#idk adding more trigger warnings just in case

[spoiledmilks]

Karma’s bidding

[hqwkeyes]

The Devil You Know (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.9k+ words Warnings: mentions of stalking, slight allusions to domestic violence, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, maybe like one swear word? like maybe, slight angst, cheeky Matt, i think that's it but idk i'm exhausted. (adding the cut at the very beginning due to the more triggering nature of some of the warnings) Summary: After working alongside Matt Murdock for about a year, you start to notice that he seems like maybe can see you. It's a crazy thought, and you feel almost bad for having it at all. That is, until you have a brush with Daredevil one night.

Part 2 // Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

note: pls be nice about this one. it's been a really long time since i've written anything and it's also my first time writing for matt. thx.

You've been working at Nelson, Murdock, and Page for a while now, and it's been a little over a year and a half since you met the gang. It all started with the end of your last relationship, which was rocky to say the least. It was around that time that you first encountered Karen. She had overheard you arguing with your ex in front of a café because he wouldn't stop following you. Karen pretended to be a friend you were meeting, and your ex left shortly after, though you figured he would pop up again. She insisted that you sit down inside with her, and upon hearing about how your ex kept showing up wherever you were, she offered you help. It wasn't long after that she introduced her two friends/colleagues, Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock, who also insisted on helping at no cost to you.

Karen had done some digging into your ex and found out how he had been tracking you. They were able to document his antics enough to build a stalking case against him and file an order of protection. Still, it was hard to feel safe after all he had put you through. You knew the statistics—the chances of experiencing violence at the hands of the person you have a restraining order against significantly increase once they are notified of it. Karen helped you find a new apartment, and Matt and Foggy helped you break your lease without any major issues. You had grown incredibly close with the three of them throughout this process. They looked out for you, made you feel safe, made you feel cared for. So when they asked you one night, over drinks at Josie's, to work for them, you couldn't refuse the offer—you didn't want to. They offered to support you in your endeavors to become a paralegal, something you expressed an interest in early on in your relationship with them. You wanted to help people the way they had helped you, so you started doing secretarial work for them while preparing.

Fast forward about a year, and you've nearly completed your paralegal certification. Your time at Nelson, Murdock, and Page has been incredible. Not only have you learned so much about the legal realm, but you also gained a bunch of work experience, and most importantly, you've found a family in these three wonderful people.

However, there are a few things about Matt Murdock that have felt a bit off to you. Not in a weird or creepy way—Matt was a perfect gentleman, always looking after you and making sure you feel safe, and you considered him a close friend. But you've felt a bit paranoid around him, because sometimes it almost feels like he can see you or something. It made you feel a little self-conscious around him at times. Like a few weeks ago, you had only just come into the office—you hadn't said a word yet—and he greeted you by name. When you asked how he knew it was you, he laughed it off, wearing that little satisfied grin he often had, and saying it was just a good guess because you usually arrived before Foggy. A good enough reason, you thought. Another time, he had been discussing paperwork with you when you accidentally bumped a paperweight off the edge your desk, and he caught it before it could hit the floor. He had said it was just good reflexes. And just last week, the four of you were walking to Josie's after work. Matt was holding onto you for guidance when suddenly, two men fell out of a bar you were passing, fighting each other to the ground. They would have crushed you if it hadn't been for Matt tugging you out of the way and into his chest. It had felt intentional, as if he had seen them coming, but he had apologized, saying he just tripped and was holding onto you for balance.

Tonight, the four of you had, once again, gone to Josie's. Normally, you wouldn't stay out this late on a weeknight, but it was to celebrate a win in court, and this case had been a tough one. After about an hour or so, Matt says he's calling it a night so he can do some prep for the morning. Foggy and Karen insist on staying, already a little tipsy. You tell Matt you'll stay behind to get the two of them home safely later, and he squeezes your shoulder in thanks as he passes by on his way out, telling you to call him if you need anything. You both know Karen and Foggy can get a bit crazy when they drink together.

A couple hours later, your two friends have had more than enough to drink. You've only had another drink or two since Matt left, having opted to look after the pair. You notice that Foggy's phone is going off, and he asks you to answer it for him, claiming he's too drunk, but you know he just doesn't want Marci to yell at him. When you tell her about his current condition, she lets out a humored sigh and says she's on her way to pick him up. At this, Foggy and Karen both decide to have one more drink. By the time Marci arrives, you need help getting both your friends outside. She insists on taking Karen home too and even offers you a ride, but you're a short walk in the opposite direction.

On the walk home, there's a shortcut through an alleyway that you would normally only consider attempting in the daylight, but there's no one around and you're exhausted. Taking the long way would add an extra five minutes of walking and you're pretty desperate to just get home, so you say screw it. You're basically sober anyway.

You're nearly at the other end of the alley when someone comes up from behind you and slams you into the wall on your right, grabbing your purse in the process. As you fall to the ground, you notice something dropping down from the fire escapes above. It takes a moment before you can try to get to your feet, and when you do, there's a man standing over you. You freeze, cowering back against the wall. And then you notice the horns on his mask.

"Are you alright?" the man—Daredevil—asks, holding out a gloved hand. You take it, and he gently helps you to your feet before returning your purse to you.

"Um yeah, I think so," you say, finding your bearings.

"What were you doing in an alleyway this late anyway?" His voice teasing, shaking his head, his lips falling into a small smirk.

"Just trying to get home," you tell him, but your eyes are searching the area until they fall on the man who attacked you, sprawled out on the ground a few feet away.

A beat passes.

"You're bleeding," Daredevil tells you, and you look up at him. "You should get that looked at."

"I'll be fine, it's probably just a scrape," you say, and he exhales in what almost sounds like a chuckle.

"It's more than just a scrape," he notes as he gently reaches up and swipes some blood from the cut on your forehead before explaining how to properly clean it. There's a tenderness to his actions that nearly makes you forget how crazy all of this is.

He feels...familiar to you. The cadence of his voice, his demeanor. You look him over, your eyes falling to the curve of his lips, a near smirk below his mask, and it feels like you've seen him before. Your brow furrows, eyes searching him. It's a silly thought—an impossible one—but before you can even really process it, your mouth is moving.

"Matt?" Your voice is a breathless whisper.

Oh god, maybe you are drunk. But Daredevil's breath hitched at that. Or maybe you imagined it? Your head is spinning—maybe you hit it harder than you thought.

"I'm sorry," you rush out. "You just reminded me of a friend of mine for a minute. You sound a lot like him, the way you talk. And he likes to tease people. And, I don't know, I guess I thought you kinda looked like him for a minute with that cute little grin. But that's not even possible, and I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't even thinking when I said it, it just kind of came out, but that really, really isn't po-" your babbling is cut off by a gloved finger being pressed delicately to your lips.

You stare up at him with wide eyes, your pulse quickening. Several seconds pass in silence, and you wish you could read his expression under that mask. Finally, he pulls his finger away and you stand there, frozen in place, almost afraid to speak.

Before you know it, Daredevil is gently taking your hand and leading you back into the darkness of they alley. You should be terrified. You have no clue what he's going to do to you, but for some reason, you trust him. He releases your hand and slowly, his hands move up to his mask. When it comes off, you clap your hand over your mouth to avoid gasping aloud.

"I didn't want you to find out like this," Daredevil Matt says softly, "but I also didn't want to lie to you."

"But I-"

"I am blind," he notes with a light chuckle. "Just to get that out of the way."

"O-okay," you stammer.

He leans in towards you, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I know you might feel angry, or betrayed, or some other kind of hurt, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me explain."

You simply stare at him, dumbfounded. Speechless. He lets out another breathy laugh.

"If you want, I can meet you at your place, come up the fire escape, and I can tell you everything," he offers.

You take a moment to mull it over before nodding, then feeling silly and whispering, an "okay."

"I know you nodded," he tells you, and your eyes go wide again.

"Okay, you're definitely gonna have to explain," you say with a snort, lightly shoving his shoulder before starting out of the alley again. You turn to see Matt darting up the fire escapes before hurrying off towards your home yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.

When you finally get inside, you slip your shoes off and turn the lights on before thinking better and flicking them back off. Suddenly, your masked friend is at your window on your fire escape, and you rush to unlock it and let him in.

"I can't believe this is happening," you mumble, and you catch that thin smirk of his again as he slips inside.

"Quit smirking and start talking, Murdock," you mutter as you pad into your kitchen and pour two glasses of water. You're probably going to need something stronger, but you need to be sober for this conversation.

Matt takes a seat on your couch and he explains. Everything. From the accident that took his sight to his training with Stick to taking down Fisk's corruption, and everything in between. Finally, when he's done, he waits for you to say something. You've been pacing the room, but now you stop. Several moments pass as you take everything in, and finally you suck in a sharp breath.

"I'm not mad," you exhale, and you see the tension leave his shoulders. Your pacing resumes. "I am hurt, though. I know I haven't been around nearly as long as Foggy or Karen, but we all work so closely together. Hell, I even considered us close friends. But you didn't think you could trust me with this, and that's what hurts."

"And I'm sorry. I knew I couldn't lie to you about it–"

"But you did lie. Maybe not about Daredevil directly, but all those times—the damn paperweight a while ago, those guys fighting on the way to Josie's last week—you made me feel like I was going crazy. You didn't even have to tell me about Daredevil to tell me about that." You pause, facing away from him, scrubbing your hands over your face before dragging them away.

"And you can hear my heartbeat? Can tell when I'm lying and all? I just–" you sigh. "I don't know Matt. I don't know what to say."

"You're right. I haven't been truthful with you, and I–" He pauses. Then, quieter, "I understand if this makes you want to reconsider our relationships." At this, your heart drops. You whip around, searching his face. His expression is unreadable.

"Is that what you want?" Your words are barely a whisper, but now you know he can hear you.

"No," he sighs, facing you. "It isn't. I love having you with us at the office, and I really enjoy all the time we spend together. I also felt that we were close friends. And it's not that I didn't trust you. It's just– I guess it was nice just being able to be me with again. Just Matt Murdock. Not worrying about what I was getting up to as Daredevil."

"Well," you start with a sigh, "if it makes you feel any better, I often worry about what you're getting up to as Matt Murdock anyway." There's a bit of humor in your tone, and you look up at your friend, his mouth curving into a grin again.

"Is that so?" He cocks his head to the side, his grin growing.

"It is," you say, your smile spreading as well.

You both let out a light laugh, and you walk over to sit beside him, resting a hand on his knee.

"Can you promise me that you'll be honest with me from now on?" You ask, leaning into him.

"I promise."

"Good," you murmur, dropping your head onto his shoulder. He wraps an arm around you, gently squeezing your shoulder.

The two of you stay like this for a few moments, and just when you're starting to get a little sleepy, he clears his throat.

"So," he starts. You glance up at him, that cheeky smirk creeping across his lips again. "What was that earlier about my 'cute little grin'?"

You shoot up straight beside him, and he lets out a deep laugh, pulling you closer into his side. You're turning an impossible shade of red, which you previously would've been glad he couldn't see, but now you know he definitely feels you burning up beside him. You decide it's best to just roll with it.

"You know, that little smirk you always have. You do it whenever you're satisfied with something, or when you're getting a rise out of someone. You're doing it right now, actually." Now you're gaining confidence, but you know he can still hear the stutter of your heartbeat as you try to calm yourself down.

"Is that so?" His grin grows.

"It is," you say, shrugging his arm off of you as you turn to face him. He turns towards you as well.

"You enjoy teasing people, huh?"

"Well I'm enjoying teasing you right now, if I'm being honest. Which I promised I would be." And just when you thought that smirk couldn't grow anymore devilish.

"Already on such thin ice and you wanna tease me, Murdock?" you taunt. "Maybe you don't want us to be friends anymore."

An expression flashes across his features, there and gone in but a moment. You can see in his face that he's thinking—considering. He tilts his head a bit, wets his lips.

"Maybe I don't." You feel yourself flushing again, heat creeping up your neck, and that smirk of his is coming back in full force.

You falter, blowing out a breath, a bit of that confidence leaving you. "Yeah, okay, Matt."

Something in his expression changes, softens; his smirk turning into something almost somber.

"It's uh– it's getting late. I should let you get to bed," he suggests quietly before taking your hand in both of his. "Thank you for hearing me out. And for taking this so well." He brings your hand to his lips, brushing a featherlight kiss to the back of it. Your mouth is slightly agape as you stare at him for a moment, breathless.

He releases you and stands swiftly, making his way to your window once again, and you quickly get to your feet and follow him, your heart racing. He opens your window a bit before turning to you.

"Thank you again. Really."

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself. "Of course."

"I'll uh– I'll see you in the morning then."

"See you in the morning, Matt," you say softly.

And then he puts on his mask, opens the window, and steps out onto the fire escape once again before turning to you.

"Make sure you lock that behind me, okay?" You let out a light chortle at that.

"I will, I promise."

"Good," he says, and something about his entire demeanor feels half-hearted. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Daredevil," you say with a small smile.

You glance behind you into your dark apartment, and when you turn back, Matt is gone. You stick your head out the window to search for him, but when you don't find him, you realize he probably went to the roof.

You shut and lock the window before turning and leaning against it, covering your face with your hands as you relive the past two hours in your head. Your face flushes again as you recall your last few minutes together, and as you begin to ready yourself for bed, you wonder how the hell you're going to face him at work tomorrow. Part 2 // Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

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[steviebbboi]

Once Upon A Friendship

Pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.6k~ guys i obviously have a problem, my fics just keep getting longer and longer and idk how to stop

Rating: Teens and up!

Disclaimer: Well, well, here we are~ submitting this lil ficlet for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge using the following prompts: carnival/county fair + forced proximity + "You think that's blood?". & Because I also wanted to engage with our writers community even more cuz <3, -- I'm also submitting this to @the-slumberparty Sundae Bar challenge: Chocolate (secrets will be REVEALED), butter scotch (childhood friends and the feelz is real 🥹), french vanilla (cause forced proximity trope was inevitable for our reader), w/ toppings of chocolate syrup (established relationship), graham crackers (flashback-backstory heavy), and toasted almonds (🫣get ready for some angst).

Summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cuteeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: Minors just be mindful that this has mentions of teenage sexual activity but not explicit (all age appropriate) but adding my warning below just in case, explicit language in few pieces of dialogue, ANGST with a happy ending, childhood besties to enemies/strangers, bucky, wanda, and nat are your besties too, steve is a shit communicator, both steve and reader are young and a bit naive, cheesiness ensues, fluff, work is not beta'd so any grammar mistake is my bad!!

*Any comments/reblogs are much appreciated and are so encouraging - more than you know. Pls don't hesitate to interact with me <3

“Argh, Wanda, no– I told you, I hate these things!” You whined despondently while grabbing at her arm.

“Look, you only have to go straight in and see it all the way through! It’s not like there’s any detours.” Wanda replied while giving you a deadpan look. 

You returned the look with your own mocking face, “Wan, you know that isn’t the reason why I hate these things! They grab at you and try to scare you.” You shivered at the thought of one of the maze actors dragging you away somewhere where you couldn’t be found.

“Well…that is their job, y’know?” Wanda said, holding her chin in mock thought. You scoffed and shoved her playfully while she giggled at you. 

“Plus, it’s so hot out! It’s probably so stuffy in there, especially if we go in with a random group.” You complained while attempting to fan yourself while holding your hair up off your neck. This summer was brutal, you couldn’t believe that anyone would be at the carnival fair today. But alas, everyone seems to want to enjoy the last throes of summer. 

“We won’t go in with a random group - Nat said that they’re going to meet up with us before we go in.” Wanda said distractedly while taking out her phone, assuming that she was going to be checking in with Natasha.

Your brain took a second to process what she just said before you froze, your mouth agape, “Wait, ‘th-they’re’? Don’t tell me…”

Wanda stood ramrod still as if lightning just struck. The finger that was twirling her own hair froze its mindless motions as she stared at her phone unblinkingly as she realized her mistake. 

“Argh, Wanda!” You hissed out and covered your face with both of your hands in genuine despair.

Wanda held a guilt-ridden expression, “Oh no, I’m so sorry, chip – I completely forgot that he would be coming-- honest!” 

You released a heavy sigh and closed your eyes to mentally prepare yourself for dealing with the person that you despised the most in this world.

Steve Rogers. The bane of your existence. 

Well, not really (-ish).

He also happened to be a guy that you have been crushing on since you were 10 years old.

Did he know this? No. But even if he did, you would be the last person on Earth that he would pick. How do you know this, do you ask?

You and Steve knew each other since you were basically in diapers. Alongside Bucky and Nat, the four of you grew up together. Although, that didn’t stop you from drawing the short end of the stick when dealing with your pre-pubescent teen years. 

You were a late bloomer– while Nat developed boobs and became a natural flirt at 13 years of age, you were still dealing with the bullies at 13 years old whilst trying to navigate hormones, underdeveloped boobs and pre-teen acne. Bucky quickly developed a barely there mustache and a smirk that made all of the other girls swoon (though, you were convinced that it was really just for Natasha instead). And Steve…well, Steve was like you. Underdeveloped, skinny, no hair to be found on his face. He was as tall as you, and dealt with the bullies way worse off than you ever had to do. 

But that didn’t stop you from falling in love with Steve Rogers. 

Steve was one of your best friends. He always looked after you, whether it were mean girls coming to pick on you again or making sure that you got lunch together. You walked home together, stayed at each other’s houses to study or play video games. You developed a routine where one day in a week, you would order a chocolate chip milkshake while he got a vanilla whip at your local diner, and stayed there for hours just talking about your common interests together. Steve gave you your nickname, ‘chip,’ since he constantly made fun of the fact that you got the same milkshake everytime.

