paris Hilton have this placement. You just get princess treatment even if you’re a man. You spend on things that make you feel good, a beautiful home? A beautiful car? Beautiful jewellery? Beautiful watch? Beautiful wife 💀, no seriously this can at extremes be someone willing to pay for services, escorts or those rent-a-girlfriends, Anything that makes you not only look but FEEL beautiful. You spend because “I deserve it 👑”. It reminds me of those sprinkle sprinkle girls on TikTok and men who like to be praised. If it’s in Leo, my goodness it’s even worse haha. You guys deserve it all, think of Sharpay Evan in high school musical. You’re the IT guy/girl in your social class, you can get a lot of compliments on your possessions because you have really good taste that’s appreciated by everyone, you’re the person in class who everyone at school is raving about their Louis Vuitton limited edition exclusive bag, it’s more so conventional beauty even if it’s in Aquarius -assets are recognisable for its beauty, also you guys have the best smell, if you wear fragrances people may compliment your scent or want to know what you’re wearing, this placement along with Jupiter 2H reminds me of those overconsumption influencer pages because they’re always so blessed with the nicest stuff. Except unlike Jupiter you guys own stuff to fulfill you, not just to keep around for exploration. If Venus is here alone you can spend on things like Birkin bags, private jets, first class, fancy cuisine, designer possessions, luxury houses, luxury cars, you can be bratty about your money and self entitled (as you should because let’s be honest, who doesn’t want what you have?). It screams spoiled.

You can earn your income from things regarding satisfaction, beauty, pleasure and fairness, it honestly depends on the sign. Like if it’s in Libra you may be a diplomat, lawyer, fashion designer -be very pleasing visually and socially, in Taurus could be a singer, food taster, chef, Leo- a model, hair stylist, in Cancer can be interior designer, architect housewife, caregiver, etc. it could be anything to be honest you can still work in any industry of course but the second house shows you the skills needed for you to make your income and with Venus here it’s very much related with pleasure, beauty and fairness, you may be giving it to others or indulging in it yourself as a job. As you can see it’s so varied that this can literally range from a sex worker to a world peace diplomat, so don’t try to pin it down too much, you’d need to look at the rest of your chart. 

Regardless of what it is you do, you need to feel good at work, you can be someone who always looks good at work because it affects your income, you make spending an earning a “leisure” or a “treatment” it’s like going to the spa, like a satisfied “ahh” when you’ve finished your job, you actually love what you have to do for your job because it makes you feel good about yourself and heightens your self esteem. You can get praised a lot at work for your skills and be blessed without working as hard as your peers. Can be favoured by your company, least likely to become redundant, personality hire, nepotism, or just straight up a delight to work with. This placement also reminds me of Adrien Agreste from miraculous ladybug, you guys just have it good, it’s like the table is prepared for you at your beck and call, unfortunately though it can also suggest that the way you were given love growing up was through financial compensation OR you weren’t given that much which made you feel like you needed material gifts and wealth to feel “worth it”. You feel great about yourself but when you aren’t being given compliments or gifts for what you do or the way you are it’s like you don’t even matter, you can feel like nobody cares about you. This reminds me of those artists on TikTok or instagram that post their drawings online and get no followers, likes or comments so they stop posting, or influencers when they get cancelled feel like their whole fandom hates them so they quit. In return this can also end up making you have people pleasing tendencies, not always to your detriment it can just be small things like  buying doughnuts for the team at work because you know they’d like it and you actually want to, while it also makes you look good. 

You own beautiful possessions, I always think of Marilyn Monroes outfits, image and jewellery as the Venus 2nd house affect (she doesn’t have this placement but you guys have that wow factor in your possessions). People think you’re spoilt or you spoil yourself because of your possessions, you get a lot of bonuses because Venus is a gift, you can receive praise bonuses at work like “most sales” or “best customer service” bonus. You own the Pinterest board houses, the pretty cars, the house your Venus ruler is in will also show you further depth as to where you get your income, skills, possessions and gains from. Like if it were in 7th house it might be your partners- business or romantic, if 3rd house can be siblings and friends, 11h can be scholarships, community, sponsorship groups, go fund me etc. 

It also indicates your love language is gifts as Venus shows how we receive beauty, luxury, pleasure etc. even though 8th house shows your gains, Venus here also makes you get a lot except instead of it being shared with you, it is owned by you. Like someone purchasing a home in your name, a trust fund etc. 

You can have a good amount of savings, or not have to worry about it because someone else is saving in your name. It reminds me of Gabrielle Solis, a character from desperate housewives tv series who’s husband refuses to give her his credit card as a punishment, therefore other men end up paying for Gabrielle’s expenses like her shoes, fine dining etc. she says “I’m a pretty girl, and pretty girls are never lonely”. What Im trying to say is that even if you get broke somehow you always have someone or something at the right time might swoop in and pay for your stuff, can be a family member, friend, work bonus, just depends on the sign. Although this isn’t the 8th house, people can pay for your stuff because Venus represents receiving and love being expressed. You can end up not having that much savings because you’re always spending it, but because Venus is here and it shows how we store money; you can store yours in prestigious banks that are known for luxury and added benefits, trust funds or even as a child you could have had the most prettiest piggy bank that made saving an indulgent pleasure. Earning, Spending and Saving money can feel good for you because it’s adding to your security that you so deeply value. Also your weddings are bomb as hell, beautiful I must say especially if your Venus is in cancer here. You guys have the “crazy rich Asian” kind of weddings. 

To maximize your income and earn more, I’d say you should act entitled to the best, knowing that you deserve it all. Your self worth isn’t dependent on receiving but know that you receive because you have self worth. You need to look good, feel good and enjoy leisure, give satisfaction. That’s how you can make more income and own more assets. It can range from lip service to clearing up the air in a diplomatic manner at work

[sunny-knight]

THIS IS HOME

@forgettable-au Fan-Animatic ⭐️

The stars welcome him with open arms…

Work and Progress + Analysis below!

You can find the work in progress things here! because I wanna show the sketch animatic and you can only upload one video…

The entire idea was inspired off of THIS lovely little qna written a bit ago! havnt forgotten about it since! Despite what the AU might have you believe And recently I decided I could just draw out the fun part instead of go through the pain of storyboarding and cleaning up a nearly 4 minute long song 👍👍👍

Thats the idea though, theres no real plot, so no real context I can give other than the things the comic itself already provides. “This Is Home” just works incredibly well for this poor childs trauma, and it was a great opportunity to practice my composition and storytelling!!

Onto the deep analysis of every frame individually!!! (this is normal. this happens every time.)

The idea that Wingdings just eventually- gave up. Trying to connect with anyone. HURTS ME DEEPLY. I’m not sure if thats specifically because he just couldn’t get the font thing down, but I imagine that was a big contributing factor. But thats what specifically stops him here. He eventually slams his keys down on the board and says “IM DONE” and throws himself into a thing he can purely enjoy on his own- science. Even at a young age, I feel he only had 2 lives. One with Sans, and one with science. Then when those worlds combined when he became the royal scientist uhhh- I imagine it got worse.

Speaking of his young age, In these shots he’s also notably a tad older than the later depictions of his younger self with the scarf. Less full of joy and whimsy

“His mind is in a different place” is taken a tad more negatively than in the context of the song I feel, as he’s more or less isolated himself from everyone (but Sans) now in this “giving up” phase of his childhood. I wonder how Sans noticed/took that and if he tried to convince him otherwise, but in this case he just thinks he needs some time to himself.

Also let it be known that the words being crammed in at the “Give him a little bit of space” bit is on PURPOSE and a SILLY LITTLE JOKE/VISUAL GAG GIVEN THE LINE. I AM SO FUNNY.

The colors are also notably dark blues, that get greyer when Wingdings has given up. The light that Sans lets in ((looks into the camera, tearing up)) is still pretty cold despite it being brighter.

The berating is also in uppercase to show most of this is from Wingdings’ pov- I know he speaks in proper casing at this time, but I NEED SOME SORT OF INDICATOR, WORK WITH ME HERE. His main issue was his own self consciousness and desire to communicate properly, since it was said before on the blog that no one really picked on him for his inability to talk to them.

Then we have Papyrus!! The colors are similarly blue, but a lot brighter and a touch purpler and greener. Its from the same world, but not the same person. Also he’s wearing a yellow vest which is the complimentary color to blue ☝️

Papyrus is more heavily associated with warm colors in contrast to Wingdings, but this takes place very early on when he was very confused where his place was (or at least I assume thats what happened). He’s associating with warm colors (yellow) but is somewhat weary about it and still subconsciously clutching onto the comfort in familiarity.