You also remember when the both of you decided to be each other’s first kiss. It was awkward and weirdly coordinated, but it was nice and you trusted each other. You both laughed afterwards and hugged, swearing to each other your friendship was still intact. When your parents would make playful jokes or tease you about when you and Steve were going to be a couple, you blushed and would shy away. 

Where Steve was, you were there too. 

You were basically inseparable as you both knew that you two were the underdogs of the group. Bucky and Nat quickly became the ‘It’ power couple as you all entered into highschool. Steve and you were the glue to your little gang and it just felt so nice to not be alone.

Thankfully, you were able to grow more into yourself by the time that you were 16 years old. Your skin cleared up a bit as you learned to develop a skin care routine, and your boobs started to actually look like there were two of them. Though, you never could quite get past the social isolations (despite the fact that your two best friends were the hottest and the most popular kids at school). 

And while you changed a little bit, Steve…well– Steve changed alot. It was like one day he just woke up and became the guy that he was always meant to be. He started developing a build and grew a beard, had a huge growth spurt and joined the football team. He became strong and capable of anything. But, he was still Steve. He continued fighting for the ‘little guy’ even though he became on par with Bucky and Nat’s social class at school. 

Unfortunately, with Steve’s new social status came the one thing that you couldn’t compete with: Sharon Carter. 

Captain of the cheerleading team, it was almost natural for Steve and her to become a couple. You remembered the day that Steve and you hung out after school for your regular milkshake when he told you quietly that Sharon asked him out to the junior year annual dance. He blushed beautifully as he told his best friend the news, and you made sure to plaster on a fake smile and told him that you were happy for him.

After he took you home, you did your homework, took a shower– and as you got into bed, you cried yourself to sleep feeling utterly alone for the first time in your life. 

Things changed after that. Steve couldn’t walk you home because he was walking Sharon home. He couldn’t play video games with you at yours because he was at Sharon’s. Then, he started canceling your daily milkshake hang outs. 

“I’m sorry, Chip- I have practice to get to.” 

“Sharon mentioned that she needed my help today. I’ll see you next week.”

But next week came and went, and still no Steve.

You quickly realized that Steve was blowing you off when you caught him making out with Sharon at the library in school when he told you the day before that he was going to be at football practice. 

You didn’t mean to catch him at all - but you heard noises and glanced over to see him and Sharon behind the well-known ‘hook up’ section of the library. You squeaked in surprise since they were only half clothed, Steve with his shirt off and Sharon in only her bra. As you stood there shocked, you caught Steve’s widened eyes as they both turned to look at you. Sharon was pretty annoyed that you interrupted them (clocking her narrowed glare), but Steve at least had the decency to look embarrassed as they both put their clothes back on. 

The shock of catching him in the act wasn’t as surprising (as much as it broke your heart, you knew that people in relationships would typically take it to that level fairly quickly). What was surprising was Steve’s reaction. You thought that maybe he would apologize for lying to you, or for blowing you off as many times as he did. But instead, he cleared his throat and his eyes became more stern as he didn’t say a word. He took Sharon’s hand in his and left. 

You remembered standing there for another 5 minutes until you saw another couple glare at you as they took Steve and Sharon’s space. You didn’t even get what you came for– you walked straight home, crying, despondent over losing your best friend. (It was the movie scene where the side character gets discarded and cries silently in the rain - you felt so pathetic).

From that point forward, you didn’t bother texting Steve anymore. And he didn’t ever attempt to text you. He ignored you in the hallways and you didn’t ever look up at him when you would pass each other either. 

Throughout all this, Nat and Bucky were there for you when you came to them about what happened and your waning friendship with Steve. Nat was pissed while Bucky looked confused as to how your friendship could change so quickly. Even though they were still close with Steve too, Nat and Bucky made sure to include you more during their hangouts or offer to take you home, which you felt grateful for, but it didn’t change the fact they had each other. And that you were still alone. 

College was your wake up call to move on from Steve Rogers. You applied to universities that were all out of state, intentionally left your decision last minute so that no one could talk you out of it. Your parents didn’t approve but ultimately respected your decision. 

You remembered graduation where all of your parents made you take a group photo on the bleachers. Nat and Bucky were on the higher step as you and Steve took the lower one. It was awkward as you two barely looked at each other, and fumbled on where to place your hands. It was Bucky who eventually groaned exasperatedly and placed your hand on Steve’s back while he placed his around your waist. 

You recall the moment that really ended things between you and Steve, which was a party at one of Bucky's friends’ places. Nat and Bucky invited you to come in order to have your ‘last high school experience’ (whatever that meant). Unbeknownst to them, you were leaving the next day for settling in your new university halfway across the world. 

The party was blasting obnoxious EDM and the house was littered with red solo cups and other kids yelling at each other as they played beer pong. Feeling so displaced, you took a beer and headed upstairs to look for an empty room. 

Just your luck, you would enter the one that had Sharon (again, half-naked) on top of Steve (who was again, also shirtless) on the bed. You obviously interrupted them in the middle of something again. As they both turned to look at you, Sharon groaned your name in annoyance with an ‘ugh, seriously?!” and for you to ‘‘get out.’’ You couldn’t help but ignore her as you looked at Steve once more. 

He had this same look of annoyance in his eyes as he sat up on the bed that was so unfamiliar. You’ve never seen Steve look at you like that before– as if you were a nuisance or some sort of insignificant thing. It was the same look that he gave you at the library. He became the bully that he used to protect you from when you were kids. 

Something took over you in that moment where you felt your already fragile heart just shatter into several pieces. Though, somehow, all traces of self-pity and loneliness left your body as you coldly looked over at this stranger that you realized you maybe never really knew in the first place. In that moment, you tuned out Sharon’s nasty words, and only looked at Steve with an intentional, apathetic glint in your eyes. 

The words just slipped out before you could even process them:

“I wish that I had never met you.” 

You could mutedly hear Sharon scoff and give some sort of insult (you couldn’t really remember honestly) since the only thing that you waited for, and wanted to notice, was Steve’s reaction. You watched as the traces of annoyance in his eyes glazed out and changed into something that looked akin to shock, panic and something else that you couldn’t place. 

Satisfied with finally being able to impact him for once, and to let him know how much you hated him in that moment, you turned to leave determinedly– you were pretty sure that you heard him yell out your name before you left but you slammed the door hard, ran down the stairs, and out of the house until you made the trek home. 

You told yourself that night, as angry tears fell out onto your pillow in your childhood bedroom, that you would move on from Steve Rogers. That you deserved more and that you were going to make space for yourself in your own way. 

As you settled into your new apartment, met Wanda as your new roommate (and now your certified best friend), you received a call from Nat and a text from Bucky.

Natasha was, naturally, upset at you for leaving without telling her. She made you promise to never do that again and to come to her more when you needed her. You felt one piece of your heart pull together again at how sincere and emotional Nat was on the phone. You realized that you may have also neglected your best friend when you and Steve were close, and promised her on the phone to never let that happen again. 

Bucky sent a text saying, “Dude, what the fuck,” which is pretty polite for him, considering the context. You apologized and explained to him your desire to build your own life and while he was still mad at you, he expressed his understanding and respect for your decision.

Bucky and your relationship was never very close like Steve’s and his was, but he always looked after you (in his own way). You felt protected by Bucky in ways that you couldn’t with anyone else, and you knew that he would always ultimately support you as he would his younger sister. He told you to text him if anyone were to bother you, and you promised that you would check in with him daily.

You did receive one text from Steve: “I’m sorry for everything, chip.” That was all he wrote. 

You glared at your phone and deleted his text, so overwhelmed with your anger and determination to remove Steve Rogers from your life. It seemed as if your lack of response was enough for him to get the message that you were done since he didn’t text you since that day. 

At Uni, you really grew and developed into yourself. You became involved in college campus life, got a job as a TA, had a boyfriend or two. You dated one guy for six months before calling it off since you were better off as friends, and any other flings that you’ve had were short-lived or just didn’t land well enough to be in a committed relationship. 

But you learned alot from these relationships and ultimately felt grateful to connect with people as you proved to yourself that you were something without the people back home. That you were more than the girl who loved Steve Rogers. You were proud of yourself for that.

Flashforward to now, you’ve just finished your freshman year of college. You’re visiting home for the summer to visit your parents, and to visit Bucky and Natasha, both of them ultimately decided to attend one of the local colleges. You kept your promise with them and stayed close, and even brought Wanda back with you– since introducing her to them last week, she became fast friends with your childhood friends. 

You haven’t really spoken to Steve since that last stint in high school. Considering that your two best friends were still close with him too, and your families were all close, you couldn’t exactly avoid him. But you never talked about what happened in highschool. At the chance that you would see and interact with each other, you would greet him politely even though there was still some animosity there. 

Steve wasn’t outwardly mean or rude, and he would try to talk with you more than once before in the past year, but you were evasive everytime in avoiding anything deeper than a “hello, how are you doing?.” You would stuff down the guilt from his disappointed and hurt expressions as you actively avoided him. You brushed off your friends who were begging you to try to repair your friendship with Steve– and just go back to school, blissfully living in ignorance. 

But now, as you stood in line awkwardly waiting for the Summer Queens County Fair’s haunted corn maze with Steve (your friends suddenly “needing” to get some drinks or go to the bathroom while Steve and you waited for tickets in line), you felt like you wanted to pass away from the how thick the tension filled the air.

You could practically feel Steve’s tense energy in attempting to engage you in conversation. And damn him, he looked good. His muscles looked even fuller as they were accentuated by a basic white tee, and his beard- argh, his beard- only made his features even more rugged and handsome. 

You hated the way that he could still make your heart flutter, even after all this time had passed. 

“So,” you almost jumped when he finally broke the silence. “How have you been, chip?” 

You felt yourself take a minute to defrost your stiff and frozen body as you turned to look at him. You met his curious gaze and said blatantly, “I’ve been okay.”

Silence filled the space again as your bluntness seemed to envelop the air around you. “Uh, that’s good. Are you…–how are you finding your classes?”

You looked back at him with narrowed eyes and just felt a rush of frustration move through you seeing his eager expression, that puppy dog look that always made you feel empathy for him suddenly made you feel annoyed and impassive.

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.” You said to him bluntly while crossing your arms defensively.

Steve’s own eyes narrowed in confusion and he swallowed heavily. He seemed to be thrown off by your comment. “I’m just trying to get to know you again, chip–”

“Well, I don’t want you to get to know me, Steve, okay?!” You interrupted him as your voice raised before lowering in the latter half. 

Looking up at him, you met his eyes for the third time that night, but what you didn’t expect to see was that he looked so crestfallen and sad. 

The guilt that has built up over the past few years swooped in and rested heavily in your chest. Instantly regretting your outburst, you sighed, “Look, I just think that we may be better off just not talking to each other, okay. We don’t have to try to be friends again just because our friends forced us to finally interact with each other since highschool.”

Steve winced at your cutting words, and he still had this sadness on his face as he looked down at his feet before he said quietly, “I’m not trying to…–I just…it’s been a long time, chip. The last time that I saw you, with Sharon and with what you said, I–,” you both winced in that quick rehash of the incident. Steve finished with a weary sigh, “Honestly, I just miss you.” 

You frowned when listening to his words as the sincerity behind it felt displaced, and out of nowhere. You also couldn't help but feel concerned as you really looked at him. Outwardly, Steve looked as put together as he usually did. But people weren’t used to seeing him the way that you had growing up.

Looking closer, his eyes weren’t as bright as they could be, and they looked tired. Slight dark circles were forming underneath his dim eyes, shading his fully bearded face that was just a tad unkempt. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well and his shoulders had a hunch to them that could be perceived as calmness when you knew that it more resembled a tiredness or despondence. 

Your frown was still on your face as you elected to ignore his declaration of missing you and simply asked, “Are you okay, Stevie?”

At your question, Steve noticeably straightened up and his mouth parted in surprise that reflected in his eyes. You both stood there for a moment as you stared at him with concern and him looking at you with…mirth? With your lips pursed, you glanced at him with narrowed eyes at seeing the humor alight in his eyes, brightening them a bit more towards its familiar shade of cerulean blue.

“Okay, what just happened?” You asked suspiciously. 

Steve’s eyes brightened more and the grin that was growing on his face grew even larger into a soft smile. “You called me Stevie.” 

You lurched back a bit as you replayed the moment briefly in your head and stuttered a bit at the realization. You hadn’t meant to call him that at all, but when you saw that sad look on his face and the signs of it on his body, you couldn’t help but recall moments similar to when you were just kids, walking home, checking in with each other during similar moments, but experiencing these things together. 

“Uh- I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you–,” You blushed and stuttered as you tried and failed at attempting to save your slip. 

“No,” Steve interrupted you, his smile wilting a little bit. “Please, don’t apologize for that. I,– I miss us when we were just kids. Nobody calls me that anymore, well, beyond Nat and Buck, of course.” He said sheepishly while running his hand through his hair, disheveling it even more into a natural, annoyingly perfect quaff. 

You gave him an assented hum and cleared your throat as you looked back down at your feet, giving the flattened grass an invisible kick. You both were quiet again but the awkward animosity wasn’t as present as it was before. You both shifted on your feet a bit more before glancing up at each other from time to time, barely missing each others’ eyes before finally, your gazes met each other at the right time. 

He was looking at you differently– this time with that good-natured smile and levity in his eyes that glinted at you with that same ‘something else’ that you couldn’t quite put a finger on a year ago. 

His small grin was reluctantly infectious as you felt your lips start to curve upwards as a response.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes trying to stuff down your smile as you replied with a cheap response. Memories surfaced again of your witty banter that you used to share that always started with Steve’s little smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you opened them again to meet his own humorous gaze.

Steve’s soft smile grew into a teasing smirk, “That’s good, at least I got a smile and a laugh from you before you start to avoid me again.” 

You only gave him an incredulous look at how blatantly out of pocket that sounded before letting out a sudden, full belly-laugh with him. You couldn’t believe that you were laughing again with Steve Rogers. 

You felt this feeling again too - it wasn’t heartbreak, but rather, the shattered pieces that were shoddily put together again throughout the years felt solidified just a little bit more.

The laughs died down and the both of you remained standing there with genuine grins on your face. Before you lost your nerve, you felt a sudden urge to have him listen to you, to hear you, and to understand what really happened between you two. 

“Steve–,”

“Chip, I–”

You both looked at each other and laughed for a moment before he indicated for you to go first. His grin looked so boyish and sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him as you two were just high school kids in Brooklyn again. Comfortable and authentic, together. 

About to open your mouth, you get interrupted again by the person that you least expected to see on your visit back home.

“Chip? Steve? Oh my gosh, is that you two? Wow, chip! Look at you, you certainly grew into yourself!” Sharon’s pitched voice pierced the mutual bubble that was starting to form between you and Steve and flattened its existence.

You gave her a quick glance over and were internally surprised to see that she seemed to be exactly the same. Her eyeliner framed her hazel brown eyes that were widened in what looked like surprise, and with a hint of condescension (cause why wouldn’t she look down upon you with all of that pity). Her blonde hair resting softly down her back as she stood there in her floral skirt, her friends right behind her glancing over at you and Steve disinterestedly. 

You stood there and gave her a fake shoddy grin as you greeted her back politely. “Sharon, wow, hi.” Your monotonous tone couldn’t be covered up in time before the words left your mouth.

She only gave you a dull hum before she glanced over at Steve with a smirk. “Hi Steve, how are you?” 

The curious part of you couldn’t help but try to catch Steve’s reaction to her presence. You had no idea where things left with them since you left that day, and you never bothered to ask your friends either. Assessing him, he was looking at her with a nonchalant expression, and you were unsure of how deliberate his reaction was as he made small talk with her. 

Trying to gauge his expression, there wasn’t any sadness present in his eyes anymore, nor was there any mirth. But, you did notice a stiffness there. The corner of his eyes crinkled a little too harshly as he forced a polite smile onto his face. You could see his jaw clench as Sharon droned on about her college experience.

Time couldn’t erase the fact that you did know Steve Rogers for some time– and when he was uncomfortable, he wasn't able to hide it at all. 

The theatrical tunes of the fair and the echoes of people screaming in mirth and laughter suddenly came back in as you hear the booth employee for the haunted corn maze (this line was way too long for what it was worth) call for you and Steve to step on up. 

You couldn’t stifle the quiet mutter under your breath, “thank god” as a wave of relief flooded through your body at being able to escape the dangers that you just experienced as you turned around to follow the employee to the front of the maze. You didn’t even say bye to Sharon, and you didn’t even realize that your friends hadn’t returned from their supposed tasks. 

Your mutter may have been louder than you thought as you heard a snort from beside you. Glancing over, Steve was looking down at you with a returned humor that you just rolled your eyes at him. “Well, it’s not like you wanted to be there anymore than I did. Your tells are still exactly the same, Stevie.” You said derisively. 

Ignoring the harshness of your tone, Steve only smiled more as you slipped boundaries again. You only caught it when you saw that he was simply just staring at you in response. Only then did you catch it and you rolled your eyes again with a small smile. His smile grew more as he intentionally leaned and walked into your path as you both followed the employee. You stumbled to your left at his deliberate clumsiness and shoved him away from you playfully before you could stop yourself. 

You’re teasing around with Steve Rogers. And reluctantly admitting, you weren’t unhappy about it. 

You both continued to shove each other away as Steve kept teasing you until you reached the front of the maze. The employee turned to face you before you went inside to explain the rules and you were listening attentively until you heard a throat clear from behind you. Looking back, you see that it's Sharon and her friends. 

Trying to, but unsuccessfully, cover your agape mouth at seeing that they were actually following behind you this entire time, you clenched your jaw with annoyance and turned to face forward again.

The despair that you felt come in earlier from Steve’s arrival has returned tenfold with Sharon’s presence. Paired with the fact that you’re being forced to have entered a haunted corn maze, your hackles rise angrily at the fact that you’re being forced into a situation with both Steve and Sharon that you didn’t even wanna be a witness to, AGAIN.

Feeling suddenly so tired and exhausted, you let out a despondent sigh, “Okay, are we doing this or what?” The employee merely raised their eyebrows before motioning you to move forward in the maze.

You could feel Steve’s eyes following you as he tried to walk next to you, but you could hear Sharon trying to engage with him again. You could hear him respond but you didn't really care anymore. You didn't mean to be rude, but you were feeling resentful of all of it again. Especially hearing Sharon’s whiny voice trying to speak with Steve right directly behind you, you once again felt utterly alone. 

Torches and string lights lit up the corn maze. Although, the night sky was void of any lights or stars, which made the maze really feel like a maze– isolated and desolate. You could hear Sharon’s two friends in the back muttering that they were scared as they let out occasional, little screams at any sounds that could be heard (even if it was just the wind grazing the corn harshly, or honestly, the sounds of their own footsteps, ha.) 

Feeling so bored and wanting to leave, you turned around to just go back when you saw Sharon holding on to Steve’s arm with a worried look on her face. 

You were passing by some rows of hay with a sticky red substance spilling all over it when you heard Sharon’s small screech.

“Omg, you think that’s blood?,” She said with a genuinely worried tone. 

You wanted to laugh so bad as you looked over at Steve, just in time to see the rolling of his eyes and heavy sigh. She seemed to be grasping onto him with an even tighter grip and although Steve wasn’t shaking her off, he did have that uncomfortable look on his face again.

His second aggravated sigh and furrowed brows gave away his annoyance as he attempted to subtly create some space between his body and her touch. You turned forward again as the laughter erupted in your throat, but you managed to stifle it in time with a pursed smile on your face at hearing Sharon’s affronted noise in response. 

You could read a mean girl from far away at this point – Sharon’s attitude wasn’t lost on you nor was her sudden closeness with Steve. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would, even if you found out that they were still together after high school. Honestly, a part of you felt satisfied that Steve, the one responsible for the existing tension between you in the first place, was finally just as uncomfortable as you were. To see Sharon offended and to see Steve’s discomfort made you feel a sense of justice and a resurged faith in good ol’ karma. 

That pride you felt in being able to find your own comfort in your healing made you feel giddy. You weren’t in any sense of a relationship that held any drama. It felt good to know that the forced proximity didn’t just affect you at this moment. Yeah, sucks to suck, doesn’t it?

You flinched a few times as you continued walking throughout the maze with some actors coming out to scare you, but as you saw the glaring red Exit sign, you couldn’t wait to get outta there. Speed walking at this point, you were determined to walk out of this maze with your gaze forward, determined to not look back at the two sore points of the past few years. 

You made it to the exit and sighed in relief. You were already a few paces away when you heard Steve call for you.

“Wait, chip! –” 

The body is a wonder - your mind was so fixated on leaving but when you heard him call out for you, your mind flashed to the both of you waiting in line, flashed to the sounds of your laughter mixing together, the feeling of him leaning into you. You didn’t want to but, suddenly, your feet just stopped in place and you turned around to look over at him. Hope swelled in your chest…

And there was Steve. And Sharon. Kissing. 

You inhaled deeply at the sight, not expecting to have caught them, yet again, mid-kiss. The tension knotting in your stomach finally exploded, and your stomach dropped making your feet feel so heavy. It was like watching a car crash happening in front of you - you felt fixated and couldn’t move, turn away. The hope that was swelling in your chest evaporated like mist, and you felt so foolish. The pieces that were somehow lodged together again from your earlier interaction broke into pieces, and felt grinded into dust. The wind took its opportune moment to breeze through your hair, and it almost felt like it intentionally took your longing for your best friend again with it.

Steve gripped Sharon’s arms harshly, shoving her away from him with an angry expression on his face. “Sharon, what the hell?!” He exclaimed. Turning away from Sharon and her pouted expression, his widened eyes frantically found yours. 

Even a few feet away, the panic that you saw in them was familiar. You remember seeing it exactly when you had severed the existing relationship between you and Steve that night. 

You couldn’t help your reactiveness– you were feeling so triggered by what you were witnessing. Your vision started to get blurry as you felt that familiar burning sensation building in your eyes. The panic in Steve’s eyes intensified at the sight, and when he made a move to step forward, your feet instinctively took one step back. 

Completing the reenacted memory, you felt your mouth press into a hardened line as you met his gaze with a ferocious determination. Familiar numbness rose up and a lethargic apathy just washed over you. You bravely met his gaze and although the words weren’t being said, you and Steve both heard the words.

“I wish that I had never met you.” 

The truth was, the anger and rage that you were feeling (and let’s be honest, the resentment that you suppressed and just gaslit yourself into reframing it as healing) was just the surface. Underneath, a deep and hollow feeling of just being unwanted and undesirable bubbled up with a vengeance. You didn’t wanna hear it, but you were tired, were abandoned by your friend(s), and energy depleted from tonight’s event. You knew you couldn’t be there any longer. 

Your feet continued to step back slowly as you heard Steve asking for you to please wait - but then Sharon took his arm again needily and you took that as your opportunity to bolt. 

You dropped your teary-eyed gaze away from his almost desperate looking one, mumbled out a quick excuse and left with a brisk nod. It was just like when you were 17 again, you heard Steve call out your name again but you don’t stop to look. You didn’t see him staring after you so longingly and looking so dejected, nor did you see him blatantly remove his arm from Sharon’s grip again while they hushed out intense looking whispers at each other. 

The parking lot of the carnival was in sight as you wiped away the bitter tears from your face. You knew that leaving was immature of you, and you knew that you would disappoint your friends. You knew that you were breaking your promises to Nat and Bucky (and now Wanda) about talking with them before making any impulsive decisions.

You reached your old pick-up and opened the door harshly. The tears wouldn’t stop as you stood outside the car. Almost child-like, your hands curled into fists as you brought them to your eyes and just sobbed. 

For a moment there, you thought that maybe…maybe you could start again. Maybe you and Steve could rekindle your friendship, or at least, talk things through. You thought that maybe you’d be able to continue laughing again. You shook your head, feeling so much pity for yourself. 

Heaving out another wilted sigh, you closed your eyes and tilted your head back to allow the fresh winded air to dry your tears upon your chilled face. You needed time to think, and you knew exactly where you wanted to go, and what you needed. 

The sweetness of the chocolate shavings melted in your mouth, leaving only the sugary taste behind. You took another sip of your milkshake and made sure to swipe some whipped cream from the top for an extra sweet finish. 

The diner was mostly empty, spare a truck driver or two sitting by the bar tops. You mindlessly stir your milkshake some more with the plastic straw and couldn’t help but relieve another sigh from your body. You came to the diner for nostalgia’s sake, and a chocolate chip milkshake was always a huge dopamine boost for whenever you were feeling sad. 

But this time, getting your favorite milkshake at the diner left more of a sour taste in your mouth as each sip just reminded you of Steve.

You decided that you would try to bring yourself to feeling better before you left for home, which meant drinking your milkshake, making small talk with Betty (the sweet, old waitress who has been giving you milkshakes for free since you were a teenager), and settling the grievances that you could actually fix. 

You instantly texted Wanda to let you know that you had left the carnival, and that you hoped that she was having fun going to the bathroom for the past hour. Instantly receiving an apologetic text back for ditching you with Steve, you figured it was as good a time as any to also let her know that she would have to ride back with Bucky and Nat (given the fact that you also had basically left her there too). She sent you the mouth wide open face emoji, and you knew that you both could call it even.

Nat texted you a selfie of her and Bucky pouting remorsefully. It was enough to make you crack a grin (Bucky looked so ridiculous). You demurely sent them back a picture of your middle finger (because you were the bigger person of course), which only had her text back an apology with an IOU. You knew that they were only trying to be your friends, but at least you would have this photo as blackmail for future purposes. 

You started to play a game on your phone mindlessly when you heard the door ring, indicating a new customer walking in. Not even looking up, you proceeded to win the next level of the game until someone set another chocolate chip milkshake down on your table. 

“Oh, it’s okay, Bet, I didn’t want–,” you started to say as you looked up. But it wasn’t Betty who dropped off the milkshake. 

It was Steve. 

Your eyes widened a bit in just processing that he was actually there, standing in front of you. He actually came to find you? The scene from earlier was so crystal clear and akin to your high school memory, you were convinced that that would be it. As you sat there staring doe-eyed at Steve, the scene had felt like it glitched as it was now playing out differently than you had expected.

Heat rose to your cheeks as your gaze focused on Steve’s determined facial expression. You turned forward to face your new milkshake and deliberately avoided his narrowed gaze. You could feel him still staring at you and you shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t say anything but moved to sit across from you in the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh of his own as he did too.

You kept your eyes down as the both of you let the silence permeate the air around you. A few minutes passed before you were about to officially just get up and leave when Steve broke the silence first. 

“I swear,” he turned to look over at you with an exasperated gaze. “I had no idea that she was going to be there.”

A disbelieving scoff came out of your mouth and you rolled your eyes blatantly. “Steve stop, again, you don’t have to do this – “ 

“Stop saying that, chip!” His voice was filled with a sternness that you couldn’t ignore. Your eyes widened at him as he continued, “I’m here because I want to be, okay? Not cause Bucky, or Nat, or your family told me to or forced me to. I found you - and I asked you to wait earlier and you ran away, again!”

A glare scrunched up your face as your fury rose up at the audacity of his scolding, “Excuse me?! I didn’t want to wait because I didn’t want to watch you and Sharon sucking each other’s faces off, again!” You flourished your mocking with a tight expression and only caused Steve to oppose you even more.

“She was the one who kissed me – I didn’t want to be there with her either. I haven’t even seen or spoken to Sharon since you left!” Steve blurted out.

Your heart felt like it was racing in your chest and your mind blanked at hearing Steve’s reveal as you tried to stutter out a response. “What– I don’t–,” words were hard. You thought that they were together for some time during the year in college. With the way that Sharon was acting, you assumed that they were still interacting with each other, somehow, at the very least.

Steve took advantage of your surprised silence and continued, “God, chip. After what happened at the party, I just…I realized then how much I hurt you.” He looked at you with such remorse as you just continued staring at him. The hardness that was built over the years was still surrounding you, trying to protect you, even if Steve was professing his regret. 

“When I heard you say that you regretted having ever met me,” you both flinched at the words as he said them, “and this look in your eyes…it looked like you really despised me and I felt it and I just–,” Steve cut himself off with another flinch and pinched his eyes shut. 

“I let it get to my head. When I made the team and when people started to pay attention to me, when those bullies stopped bothering me and actually invited me to things, I lost sight of what really mattered to me the most and that was you. I know that that is a stupid excuse, and that I was hurting you, even way before what happened at the party and I was dumb, immature, and just stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, chip.” He spewed out the words faster than he could coherently process them but the sincerity could be heard in his rushed tone. 

His downcast, teary eyed gaze met yours and you felt your breath hitch slightly at the sight. Growing up with Steve, he was always the formidable one. He was the one who reached out first to hold your hand if you cried. The one to maintain composure and calmness while you were the one who was more nervous and panicked. To see Steve so out of breath, wistful, and low-spirited was worrisome and unfamiliar to you. 

You were at a loss for words as you tried your best to process his words. Steve bit his lip nervously as he tried to gauge your reaction. When you only met him with more silence, the despondent look in his face only grew, “Please. I completely understand if you still don’t want to be friends, and after this, I’ll completely leave you alone. But honestly, chip, I can’t leave knowing that you still hate me. I- I know that’s selfish, but I can’t.” 

You moved your stare to blankly look at your melting milkshake, the whipped cream completely evaporated into the cold drink. 

“You hurt me.” You blurted out.

Steve almost looked startled at hearing your voice after such a lingering silence. “I know, and I’m so sorry–.”

“No, Steve,” You interrupted him indignantly, “you hurt me.” The tears blurred your unseeing gaze again as you focused enough to meet his own. The whimper dislodged in your throat as you could no longer hide the suppressed pain.

Just like that, the both of you were 15 years old again. You were crying after being teased by other kids or bullied for your flaws, and Steve was there trying to console you. The impact of these experiences were a shared burden impenetrable to your friendship together.

The difference now is that, instead of your tears being spurred by the mean-spirited popular kids, Steve was the one who committed the offense, a betrayal that cut so deep and you were the only one to shoulder the burden. 

Steve swallowed heavily as he blinked furiously to hold his own tears at bay. He seemed to understand what you were saying as his eyes glanced over the different features of your face. He knew all of your vulnerabilities and ignored, neglected his care of you by treating you the way that others had growing up. He abandoned you when you needed him the most, and he had to understand the severity of that in the same way that you tried to tell him then as you were now. 

Steve exhaled deeply as he looked over at you. His still despondent eyes held a layer of genuine understanding as he apologized despairingly, “I’m so sorry.” 

You sniffled as tears fell freely onto your cheeks, your puffy eyes and pained expression causing Steve to flinch in his own despondence. You brought a closed fist to your face again to wipe the tears and winced as you suddenly felt strong, sturdy arms envelop you in a soft embrace.

The tears only came down stronger at the feeling of hugging your best friend. Not feeling so alone anymore, your heart cried out with you in relief as you turned and tucked your face into his chest, your arms moved to clutch his back. Once you did, his embrace only became tighter as he squeezed you to him closer. 

You both sat there for a while, just hugging, soft sobs falling from your lips while Steve continued to repeat quiet, but earnest, apologies. After a year of animosity, sadness, and unresolved hurt, the both of you silently agreed to let this moment just be. 

Eventually, your tears stopped running so harshly and you sniffled back your snot-filled nose very charmingly as you reluctantly pulled away from his warmth. Steve still kept one muscular arm around your shoulder as you looked up at him hesitantly.

“Stevie?” You began to ask. Steve responded with a soft hum for you to continue while rubbing your shoulder soothingly. It didn’t even seem like he noticed that he was doing it.

Before you could lose your nerve, you meekly asked, “Why did you start pulling away from me when you started dating Sharon?” 

Steve’s hand froze and he stilled as if he were preparing for the worst. He sighed while closing his eyes for a moment. Taking a breath, he opened them back up to look at you with a resolved and honest gaze.

“When I told you that Sharon asked me to the prom, I thought that would’ve been the moment that you told me that you liked me the same way that I liked you.” 

Your heart thundered so loudly in your chest as you gave him a shocked, glazed over expression. 

He liked you.

“But then you smiled at me, and you said that you were happy for me, and, I guess a part of me felt like I was foolish to have ever thought that you would actually like me more than a friend. I continued things with Sharon because I felt like I had to get over you.” He said regretfully. 

You blinked up at him a few times before you asked dumbly, “And that’s why you were pulling away? The lies and the fake excuses, or why you ignored me when you were with Sharon?” 

Steve flinched with each question as he confessed, “Yes. It was really immature of me to ignore you. If I could go back and do it over, I would in a heartbeat.” An intentional look sat on his face as he expressed his remorse. 

You released another speechless hum in return, still processing that Steve liked you. In a spur of your own adrenaline running through your body, you suddenly disclosed, “Steve, I did like you the way that you liked me.”

Steve stilled and inhaled sharply, “...W-what do you mean?” 

Mustering up your own fostered courage, you exhaled deeply and said, “I liked you too. But I was your best friend. I thought that you were the one who didn’t like me, so I thought that if I supported you in dating Sharon, I wouldn’t lose you completely.” You felt your face scrunch in confusion as how ridiculously unnecessary this entire separation was.

He only looked at you with incredulity as he realized, “So, because we couldn’t just buck up and tell each other honestly in that moment that we liked each other, we ended up losing each other anyways?” 

“Ugh, what a mess.” You revered and knocked your forehead against his chest ashamedly. You both were quiet again as he resumed rubbing your shoulder calmingly. 

“Chip?” Steve suddenly spoke out. 

Raising your head up to look at him again, still cringing from such a huge misunderstanding, you gave him a soft hum to continue his inquiry. 

Steve looked down into your eyes, making you feel mesmerized with how deeply he was gazing at you. From how close your faces were, you could really see the subtle hints of green in his blue eyes. There was still some grief there as you looked at each other but there was again, something else that you still couldn’t point out. 

Noticing that unknowing glint in his eye for the second time that night, you questioned him curiously hoping to finally find out, “What is it?”

“I like you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, his eyes filled with mirth again and an honesty that couldn’t be faked. Your thundering heart skipped a beat as you felt your own spirit restore within you. You could feel those pieces in your heart start to build again. 

You looked back at him with such relief as Steve pulled you in closer, you took in another deep breath as you responded.

“I love you.” 

His eyes immediately glowed with an infectious joy, a genuine laugh and smile graced his face as he got closer to you. You could hardly breathe as you returned his loving gaze, his nose nuzzled yours gently until the both of you met each other halfway in a tender, first kiss. 

A/N: my cue to say: and they lived happily ever after! i would love to know what people thought, thanks for reading :)

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[wildsparrows]

Fledglings AU intro post

"I can be different, I can't be puppeted!"

Birds Of A Feather, or the Fledglings AU, is basically about five orphan kids from Playcare who narrowly avoid being experimented on for varying reasons.

The Fledglings AU is heavily inspired by a song. In this case, it's Bird Cage Blue And Yellow by Yaelokre. It fits enough that almost every lyric can correspond to an event in the plot in a sort of animatic, except I don't have the motivation for that.