The scene ofc depicts Papyrus being incredibly uncomfortable about any photos of himself as a child. It still definitely…looooks… like him. it just feels really wrong.

Similar thing to last time with the fonts as well, uppercase, Papyrus’ pov, he just wants to know who/WHAT he is.

I enjoy the colors in the photo and how they reallly stand out from the rest of the shot, just another emphasis that the photo feels otherworldly to Papyrus.

This is the part where I start weeping pitifully. The tiny Wingdings to Gaster comparison- it’s just so upsetting, I want to know what this poor child would think if he saw what he ends up as 😭

Wingdings enjoyed dreaming about the real stars he MIGHT get to see one day with Sans. The scene is dark, as it still hasnt happened yet, but still bright and hopeful as he stares up at the light! Its always a possibility. But then we have Gaster, who finally did it. He reached the stars, he gets to look up and say “wow…. I really did it”. Staring up at the void before him. Without Sans…I feel he wouldn’t ponder on it much, and consciously he doesn’t see anything bad about his circumstances, but the crack going down his eye that elludes to a tear says otherwise in the suppressed emotions.

The world Wingdings lived in when he was small, seemed so endless…Despite the underground being small compared to the real world, his imagination was endless. He could dream, he could imagine, and create things, get and give new ideas! But now as an adult that just so happens to be a lovecraftian entity, everything is much more simple and straightforward. At least from his perspective…Gaster may be able to DO way more than he ever could as a small child, but his mind is pretty one track at this point.

I wonder how Gaster feels…Now that they’ve gotten to the surface. without him

Im not sure how Papyrus in the game or even in the comic feels about stars, but Sans for one doesnt have to daydream anymore. They’ve also “done it” just like Gaster, but the hug insinuates less of that and more a “we WON”. They share in this moment together more emotionally than anything.

Again, compared to Gaster and them, they enjoy the moment in their own ways- Gaster just the action of seeing the stars, and Papyrus in what the moment itself means. I feel those are the 2 wants Wingdings had and thats a lot of what Papyrus and Gaster are. 2 halfs of Wingdings’…whole…thing

Also the stars welcoming him with open arms is both in reference to Sans but also Papyrus welcoming/accepting/loving himself…

IN CONCLUSION:

…yknow ive never asked before, but if anyone has any questions or needs clarification im happy to-

[helaintoloki]

hello, I would like to make a request, a story based on the last episode of yours, Five talking to another Five in the final conversation and they talk about his wife and Canon Five doesn't have one, thanks if you want

a/n: i absolutely loved writing this ty for sending this in ! <3

warnings: language, slight angst, spoilers

summary: Five discovers his missing piece

When Five stumbled into Max’s and came across an entire diner full of alternate versions of himself, about a million different questions raced through his mind. However, the most pressing issue he found himself wanting to address was the context behind the lovingly placed portrait of a woman on the wall.

“Who’s the girl?” He asks his counterpart, his eyes remaining glued to the painting. The woman’s smile was gentle, her eyes kind, and her face the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He almost felt drawn to it in a way, as if there was some type of magnetic pull gravitating his focus to her and only her. It was like seeing a ghost or a familiar face from a dream that you’re not quite able to place.

“Don’t you recognize her?” The other Five retorts perplexed, confusion clearly etched on his features. “That’s y/n.”

“Can’t say I’m familiar,” the Boy confesses with an apologetic sigh as he finally pulls his attention away from the painting and sets it back to the Five in front of him.

“No wonder you’re such a mess,” server Five notes with a diverted smile as he tops off their coffee. Calling over his shoulder, he announces to all Fives, “The poor bastard doesn’t have a y/n.”

Murmurs of surprise and astonished laughter fill the cafe at the news, prompting Five’s face to heat in embarrassment at being the butt of a joke he has no grasp of. What do these Fives know that he doesn’t?

“Could you please be so kind as to fill me in on who this y/n is,” he requests agitatedly through gritted teeth. Reaching into his pocket, his counterpart pulls out a weathered photograph and slides it across the table for Five to see.

“Y/n is the missing piece that completes every Five. We all meet her in different ways at different points of our lives, but every time she manages to anchor us back down to earth. Y/n is the glue that holds us together when everything goes to shit. She believes in us, sees the humanity in us despite the horrors we’ve seen and the atrocities we’ve committed. She gives us unconditional love even when we think we don’t need it, when we think it couldn’t possibly exist.”

As Fives look down at the photo before him, he sees himself- or rather, another version of himself- enveloping y/n in his arms. They stand in front of a beautiful home with a picket white fence and a garden full of flowers smiling with pure bliss. It’s clear that the woman loved this version of him by the adoring look in her eyes, and it’s even clearer that she meant everything to the Five sitting across from him.

“She means something different to each of us, but I was one of the Five’s lucky enough to make her my wife,” his companion notes with an evocative smile. “That photo was taken on our honeymoon.

“Where is she now?” Five asks somberly after handing back the photograph.

“Dead,” he replies quietly, releasing a mournful sigh as he sinks back into the booth. “Lost her in an accident while I was trying to stop the apocalypse for a third time. That’s when I decided it was time to hang in the towel.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“We had a good run together, I wouldn’t change any of it,” the replica admits with a reminiscent smile. He takes another look at the photo, committing it to memory before handing it back to Five. “I think you need this more than I do. You may not have had the chance to know your y/n, but judging by the look on your face when you spotted the portrait I have a good feeling you would have loved her just the same.”

Gingerly taking the photograph back, Five stops to admire her gentle features and adoring smile before tucking it safely into the pocket of his suit. “Thank you.”

“You know what you have to do to fix the timelines,” the other Five firmly instructs him. “Just promise me you’ll do by right by my wife. She deserves a safe timeline to live in, one where she can grow old and be happy.”

Rising from his seat at the booth, Five takes one last longing look at the portrait on the wall before returning his gaze to the boy in front of him.

“You have my word.”

[oh-no-its-bird]

It is simply an undeniable, inevitable fact of life that if you are placed on the same team as Hatake Kakashi; you will eventually get some form of crush on him.

For the lucky ones, it only lasts a few minutes before they remember themselves (and their standards.) For the unluckier ones, it can go on for much, much longer than that.

Anyways the point of this is: Team Ro individually crushing on Kakashi as they grow up. I think it's fun to think about

Itachi got it the worst, 12 years old and given this untouchable authority figure somewhat within his age range. A safe space among the ANBU, another baby genius who gets it— gets the pressure, gets being different, even gets being looked at with suspicion (for Itachi, as an Uchiha. For Kakashi, as the White Fang's son and Friend Killer Kakashi)

Luckily enough for him, this crush only lasted like a month. Or at least it only got that far before he learned how to hide it better (and, of course, he then had bigger things to think about than a silly childhood crush)

Shisui was certainly the loudest about his, with the passive sort of on and off crush you'd expect a 15 year old kid to get on his cool senior. He's not exactly good at hiding it, and honestly possibly doesn't espexially care to. It's embaressing but also, have you seen Kakashi in action? Shisui won't apologize for his tastes!

Shisui is the kind of guy to have a few different crushes in a few different people at a time— maybe if one of them actually looked back at him, he'd form a genuine crush but till then he's just kinda looking respectfully and sighing wistfully about how cool and strong they are

Tenzo certainly got it the worst, rocking a years long crush on his personal hero that's only managed to fade a little in recent years as an adult (usually when he's faced with Kakashi being a deliberate bastard in his general direction)

But like. Kakashi being his personal hero, an untouchable figure when he's a kid that slowly grows into a real home and safe space/person— feeling more and more real to Tenzo with each passing year

Tbh, specifically Itachi having a crush on Kakashi as a kid is the funniest thing to me. It's not reciprocated to be clear, Itachi was like 11 when Kakashi was like 17 and it was a silly, kiddie, puppy crush of "my captain is so cool..." where Itachi himself probably didn't even have the full context for what he was feeling.

But like, specifically from the angle of them both in their 20's and Sasuke learning that, as a kid, his awful evil genocidal brother had a crush on... HIS teacher????!?!?? What the FUCK.

Funniest thing in the world. Kakashi is 2 for 3 of the living Uchiha's having a childhood crush on him and that's beautiful to me. You go king!

Anyways actually, idea for the WORST conversation ever (aka the funniest thing:)

Tenzo for some reason being a temporary prisoner of the Akatsuki, and Itachi standing guard. And Itachi very awkwardly asks about Kakashi. And what proceeds is the most painful

"...do you still have a crush on him?"