The main five kids are based on the five kids from Charlie and The Chocolate Factory. The Charlie in this case being Joseph, a minor character in the game who canonically was friends with Kevin and questioned one of the scientists after seeing them carrying Kevin off while he was asleep.

The other four are pretty much OCs, who are:

-Nathan Hauksson, stand-in for Mike Teavee

-Yara De Costa, stand-in of Violet Beauregard

-Scott Choudhury, stand-in for Augustus Gloop

-Lyssa Lee, stand-in for Veruca Salt

This is pretty much in the order of which kid escaped first, with Joseph being the last to escape. And by that, I mean he escaped during the Hour Of Joy, the day he was scheduled to be experimented on.

The four used to act more like the rotten kids themselves, but have somewhat matured since then. Same with Joseph, who's more jaded compared to his younger, bright-eyed self.

In a bad ending type scenario, I'd imagine them being turned into toys based on each kid's fate in the movie. Yara could be a Strawberry Shortcake-esque blueberry doll, Lyssa could be a plush squirrel, etc.

Going back to the Yaelokre song the AU is inspired from, I've added a lot of sparrows and birdcage motifs to the plot. For example, in any flashbacks showing one of the five kids during their orphan days, a sparrow will show up nearby to foreshadow their eventual escape.

It's mostly referencing the line, "Malayang Maya, Malayo-layo" meaning "Free Sparrow, Far Away". In contrast, any kid foreshadowed to be experimented on will have a taxidermied sparrow nearby, typically left by the prototype as a warning.

There's also an in-universe reason for the abundance of sparrows in the factory. Because in the AU, the scientists began experimenting on sparrows with poppy gel first instead of rats, luring the sparrows first with poppy seed feeders.

Birdcages would also frequently be seen in the lower levels. Sparrows still lurk in the factory because of the poppies that still grow in the labs, and it's not rare for some toys to look for sparrow nests to eat the eggs...if not the birds themselves.

I'd probably run this blog as an ask blog with the occasional oneshot in the format of a document or a tape. I won't always be able to respond due to college, and even if I do, it won't always come with a drawing. With all that out of the way, let's get to the rules for the asks:

No weird asks. All five orphans are underaged. I will allow the occasional dirty joke to slide since they're rat bastard teenagers, but I'd appreciate refraining from that anyway.

No spam asks. The more you spam, the less motivated I will to answer. I'd probably just delete your spam asks instead.

Anon magic is unfortunately not allowed for this one. Idk, I don't think it'd fit the kind of vibe I want this blog to have. OCs and other RP accounts are of course welcome here, as long as they're not too OP for the Poppy Playtime universe.

This is a Poppy Playtime AU, so it's of course gonna tackle a bunch of dark topics, and I'll make sure to tag and put trigger warnings outside of the usual death and child experimentation tws accordingly. Still, there may be some asks I might not entertain if it entails darker themes than what the AU is tailored to.

I have the right to not respond to an ask if it makes me uncomfortable for some other way not mentioned here. What? You want a refund?

Idk what else to put here, just use common sense and Netiquette.

[voyaging-too]

2024 December Media

Recs bolded.

Books:

Sheri S. Tepper: Grass. Gorgeous sci-fi about Catholicism, plague, monks, weird creatures, complex space aristocracy social dynamics slightly reminiscent of Barrayar but worse, and a lot of horses. The protagonist is a middle-aged Olympic equestrian lady.

Cornelia Funke: Herr der Diebe (The Thief Lord). I'm practicing my German! This is a great middle grade book about orphan kids running around Venice, the atmosphere of the city is so vivid it covers up the occasional plot hole.

Robert Musil: The Man Without Qualities (vol. I). This book is somehow both boring and terrifying. It's set just before WW1, but the protagonists don't know that, and so they keep having long-winded conversations about how nothing ever happens.

Han Kang: Human Acts. A short, visceral, painful book about the 1980 Gwangju Uprising, and the people, (civilians (children)) who were killed in it. Fiction, heavily based on non-fiction historical research.

Mercedes Lackey: Magic's Price (Last Herald Mage III). The previous two books in this fantasy trilogy weren't good either, but they were at least fun. This one wasn't.

Vivian Shaw: Bitter Waters (Greta Helsing 3.5). Sweet, beautifully written, ultimately plotless addition to the series.

vol 1. of that weird Stalin-era world literature anthology I impulse bought at the second-hand bookstore and am occasionally reading on the toilet to stop myself from doomscrolling.

Films:

Louis Theroux: Tell Them You Love Me. A masterful, disturbing documentary of the Anna Stubblefield case. Trigger warning for... everything, but especially rape, ableism, and horrible people genuinely believing they're in the right.

John Palfreman: Frontline. Prisoners of Silence. After watching the documentary above, I got obsessed with the failure of facilitated communication, and had to watch this one-hour documentary on it. It's thirty years old, so expect some not-so-great language on autism, but the overall points stand.

Kenji Kamiyama: The War of the Rohirrim. Anime vaguely based on Rohan lore in the LOTR appendix. Weak writing, meh plot, middling animation, transparently desperate attempts to recapture the glory of the original trilogy, the only saving grave was Olwyn and her capacity to pass the Bechdel test.

Starkid: Working Boys. Fun short film about Prof Hidgens trying to stage a musical, set in the Hatchetfield universe. Multiverse? Idk anymore.

Podcasts:

Jo Walton, Ada Palmer: Ex Urbe Ad Astra. Two brilliant writers talk about history and fiction, sometimes with guests. They never talk down to the audience and that feels amazing, even when I don't get what they mean at all.

Friends at the Table: Live at the Table. The FaaT gang plays a whole bunch of one-offs and short campaigns. They try a dozen different TTRPGs in a dozen different settings, not all of them work equally well, but sometimes you can listen to them create the best wordbuilding out of thin air.

Gabriel Urbina: Wolf 359 (season 2). Captain Lovelace arrives, space comedy is now officially a space dramedy. Still works well on relisten.

Shelved by Genre: Last Herald Mage unit. These guys are a great read-along book podcast, even when they are reading a book I hate, because they dissect it in really interesting ways.

Gabriel Urbina: Dracula. The Danse Macabre. I'm conflicted, this adaptation of Dracula has tons of great ideas, but they don't gel. The condensed plot isn't really intelligible unless you've read the original novel and know it pretty well, but if you know the novel that well, the arbitrary changes are far more likely to annoy you.

Theatre

Starkids: VHS Christmas Carols. (online ticket) An eighties-style musical adaptation of The Gift of the Magi, The Little Match Girl and The Christmas Carol. Takes itself surprisingly seriously for how funny it is. May be the second best adaptation of Christmas Carol out there.

Sándor Zsótér: Bertolt Brecht: Round Heads and Pointed Heads. A gorgeous studio production of one of Brecht's lesser-known plays. There's no point in me recommending this, because there's no way you guys can come here and watch it, but it was legitimately one of the funniest, most moving, most upsetting things I've seen this decade.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

idk if youve read the nico and will book yet but is there homophobia in that book?

I did read it actually! it was one of my first books of the year actually (though it was so aggressively fine that I've forgotten most of it tbh ,,,,)

as far as I remember there is a bit, but it isn't major? (anyone who has read it more recently please correct me if I'm wrong)

I just checked the trigger warnings on StoryGraph and these are the ones under "Graphic":

[ Grief(64) ; Death(39) ; Mental Illness(37) ; Violence(28) ; Injury(23) ; Blood(15) ; Death of parent(15) ; torture(7) ; panic attack(7) ; child death(5) ; outing(5) ; homophobia(4) ; emotional abuse(4) ; eating disorder(4) ; confinement(4) ; abandonment(3) ; self harm(2) ; gaslighting(2) ; suicidal thoughts(2) ; war(2) ; medical content(2) ; dysphoria(1) ; bullying(1) ; kidnapping(1) ; gore(1) ; medical trauma(1) ; murder(1) ; fire(1) ]

note that the tw in story graph are distributed on three levels: graphic, moderate and minor. they are added by the readers themselves (which is what the numbers mean: how many readers added this as a tw, in this case on the "graphic" level specifically) often times tws that have a low number on "graphic" (like only 1 or 2) appear more often in the "moderate" or "minor" tier.

(also just searched for my review on it to see if I wrote anything useful but all it told me is that it was the third book I read this year and that I was a bit depressed at the time lmao (which maybe explains why my memories of it are so shit))

[protege-not-protagonist]

Criminal Minds: The Protégé Chapter 6

Ch 6: My Brother's Keeper Pt. 3

Blurb: The team is closing in on the Unsub, but he has taken hostages. As half the team move to intercept, Grace and Luke are tasked with piecing together the Unsub's past.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Audience: Recomended mature audience for depictions of violence and sexual references

Author's Note: if you see a trigger warning that concerns you, you can scroll to end and I'll have a brief description what happens.

TW: Ableism, kidnapping, child death, murders, crime scene description, conscientious objection to bear firearms. Threats and unwanted erotic attention (IDK how to tag it). Hinted Dog death.

Gold Stallion Inn, Groton, SD Friday July 8:00AM

After going through her files with Rossi and Prentiss, she actually had a good night’s sleep. Dr Boland didn’t have any complaints. Prentiss said that she would contact Dr Harris and see if she wanted an inquest into Nathan’s death. If she answered yes, Prentiss said she would allow Grace to investigate and see if there was a case. Which was good news because she had already kinda started. Garcia sent her some files over last night along with an emoji heavy text to say Dr Reid had asked her to compile them. But that was a task for later. Right now, the Giles family needed them to find their killer.

She hated this part of the investigation, when all they could do was wait for the unsub to “surface.” That was just a nice way of saying they were waiting for someone else to die. Simmons and JJ would report from Rapid City and minute now. But there wasn’t much else to do other than review evidence. The team was milling about interviewing the local PD to see if they could think of anyone who fitted the profile.

Dr Boland had gone to check on the bodies. She had commandeered a room at the local doctor’s practice to clean the bones. Dr Boland would be gone all day, cleaning and reconstructing. The bones wouldn’t be fully clean, but with the time and resources, it was the best they could do without destroying evidence. God, she was glad they had allowed the doctor to tag along. The local doctor and police were going to just straight boil them if she hadn’t shown up. She understood the logic, but good lord, the destruction of evidence boiling without taking tissue samples would have caused was almost more criminal than the murders. But given that they now had identities, the focus was on reconstruction was more so the remaining family could bury them.

Grace’s eyes roved over the case board as she had breakfast. Which was a loose term, cause it was just a cup of earl grey tea from her small collection of tea bags that she took in her go bag. She’d learnt real fast; if a place had tea, don’t drink it. Only God knows how old police precinct tea bags are.

Alvez came up beside her and stared at the board as well.

‘You sleep well?’ He asked.

She raised an eyebrow. Everyone had been asking about her sleep the last couple of cases. Grace wanted to tell them they shouldn’t be worried; it had always been like this. But then Profilers would do what they do best; pry.

‘Mm yeah,’ she answered and turned to him, not passing up a chance that rarely presented itself. ‘So is it true?’

‘Is what true?’

‘That Rossi doesn’t snore?’ she smirked.

‘You know what, Five-O, he actually doesn’t,’ Alvez chuckled.

‘Hmm, guess I can’t really pick it. Do you snore?’ She asked, trying to continue the conversation. It wasn’t too hard for her to talk with Luke, strangely enough. They had little in common, but when he wasn’t ribbing her about her personal life, or conspiring with Tara to set her up with random twenty-something-year-olds they knew, he was good company. Or maybe he just accommodated her awkwardness more than other people. She could never tell.

‘No, I don’t,’ he told her, but smugly added, ‘But I share a bed with someone who does, but I love them too much to care.’

She laughed. You’re not slick, Alvez.

‘Roxy snores? That’s so cute, you have to send me a video, my dog used to snore too, he would sleep bark while he dreamt as well. They’re so funny when they chase stuff while they sleep.’

‘You had a dog?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, my family had one, Spud. He was a… we don’t know what he was, but he was awesome, my best friend.’

He looked surprised. Had she not talked about Spud before? She could have sworn she had. Maybe she avoided the conversation because of what those memories eventually led to. Alvez, raised his eyebrows and chuckled.

‘What?’

‘Sorry, you didn’t strike me as a dog person,’ he shrugged.

‘Woah.’ She shook her head.

‘What?’

‘That is without a doubt the most offensive thing you have ever said to me.’

‘Usually I can pick it. I got more of a cat vibe from you.’ He held his hands up in mock surrender.

‘A cat vibe?’ She scoffed. ‘I take it back. That’s the most offensive thing I’ve ever heard from you.’

‘You hate cats?’

‘I dislike them. I have a like a whole PowerPoint for explaining why, but in general, they’re unpredictable and aloof, not what I’d look for in a companion. Dogs, on the other hand, are a reliable source of affection…’ she trailed off as she saw his expression. ‘Stop profiling me. Look, I know I am an insecure loner, and I don’t care.’

‘Hey, I’m a dog owner too!’ he chuckled, but he looked at her with that familiar face of poorly hidden pity. ‘If you feel lonely Five-O, why don’t you have one?’ he asked.

‘It wouldn’t be fair on them. I’m not home enough now and I… can’t replace Spud. When he died, it really broke my heart. I don’t know if I could do that again.’ That was the understatement of the century. Her hand flew to her right wrist, instinctively massaging it as it ached from an injury that was no longer there. She was back before she could stop herself.

‘And those other girls…’ he snickered. ‘Well, none of them did it right. But, I waited for you. I tipped the police off. I told them where to find the last one to get you back. And I brought you here one last time before we leave cause I want to see what happens when I kill someone… special. I wonder if there’ll be tears this time, I wonder how they’ll taste.’ He walked over the work bench and pick up a meat cleaver. She struggled against the duct tape that held her to the chair. Spud whimpered from the floor of the cage. 'Touch him and I'll kill you, I swear to God!' she spat. He smirked at her, pointedly looking at her restraints as she struggled, 'Really?' She yanked herself forward and thrashed in the chair. She couldn't break the tape. Her brave façade cracked and she realised nothing was going to stop what was going to happen. He grinned widely as she began to plead. 'No, no. Don't, don't, don't do it please, don't!'

‘I get that. I didn’t until I got Roxy. She’s getting old now. It’s going to be a sad day when she goes. They really do have a spot in your heart, you know?’ Luke spoke, bringing her back to the present.

She doubted that he “got it.” What happened to Spud was devastating.

‘I couldn't handle it, besides, Foley would get upset if he had to share my apartment and affection,’ she added, redirecting his attention to a new mystery.

‘Foley?’ He frowned.

She just raised her eyebrows and grinned.

‘Who’s Foley?’

‘He’s taken another family.’ Prentiss announced. The room fell silent. ‘But this time, a victim escaped, the eldest child. JJ just finished interviewing her.’

Alvez and Grace shared a look and rushed over to the laptop, where Prentiss set up the conference. The screen flickered and Garcia appeared.

‘Hello everyone, a good morning it is not. I have the 411 on our newest victims, the Tilsbry family. ‘Right, we have Joshua and Mary Tilsbry with 14-year-old Bella and 11-year-old Alice, who has Spina Bifida. They are from Omaha, Nebraska. Joshua is an accountant, Mary is an editor for a publishing firm, both dirt free, clean financials, loving parents. The girls’ grades are good, um… according to Mary’s Facebook page, they are on a road trip holiday to Montana. They were going to Yellowstone. Seems Alice is a big fan of nature. The trip was to celebrate her birthday. Oh, these pictures are so cute, she got little binoculars. Please find them. I do not want to see more pictures of the crime-scene-y nature.’

‘Bella Tilsbry’s the one who escaped and alerted police, her aunt is on her way to Rapid City to act as her Guardian, but gave permission for the interview to go ahead,’ Prentiss continued, relaying JJ’s information, ‘The family fueled up this morning close to their hotel. Bella went to the restroom, when she came back, went to open the van door and said a man came from behind, grabbed her and jumped in the back seat with Alice and held a gun to her. Bella managed to get out of his grip and ran into the store to raise the alarm, but her family’s car sped off. She says her younger sister is wheelchair bound and the family car is quite distinctive. Garcia, do we update on the model?’

‘Yes, Simmons told me the make and model. It’s the same car Simmons’ family has. It can do about 400 miles before it needs more gas and a fuel station receipt confirms the car had a full tank when it was hijacked,’ Garcia added.

Grace grabbed a compass and scaled it using the map’s legend. Placing the centre in Rapid City, she drew a wide circle on the map. ‘Okay, so his is our range as the crow flies, but highways tend to go around large natural landmarks like the Missouri river here, and this mountain range over here. So, we can retract it a bit by, uh, give or take, 50 miles.’ She drew another circle. ‘So this outer ring here is the maximum distance before he has to refuel. It’s risky to do that with three hostages. There’s too much opportunity for one to escape. Plus Bella got away, that will shake his confidence. It’s more likely he’ll stop somewhere before this zone. Garcia, do we have a last known heading? This guy can easily get interstate. Rapid City is close enough to the Wyoming, Nebraska, and Montana state borders.’

‘Yes, thankfully Rapid City has more CCTV than Groton. Last time the car was seen was 7:30, and they were eastbound on route 90.’

Grace frowned. ‘That’s heading back the way he came. If he is coming back here, he’ll take the 14, the 212 and the 37.’ She looked back at the map. ‘He can get here on a single tank easily. It’s around the 350 mile mark.’

‘How long until he gets here?’ Prentiss asked.

Grace opened and shut her mouth in panic. She didn’t know.

‘Uh…’ she pulled out her phone, ‘According to google maps, and if he drives the speed limit-’ That’s dumb, as if an unsub would drive the speed limit. ‘-Um, if he was in the outer reaches of Rapid City at seven-ish, he’ll be here in like four hours.’

‘Do we have a description of the unsub from Bella?’ Rossi asked. ‘JJ had Bella sit with a Police sketch artist, they just finished. State Troopers have issued it state wide, the press will show it in the next bulletin.’

‘Garcia, send us that sketch. Send it and a description to the surrounding state’s law enforcement, too. We need to hedge our bets. But if he is returning here, there’s a reason, he has to be local.’ Prentiss observed.

A sketch appeared on the screen. A stock built, young white man, with a prominent brow ridge, dark eyes and short light hair.

‘Look like anyone you know?’ Dr. Lewis asked the police present.

‘No,’ Deputy Mitchell shrugged.

‘Hold on, can you print that?’ the sheriff asked. The team pricked up at that.

The printer whirled, and Alvez passed the paper to him. ‘You see something, sheriff?’

‘I’m not sure, you got a pen?’ He asked the team. Rossi passed him a one from his jacket pocket. The sheriff scribbled a beard on the face and held it up to the deputy. ‘That look like Andy Phillips to you?’

‘Well damn, it does. But he’d be, what, 55 now?’ The deputy frowned.

‘Yeah, he and Trish moved away about 12 years ago. But they had a son, Brodey. He’d be around 25 now. I don’t know all the details but, Trish had an unexpected pregnancy with complications. They to moved outta town to get better care.’ The Sheriff said.

‘Garcia-’ Prentiss began. ‘Already on it and… I have a giant red flag. If Brodey isn’t our guy, I’ll eat my mouse pad.’

‘Hang on, I’ll try to patch JJ, Simmons and Avery in.’ Prentiss dialled the conference button. Avery picked up his phone first.

‘They’re with me. You got a suspect?’ he said, reading Prentiss’ mind.

‘Alright Garcia, what do you have?’

‘Brodey Phillips, 26, born to Patricia and Andrew Phillips in Groton. Early school records are relatively okay. Brodey was a bit rough with his classmates, but nothing too out of the ordinary. But then moved with his family to Minneapolis in 2010 when he was 14. Trish gave birth to his baby brother, Jeremy. He was born with cerebral palsy. Around the same time in school, for Brodey, we have many behavioural complaints, his grades plummeting. Then in 2013 there’s a suspension for, uh… pushing a girl in a wheelchair into the school’s pool. He claimed it was a prank gone wrong. I personally would call it attempted murder. But fast forward he graduates, has multiple jobs as a repairman. Short stints all of them. I’ve got drug charges, DUI’s, theft, and then 2 years prison time for assault. But the real red flags are raised in 2018.

‘So on the 20th June, his parents went on a road trip holiday that was supposed to be for two weeks. They leave 9-year-old Jeremy with Andy’s mother in Aberdeen 20 minutes from Groton. And then poor little Jeremy, goes missing from his Grandma’s house at 4pm on the 23 of June 2018. Jeremy was never found. The case is cold. Now, after being released from prison on the 22nd of June, Brodey shows up out of the blue, appearing in Aberdeen PD’s reports, trying to help his parents through the ordeal. Seems like he is a changed man. He was enrolled in rehab, and had a steady job, until Andy committed suicide in 2019. And pretty much instantly, Brodey lands himself back in prison for armed robbery. He got out two months ago.’

‘Do we have a current address?’ Prentiss asked.

‘No.’

‘What about his mother’s address?’

‘Trish lives with her oh… no, sorry, lived with her mother-in-law, in Aberdeen. Trish died last week in a car accident.’ Garcia reported with a wince, ‘Yeah, I just sent the address to your devices.’

‘That’s our stressor. Brodey gets rid of his brother and his parents still don’t give him the attention he wants, and they both die before they can fulfil his desire. His mother dying was his last chance of getting that attention from his biological family,’ Dr Lewis observed.

‘Avery, can you put together a detailed brief and have it issued to all the police counties along Route 14, 121 and 37, along with instructions to create road blocks? Emphasise that this is an amber alert, he has a child hostage.’ Prentiss ordered.

‘I’ll have it done before you can name all those counties,’ He replied.

‘Right, Alvez, Matthews, go to the grandma’s house to see if you can get anything from her. We need to find where Brodey has been living since he got out. JJ, Avery, Simmons, as soon as Bella’s aunt arrives, get back here and bring them with you. The rest of you get organised with locals. We need to stake out every road into this town.’

-----

Rita Phillip’s residence, Aberdeen, SD 8:56 AM

The house was relatively small, old, with blue flaky paint surrounded by a rusted chain-link fence. Grace peered around at the neighbourhood spotting a few nosey neighbours darting behind closed curtains.

‘Mrs Phillips? Are you home?’ Alvez called out, knocking on the door.

‘Mrs Phillips, Rita? We’re with the FBI. We just want to ask some questions!’

There was no answer or movement.

Grace sighed, ‘I’ll go round back-’

‘How about the one of us with the gun goes round the back huh?’ He patted her shoulder. Unintentionally, she cringed away, turning her back to the front door as she watched him jog down the steps of the porch.

‘Oh please, like an 83-year-old is a threat. What is she, a Shaolin monk?’ she rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not defenceless, you know!’ she called after him.

‘Yeah, pass your damn certification and then maybe we’ll believe you!’ He called back smugly and disappeared around the side of the house.

‘You don’t know what I’m capable of, Alvez.’ She muttered to herself and kicked her shoes across the weathered decking.

Grace knew very well what she was capable of. That was why she didn’t carry a gun. She didn’t own one. She didn’t want one. Her standard issue hand gun was unloaded, in a lockbox in her desk draw back at the office, and there it would remain until she needed to fail another certification.

Not carrying a gun hadn’t been a problem with CSI. Back then, she had said she was a Conscientious Objector, and she gave her reason, and it went on her file. That was the end of the matter. It wasn’t a problem until the BAU.

To the Brass, the Advanced Forensic Unit in CASMIRC was the benthic level of the FBI. She didn’t mind that higher ups saw it that way. It meant they often went unsupervised, which was how they did their best work. But the BAU was under a lot more scrutiny. It was higher on the Brass’ radar. And unfortunately, the higher you got in the FBI, the more political it was. Some of the Big Brass didn’t take kindly to ‘Conchies’ in their ranks. She doubted Prentiss cared, but people above her certainly did. Only last November, a counter terrorism squad agent was ‘Indefinitely Suspended’ for not participating in a raid that ordered lethal force without negotiation. Most Conchies had gone quiet about their objections after that.

In the field she found ways around it, carrying a high power probe taser when she knew she was going into a hostile situation. Most times, unsubs couldn’t tell the difference when she pointed it at them. She was more than capable in hand-to-hand, which surprised any unsubs that tried it. But if there was a shootout, she did her best to find cover and count the unsub’s rounds, know when they reloaded, and think of a way out. And she would admit, she was bad at counting and pretty much useless in that situation.

At this stage, she’d never make SSA, but she could live with that. An agent incompetent with firearms was easier to create loopholes and excuses for than a conscientious objector who’s on file reason for objecting was; guns make it too easy to kill people.

The BAU screening process required a recommendation, specialisation, aptitude test, and one of the most thorough psych-evals there was. If that little tid bit had still been in her personnel file and paired with her past when they did her profile; forget not making top candidate. She would have been kicked out of the FBI into a rubber room.

So, before applying, Grace rescinded her Objection to remove it from her file. Then, once she had been accepted onto the team, she threw her first certification. Now all she had to do was keep failing. A bit embarrassing, but it worked. It seemed on brand for poor, clumsy, silly, Grace who can’t tell left from right without looking at her hands making an L shape with her fingers.

‘Five-O! I’ve got a suspicious-looking garden bed here!’ Luke called out.

‘Yesss!’ she fist pumped quietly. Now they had probable cause. And this was her favourite part. She took a step back and turned to the side. ‘FBI! STEP BACK FROM THE DOOR!’ She shouted the instructions to the empty house. She pivoted her hip and let her leg fly, slamming the ball of her foot with precision right above the knob. The doorframe splintered. The door flew open, smacking into the wall. She entered the room with a satisfied grin and then told herself she probably should tone down her excitement as the metallic foul stench hit her.

She followed it to the lounge room. Brown claggy blood was pooled on the rug. She sighed despondently as her eyes tracked blood spatter up the wall and onto the ceiling.

Grace pulled out some gloves from her bag and walked through to the kitchen and the back door, noting the size 11 men’s sneakers by the door. Definitely not Rita’s. ‘I’ve got blood on the rug in here. I think it’s safe to bet it’s Rita’s,’ she opened the door to the backyard and glanced over the garden bed Luke was pacing around. Too right it looked suspicious; there was a literal bloody slipper poking out of it. He didn’t even bury his own grandma properly. Obviously, the familial tie meant nothing to him. How arrogant was this unsub that he didn’t even bury his victims well enough to conceal them?

‘I’ll call in local forensics, but I think Jeremy’s been here since he got out, there’s men’s shoes by the door, and it’s pretty safe to say Rita was killed in the house. There’s pooling on the rug, straight line spatter up the wall and on the ceiling.‘ Grace said.

Alvez gave her a nod as he approached the back door. ‘So she was beaten by a blunt object swinging repeatedly in wide overhead arcs?’

She nodded back, impressed. ‘You’ll put me out of a job yet.’

‘Wouldn’t that be nice?’ He joked and clapped her shoulder as he passed her. She unintentionally jumped at the contact. ‘Right, I’ll go to the basement, you take the attic?’

Grace stiffened. ‘What?’

He turned back to her, ‘Well, if we’re trying to get info from this guy’s childhood, that kind of stuff moms keep packed away. So, if you want to look at the past… you go to the attic or basement.’

‘I meant, why do I get the attic?’ she bristled, suspecting the answer.

He winced. ‘Look, lately you’ve- I didn’t mean- I thought… you know with the dreams you’ve been having after the Robinson case you might prefer searching the-’

She stopped him right there. ‘Oh, that’s right! Sorry, I forgot, I flip out every time I go down a flight of stairs,’ she bit back sarcastically.

It wasn’t basements or stairs that did that. The smell of Irish Spring soap put her back there.

But he didn’t need to know that. She wasn’t weak. She could do this job.

‘Grace…’

‘I am okay, Alvez. Actually, I am more than okay. Nothing happened. We weren’t tortured or made to do awful things to each other. It was basically a holiday. So, I’m fine. It was ages ago. I got over it.’

Alvez gave her a concerned look, and that just made her more agitated.

‘Six months isn’t that long ago. Last week when you had that nightmare, I just want you to know that we-’

‘You take the attic.’ She said sharply as she marched into the kitchen.

The Robinson case shouldn’t have shaken her as much as it did. Everyone in this team had gotten over way worse. So would she, and she had. She’d had it far worse before. The Robinsons case was a cakewalk.

Scared? Afraid? Absolutely not. Ashamed was more accurate. It was an embarrassment that a profiler would fall for a ruse like that, even if they had only been on the job for two months. One thing she knew for certain: It would never happen again. It was embarrassing to have her colleagues think that case was what she had nightmares about. To think that she couldn’t handle the aftermath. She’d show him, she’d show them all; she wasn’t weak.

She ripped open the door that led to the basement stairs and yanked the pull cord. The dim light bulb sputtered on.

Behind her, Alvez called after her, ‘I’m not saying-’

‘Can’t hear you.’ Grace called back childishly and descended the stairs.

Well done, Grace. Beautifully handled. A person who was ‘Fine’ would totally behave like that. She ripped her phone out and called local law enforcement to alert them to the scene. Above her, she heard stairs creak as Alvez made his way up to the attic.

She froze. The wooden groaning of stairs. The same sound she heard three times a day back in that basement. Then she would watch the metal locked door waiting. Would it be a meal, another test, or death?

But it meant nothing now. She was okay now. She’d had it worse. Way worse. Fine. She was fine. She counted her breaths as the operator connected her to the right department.

---------

10:40AM

After over an hour of shining a flashlight through cardboard boxes and scrounging through shelves of old tools and unused appliances, she had nothing noteworthy to add to the case. Rita’s late husband seemed really into model planes. There was also a disused wheelchair and two pairs of crutches that must have belonged to Jeremy. That was all she got.

Local CSI had arrived by now. She watched the hazmat suited bodies swarm around the lounge room from the hallway. She hesitated at the bottom of stairs, not quite ready to face Alvez after her meltdown. It was bound to happen one day.

Guess this was the case for it. It was the perfect storm. Brodey having it out for his siblings, Alvez talking about Spud, Rita buried in her backyard so carelessly, the Robinson case, Nathan Hariss, Honolulu for thanksgiving… Everything was raw. She was trying her best, but today, everything just seemed to put her back there. She massaged her wrist for the second time today as she watched the CSI team roll up the bloody rug.

Blood. Blood was a funny thing, it spread a lot more than the movies depicted. It got everywhere.

‘Maybe for once you'll feel what they felt you bastard,' she snarled in his ear. He thrashed under her uselessly. He sucked in shallow laboured breaths. They didn’t have much time. She could hear the sirens now. Blood gushed over her hands as she dug the razor into his throat. His cold eyes went wide with fear and pain. Good she thought. As her hand reached for a roll of duct tape on the floor next to his head she leaned close to his face. 'Do try to keep still,’ she parroted his words at him.

She shuddered. Better to be in the Robinson’s basement than to be back there.

Searching for anything to pull her out of the memory her eyes drifted along the framed photos that lined the hallway. One caught her eye. She lifted it off the wall and climbed the stairs. ‘Alvez!’

‘Yeah, up here!’ he called from a ladder above her. She climbed up and saw him hunched over a stack of photo albums.

‘Is there a photo album for 2010?’

‘Yeah? I think these are Tricia’s.’ He passed her a scrapbook. She flipped through the pages. ‘It’s weird. I’ve seen heaps of photos of Jeremy, but there’s not as many of Brodey, like less than ten baby pictures. Simmons could fill an entire book for each kid with just one month’s worth of baby photos. Without their side of the story, I can’t tell if they really did favour Jeremy.’

Grace shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Brodey was born pre-affordable-digital camera. Jeremy was born when digital photos were dirt cheap to print. Brodey probably has just as many photos that never got developed. They’re probably in a box somewhere. It’s the same with me. I don’t have a lot of baby photos, but by the time my brother and sister came along, my parents had a digital camera. Trish has scrap-booked merit certificates and school work pre and post 2010. And in the hall, the grandparents have a framed graduation photo of Brodey. Both parents are in the photo, all dressed up for it. I doubt Brodey’s warped perception is actually a reality.’ She stopped on a promising photo and passed the framed one she had to Alvez as she slid the photo from the album out of its plastic sleeve.

‘You have siblings?’ He asked as he studied the photo in his hands.

‘Fraternal twins.’ She answered and read the description on the back of the photo. 'Do you?'

'What?'

'Have siblings?' she asked.

'I have a younger half-sister,' he answered, confirming what she had already deduced. ‘Is this of Andy?’ Alvez asked her, gesturing to the yellowed photo she had handed him of a little boy and his father holding a golf caddy almost as tall as him. He then sighted the same golf caddy in the corner of the attic.

Grace held up a similar photo of an older Andy with an arm around a disinterested teenager and a familiar background.

‘Groton Golf course, Brodey becomes a big brother, July 3rd, 2010,’ Grace read the description out loud. ‘I think the golf course is more significant than we originally thought. It’s not just a secluded place. It’s where he got told his mum was pregnant.’

‘So he kills them there because it’s like he undoes that moment. He can’t go on the road trip with his parents till he kills the surrogates where they first came into existence to him.’ Luke concluded.

She flipped through a few more pages in a later scrapbook. Something else stuck her. Jeremy was in a wheelchair until in the later photographs of him. Then he was on crutches for his 7th birthday.

She stood up suddenly, ‘Basement.’ She said. Alvez got up after her. ‘I saw—I think-I can’t believe I missed it.’ She sped down the stairs and Alvez tried to catchup. ‘I’m an idiot. I knew something was missing. It’s been bugging me since-’

‘Woah Grace, slow down. What?’

‘The crutches!’

‘What crutches?’ ‘Exactly, the hotel manager said the Tyler had crutches, but where are they? Now the police report for Jeremy’s disappearance mentions he went missing and his wheelchair was still at home. But he was walking around on crutches, so he must have had them with him when he went missing.’

‘Okay?’ Luke followed her.

‘If Jeremy went missing with his crutches-’ she rounded the shelving unit and pointed to the two pairs of child sized crutches leaning against the wall, ‘-where did these come from?’

‘Oh God,’ Alvez remarked as he walked up and inspected them, one pair of crutches old and dusty, the others were newer and engraved with the initials T.G. Tyler Giles. ‘These are the sickest trophies I’ve ever seen.’

‘He’s more sadistic than we thought. We got to tell the others. Brodey needs to kill at the golf course before he comes here to dump the trophy and start the road trip he feels he should have been on.’ Luke pulled out his phone and called Prentiss as they thundered up the stairs and rushed out the front door.

‘He’s going to the golf course. It’s part of the ritual.’ Prentiss sucked in a breath, ‘Okay, I’ll try to divert our forces back there…’ Luke and Grace shared a concerned glance at each other.

‘Divert? What happened?’ Alvez asked.

‘I’ve been trying to call but, service has been spotty, and I was just on a call with JJ. Rossi, Tara and I are half way to investigate a hit and run at a checkpoint an hour away. The assailant was in a car with a similar description, had hostages. He tried to run the check point. He ran over an officer, but Local PD apprehended them. He matches Brodey’s description.’ There was a dial tone sound over the speaker. ‘Hang on, Garcia is calling,’ Prentiss told them.