"No. (yes) Do you?"

"No. (Yes.)"

-type conversation EVER. Tenzo can not believe this bastards balls actually. Get the FUCK away from his senpai.

Actually: horrible alternative, that exact situation but with Sasuke. Itachi has him captured and, very much not wanting to talk about the elephant in the room, blurts out the first thing he can think about: How is Kakashi doing?

Sasuke, who hasn't interacted w Kakashi since declaring he wanted to kill him: ?????

Sasuke is coming out of this conversation going "god fucking dammit Itachi is EVERYONE more important to you than me !?!??"

Later Sasuke runs into Kakashi and screams something about hating him and that hoping Itachi's nasty ass crush on him means Itachi will kill him next so Sasuke doesn't have to dirty his own hands

Kakashi, who was completley unaware that Itachi had ever had a crush on him and is not enjoying this new knowledge: ????

Tenzo who already knew and is somehow enjoying this knowledge even less than Kakashi is: ...

In general tbh I wish we'd gotten more team Ro interactions as adults, I think there's so much potential there. Tenzo, Kakashi and Itachi were around eachother for what was arguably some of the most vulnerable times of their lives, for multiple years. That must have left some sort of mark ??

And I mean, we so get to see the lasting impact via Tenzo and Kakashi's friendship but come on!!! How does Itachi play into that equasion!! I know he has to somehow!

Anyways yeah: Kakashi following in his dads sexyman footsteps without even realizing it,,, it delights me to think about.

[willowpains]

me jalo

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

*if y’all haven’t seen this trend, just search “me jalo trend” on TikTok for context*

Of course you were dragging Drew to make a new TikTok trend with you.

Who were you if not the chronically online actress that kept the internet fed with content?

This time, it was just a little different.

No pranks.

Instead, a dance trend.

A very sweet and romantic one you would call.

One that nonetheless, took A LOT of convincing to get your boyfriend to accept.

The people would not believe how hard it was to get Drew to participate in anything that involved the internet culture.

He could be a little grandpa sometimes.

But you still loved your boyfriend and his millennial hatred towards TikTok.

He had finally given up as he knew this one probably meant a lot to you.

It was a trend with a song in spanish.

A regional mexicano/reggeaton song.

Drew knew how much you valued and loved embracing your culture, plus sharing your roots with the world, something you were very passionate in doing since you had the platform and the opportunities.

So how could he say no?

That’s how you found yourselves ready to film, on the street, during your walk back home from a coffe date.

Your phone stuck to the window of a closed boutique, trusting that your octobuddy would protect and hold the weight of your phone while you two filmed.

Standing on the side walk, in front of your phone, where your whole body was visible on the screen, you started lip syncing to the sticky and vibey words of the mexican regional song.

mamita tú me encantas, solo dime que tranza

You stared at yourself through the screen, as you moved your arms and acted like you were singing your heart out, pointing to the screen and touching your heart dramatically.

que yo me voy pa allá, me voy pa allá

With a huge smile on your face while singing, you started moving back to the beat of the song, as if you were pulling someone towards you with an invisible thread, as the Drew’s body appeared from the side on the screen, with a cheeky smile the camera could capture, moving towards you, shimmying his shoulders as only he could.

me dices ven pa acá, vente pa acá

With a huge grin on your face, you now moved towards him, as you both now did the dance move the other had done previously. He moved backwards to the beat of the song as he pulled you in with the invisible thread, as you shimmied your shoulders forward towards him as you swayed your hips and continued lip syncing the song, your eyes never leaving his.

y ahí te voy pa allá, me voy pa allá

You pulled Drew’s hand so you two stood now in the middle of the frame, as you continued moving your body to the rhythm of the song while singing the lyrics, your boyfriends arms wrapping around your waist and placing a huge kiss on your cheek making you laugh.

bien desvelado, pero le caigo

Your boyfriend pulled you body off the floor, picking you up in his arms and sticking his tongue out towards the camera, walking with you bridal style away from the camera, making you unable to finish lip syncing the song, and the video cutting off as Drew walked away with you on his arms, both laughing your asses off.

After being put down on the floor by your lovely boyfriend, you come back running for your phone, still laughing, trying to pull off your sticky phone case from the window.

“That was not planned!” you scream out laughing at Drew, who was doubled in laughter behind you, watching you struggle with your phone.

He chuckled, walking towards you and placing his hands on your hips in a loving gesture.

That man couldn’t live without touching you for more than 5 seconds.

“I got nervous and decided to run away” he said, a smile on his face.

You turned to face him, finally pulling your phone with its sticky case off the window.

“My little camera shy boyfriend” you say, leaning in to kiss him as he groaned against your lips, hating the teasing.

Once again, with your charm and loving tricks, you had gotten your way.

And it wouldn’t be the last time.

…

you can read about the fan reactions to this TikTok here!!!

I LOVED this ask!!!

sign me up for any lovey dovey short blurbs between mis protegidos<3

this was written in like 30 minutes, under a strike of motivation that I couldn’t ignore, so I’m sorry if there are any mistakes

I hope you all like it<3 feel free to send requests, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try to put out more short stuff!

[temis-de-leon]

MC injures their knee

Characters: gn!MC and Demon Brothers

Main Masterlist

Anon request: I'm very curious as to how the demon brothers would handle an MC / Y/N that accidentally injured their knee and can't move their leg for a while as a result. Like, everything was fine and dandy, the day was going well! But as they were walking from one area to the other, suddenly they turned too quickly, or perhaps they awkwardly shifted their weight in a moment of absentmindedness - and now their kneecap is out of the socket. Content one moment, distressed the next once they realize what happened. They scream so loudly from the pain that you can hear it outside the House of Lamentation, immediately making any noise go quiet. Even once they (very carefully) get it back in place and the pain starts to subside, they're shaking and in tears, completely unable to walk on that side. They're gonna be out of commission for a few days, may or may not have permanent damage in the area, but it slowly gets better over time. It's okay if you don't wanna do this one, btw! This is just based on something that happened to me earlier this week, gotta love Funky Joint Syndrome (hEDS) :')

A/N: I wrote this three different times, and on every occasion, I found myself unable to not write the little intro at the beginning. Even when you already put the context, anon. I hope you enjoy it and you're feeling better after all this time! Sorry for taking so long! <3

.

I like to think this would happen one of those days when the House of Lamentation is half empty because the universe likes to be that awful most of the time.

You’re almost thankful that, for once, you can finally run around your home with no demons trailing behind you. Sure, you love the brothers, but their demand for your attention can get suffocating sometimes.

And this specific day, each one of them is doing their own thing in separate places. Lucifer is at the castle, Mammon at the casino, Asmo is at a party, and Beel is running laps around the house. With the rest of the brothers rotting away in their rooms, it is safe to say you have all the house to yourself.

You take advantage of the situation by admiring the architecture, the oil paintings, the details in the staircase windows and the statues. You feel dumb at the beginning, but how could you live in a mansion without even attempting to appreciate its… unique beauty?

Murder house aesthetic, right?

The problem comes when you accidentally trip while stepping on the curled corner of one of the carpets.

The movement awkwardly twists your leg and makes your patella sit on the side instead of the front, where it’s supposed to be. Your joint locks itself, unnaturally bulgy, and sends waves of pain through all your nervous system.

You aren’t sure what noise the brothers heard first, either your fall or your cries, but they are all there with you in mere seconds. And those who are out of the house are on their way the moment they receive the informative message.

Thankfully, Lucifer managed to stop Diavolo and Barbatos from coming with him.

And despite Beel being the closest, the first one to return is Mammon.

Asmo takes a little longer because the tears are blurring his vision.

But back to the incident.

Satan manages to pop your patella back into position with magic while Levi and Belphie comfort you, and in the back of your mind, the commotion makes you feel a tiny bit embarrassed.

It hurts like hell, yes, but you don’t want the whole house to think you’re dying. Last time that happened, you, at least, went with a fight, but this time, you just tripped. And they’re taking it like your leg’s going to be amputated.

On the other hand, though, despite being overbearing, they take incredible care of you.

Since Beel is already used to it thanks to Belphie, he offers to take you anywhere, even if it’s within walking distance. It doesn’t matter if it’s a piggyback ride or a princess carry; whatever makes you feel more comfortable and painless, he will do.

Lucifer lets you skip classes for the necessary recovery period, not even contemplating the idea of seeing you walk up so many stairs and then stay sit and still for hours on end. If you try to act tough for the sake of being a responsible student, he may order the older twin to keep guard outside your bedroom door. He’s making sure you rest.

Satan understands Lucifer’s approach and, surprise surprise, is on board with it; but rather than making sure you stay in the house, he guarantees you don’t feel the need to leave at all. He will offer his notes and tutor you on what you don’t understand, laying down beside you in bed with books and papers scattered around you.

Levi, on the other hand, is set on keeping you entertained, and understanding that it is better if you don’t move for a while, he brings his games and manga to your room. It’s almost too much and proves to be unnecessary because you end up spending the days marathoning The Tale of the Seven Lords yet again and talking about it nonstop afterwards.

Asmo is more of a self-care type of guy and wants you to know that. He understands how you could prefer rotting away in bed while sick or injured, but you should really take care of your body! Each morning, he marches straight to your room after finishing his own routine (because you have to see him at his best) and applies himself every ointment your beautiful face could need to stay the same. If you let him, and he’ll promise he’ll be careful, he’ll even massage some anti-inflammatory cream in the injured area.

Mammon becomes your favourite errand boy, leaving the house in search of every craving you may have, even if it’s stupid. Sure, he’ll complain, but that’s part of his charm. He wouldn’t be putting on his boots if it really bothered him, right? No matter the cost, he’ll pay for it; unless it’s expensive, in which case Lucifer may add an involuntary contribution (wink wink).

And while all of this is taking place, Belphie is peacefully sleeping right next to you, hidden under the blankets and blissfully unaware of all the noise. He offers cuddles, comfort, warmth and good dreams, and if your knee is feeling especially painful, he may even let you hold onto his tail like a plushie.

If there’s a bad part to any of this, it’s that now they won’t let you out of their sight for even a minute.

What did you expect?

You got hurt in the comfort of your own house!

While they were away!!

Clearly, they need to stay closer.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @mia4gotcookiez

[captivating-flavors]

mine | caleb

pairing: college au caleb x non mc reader

prompt: -

summary: you're going on a date. caleb wants to stop you.

words: 1,221

warning(s): possessiveness, obsessiveness, mc being referred to as caleb's adoptive sister

a/n: ok its like almost 3am and i got work tmr lol but i got so inspired whilst i was on my way home from work today so i kinda just finished this like half an hour ago and in one sitting and so yeah this is pretty much unedited andddd i sort of told @mayooness that i might make a part two of this into either a jealous caleb smut or fluff but i still dk (also putting into consideration the fact that i suck at writing smut, so the jury is still out) anywaysss enjoy? reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated <3

masterlist

Caleb is a Grade A pretender. Especially when it comes to you.

The first time was in ninth grade, when he had to pretend that he didn’t have a crush on his adoptive sister’s best friend, as she teased him for his attentiveness towards her best friend as he handed you his umbrella and had to walk through the rain home.

The second time was two days after the first incident, when he had to pretend that he was fine as one of his classmates asked you out.

The third time was later that day when he had to pretend that he had no feelings whatsoever towards you when his sister teased him for being jealous of the classmate who asked you out.

Of course, with them being tight as thieves, she knew he was lying. The three of you grew up together, so of course she also knew that he had a huge crush on you. She knew she wouldn’t mind you dating him, all she wanted was for the two most important people in her life to be happy and if that’s with each other then so be it.

From then on, Caleb has definitely lost count of the times he had to pretend that you were nothing more than his friend or his sister’s best friend.

That ends today, though.

Ah yes, he should probably start with a little bit of a life update and context first.

It was yours and Caleb’s second year of college and you had just been cheated on by your moron of an ex a few months ago. Caleb had been there for you, as he always was. He comforted you, kept you company, even warded off unwanted advances from the other guys on campus.

The pretty, heartbroken art major. That was what people were saying about you, unbeknownst to you of course (because Caleb made sure of it!). Your douchebag of an ex had cheated on you with a professor and it even made headlines for a local newspaper, so of course it was like an open secret.  

It had been a few months, but you still weren’t ready to date, obvious by how you kept rejecting advances here and there (fret not, the creeps and the ones who couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer were all handled by Caleb!), or so Caleb thought. When he heard from his sister, who went to a different college, that you called her to tell her that you had a date with ’Devon’ from Art History, he knew he had to rush to your apartment.

The two of you lived in the same apartment building, but he lived on the floor above you. The two of you had each other’s keys so it was normal for the two of you to drop by unannounced at each other’s places.

“Y/N? You home?” Caleb called out as he closed and locked the door of your apartment behind him.

“In here!” You responded, your voice slightly muffled, coming from the direction of your bedroom.

Caleb walked past the entry way and the kitchen to get to your room. As he reached the open door of your room, he saw that you were wearing a bathrobe and that your hair and makeup was done. There were also several dresses laid out on your bed.

Oh, how it killed him to know that you had dolled yourself up so, so prettily for someone else.

“Perfect timing! I need your input.” You beamed.

“What for?” The pretender was back at it again.

“Which one looks better? This one?” You asked as you held out a yellow sundress in front of you before putting it on your bed and grabbing the other dress, “Or this one?” You asked again, this time holding a light blue midi dress.

“The blue one. Where are you off to?” Caleb tried his best to keep his tone to his usual light and cheery tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did we have plans for tonight?” You said distractedly as you grabbed the yellow dress and turned to put it back on your closet. Caleb could only watch as you walked towards your bathroom with the blue dress in your hand.

“No… we don’t. But I was about to ask if you wanted to go to that new café that just opened a week ago. I knew you wanted to try their cheesecake.” He answered as he heard the shuffling sounds of you changing in your bathroom.

“Oh. I can’t… uh… I’m going on a date tonight.” You responded as you walked out of the bathroom, now wearing the light blue dress he had chosen. The sight of you looking so beautiful sent short circuited his brain and it was like no words could come out of him at the moment.

He blinked and tried to keep it together before saying, “Oh? Whom with?”

“This guy from my Art History class. His name’s Devon.”

“That… sounds nice.” No, no it doesn’t. He wanted to delete the guy from the face of the earth.

You gathered your phone and purse and walked towards the door as you said, “Yeah, I’m actually running late. He says that he’s picking me up at seven and its…” You put on a pair of heels before pausing to glance at your watch and pointed out, “Oh! Won’t you look at that. I’m already five minutes late. I gotta run. See you later, Caleb!”

No. No. No! There was no way he was going to let you go on that date. Especially when you’re dolled up that pretty! There was also no way that he’s letting you go to another jerk who didn’t know you as well as he did. He didn’t even know this ‘Devon’ guy, but Caleb was sure that the guy didn’t deserve you and won’t be able to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

You reached out your hand and opened the door to your apartment. The door, unfortunately, didn’t manage to open all the way for you to go through. Caleb rushed towards you and planted his palm on the door, slamming it back shut.

“Caleb.” You said, trying to stay calm and not flip out at the fact that Caleb was going to make you extra late, “What the heck are you doing?”

Caleb had your back flushed against his chest, “Caleb. Let me go.” You still had your hand around the handle of your apartment door.

He took your hand and spun you around, so you’d face him, before planting both his hands right on the door, caging you.

“What are you doing?” You asked once more, looking up at his much taller frame.

Caleb looked down, let out a dark chuckle before looking right back at you, “I can’t let you go.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re mine. I’ll be damned if I let you go on a date with another man. Not again.” He leaned down and moved his face closer to yours.

You gulped. You had never been this close to him, so of course there was an unfamiliar nervousness that crept down your spine, “Caleb, what are you talking about?”

“I’ve been right here all along. When are you going to realize that?” He said darkly before slamming his lips onto yours.

-

taglist: @mayooness

[siolixz]

'*•.¸♡ FATHER FIGURE ♡¸.•*'

Being Lucy's sister came with a lot of perks: good food, nice places to stay at- a rich handsome multimillionaire falling madly in love with you. Did I mention the rich handsome multimillioanire?

pairing: harry castillo x reader (Lucy's sister)

part2

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

context: just fluff and romcom scenarios, older man x younger woman, everyone is over 18 and fully consenting; words: 3k I hope you will enjoy and pls tell me if you like it or tell me if you don't- I will probably write a part 2 with smut if it is well received. ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ I will probably write the smut anyways tho loll Yes i have put a George Michael song name as the title put me in jail or whatever. Also I have no idea if his name is Randy or Harry so oh well, who cares hes so sexy.

It was a beautiful day in New York that welcomed you right back here in this city, looking across the cafe for your Lucy. 