As soon as Garcia joined the call, she blurted a sentence they really didn’t want to hear. ‘Guys, it’s not him. I’m sorry, I was working as fast as I can but the police were taking forever to upload their evidence. It’s not him. But the good news, our check point caught some random sicko who happened to be trafficking a mother and daughter today. So there’s that.’

A dread filled moment of silence passed. Alvez and Grace ripped open their car’s door and jumped in. Alvez fired up the sirens and sped out of the driveway.

‘If it wasn’t him, the checkpoints may have spooked him. He may try a back road.’ Alvez said. She did the maths. Brodey would be in Groton within half an hour or could even be there now. They were closer, they would get there first. Grace reached into the back seat for their kevlar vests.

‘We’ll turn around. I’ll get everyone I can over there.’ Prentiss ordered over the phone.

‘We’re on our way. You’ll meet us there. Hopefully, we’ll get there before him.’ Alvez said.

‘Prentiss, you may also want to get Dr Boland and her team on standby.’ Grace added as she remembered the thought that had occurred to her in the attic.

‘What for?’ Luke and Prentiss asked at the same time.

‘An excavation.’ she said grimly. ‘Alvez, you know that groundsman you talked to who was really into his lawn?’

‘Yeah?’ He frowned at her.

‘Did he mention a patch that was particularly troublesome?’ she asked.

‘He did. He said the Rough around the 7th hole had a mind of its own…’ His face fell as he realised what she was saying.

‘I think I might have an idea where Jeremy disappeared to.’

--------

Next Chapter

Thank you for reading. Also, Sorry to introduce so much stuff about Grace's past but not explaining a lot. I promise it'll makes sense. It may see convoluted but we will see more of these two events (the Robinson case that happened earlier in the year and a big event that happened when she was young) in later chapters. But let me know any theories you have? Also try and Guess what kind of pet Foley is, I'd love to hear what kind of pet you think Grace has. If you love it, or even just like it, please leave a comment and/or like it, it is much appreciated and it really motivates me.

TWs:

Ablesim: this is the big one. Unsub is targeting physically disabled people and uses awful language to describe disabled people. It's never justifiable at all to hate like that. unsub is horrible and delusional. Be warned for ick factor.

kidnapping: The unsub has abducted a whole family in this, but holds a child hostage and the team sas to negotiate out of it. but also Grace has flash back to her own experiences which leads to...

Threats and unwanted erotic attention: in Grace's past the Unsub is really creepy and it is hinted that he has an erotic fixation with Grace. Scene is just icky and uncomfortable but no actual actions of that nature are depicted.

Hinted Dog death: It is implied that the Unsub from Grace's past killed her dog in front of her.

Child death: sadly the victims are kids. also hinted that the unsub has done this before to his own sibling

murder: non graphic, but there is another body found, it's an elderly lady.

Violence and gore: Grace remembers fighting back against the unsub, it is uncertain whether she killed him in the process. but there is blood.

conscientious objection to bear firearms: Grace does not carry a gun, she is a conscientious objector for personal reasons that relates to her past. Conscientious objectors, are people who are in militant or law enforcement roles that refuse to kill or carry weapons for religious, or personal beliefs. This most often means they don't carry guns or are in non-combatant roles. But although she has the right to object, doesn't mean everyone respects that. The case I mention about the agent who was suspended from the FBI, is based on real events. I encourage people to research the history around Conscientious objectors, is very interesting, because it use to be a offence you could be court martialled over.

[oncewaspure]

I had a very good grounding talk with my sister and I told sailor boy we need to slow down.

I know I do really like him, I wanted him then in a more impulsive way but 14/15yrs on I want him in a more long lasting way.

He's everything I wanted my partner to be at least from what I've been able to gather in our conversations and I really can see myself in the picture he's painting but I am also me..

I am scared to hurt someone again because I don't know how to be loved healthily, I'm scared I won't live up to the pedestal he seems to have put me on even though in every message I send back I try to warn him it will be so, so difficult and that I will push and be confusing. I don't want to sell him a fantasy. I'm also so scared that there's more than just BPD and childhood (& adult?) trauma but another personality disorder added to the mix and if that the case then I have no idea how I'd take that? Or how that would impact a partner? I just really don't want to hurt anyone and I don't want to hurt myself.

I want to try though I really do. What other man is going to not only spend 5hrs listening to a playlist of my brain but write notes back that were written like perfect and showed he understood what I way trying to say. That romantic as fuck but I don't think I deserve it.

It's very hard because everyone was playing into the Disney fantasy with me which only filled the high intense feelings but also pressure.

My sister without dismissing my mental illness reminded me that all of what I'm feeling is apparently also very normal? Idk but it did make me feel better and less like I was going crazy. I do think I triggered myself into a panic attack though that she and techniques Anna gave me and after it all I do feel so much more calm and settled.

I am so lucky to have my sister I wouldn't even be writing this if it wasn't for her grounding me through all the years I just hope I really am there for her too. She says I am but I always feel like I'm the one taking from everyone and not giving enough back because I am so much?

Idk I never do :)))

[rachdam]

hot take but main tags are for everyone whether u like the content or not. look im really sorry that you saw content that triggered you, thats awful. in this case though u can send a polite ask or comment directly under the post asking the person to add tags such as #tw sa and #tw grooming and then block said tags. if the person refuses (which is an asshole move lol not everyone wants to see this kind of content thats facts,) u can directly block the person and thus never see their content again. but yea agree that not adding tw tags sucks

To be honest I'll say you're right and you should be able to use the main tags. That was more a silly, upset statement on my part because of how I was feeling at the time rather than thinking of it logically.

As for trying to talk or ask for tags/warnings, unfortunately not everyone wants to do that. And I've blocked literal hundreds of people to try and avoid seeing those sorts of posts. I actually blocked that person and all of their hundreds of followers just so I can try and avoid that community on twt.

It's just frustrating to see people time and time and time again not tag their stuff. I have every variation of proship/dead dove/etc. blocked that I could find. I know I said it in a post before this, but I have gone many months without seeing anything proship. All it takes is a few people not tagging their stuff properly to mess that up. I feel it's especially bad on twt because of the word count limit where ppl don't wanna add that extra "hey this is proship! Don't read!" bc it'll take up space. At least most ppl on Tumblr will add something like that, which I certainly respect more.

Idk I just wish people would be more considerate I guess. I think this turned more into a ramble so forgive me for that but yeah.

[spacesheeeeeep]

I ended up making a long ahh list because knowing so many and not talking about them made me too crazy...

There's a lot of mediocre or straight up bad things in there, also I recommend looking up trigger warnings since there can be fucked up things in some

Films

Incest Subtext/Text

The Piano Teacher (2001)

Black Swan (2010)

Marnie (1964)  -> faint, it's more complex than that. But it’s there because I say so

Secret Ceremony (1968)

Maps to the Stars (2014)

The Story of Piera (1983)

Baby Love (1969)

HorseHead (2014)

Blanche comme neige (2019) -> if you are insane enough to watch that. It's incredibly bad, but at least Isabelle Huppert is hot I guess

Valerie and her week of wonders (1970) -> 50 shades of incest tbh. more of an afterthought when it comes to the mother.

L'été meurtrier (1983) -> Like Marnie, it's much more complicated. But there is adult breatfeading so do what you want with that info ig

Some others, Focus on Mother-Daughter relationships but not incest.

‘Night Mother, (1986)

L’Amour Caché (2007)

Autumn Sonata (1978)

Volver (2006)

Jane Par Charlotte (2021)

Docteur Françoise Gailland (1976) -> not that interesting on that front, it's just because the casting choice will make you insane if you’ve seen la Pianiste.

Carrie (1976) -> not sole focus and there is a scene with sexual undertones towards the end but it serves another purpose

Longlegs (2024)

Violette Nozière (1978)

Projection/mother issues reflecting on the relationship 

Greta (2018)

Carol (2015)

Mädchen in Uniform (1931 & 1958)

Le Rempart des Béguines (1972)

The Birds (1963)

Series

Incest subtext/Text

Sharp Objects (2018)

Kill La Kill (2013)

Yellowjackets (2021-present) -> lowkey. there's so many other things that are wrong with the characters though

Books

Incest subtext/text

Jawbone (2018)

The Piano Teacher (1983)

Sharp Objects (2006)

Mildred Pierce (1941)

1x1/2 (2015, manga) -> I remember nothing and it might be VERY bad. I was a little too young to read that and blocked out everything I think

The Mother Issues with projections, same as their film counterparts

Le Rempart des Béguines (1951)

Carol (1952)

My lesbian experience with loneliness (2016, manga)

Other

The Haunting of Hill House (1959)

Villa Amalia (2006)

Bonus. It’s there if you’re mentally ill enough to see it

Suspiria (2018) -> very easy to interpret as such honestly

The Substance (2024)

Severance (2022-present)

I haven’t watched these yet but contains elements that could be adjacent to this list so you might wanna look them up (no clear classification like the others since I’m not sure of the relationships, but I tried to put them in order of most likely to least likely to feature incest in case you'd want to look that up or avoid it)

Singapore Sling (1990)

Ruby (1978)

My Daughter Hildegart (1977)

The corruption of Chris Miller (1973)

Die Die My Darling (1965)

Stoker (2013) -> there IS incest in that one though

Dormant Beauty (2012) -> after watching it, it's a very small part of the film

Grey Gardens (1975)

You could also look up Annemarie Schwarzenbach, idk if she ever wrote directly about her mother though, same with Eva Ionesco, who for her part did make a film about her relationship with her mother (My Little Princess) but I haven't seen it yet.

(colored texts are things I added after the post was posted for the first time)

I saw your posts about the mother/daughter relationship in Black Swan and wondered if you knew other films with this kind of dynamic ?

so if you think of the dynamic alone, The Piano Teacher is kinda Black Swan if it was truly a good film and the relationship even crazier.

[natgoodmans]

Thank you for the tips! Some of that is helpful. I'm gonna try to read for a while today. I totally understand trying to work it in my routine and that's something I can work on more. It worked for me before so hopefully can work again. Ya I do have different books in different categories so then I have to choose between them..like if I decide okay I'll read some YA today and I have a few options,or romance..which are my main genres..but sometimes I will start something different if I can't really decide.But I wonder if it's better to just stick to a few books at a time which I try to do but idk. That's interesting to me that you haven't read an author's books at the same time lol. Now I wonder if that's a bad thing but I think it helps me more cuz I can try to be at the same chapter in both books which would motivate me to read more..like if I had to catch up compared to the other book. I did this with Beach Read and Book Lovers and yes I know they're very similar lol. I think I also did it with Every Summer After and Love and Other Words which were also very similar and somehow I actually finished both. It helps to compare them around the same time for me idk and that way I'll know which one I am liking more I guess and if I pair two books then it seems I am more likely to finish them. Like I read a lot of Beach Read at one time..then the next day I read the same amount of Book Lovers. Now it's summer and I am going to also try to do this with Happy Place and Meet Me at the Lake..which seems similar enough..and I wanna finish by the end of summer which kinda gives a time limit I guess. Or is it better to just stick with Beach Read and Book Lovers for now..before adding more books? But I might like those more and be more motivated to finish since I already kinda took a break from the other two? I feel like this might be part of the problem though haha. I really don't know what would work best but at least if I start two books around the same time..I'm less likely to forget about it maybe and actually finish it. I know this kinda goes against your advice though but I still appreciate it! Also..I own that same copy of Les Mis as well..haha! I haven't actually read it yet but I am hoping to see the musical which is on tour later this week!!!

good morning friend!! 🤍 i hope you have a lovely time reading and that you enjoy what you're reading! i don't think that's a bad thing; just that i know personally that wouldn't work for me — it sounds like that's something that's worked for you in the past, which is great! that's what we want! i really liked meet me at the lake, and i definitely see the connection with happy place — that sounds like a great pairing to read together 🤍 the thing with reading is that it's all about what works for you, and what you're enjoying! if you're more interested in happy place + meet me at the lake for now, i think you should read those and put beach read + book lovers aside for a bit, even if it means it takes you longer to read 🤍 i really loved all of those books (beach read + book lovers especially, but i did really enjoy meet me at the lake and happy place) and would love to hear your thoughts as you get further into the books! i'm not sure if you already have the trigger warnings for meet me at the lake or happy place, but i'm placing them under the cut for you just in case. and eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee i hope you have the best time seeing the les mis tour, i saw them last month in seattle! i'd love to hear your thoughts if you do get to see them xx

meet me at the lake: death of a parent, grief, estranged parents, anxiety, insomnia, post-partum depression, OCD, car accident (fatal)

happy place: death of a parent, grief, guilt, infidelity

[kyun-toast]

[ATEEZ] Mafia!San - Will You Join Me?

word count: 2.9k warnings: explicit language, gun use, violence, description of death (not explicit), sexually suggestive, gets a lil steamy summary: cupid has a bullet with your name on it a/n: Y/N a little dramatic and San annoying af. I wrote this in a two hour flash at 2am, so this might be deleted after I reread it tomorrow because I’m pretty sure a lot of this is just me chatting shit.

1. Yoon, David – 12:45 Note to self: likes donuts. probs dunkin’, maybe krispy? idk just look for a man w a paper bag.

“I’ll have to warn you though, the lift is under maintenance, so you’ll have to take the stairs.” The receptionist smiled at you sympathetically. “I can get someone to help you with your suitcase if you’d like?”

“Oh no, it’s ok, I’ll just find another place to stay. I have weak knees anyway.” You forced a laugh and hoped the lady didn’t notice the dead look in your eyes.

“I’m sorry about that, love.”

Turning away with your suitcase in tow, you headed towards the building opposite the hotel and hoped that the rooftop would be easy enough to access.

It was quite irresponsible of you not to have a backup plan. It seemed that being named the sharpest shooter in the underground world had gotten to your head a little, but you argued that a bit of spontaneity never hurt anybody. Though your target would beg to differ.

Being a public building of offices, it was all too easy for you to reach the roof of the building. You found that walking with your held head high and gaze set straight ahead would never get you questioned. Who would ever stop someone with a walk so confident?

Thankfully, the rooftop hadn’t been turned into some garden space: an air-conditioning fan over here, a water tank over there. You checked your wristwatch reading 12:40 and muttered under your breath. The damn hotel lift had taken precious minutes of your time and compromised your view.

You opened your suitcase to set up your sniper, giving your little black cat charm on the side of your gun a squish. Cute.

Sitting on the case with your stock snug against your shoulder, you peered into the scope to get a closer view of the revolving doors to the bank. Oh great, there’s a lamppost in the way.

Mr. Yoon was apparently quite the punctual man, always seen stepping into the bank doors after his lunch break at exactly quarter to one and therefore, your window of opportunity was thin.

“I want it done today or you’re getting sniped yourself, Y/N.” You heard the voice of your boss yap in your head again. Blah blah blah, same old threat. You argued that procrastinating the man’s death was actually something very considerate of you to do.

You heard a familiar clatter of metal hit the floor and you turned your scope to the rooftop opposite to see a man in overalls with his toolbox open on the floor.

“Lift maintenance guy?” You muttered to yourself and wondered if the mechanics of elevators ran all the way through to the rooftop. You made sure that you wouldn’t be in his line of vision and swivelled back to your original position, cursing the man under your breath for ruining your first choice of setup.

12:44

“Come on, Yoon. Lunch time’s almost over.” Your finger lay restless on the trigger, itching to get a glimpse of the bank teller.

20 seconds.

“Krispy or Dunkin’ what will it be today, entertain me.”

10 seconds.

You saw the man turn the corner and waited for him to get a little closer for you to shoot.

5 seconds.

“That’s it, just past the lamppost and you won’t even know what hit y- what the FU-?” You shouted and quickly clasped a hand to your mouth. Mr. Yoon hadn’t even made it past the post, and he was already laying on the pavement in a growing pool of blood.

Calculating the angle in which he was laying, you spun your vision around to the hotel rooftop and saw the maintenance man begin to pack up a sniper back into his toolbox. Taking off his cap, you noticed a flash of white in his jet-black hair and just like he knew you were watching, he turned with a smug grin on his face and shot you some finger guns.

“Oh, you little fucker.” You spat, and watched the man jump down into a hatch to disappear.

You slumped dramatically onto the floor and splayed your limbs to stare blankly at the sky. Never in your life had you ever missed a shot, let alone have it stolen by someone else, and your boss had your phone ringing to rub it in your face.

“That wasn’t you, was it?”

“Listen, what if? You know, what if that was my thirteenth reason? I just couldn’t take it anymore and that was it. No more Y/N. You wouldn’t even come to my funeral, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t because you’d be too broke to have one. You realise you’re not getting paid for this?”

“Why? He’s still dead?” You sat up in disbelief.

“Well, it turns out someone else wanted him gone too. I can’t lie to our client and say that we did it.”

“You’re oddly moral for someone that runs a hotline for hitmen.”

“I’ll call you if I find you another job.”

“Justice for freelance contract killers.” You muttered weakly as he ended the call. The faint sound of police sirens filled the air as you let out a heavy sigh and lay back on the concrete.

You pictured the man and wondered who it was that would even think to render the notorious Y/N L/N jobless. Though you did have to admit that it was a clean shot.

“Skunk-hair looking ass.”

2. Kim, Seungho – 18:00 Note to self: babysitting. easy target but kid knows NOTHING.

You were stationed by a corner window in an unfinished apartment building with a trainee by your side, setting up his kit.

Stood by the trainee, you scanned to see if everything was in the right place, checking the kid’s posture too. You had been sent by your boss to reluctantly train a young recruit and you joked if you had been demoted following your last predicament. You were never in it for the money though, you lived for the adrenaline.

The boy had potential and you saw it, he just needed to make cleaner shots because three bullets somewhat near the target’s vital organs wasn’t going to cut it.

“What’s your name again?”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.” The recruit replied, his eyes never leaving yours, in absolute awe.

“Eyes on the scope.”

“I’m sorry, nobody told me I’d be getting trained by you. The Seoul Shooter? Like wow.”

“Ew, is that what they’re calling me?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s a pretty cool name, they used to call me ‘Jitman’ in my hometown, not very creati-”

You shushed the boy and tapped his shoulder as you pointed to a small figure in the distance.

“You see him through the scope? Now keep your hand steady, never feel as if you’re being rushed. Death works to your schedule.”

“Got it.” Jisung said, following the man with his gun.

“Ok, on 3… 2… 1…”

You heard the bullet cut through the evening air and hit the target neatly through his office window.

“Bro? That was so clean? That has to be one of the sexiest shots I’ve seen in a while-” You began.

“Uhh, that wasn’t me, Y/N.”

Before you could even process what had happened, you heard the rustle of footsteps patter down the stairs behind you. Taking out your handgun, you moved towards the open door to find the same man you had seen on the hotel rooftop stop in his tracks on the landing. Clad in a fitted black sweater and jeans this time, he looked a whole lot more attractive close up.

“You again?” You exclaimed; gun still pointed at the man as he dropped his duffel bag to raise his hands.

His eyes widened, not in shock, but more with an excited glint in his eyes.

“Oh my, it’s Y/N, the Seoul Shooter.” A coy smile painted his lips as he shook his white fringe out of his eyes.

“See, everyone calls you that.” Jisung interjected from behind.

“Shut up, Han.”

“Word around town is that you’ve been unemployed for some time now,” nodding towards Han, he added, “and it looks like the rumours are true.”

“I’ve actually decided to take a break you know? Let the other kids have a chance at making a name for themselves. Bit of charity work.”

“Y/N kinda got demoted because you keep taking their shots.” Han interrupted again.

“Hey, who told you that?!” You narrowed your eyes at the boy. Han Jisung was a smart ass and you vowed then and there that you wouldn’t take on any more training sessions.

You whipped your head back around to the man eyeing your body up and down.

“My eyes are up here, sir. Unless you really wanna get shot.” You spat.

“Well, I’d die a happy man if you were the last thing I’d see.” He smirked in retaliation and studied your eyes carefully. “Well, my job here is done, I better be on my way. Got a big cheque waiting for me.” He grinned as he reached to grab his bag and carry his way on down the stairs with footsteps too light-hearted for your liking.

“Why didn’t you shoot him?” Jisung asked as you watched the man disappear into the evening.

“I don’t think killing a man for taking my shots is justified.”

“What, and sniping Mr. Kim Seungho just before he gets to feel the bliss of clocking out is?” He laughed. “Do you know what I think, Y/N?”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’m not going to say anything.”

Han Jisung tormented you the whole drive back to the quarters.

“Y/N and Skunk Man sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes lo-”

Smack.

“Ouch, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was just kidding.” He laughed as an idea struck him, “K-I-D-D-I-N-”

Smack.

3. Park, Kiha - 10:32 Note to self: bad man. bad, bad man. but big, big cheque.

Having had your last two shots stolen, mystery Skunk Man was beginning to get on your nerves. You were seething to the point that you demanded your boss give you another job, itching to defend your title of being the finest shooter in Seoul.

Laying on the floor of a rooftop hangar, the man had the gall to pop up out of the hatch to set up his station right next to you, as if you were both on some picnic.

"Nice seeing you here today, Y/N." He said, sitting cross legged to mount a scope to the top of his sniper.

Not even bothering to take your eyes off the target, you muttered, "I got here first, you better back off." voice laced with venom.

"Well I've been promised a cheque too, we're all just trying to get fed around here."

Ignoring him, you glanced down at your watch that read 10:31. Any time now, Park Kiha would be walking through the glass bridge to get to his meeting in the twin building.

Steadying your finger against the trigger, you held your breath and counted down from three, two, o-

"I like your cat charm by the way."

You pulled the trigger only for it to stray a little to the right, still hitting your target, just a little less central than you would have accepted.

You shot up from your position to face the man laying on his side, head propped up against his hand to look at you.

"Do you have something against me? Do I even know you?" You exclaimed, carding your gloved hand through your hair.

"No uhh, but I saw your face on a bounty poster once and thought you were cute." He said, attitude too blasé. "That was a nice shot though, I was going to wait a few more seconds."

"So you saw my picture, and started following me around to antagonise me?"

"Nah, I just happened to be super lucky to have been put on the same cases as you. Big bad men have a lot of people after them I guess?"

Throwing your equipment back into your bag, you watched the man proceed to roll over onto his back with his arms behind his head to look up at the sky.

The mid-morning sun cast a golden glow over his skin and though you spent most of your life working with guns, his uniform and kit next to him looked a little different, almost attractive. They suited him a little too much and you thought that if a sleek sniper were to be personified, it would look exactly like this leather clad man.

"I should ask for your number, the way you're looking at me right now, Y/N."

"Good luck, you won't get it." You turned to step down the hatch as he propped himself up again to watch you leave.

Choi, San – 15:25 Note to self: he’s kinda hot tho :/

So, we had finally put a name to the face. As your boss handed you a folder, you were slightly taken aback at the small ID picture pinned to the top of the file.

“You might be a little happy about this one.” He said, taking a sip of coffee. “He’s been recently recruited by ATEEZ as their sniper. Quite a deadly one too. He was scouted shooting pheasants down in the Namhae countryside apparently.”

“Hmm, how much?” You questioned.

“A million dollars.”

“Excuse me? A mill-?” You choked on the air and composed yourself just as quick to nonchalantly lean against the filing cabinet and look out the window, “I don’t know, he didn’t look a million dollars-worth to me.”

“He hasn’t been in the game long, but man has he taken down some big names.”

Though you didn’t necessarily feel too attached to Choi San, you did think that you were going to miss him a little. It was nice having a friend on your level to spar with.

Who were you kidding? You thought he was hot and that it would be a shame to have to shoot him.

But on second thought, you had been itching for the adrenaline in the trigger again, and the million dollars looked a lot sexier to you than some man.

“I’ll take it.”

-

San was all too easy to find. He seemed to enjoy hiding in plain sight since no common person would recognize him in the bustling streets of Gangnam. Nestled in the corner of another rooftop, you zoned in on the recognizable black and white hair sat outside on the terrace of a café.

Once you were ready, you repositioned your finger on the trigger and focused the cross hairs on the familiar head. You were steady until San lifted his head and stared right back at you through the scope, sending you a wink.

“Shit.” You muttered, his actions throwing you off and when you repositioned your aim, he had slipped into the crowd, now lost.

“No, no, no, no, no, Choi San, ugh.” Seeing that he knew what you were up to, you got up to pace around the rooftop. Your mind worked nonstop to find an alternate solution but all you could conclude was to go home, stay low and pick another day to continue.

This man had thrown you into the worst slump of your life, but you were somewhat enjoying the chase and you hated to admit it.

The abrupt sound of a closing of a door behind you had everything clicking into place.

“You pretty motherfucker, had this planned, didn’t you?” You laughed.

Upon hearing the cocking of a gun, you turned to pull out the throwing knife strapped to your thigh and pulled his body in by his collar to reach his throat. And it just turned out that San had the same idea in pushing his handgun up underneath your chin at the same time, faces a little too close.

“I like your beret.” San said candidly, jerking his brow up at the hat on your head.

“Me, too. It’s Marine Serre.”

“Nice choice.”

“I’m going to count down from three and we’re going to drop our weapons, ok? And talk this out like adults because I for one, didn’t wanna kill you.” You bargained.

“Sure.”

“Three, two, one!” The both of you pulled away for a split second in bluff only to reposition your weapons against each other’s throats again.

“I knew it.” San smirked.

“No, for real this time. I mean it.”

“Go ahead, baby.” He smiled as his gaze dropped to your lips.

“Three, two, o-”

San cut you off by leaning into your lips, placing onto them a kiss so intense, almost mirroring the violent nature of the situation. However, what surprised you more was that you let yourself melt back into him. He let his gun clatter to the floor to walk you backwards into the wall behind, hoisting your leg up around his waist.

You broke away from the kiss for air when he smiled, “I mean, it is kinda hot, but I would appreciate it if you could stop holding that knife against my throat right now, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine.” You muttered as San leaned back in to kiss you whilst roaming his hand around your thigh, ridding you of the rest of your knives and smirking against your lips in satisfaction.

Feeling his bulge grind between your legs, you both only grew more fervent for each other as you kissed.

“Wait, I wanna take you on a date first.” He pulled away to look you in the eye.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Mhmm, to Bar 1117.” He hummed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“Isn’t that your company’s place…?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna love you.” He whispered, peppering small kisses down your throat.

“Are you trying to recruit me or fuck me, San?”

"I mean, you can kill me now and leave for that million dollars or you can come with me for a new job and that million dollar dick."

"You're unbelievable."

“I heard you were doing freelance anyway, baby.” He looked into your eyes again, a mischievous glow blooming across his face, “So, will you join me?”

-

disclaimer: San’s pie chart hair is one of my all time faves but I also can’t stop thinking that it looks a little skunk-like. In the cutest way. a/n: I've edited this a lot since I posted it and I think I'm gonna keep it

-

Mafia AU Masterlist

[thelibraryoferebor]

10 AU Fics For Readers Who Want To Escape Just A Little Bit More Than Usual

For a fic to qualify for this list they have to take place entirely out of the canon Tolkien universe, meaning no fix it fics or change in canon fics. Tbh, most of these are modern aus… now, on with the fics.

The Ghost and Mr Baggins by perkynurples

|| teen - 76.7k - completed ||

They say that everything can be cured by saltwater - sweat, tears or the sea. Bilbo Baggins chooses the last option, taking his recently orphaned nephew and moving to the charming Oak Cottage, overlooking England’s grislier shores. The house charms him instantly, and though he knows nothing at all about the sea, or about making ends meet on his own so far from everything he’s known his whole life for that matter, he’s quite determined to stay, and see his nephew get better, odd sounds in the night be damned. He’s living in a modern world, after all, and the nonsense he’s been hearing about the house being haunted by its former owner, the mysterious Captain Durin, is just silly superstition… isn’t it?

Notes: This story tho... it doesn't delve particularly deep into romance, but the connection between Bilbo and Thorin is still wonderful. I love all the twists and turns and that it's set in the early 1900s gives it extra feels. I'm hoping and praying for a sequel everyday, like ugh... even though I know that the story isn't really built to have a sequel. Maybe like a prequel or something??? Idk, I just want more in this universe. Ghost!Thorin au. Definitely didn't cry at the ending...

The One With the Writers by Resacon1990

|| teen - 11k - completed ||

Bilbo is a fantasy and sci-fi author who likes a certain kind of genre of ghost stories, Thorin is a horror and suspense author who likes fantasy. Both use pseudonyms. Both go with their writer friends, Ori (also sci-fi and action) and Dwalin (surprisingly, romance). So when they meet each other, they don't realize it's their favorite author. Whether they like each other right away or not is up to the filler.

Gandalf is everyone's agent/editor.

Notes: Why is this so good. Like it's got classic tropes and stuff, but everywhere you look it's got something that'll definetly make you laugh. Just read it, you won't regret it. Writer au

The Tale of Two Canines by BrightStarling

|| not rated - 16.4k - completed ||

Thorin was smitten with Bilbo-- that Dwalin most definitely could tell.

But he didn't realize his own trouble until the Corgi's owner showed up with a shy smile.

Oh no, this is not going to be good at all.

Notes: Crack alert! While this story is complete crack it's also like lovely and well written and is very good for helping a depresso espresso bitch feel happy for half a sec. You're the depresso espresso bitch, so go feel happy. Do it for those of us (me) who've already read it a hundred times and are struggling to get any more serotonin out of it. Dwori and thilbo. Dog au???

You Want A What!? by airbellah

|| general - 2.7k - completed ||

When the stranger repeated the offensive word for the umpteenth time, with an added innuendo, Bilbo had had enough. Punching the man in the face may not have been the best solution, but Bilbo would later insist it was not his fault.

Or, a language barrier culminates in Bilbo thinking Thorin is making homophobic slurs, and Bilbo ends up assaulting the innocent foreigner.

Notes: Obviously trigger warning for the f-slur being used often. It's always in a nonoffensive way, but just in case. Personally I think this fic is hilarious and wonderful and it's just *chef's kiss* so well written. Thilbo pre-slash. Modern au!

Learning To Dance Again by LittleLynn

|| explicit - 11k - completed ||

The Greenwood Academy of Dance was run by the elusive Thranduil Oropherion.

Bard learnt quite a lot about the mysterious Thranduil Oropherion from the gossiping mothers with children at the school.

And the most interesting thing he learnt was that no one actually knew much of anything about him.

Thranduil, a legendary dancer, had opened up the Greenwood Academy of Dance, and people had flocked to it. He used to hold lessons personally, running master classes and beginners classes alike. But five years ago there had been a fire at the academy – a bad one, Bard remembered hearing about it. By some miracle there had been no fatalities and the school had been quickly rebuilt.

But no one had seen so much as a glimpse of Thranduil since.

Notes: This fic hurts so good. Like Sigrid and Legolas, just ugh, it's so good. I don't have a whole lot more to say, just go fucking read it and love it. Barduil. Modern au!

Winter Wish by Jezunya

|| general - 1.4k - completed ||

Frodo climbs up onto the stepstool, Bilbo’s hand on his back to steady him, and grasps the edge of the table in his little hands, carefully following the two DJs’ instructions of not too close and speak slowly and clearly and you’re doing great, kid, and then, when they nod and tell him to start, he says, right into the microphone:

“My Winter Wish is for my uncle to get a boyfriend.”

Notes: Lmaooooo, this fic is fucking hilarious. Just go read it. It's really short, but so much fun. I swear you won't regret it. Pre-slash Thilbo featuring helpful Kili, Fili, and Frodo. Modern au!

Un Unexpected Date by airbellah

|| general - 2.4k - completed ||

“Bad date?”

With a sardonic snort, Thorin snatched up the glass and took a few more gulps, smiling thankfully as Bilbo refilled it right away.

“Never agree to a blind date,” he advised.

Bilbo grimaced. “I don’t know what I would do, if it ever came to that.”

“I only wish I knew how to get out of this date sooner,” Thorin bemoaned.

“Family emergency?” Bilbo offered. “I’ve seen plenty of those.”

Nagged by his family members for too long, Thorin agrees to a blind date. Unsurprisingly, it goes terribly. But it seems not all hope is lost - in fact, the waiter catches Thorin's eye.

Notes: Featuring Thranduil... bet you can guess what role he plays. Pre-slash thilbo but it's still wonderful and ugh I need a sequel. Come one man! Can't just leave us hanging like that. Modern au!

Breaking Gundabad by The Feels Whale (miscellaneous)

|| teen - 3.3k - completed ||

Thorin is basically Batman.

Bilbo is basically done with this.

Notes: Why is this fic good. But it is and you must read it, that's why it's on this list. Superhero au. Wonderful thilbo. And I adore it. So be gone and read the fic... not just yet tho, I've got a couple more to throw at you. Sort of also a modern au... but really just a superhero au.

With Compliments by manic_intent

|| explicit - 4k - completed ||

“Would you stop staring,” Bilbo hissed, for the fifth time since service had started. “He’s not about to grow horns.”

Bofur looked guiltily away from the door, and scuttled back over to the tail end of appetiser prep. “Just checkin’ if he liked the amuse-bouche.”

“Well,” Bilbo scowled, “We have an entire restaurant to feed, not just Mister Durin, and Lobelia’s in a fine mood tonight, so if I don’t keep you at prep, she’ll light your tail with the blowtorch, I don’t wonder.”

Notes: Lmao, Thorin in this fic tho. He plays the role of haughty food critic way too well. And I hate Lobelia's guts just the right amount in this fic. Wonderfully written thilbo, modern au. Just go read it, I promise you have nothing better to do.

What We Once Had by Chamelaucium

|| not rated - 23.1k - completed ||

Thorin and Bilbo have been divorced for thirteen years, separated for fifteen and they can hardly have a civil conversation with each other without dissolving into an argument. But they manage.

Now their son Frodo is getting married, which would be fine if not for the fact that Thorin's sick father believes they've been happily married these last fifteen years, and now they have to get through these two weeks of celebrations without letting on that they're in fact divorced and living at opposite ends of the country.

But they'll get through it, eventually. Though how many tears and broken hearts and arguments there'll in the meantime, Mahal only knows.

And maybe, just maybe, they'll be closer at the end of it.

Notes: This fic is a classic. If you've been reading thilbo for a while I'd be surprised if you haven't already read this one, but in case you haven't you should be aware that this is probably my favorite modern au. It features Sam/Frodo and is just perfect in all the ways. I adore it so much and think it's more deserving of love and adoration then I am. Just read it.

If you want more au fics than this I’d recommend scrolling through the library’s page since most of the lists have Aus on them. There won’t be any repeats… I think. Sorry this list took so long to get out, life has been rushed. I'd really like to start getting helping you guys find fics, create lists that you guys want to see, and overall interact with you guys more. Let me know what you're interested in!

~H

[tittyblade]

tumblr user pixelrolan

^^ @pixelrolan’s now a pixel art side blog!

hello old man. if you ever end up at my blog know that you’re the only mf i respect and you should block the dilfza tag so both you AND us can stay sane

banners by @/hexxithomo & @/wikwalker

edit: alright i give up. i’m making this an intro post and blaming you all for it

-> i’m rolan! 18, n use they/them pronouns

-> i play skyblock! my IGN is rolanonthefloor if you’d want to be friends :]

-> you can follow/interact with me regardless of your age, but as a side note, if you’re really young you shouldn’t be on here. online spaces are more dangerous than you think, so if you want to stay be discreet about it and never give out your age!