You slept in today, after a long plane ride and a longer ride to your sister's apartment you had to get your rest for the days ahead- and for the wedding. Because of spring break and because she received a plus one invitation to one of her glorious matchmaking results- her ninth to be more precise, you just had to join her in New York for the week ahead. You didn’t have anything else better to do, plus, you missed her. 

She smiled at your sleepy face as you sat down in front of her.

As the coffee arrived you finally had some time to catch up on life, on your school and on her job. More importantly, how could John ever break up with her? She’s successful, she's beautiful and she’s brilliant. You told her that you were hoping she could finally get a guy who actually deserves her.

“I hope your wedding will be the tenth-” you started.

“Maybe it will be yours princess, did you think of that?” She smirked at you, clearly enjoying the banter you two were so used to having. 

“So that’s why you called me here- to set me up with someone?” you leaned across the table “Because I’m taking the first plane back to college if that's the case.”  There’s nothing more embarrassing than your own sister setting you up, I mean you could get a date if you tried but the boys back at school are, lacking.. certain qualities you were hoping for in a man.

She laughed at your expression, knowing you were being sarcastic and joking but also not really.  You could hardly hear each other anymore as more people came into the cafe.

She grabbed the hand you had on the table as she said: “You’ve grown so much- I’m so happy you're here with me.”

All day long you walked across New York City, first it was dress shopping- you probably tried on like 10 dresses before picking a gorgeous green floor length dress and your sister a blue dress. She covered everything like the great older sister she is and on you went towards Sephora to get everything you might need or just plain wanted- perks of having an older sister with money- and then it was take out time back home; feet sore and exhausted. You loved and hated being in this city, but you could clearly see why Lucy wanted to live here. So many people, so many stories to tell. You two took a nap and then by late afternoon you were out again for dinner with some of her friends and then for a walk in central park. 

“You know, I think tomorrow is going to be really special.” she linked your arms together as you passed people. 

“Really?” you turned the upper part of your body towards your sister as you walked. “In what way may I ask?”

“Like in a good way; maybe you’ll meet someone.” she whispered the last part “Or maybe in a bad way.” She turned away from you like she was thinking.  “Last time we were at a wedding together, you were very little- remember you got that stomach bug-”

“Ugh don’t remind me Lucy” you grimaced at her macabre reminiscing while she laughed in your face “We just ate-” 

The wedding was truly beautiful, the bride and groom looked great together and the food was completely out of this world. The groom was a finance guy, so it made sense that the wedding would be held in a grandiose style, I mean they had a chocolate fountain for god sake. And free gifts for people- free gifts!

You and Lucy talked with some people, ate some food from the candy bar while gossiping and danced a little bit but you had to take a break as ‘Cupid’ herself was socializing with acquaintances. You texted some of your friends, one from childhood and two from college- all ecstatic about the amazing things there. You had to remember to get Maddy a necklace as her birthday was coming up and Mark asked if you could get him a lucky cat doll and also-

“Is this seat taken?” 

You looked up at the owner of the voice, “Um, no- no it’s not.”

Um, yes it was, your sister was seated there- who even is this?

The stranger sat on the chair, turned his whole body to look at you and placed his hand under his head- like he was engaged in the most passionate discussion. 

From this position you could finally see the man up close- this must be the groom's best friend. Your sister told you as you sat down during the ceremony, even if you were seated far away, you could remember him now. He was right next to the groom.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you-”

“No, it’s okay-” Now you’re interrupting him, please stop.

He smiled at you, endeared by your attempt at alienating his worries. His smile reached his eyes and the corners wrinkled, like a testament of this strange man’s seasoned life. He looked at you in an almost parental fashion like he already knew you- wait, do you know him? 

Your sister has a bunch of friends and acquaintances around New York, maybe you did know him. “Do we know each other?” 

“No, I don’t believe we have met.” 

He had this air about him, like he was so comfortable and sure of himself. He smiled again at you, like he knew something you did not, was there something on your teeth?

“My name is Harry, it’s nice to meet you, miss…” You told him your name and he repeated it. 

Why was your heart beating so fast? Maybe because he was very, very handsome. 

“Would you like a drink?” he said your name again and you forgot all about the phone buzzing in your hand.

“Um..”

You looked across the ornate ballroom for your sister for a second.

“Wait, you’re old enough to drink, right?” His smile faltered for a second but he quickly regained it as you reassured him that you were indeed, old enough to drink. 

He ordered a cosmopolitan for you and an old fashioned for him and while you chatted, he asked about what you were doing in New York and how you knew the bride and the groom.

“You’re the matchmaker’s sister.” he pointed at you and you teared your gaze away from his beautiful brown eyes to notice the green ring on his finger. 

“I am.”

He must’ve noticed you looking at it as he too, looked at it- then at you and remarked:

“Green is my favorite color.”

This handsome man was clearly hitting on you, but why? You haven’t chatted with anyone this evening besides your sister and some basic chit-chat with the bride. He must’ve singled you out of the crowd as only a man with experience could have probably. Well it wasn’t going to end how he hoped, with you in his bed and him never calling you again. You weren’t born yesterday nor were you that desperate, no matter how handsome he was nor how tall and big he was compared to you-

No, you’re not going anywhere with him, you’re here for and with your sister. Speaking of which-

“I see you’ve made some friends.” She smiled as she came closer and introduced herself to Harry. Harry. What a beautiful name. 

As he turned his head towards her you looked at the curls he had at the base of his neck and thought you could never look at someone more handsome- his face looked like it was sculpted!

She made some polite conversation and It wasn’t long before she had to excuse you two in order to introduce you to some people there.

So in about 2 minutes- you said your goodbye’s and you left him there, silently hoping that maybe he could call out your name as you walked away or run after you and tell you he is madly in love with you ‘please don’t go’ - you audibly giggled next to your sister as you walked away, amused entirely by your schoolgirl-like-dreams as she gave you an odd look.

It was the cosmopolitan’s fault, you were sure.

As the night wore on you tried to see him again but to no avail; he must’ve left with some pretty model or gorgeous woman- the thought left an emptiness in your stomach you couldn’t shake for the whole night.

You were woken up by the sunrays on your face and by an immense amount of thirst that left your throat feeling like you scratched it all night long. You grabbed your phone instinctively and after about 30 minutes of coming back to life you finally got up.

As you entered the living room you saw your older sister on the phone and gave her a small wave.

She nodded her head at you as you walked into the kitchen to grab some ice cold water. 

Why was everything so hot in this apartment? 

After she finished her phone call you could finally debrief with her about last night's events, the most important of those things was definitely her meeting up with John again.

“Life just finds a way I guess.” you told her as she grabbed a coke from the fridge.

“Yeah, I guess.” She opened the can, took a sip and said “By the way, I have a surprise for you.”

“Yeah, what?” You couldn’t deny the way your heart jumped a little bit- maybe a bit more.

“I have a date for you.”

“Lucy, no..” you groaned. Was it with him? God let it be him.

“Hear me out, ok? I have to be at a girlfriend's house this evening and I want you to go, I would hate for you to be inside while I go have fun- plus you don’t have to go on a second date or anything, this is just for fun- no expectations, ok?” She pleaded with her eyes at you.

“I can’t say anything about this guy, but you have a lot in common, he is also a student like you- maybe you can bond over that.”

The day dragged on until 5pm when you had to get ready, you were hoping this guy wasn’t some snob or insufferable, but you trusted your sister. A short red dress and heels would suffice, as you were going to quite a fancy restaurant on the upper east side. When you arrived you said your name to the waiter and sat down at one of the beautiful velvet booths and ordered a glass of water for yourself. Being alone in a place as fancy as this, you did feel quite out of place a little bit.

On to wait for that guy to show up, even though you arrived on time.

Traffic in New York is horrible, so maybe he is fashionably late. 

He was not fashionably late as 45 minutes had passed and you were still alone, you could see people glance at you between the sounds of silverware- pitying you.

Or maybe no one cared, it was hard to tell- especially because you were so embarrassed. 

Your fingers itched for your phone, to text Lucy a 'I told you so'. Netflix and pajamas sounded infinitely better than this empty booth and the pitying glances. God you wish you were home right now, not dressed so fancy and looking so good only to be stood up.

The waiter came back, probably to ask you if anyone is coming. 

No, no one is coming.

“Is this seat taken?”

You looked up in bewilderment and met the gorgeous brown eyes of last night's enamourment. Harry was looking down at you, an amused look in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, almost too loud in this fancy setting. “No, no it’s not.” Your heart started beating fast as he sat down in front of you, he looked even more handsome in the dimmed yellow lights of this restaurant.

He took off his dress jacket and placed it on the chair, you couldn't help but stare at the way his big arms looked, he was a very big man, so handsome too-

“I was having a meeting with my business partner and I looked across the room and there you were. “ He smiled at you like he did last night.

You were happy to see him, very happy.

“What are you doing here, Cinderella?” 

“I was waiting for someone, some guy my sister set me up with- he didn’t show up.” You leaned across the table so only he could hear what you said, not the old couple next to you two as well. 

“What an idiot.” He leaned close to you as well and you could smell his cologne “Well it’s good I am here now, right? We can carry on last night's conversation.” 

As you two ordered food, he asked you what you were studying. 

“Psychology. I have a scholarship.” 

“So you’re beautiful and smart.” He placed the napkin he received across his lap and you felt your ears get warm- you hoped the lights in this restaurant would dim the blush on your face as well. “Do you like what you are studying?” 

“Yes I do. I truly want to start my own clinic back home and help people.” You must’ve talked for like some full minutes about your degree and dreams while he asked you questions. He seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying, like he wanted to learn as much as he could about you.

He told you he would like to be your first pacient when you do become a psychologist and you laughed.

Harry was a funny man, very charming as well, though he had a way of turning a phrase to escape any sort of mention towards his private life, you wondered why that is. 

“Can I ask you a question?” you played with the short hem of your dress under the table. 

“Of course, anything you want.” He took a sip of his drink as he looked at you. His hands looked so big around the glass.

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but may I ask how old you are?” you could find in his eyes a touch of mischief, like he was thinking of something funny to say so he could see you smile.

“24.” he said. With the most monotone voice he could muster and with a straight face.

“24?” you asked, knowing he was messing around with you but deciding to play into his game. 

“Yes, I lived a rough couple of years as you can see. What’s so funny?” he asked you, faking being angry at your smiling face.

“Nothing.” you tried to hide your smile.

“You better not be laughing at my life story.”

“I’m really not.” you put on your serious face.

A man came by your table as the waiter started bringing dessert, and Harry got up to greet him, the man shook Harry’s hand and thanked him, before he left he gave you a polite smile and a ‘good night’ to both of you as he exited the restaurant with his wife or girlfriend. 

“Old friend.” Harry said as he sat back down again “He just bought an apartment complex.”

“Wow, he must be rich.” 

“Very rich indeed.” he took the spoon from next to the plate and cut through the lava cake he was brought. “Like this chocolate.”

 “I wanted to ask you if you wanted to dance with me yesterday” He looked at you again and you wanted to die inside when you remembered that you left him.  "You missed out," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm quite the dancer."

"Oh, really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. 

"Don’t worry. I'm a fast learner. I won’t let you get away twice"

"Is that a threat?" you asked.

"A promise," he corrected you as he took a bite of the dessert.

Harry asked for your number by the end of the night and you gave it to him, of course you did.

As he told the waiter that he should put the dinner on his tab you protested, but he would have none of it. He said that this was the most fun he had in a while as he got up and watched you exit the booth. 

“Let me take you home-” He started as he let you walk ahead of him; you tried to ignore the way he looked at you; like he was still hungry.

“You shouldn’t worry about me, I’ll call an uber.” He helped you put on your jacket before he opened the door for you.

A soft breeze danced around the streets of the city at this late hour- you hugged your jacket closer to you. You didn’t want your meeting to end, but it had to. 

“Nonsense, let me take you home, c’mon.” He climbed the steps before you and turned around so your eyes could meet at the same level. His dark hair, with its natural waves, framed his face and the silver streak in his hair reminded you of something- he was so handsome, how was he so handsome? He smelled great too.

You smiled at him, maybe the drink you had inside made you this courageous. 

“You never told me how old you are.” Everyone passing by you two must think you were drunk by the way you were smiling at each other. He grabbed your hands in his much bigger ones and pressed them close together, like one might do to a child to make them listen- butterflies danced across your stomach again because of the sudden intimacy.

Harry’s smile faltered slightly and he adopted a more serious expression before lowering his voice and telling you: “I’m 49 years old.”

His deep brown eyes searched your face, like wanting to remember it before you start showing any signs of discomfort. 

You wanted to say something, before he interrupted you “If you are uncomfortable, I promise, I’ll take you home and I’ll never say-”

“And If I am not?” you spoke over him. 

His eyebrows relaxed back on his face as relief washed over his expression and a smile slowly started spreading across his lips. His eyes twinkled under the light above you two from the entrance of the restaurant and he looked at you like he wanted to kiss you.

“I’ll take you home then.”

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Authors note: I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this for you and for me. I hope you have a great day and wish u de best.

If you are one of my long time followers, I just wanna say im sorry that I havent written anything in quite a while, but life got in the way and I just couldn't find any inspiration to give you something actually good. But I am back now! And to stay for good this time unless stated otherwise. ILY

[themarbledstudy]

Remember It All

📃Masterlist || WC: 4654 || Standalone

📚 Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

📚 Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Mentions of miscarriage. Everything all at once.

📚 Context: Spencer and BAU!Reader have been married for years. Loosely based on the Truth or Dare Episode.

📚 Author's Note: No JJ hate here please! She's one of my favourite characters (even though that episode was sort of questionable). I know that she could've lied but she was also just trying to live.

The red and blue lights pulsed, reflecting off the wet pavement, their rhythm almost mocking the stillness that had settled over the crime scene. The sirens blared faintly in the background, the faint hum of them buzzing through your bones.

You stood there with the team, the air thick with tension and the unspoken weight of it all. You had done this so many times, seen so many cases, but this one felt different. Spencer was inside that store, with JJ. Held hostage by an unsub, playing a twisted game of Truth or Dare.

And even now, with Casey down, dead, the relief you’d been waiting for didn’t settle into your chest. Not really. It felt like the moment was suspended, like something was wrong and you couldn't place it.

You should have been relieved. You were relieved. But the feeling didn't reach the parts of you that mattered.

Spencer, your husband, was still in there. The man you loved.

And JJ—she was in there too, her life, her family hanging in the balance. Her boys. Will. Everything. The gravity of it pressed down on you, crushing, because it wasn’t just about strangers anymore. It was about families, about real, breathing lives on the line, about futures that had barely begun to take shape.

And it reminded you, too sharply, of the life you’d begun to build with Spencer.

You had known, from the first time you walked through the door at the BAU, that danger was a constant. That risk was built into the very fabric of your life. You had accepted that somewhere deep down—that there was always the chance you might not come home. That you could kiss Spencer goodbye, step out that door in your home, and never walk back through it again. It was a fear you could never shake.

The day you made the promises. The day you stood before him, your heart beating louder than anything else in the room, and spoke vows that meant everything. The vows weren’t just words—they were everything. They were the soft, unspoken promise to build a life together, to never let go of what you were both creating.

And somewhere in that promise, somewhere in those quiet words, your life shifted. No longer was it just about surviving the next case, the next danger. It was about the future—the future you both had dreamed of, the one you didn’t even know you had wanted until you stood there in front of him, pledging forever.

When you and Spencer promised each other everything, it was more than just a ceremony. More than a ring on your finger. It was the promise to build a home—your home. A place with laughter echoing through its walls, with shared dreams and memories tucked into every corner. The promise of a house, not just as a place to live, but a home—where the floorboards creaked under the weight of your growing family, where your future children would run and play.

It was the promise of raising them—those little hands reaching up for yours, those sleepy nights spent rocking them to sleep, teaching them to walk, to speak, to love. The promise of becoming the parents you had always wanted to be.

And somewhere between the wedding vows and the stolen glances you’d shared in the years before, those quiet moments that once seemed insignificant had turned into eternal promises. Each gaze between you, each whispered word, had woven a future together, stitched it into the very fabric of your being. You weren’t just two agents anymore, running headlong into danger. You were two people who had everything to lose. You were family, and that was the kind of love that could make everything feel both precious and perilous.

You hadn’t known what it meant to really fear until now. Not until you stood there in front of him, making that promise, holding that future in your hands. It was a fear that came with loving so completely, with knowing that your heart was no longer just your own. It was tied to him. It was tied to the life you would one day build together—the house, the kids, the shared mornings, the shared everything.

It was a fear so heavy it felt like it could crush you if mishandled.

And that was the same fear Hotch had felt. The fear that had driven him away from the team, away from the job he had given his life to, to protect his everything. His son, Jack. Because when it came down to it, the job didn’t matter. The cases didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the promise he’d made. The promise to come home. To protect his family.

And you felt it now, too—the weight of that promise, the depth of that fear. You were people, holding your lives in your hands, knowing how fragile it all could be. And somehow, that made everything feel like it was always on the verge of breaking.

You both had everything to lose now.

But standing there, outside, with nothing but a radio and your own thoughts, the anxiety curled in the pit of your stomach.

Then, you heard the shot.

Your heart stopped, and every cell in your body felt like it shut down for a split second. A gunshot. Not one of the standard shots you’d heard before—no, this one was sharp. Different. Final.

You braced yourself, waiting for someone to call it. A report. But it wasn’t long before the words Casey dead came through the radio.

They were alive. Spencer. JJ. They were alive.

Relief flooded through you, but it felt like you were floating, as if you weren’t really here, not fully present. And yet, despite the fact that they had made it out, you could still feel something nagging at you, pulling at the edges of your thoughts. Spencer’s face, his eyes—there was something wrong.

You spotted him before anyone else, his silhouette just visible against the flashing lights, standing stiffly next to the police car. The paramedic was wrapping his hand, probably from the glass he’d been holding onto during the hostage situation. You knew that he was alive, but you didn’t know if that was enough anymore.

His hair was a little longer now, more messy than before. But you’d never really noticed it.

It was strange, how these small changes crept up on you. The slow, quiet erosion of things you once thought were permanent. Spencer's hair was the least of it, though. The thing that caught your breath wasn’t the mess of his curls or the way his shirt had ridden up on his sleeves. It was the distance in his eyes—the subtle shift that you didn’t quite understand, but felt all the same.

It was a change you hadn’t noticed until now, when you stood face-to-face with him, after everything.

You thought back to that night in the NYC courthouse, years ago—before Gideon had passed, before anyone knew. Just the three of you in the stillness of the court, hidden away from the world. The wind howled outside, but inside, there was only silence. The kind of silence you could only find in moments that mattered. The kind of silence that held your promises, quiet but unbreakable.

You and Spencer had come to him that day, just the two of you—already married in your hearts, already bound by something deeper than a piece of paper, but still wanting to make it real. You had tracked him down on your own, the two of you still new to this idea of forever, eager to share that secret moment with him.

It hadn’t been a traditional wedding. No church bells, no bouquets. Just the quiet hum of the courthouse, the officiator’s voice low and steady. Only the three of you—Spencer, you, and Gideon. His presence had been the grounding force, the one witness who’d seen the two of you in your most raw, unguarded moment. He was the only one who knew the depth of the promises you’d made to each other.

It had been the best secret, the one thing you could keep just between the two of you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the team. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to share it. It was simply that in this world of chaos and uncertainty, this quiet little secret was the only thing you could hold onto, the only thing you could protect. You couldn’t afford to let anything slip through the cracks—not when your lives were so intertwined with danger.

A wedding certificate that no one would ever see, buried deep within your personnel records. You had shared it only with each other, locked away in your hearts.

Your steps quickened, though your heart had already started to beat faster. You fought to steady yourself, to push down the anxiety rising in your chest, but it felt impossible. It felt like you were sinking into something, into a space too dark to escape. And if it weren’t for the active case still unfolding around you, you might have just let yourself drown in the panic.

Focus, focus, focus.

“Spence!” You barely recognized your own voice as it came out, louder than you intended.

His eyes found you instantly, but they were distant in a way you hadn’t seen before. Not just because he was a victim, not just because he’d been through hell, but because something was different. His gaze lingered on you for a second too long, flickering, like he was unsure of what to do with you.

He pushed himself off the car slowly, his body stiff as if he’d forgotten how to move like he used to. The hesitance was there, obvious, and your stomach twisted as you tried to convince yourself it was just the shock, just the trauma of what had happened. But you couldn’t shake it. The feeling that something had been broken. You just didn’t know how to fix it yet.

He lifted his hand, and for a moment, you thought he was going to touch your face like he used to. But the touch felt more like an apology, or worse—a question. His fingers brushed your cheek with a gentleness that almost stung. He was trying so hard to be okay, to act like everything was fine.

You let him pull you in, just for a second, just enough to feel his heartbeat against yours. But the kiss was wrong. It was slow, tentative—like neither of you knew how to begin anymore. Normally, a kiss after a case like this was a reflex. But not this time.

You pulled back, just enough to see his face, searching it for some sign that he was still him. But when you looked up at him, you saw only a shadow of the man you had married. That flicker of guilt was still there.

“Thank god you’re okay,” you said, but the words barely left your lips before your chest tightened again. You almost felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the air was suddenly too thick, too hot. It felt like panic was crawling up your throat, suffocating you from the inside out.

But you had to keep it together. You had to.

He whispered into your hair, his voice too soft, too shaky. “I love you.”

You didn’t reply right away, though your heart was pounding, every beat a drum against your chest. You heard it, and you knew he meant it, but there was something off about it. Something in the way he said it, as if it were a confession more than a declaration.

It took a beat longer than usual for the words to leave your mouth. And when they did, they felt heavier than they ever had.

“I love you too.”

There. You said it. You had to say it, even if you didn’t fully understand the words. Even if it was starting to feel like you were just saying words to fill the silence, to fill the space between you.

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapping tightly around your shoulders, like he was trying to hold everything together. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his breath hitched just slightly, as if he were terrified to let you go, terrified to let the connection slip any further.

The paramedic finished with his hand and started to pull away, but neither of you moved. You just stayed there, standing in that fragile moment, still holding on to each other, pretending that nothing had changed. Pretending that it was all okay.

But you knew. The words, the unspoken ones—JJ’s confession—it was hanging between you two, pressing down on you both. He knew. But you weren’t sure if he knew that you knew. He hadn’t said anything about it. You hadn’t said anything about it.

And you couldn’t. Not yet.

You just stood there, and for a moment, it was enough. But only for a moment.

You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on your breath, trying to steady yourself before the panic could fully take over. But it was already there, crawling under your skin, itching at the edge of your consciousness. If you weren’t in the middle of an active case, you would’ve collapsed right then and there.

And so, he stood there holding you tighter, as if overcompensating for everything that was about to happen – everything that already happened.

But the weight of everything between you both was starting to break through, piece by piece, until neither of you knew how to fix it.

It had been a week. Seven days since Spencer walked out of that jewelry store alive. Seven days since JJ said it.

And in the silence that followed, everything between you and Spencer had started to bend. Quietly. Painfully.

The bandages on his hands were gone now—just raw pink skin left behind. But you knew better. Some wounds didn’t close. Some sat inside your chest and festered, no matter how hard you tried to forget they were there.

Dinner had been quiet. Too quiet. He kept glancing at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, like he was bracing for an explosion.

Now you were at the sink. You washed. He dried. A rhythm you’d done a thousand times before. It used to mean comfort. Love.

Tonight it felt like going through the motions.

You reached for another dish. Your hand trembled—barely, but enough. The plate clinked sharply against the sink. Not enough to break. But close. Too close.

Spencer turned his head slightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” Too quick. Too flat.

He dried a bowl that didn’t need drying anymore. “You’ve been saying that a lot.”

You shrugged. “It’s been a long week.”

He was quiet for a moment, but you could feel it—the shift in the air. His gaze getting heavier, more pointed.

Then came the break in his voice. “Why are you mad at me?”

Your hands stilled under the water. The faucet ran, hot and loud.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he said, more firmly this time. “You’ve been cold. And I’m doing everything I can to keep things... normal. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, and I’m trying, but—”

You turned, slow and tired. “It’s not about you doing something wrong.”

“Then what is it?” he asked, exasperated. “Because I feel like I’m losing you in our own home.”

You hated that your breath caught. That your heart gave away how close to the edge you were. “We’ve been through worse, Spencer.”

“So then talk to me. You’re my wife—”

“Don’t do that,” you snapped, the words sharper than you intended.

His brow furrowed. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t throw our titles at me like they’re shields.” Your voice cracked, and your hands were still wet with soap and water and something deeper—something angry.

Spencer stepped closer. “I’m not— I’m trying to remind you that this—” he gestured helplessly between you, “—this was built on trust. On honesty. We promised each other everything.”

“And maybe that’s why it hurts so much!” you cried, stepping back. “Because I gave you everything, Spencer! I stood outside that damn jewelry store thinking you were going to die, and all I could do was hold it together so I could bring you home. And then she—” you choked on it looking out the window onto the dark streets of D.C., “—she says that to you, and it’s like suddenly I’m not enough.”

His expression twisted, like the words had physically struck him. “What? You’re more than enough, you know that. That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” you said bitterly. “She told you she loved you. And you didn’t say a thing. You didn’t tell her no. You just... stood there.”

“I was in shock!” he said, louder now. “JJ and I—never even happened, you know that, come on—”

“But it meant something,” you interrupted. “It meant enough for her to say it when she thought she was going to die. And don’t tell me you didn’t feel anything when she said it. Because I saw your face after. I know you.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, jaw clenched. His voice, when it came, was low and trembling. “And I know you. I know when you’re hurt. But this guilt you’re holding over me? It’s not mine to carry.”

You let out the breath you were holding, taking another step away from him. “Maybe not. But I’m the one left carrying the image of you standing there, silent, like she cracked open something in you I’ve never been allowed to touch.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really?” you said, tears spilling freely now. “Because we can talk all day about how she was scared and how you were caught off guard, but none of it erases how it felt. And how it still feels.”

He stared at you, hands shaking now, like he was grasping for something that wouldn’t come. “So what do you want me to say? That I hate her? That I regret going in there? That I should’ve died instead?”

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed, voice raw. “Don’t you ever say that.”

The silence that followed was frustration.

You turned away, wiping at your cheeks, your breath uneven.

You walked out the kitchen, towards the bedroom you both shared. You closed the door behind you, crying hot tears, unsure of how to fix anything.

That night, he slept on the couch.

At Work

Yesterday night’s outburst quietly seeped into the workday like a slow, unspoken bruise.

You didn’t mention it. Neither did he. But everything about the way you moved around each other said enough.

You didn’t sit beside him during the morning briefing. You didn’t touch the coffee he poured for you out of habit. You didn’t make a face when he misspoke mid-profile, didn’t gently correct him under your breath like you used to. And in the kitchen—where laughter and late-night case notes once lived—you simply never crossed paths. Not by accident. Not anymore.

You talked to Emily. To Tara. You stood beside Luke during takedown strategy. And when Penelope came by with pastries, you offered her your last smile of the day.

Spencer didn’t push. But you felt his eyes.

It wasn’t until hours later—after a long, limping day and a half-hearted debrief—that you found yourselves back in his car. Or maybe it was still your car. You didn’t know anymore.

The drive home was quiet. No music. No usual podcast playing softly from his phone. Just the rumble of the engine and the tired hush of two people who used to be everything to each other, now barely breathing in sync.

He cleared his throat once. Lightly.

“Do you think Rossi’s gonna move?” he asked, tentative.

You stared ahead for a second, then muttered, “No.”

Another stretch of silence. Trees blurred past the window.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked gently, like maybe if he said it soft enough, it wouldn’t land with a thud.

You turned your head toward the passenger side window. “I’m not that hungry.”

That was the one that broke him.

He stopped talking after that.

His knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. He didn’t say a word the rest of the way home.

You both got out of the car like strangers who just happened to live under the same roof.

That night, he moved back into your shared bedroom.

No words about it. No conversation.

Maybe a part of you had been waiting—for the ache to settle, for the silence to feel less like punishment and more like space to grieve. The grief of something shifting. This wasn’t about JJ anymore.

You got into bed first. No goodnight kiss. No shared book resting on both your laps. Just you, pulling the covers up, turning your back to him, your body curled at the very edge of the mattress.

This was the bed that held years.

The one that knew your whispered I love yous, the quiet laughter after cases that nearly broke you, the soft murmurs in the middle of the night when nightmares pulled one of you from sleep, and the sleepless nights.

Now it held the absence of touch. The distance between bodies that used to fit without trying.

He climbed in slowly, like the weight of everything still clung to his shoulders. You could feel the mattress dip beside you, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. You stared at the wall like it might offer you answers.

Spencer exhaled, shaky.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, voice small, careful.

You didn’t reply. Because if you did, you might start crying again. And if you started crying, you weren’t sure you’d ever stop.

It was probably 2 a.m. when you woke up again. The room was dark, moonlight barely slipping through the cracks in the curtains. Somehow, sometime during the night, Spencer had pulled you closer—his arm wrapped tightly around your torso like his subconscious couldn't bear to let you go.

You stayed still for a moment, listening to the way his breath hitched just slightly in his sleep. Like even unconscious, he was holding something back. Like maybe he was breaking too.

Quietly, gently, you peeled his arm away from your waist and slipped out of bed. Your feet hit the cold floor with a small thud. You didn’t look back.

The kitchen light hummed softly as you flicked it on. D.C. was sleeping beyond the window—its usual chaos muted in the hush of the early morning. The kettle sat on the stove, waiting. You filled it with water and turned the burner on. Steam began to rise.

You stood there, gripping the counter like it was the only thing holding you up.

When the kettle started to sing, you reached to turn it off—but before you could, arms slid around your waist from behind. Spencer’s body curved gently into yours, his head coming to rest on your shoulder like it belonged there.

“Can’t sleep?” he murmured, voice raw with exhaustion.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you stepped forward, out of his embrace, reaching for the hot water bag on the counter.

Spencer didn’t push. He just took the kettle from your hands without a word. “Let me,” he said quietly.

And you let him. A small gesture. But he noticed. He always noticed.

He handed you the filled water bottle, then leaned against the counter, arms folded loosely across his chest. Watching you. Waiting.

“Can we talk about it?” he asked, tentative. “Please?”

You sank onto the stool by the kitchen island, staring at the warm bag in your lap. Then nodded. “Yeah. Sure, Spence.”

“Walk me through it,” he said. “I want to understand.”

You exhaled slowly. The truth had lived in your chest for days now, suffocating. It came out shaky at first, like your lungs weren’t used to forming the words.

“You were in that shop,” you whispered. “You could’ve died. I was standing outside thinking the next time I saw you, you’d be gone. And when she said it… when she said she loved you—” your voice broke, and you looked away, blinking hard. “I thought, maybe she knew something I didn’t. Like she had some right to say goodbye to you that I didn’t.”

Spencer opened his mouth, but you stopped him with a small shake of your head.

“I tried to understand,” you said, quieter now. “I tried to believe you when you said it didn’t mean anything. But Spence… it felt like she was mourning something that wasn’t hers. And I hated her for it. I hated myself for hating her.”

He looked like the air had left his lungs. His voice cracked when he finally spoke. “You don’t have to protect her feelings, or mine. You’re allowed to be angry.”

You nodded, slowly, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks. “I was angry. But not just at her. At everything. At the timing. At the universe. Because…”

You clutched the hot water bottle tighter.

“Because I- I was pregnant.”

The silence was immediate, deafening. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

“Was?” he echoed, the word almost breaking in his throat.

You nodded, barely. “It was early. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make it real until I was sure. I took a test and... it was faint. I thought maybe it was a mistake so I went to the doctor to confirm it. I didn’t want to tell you and then lose it. But I think I always knew. I knew that it was over before it could even start.”

Spencer moved toward you then, slowly, like you were made of glass. He knelt beside you, resting his hand on your knee. “When?”

You bit your lip so hard it shook. “Before we went down to the jewelry store. I was spotting. Cramping. I thought I was just tired. I went to the doctor the next day, and she said... it was an early miscarriage, just a little over 8-9 weeks.”

Spencer’s eyes filled, overflowing before he could even blink them away. “You went through that alone?”

You nodded. “I didn’t know how to tell you. And then everything with JJ happened, and I didn’t know how to breathe, let alone grieve.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down into his lap on the kitchen floor, holding you like his world had caved in and he was clinging to the only thing left standing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, over and over, into your hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you sobbed. “But I didn’t want you to look at me like I failed, like I couldn’t keep it together, keep myself together, for our unborn child’s life.”

“I would never,” he breathed. “Never, never, never.”

You cried into him, your body shuddering as the grief finally poured out of you. And he held you through it all. His own tears soaked into your skin. “We lost something,” he whispered, voice shaking. “But I didn’t lose you. We’re still here. You and me.”

You nodded against his chest. “We’re still here.”

Eventually, your tears slowed. The silence between you felt softer now—less like distance, more like the air needed to begin again.

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the wetness from your cheeks.

“We’ll try again someday,” he said. “When you’re ready. When we’re ready. And if it takes time... if it takes forever, we’ll still be here.”

You pressed your forehead to his. “For better or for worse, right?”

He smiled through the ache. “In sickness and in health.”

You kissed him then, slow and full of sorrow, but also full of love.

And in the dim light of your kitchen, with grief tangled between your bodies and hope stitched into your fingertips, you held each other. Everything slowly fell back into place.