-> that being said, i use caps, swear, and make/rb light nsfw jokes. i don’t tag caps and profanity, but i do tag the slight nsfw posts as “suggestive”, though obviously i won’t add that to harmless dick jokes/etc lol. you can stay if you’re fine with those, you can block that tag if that makes you uncomfortable (i might miss some posts) and you’re free to not follow me at all if you’d rather not! i’m not a nsfw blog, but saying it just in case.

-> i tag trigger warnings as “tw ___” or “tw ___ mention” and tag the mainstream ones, if you’d like a certain tw to be tagged you can shoot me a dm or send an ask for it! additional tags that don’t go by this rule are “discourse”, “negativity” and “___ critical”. not a drama blog, but i DO talk about it if something important happens.

-> i follow almost everyone’s story on dsmp so you will see posts/liveblogs about them all! anyone’s welcome here, as long as you’re being respectful! (i promise it’s not the end of the world, we can coexist lmao) i like good writing more than i do characters. (that being said if you’re an emerald duo main i’ll kiss you on the lips /p)

-> i also follow hermitcraft and since this is my blog (and dsmp isnt my only interest), you will see content about other stuff too lol. both including and excluding minecraft content

-> anons! i love it when people send asks <3 feel free to talk to me about anything and become a regular! these are all the signed anons i’ve got, you can claim a new name/emoji for yourself and chat away:

cool anon (finally solved their arg), illusion anon, joke anon (RIP), many large bees (??? yeah idk either), $ anon (L), nony anon, clang anon, heaven anon, 🐈‍⬛ anon, 🍡 anon

-> i run art rbs on queue almost 24/7 so that might seem like i’m always online lol

-> i don’t mind spam likes/rbs, go wild

-> honorable mention posts: tumblr etiquette if you’re new here, tubbo’s execution and techno’s misunderstanding, and the l’manburg meme i never added an essay to lol

-> i will add my tagging system here eventually but until then the search bar is pretty straight forward!

-> also, if we’re mutuals on some other platform please tell me 👍 i have shit memory and will straight up Not Know that it’s you

blinkie from @/splashtext

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

With Sweet Understanding (Handsome Jack x Female!Reader) pt. 10

The post-orgasm bliss comes to an abrupt end when reader receives some infuriating news.

Trigger warnings: gaslighting, workplace sex discrimination, misogynistic language, idk how else to say it her boss is a sexist piece of shit. Reader gets a little violent. 

You kept yourself inside him for a little longer, neither of you wanting to be the first to come down, let alone move. Unfortunately after a good minute or two, it seemed you would have to be the first to try to function. Slowly, you pulled yourself out of him, a satisfying “pop” resounding in the air that you couldn’t help but giggle at. 

You shimmied out of the harness and tossed the whole toy to the side, resigning to clean it later. You needed to tend to the shaking, panting mass that had made itself comfortable in your bed. You grabbed a handful of sheets and pulled them over his naked body, hoping to quell his shivering. Before he could look back, you placed a soft, indulgent kiss on his cheek. He touched the spot with his fingertips and an affectionate smile graced his lips.

You took his jaw in your hand and repeated the action with his lips. Soft, tender, and genuine. And by the way he relaxed so easily into the kiss, you could tell it was mutual.

“You did so, so well for me, Jack.” You whispered, returning his smile. “I’m so proud of you!” 

He giggled in response, giving a shaky thumbs up. “I told y-you I could do it, commander!”

"You're promoted to sergeant," you started to gently comb your fingers through his hair. “Sergeant of the A.S.S.”

He saluted with a shaky hand. "I shall wear my bars with pride, Commander [L/N]. I live to serve the ass." 

You giggled, giving him another smooch on the cheek. You sat up and he tried to follow suit, but you gently guided him back down. 

"Relax, sweetpea." You instructed, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders. "Do you need anything?" 

Jack's face lit up at the prospect of being waited on. "A double scotch, neat and a cigarette would be nice." 

You playfully rolled your eyes, looking back at him from the kitchen. "Let's start with water and kisses."

He shrugged resignedly. "That sounds even better." 

You returned with a water bottle and climbed back into bed. "Drink." 

He accepted the water, but not without laughing. "I'm not dying, cupcake."

"You just ejaculated an entire generation on my sheets." You cocked your head. "Drink the water."

Taking a long slug from the water bottle shut him up for a solid few seconds, giving him time to think of appropriate pillowtalk. 

"You'd think I'd be more used to this after taking it up the ass from Tassiter every day." He said in full confidence.

"Oh god." You cursed, burying your face in your hands. "That's what you want to talk about?" 

He huffed, crossing his arms. “I'm sorry, sweetie. You're the one who wanted to work all weekend." 

"What other choice do we have?” You asked, partially hoping he would suddenly come up with an easier option.

"Simple." He shrugged, reaching for his pants to retrieve the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. "We kill the boss and take his place."  

"Trust me." You rolled your eyes, falling back against the pillow. "I was going to do that anyway." 

He tossed the box between his hands as he stared pensively at the ceiling. "Yeah, why haven't you? Hell, you'd be doing everyone a favor."

"Too scared to get caught, I guess?" You shrugged. 

"I heard he spits on his secretaries." He added. "Does he actually?"

"Eh." You mumbled, fully aware that in most cases, 'eh' was not an acceptable answer to a yes or no question. "It happened, like, twice. When I first started working." 

"Fuck, [F/N]," he cursed, propping himself up on his side. "So you just took his abuse? You've gotta draw the line somewhere." 

"I had a deadbeat boyfriend to feed." You said, as if bringing Amos into the equation didn't reinforce his exact point. "Plus, it promised upward mobility. And it worked." 

"You got a light?" He asked, sliding a cigarette out from the carton. 

"Ew." You frowned, sitting up. "If you're gonna smoke, do it outside. I don't need this place smelling worse than it already does." 

He held it between his teeth and flung his legs dramatically over the side of the bed. "That doesn't answer my question." 

"There are probably some matches in the kitchen, I don't know." You shrugged, rubbing a spot on your head. 

He stood up, bottomless, and made his way to the kitchen. "I'll just use the gas range." 

You smacked yourself in the head. "Don't fucking use the stove-"

The familiar sound of the stove clicking to start up stopped you in your sentence and you sighed. “—Or, just… don’t burn down my apartment.” 

"Oh, you didn't tell me you had a balcony." Jack's voice jumped a few octaves at the thought of having his post-sex smoke, ass-naked on the balcony. 

You ripped the blankets off your legs and tore across the room to stop him from flashing the whole apartment complex. “No! No. You are not flashing my neighbors.” Your arms flew out and blocked the way to the balcony, both of you in an ‘ass-naked’ standoff. 

"Do your worst.” He challenged, sticking his arms out himself to match your energy. And there you were, two dumbasses, naked and t-posing in the middle of the bedroom.

You were never one to ignore a challenge, and you could tell he was bluffing. His form was still unsteady from the royal assfucking he had received earlier. You crouched slightly, bent your knees, and let his own instability and gravity take him down for you. You tackled him to the ground, pinning him under you for the second time that night.

Jack hit the ground with an audible “oof,” and groaned at the dull ache that coursed through his body. “Ow.” He muttered, somehow still looking up at you with a cocky smile. “Did you have to be so rough with me?”

"I know you like it rough, cupcake." You hummed, dipping your face into his neck to nibble playfully at his skin. 

Although he was absolutely enjoying himself, he still squirmed against your touch. “Psh— I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

The stutter (and all of his body language, for that matter) gave him away. “You’re not slick, pretty boy.” You whispered, giving his skin a nip firm enough to pinch.

Just when you thought you were about to go for round two (floor edition!), your ECHO rang. Both of you groaned in unison, and Jack immediately threw his arms around you as soon as you sat up. 

“Noooo— don’t go—!” He whined.

You sighed, resignedly. "Let me just go put it on vibrate." 

Jack huffed, releasing you with reluctance. “You would put it on vibrate.”

"Too easy." You rolled your eyes and reached for your ECHO.

Expecting an unlisted number, you picked up without taking a look at the caller ID. "[F/N]'s barbecue and abortion clinic. Yesterday's loss is today's secret sauce!"

Jack snorted as he shuffled closer to hear the conversation. 

“…Excuse me?” 

The blood drained from your face and you slowly turned to look at the caller ID. Your boss’s name was shining back at you in big letters. “Oh, fuck—!”

You stood up abruptly, giving Jack a nervous and not-very-reassuring smile before leaving the room without explanation. Jack sat dumbfounded and confused, standing and walking to the door in an attempt to eavesdrop. 

"Mr. Tassiter," You said, once you were decidedly far enough out of your guest's earshot. "Why are you calling on a Saturday?"

"I hope you have a better job lined up at the barbecue and abortion clinic, Ms. [F/N], because I just heard some frankly shocking information from Mr. Blake." 

You pressed the phone into your chest and threw your head back. Of course that fucking rat would use his previous position to fulfill some petty end. You weren’t even sure what he was gaining out of this. He just wanted to fuck you over and he succeeded. 

"Oh?" You said, deciding to play dumb. "And what was that?" 

"He told me he ran into you at the Rise and Grind this morning." He began, sounding like a school principal talking to a defiant student. "Care to explain what happened, Ms. [F/N]?" 

He wasn't buying it. “Of course, Mr. Tassiter. I was working with my partner on a pet-project of ours, when Mr. Blake invaded our space and started antagonizing me."

"That isn't how he relayed it to me, Ms. [F/N]"

Of course it wasn't. “Then, do tell, how did he say it happened?” You asked through gritted teeth, anger and panic boiling inside you.

"He said that you were short with him, to put it politely." He explained. "The word he used was 'bitchy'. If I had known this is how you'd act given a little bit of power, I would have never promoted you, [F/N]." 

“Respectfully, sir,” you began, trying to soothe your flaring temper, “Mr. Blake is no longer a part of the company, and therefore, I no longer have any obligations to him. That includes not being ‘bitchy’ when he decides to insult me.” 

"I'd say it's quite justified, what with the scene you caused at his party, [F/N]." 

You could feel the strings of patience snapping much faster than you could keep up with. “That Amos, not I, caused at his party. Amos, sir, was abusive, and was trying to trap me into marrying him by proposing in front of people.”

"You must have done something to provoke it." He dismissed you entirely. "Not that it makes any difference to me. The fact still stands that you are at the center of this, [F/N]." 

Your eye twitched. “So then, Mr. Tassiter, you’re going to fire me on account of snapping back at a person while I was off the clock and he is retired— is that what I’m getting? Correct me if I’m wrong.” 

"No." He said, but not in a way that relieved you at all. He had worse plans for you. You felt it in your gut. "I am revoking your promotion. Women like you don't deserve power. You'll be returning to your position as secretary. Consider it mercy." 

Does he expect me to thank him? You thought. "Okay." 

"Except you'll be answering to the head of technological development." 

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, while your will to live ceased to exist altogether. "That's Amos's job."

"Very good observation, Ms. [F/N]." He snipped. "Since investing in an operations manager proved to be a failure, we have some room in the budget to supply the executives some well-deserved help." 

The final string snapped.

"No fucking way." You shook your head in disbelief. "This is bullshit. Why are you making this personal?" 

“Because, [F/N], I can. All you are to me is a pawn to move around. Why not make it more entertaining for all of us?" Your boss explained. You could practically hear him grinning. "Perhaps you’ll learn to have more respect for the men in your life.”

You didn’t even know it was possible, but he snapped a strand of patience that didn’t exist. Tassiter switched his scissors for an axe and chopped the entire concept of tolerance into two very messy halves. 

"You fucking chauvinist prick." You snarled, grinding your teeth into dust. “You’re going to regret the day you ever decided to fuck with me.”

You slammed the red ‘hang-up’ button on your phone before he could reply and punted the device into the couch. Your body was shaking in pure rage, and you couldn’t help but yell in frustration. 

Tassiter would suffer for exploiting his employees like worthless trash, and you would make sure of it. The time for planning had come to an abrupt end. Tassiter had just unwittingly ushered in the time for action. He signed his death warrant the second he put you under Amos's thumb. Anything you did to stop it was purely and provably self-defense. 

"Hey, [F/N]?" Jack said, knocking on the door to the half-bathroom you hulled yourself up in. "Are we gonna go another round, cause I'm getting kinda cold out here-"

You swung the door open, cutting him off. 

"Woah, holy nutballs!" He exclaimed, seeing how red in the face you were all of a sudden. "You okay, [F/N]?"

"Never better." You took in a sharp breath before walking past him. "I'm on my way to murder Harold Tassiter." 

Jack paused, giving his dial-up brain a second to process what you just said. When it registered, he hurried to your side. "Not without me you're not." 

"Come if you want, but I get the final blow." You said, entering the kitchen and looking around for an inconspicuous murder weapon. Smiling, you picked up a rather large kitchen knife, so shiny you could see your reflection in it. And you looked damn good. "That misogynist cunt dies tonight." 

"I think we skipped a few chapters here." He said, trying to break the tension with a light chuckle. "What did he say to you?" 

"What does it matter to you?" You swiveled around to face him. You gestured to his pile of clothes with the knife in your hand. "You're already an accessory. Put your clothes on and let's go chop off his nuts." 

"Come on, sweetie," he threw his hands up. "It'll be more satisfying if we're both pissed. What did he say?" 

"Don't test me right now, Jack.” You snapped back. "I am holding a very sharp knife.” 

"[F/N],” He said, firmly. He gently placed his hands on your forearms and gave them a light, comforting squeeze. "Light of my life and god-queen of my asshole, where did this sudden and very sexy bloodlust come from?" 

You set the knife down on the counter and took a deep breath. "Blake squealed on me." 

Jack's calm shattered when he realized a similar phone call could be in his future. "...so why'd you put the knife down? We're gonna need it, sweetie." 

"Chill." You snarled, with absolutely no ‘chill’ present in your voice. "He didn't say shit about you. I don't think Blake wanted to admit he was poking around for Hyperion secrets." 

"He fired you for telling a guy where he can stick his nosey little pig dick?” Jack said, just as outraged as you. 

You closed your eyes and covered your whole face with your hands. "I wish." 

"You wish?!" 

"He demoted me. Hard." You mumbled through your hands. "I'm under the thumb of my crazy fucking ex boyfriend."

"You're shitting me." His fist clenched, clearly seething with fury. 

“I shit you not.” 

"Okay, cupcake." He sighed. "Pick up that knife. We're headed to his posh-ass neighborhood to cancel his subscription to having a penis." 

”Or, I could avoid the murder charges and just quit.” You said, genuinely weighing the pros and cons of both options. 

"Ah, no." He cut you off. "You quit, you've thrown away your whole career. But if you stay, you're his bitch. You're fucked no matter what you do."

You glared at him. "Thanks for that."

"And, maybe I'm a little biased here, but you could do pretty awesome things if you weren't so, y'know," his voice trailed off as he searched for the right word. "Powerless."

You looked back at him. "No shit. That's how a hierarchical power structure works." 

"Will you quit deflecting for half a second so I could finish my thought?" He snapped. "I'm trying to say I-" 

He cut himself off. You folded your arms and leaned against the counter. "Yes?" 

"--think Hyperion-" He began. "Needs--more people like--you." 

That wasn't what he was going to say and you could tell. But whatever he was keeping from you would have to wait. 

"So what do you suggest?" You asked with a sigh. 

"Well, we've got about…" he glanced at his watch, though not nearly for long enough to actually take note of the time. "Thirty-six hours, a provably functional voice modulator and a crap ton of wine. Seems like enough to come up with a pretty solid plan."

Your flushed look of hopelessness ignited into a devious grin when you remembered exactly what you'd been working on. The gears in your head began to turn.

Bouncing on your heels, you took Jack's face between your hands and kissed him hard on the mouth. Pleasantly startled by your complete emotional one-eighty, he returned your smile. 

"You are a freaking genius." You said, patting his flushed cheek. "Boot up your coding PC. I'll order us dinner."

[justanotherlifeff]

can u do dom aizawa (daddy) and female reader (kitty/princess/babygirl) with her hanging with her friends too long at night after a party, shes drunk a lil nd hes mad shes out so late in the out fit she was wearing, something like not even dirty at all but he thinks she was hot asf in it, something like a sweater ad a skirt type of thing, and yeah ^^ idk how to wrte asks im sorry if this triggers you or makes u upset at all

Daddy dom Aizawa gives me peaceful sleep every night

Vorfreude

-The joyful intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures.

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, BDSM

You were never this late. Yes, you did mention going out for a drink with your friends. Infact, you didn't have a break like this in quite a while. Asking you to not go was selfish and Aizawa knew that fact. However, after you didn't come back even after he reached home, which was at 2am, he couldn't help but be angry. However, his anger turned into complete utter jealousy when you finally return home.

You weren't wearing anything particularly revealing. It was just a sweater and a skirt, a rather modest outfit but somehow, you still made it seem like you were the sexiest woman he had ever seen. It angered him that you were out so late looking so beautiful when he should be the one to be looking at you this way in this ungodly hour. The pink tinting your cheeks due to being slightly drunk didn't help either as you looked absolutely ravishing.

"Why did you come home so late?" Aizawa asked you gloomily as you entered the small apartment. "Huh? Oh you're here already. I was having fun with my friends and I didn't realise it was getting so late. Am sorry." You answered with a small guilty smile. 'As well behaved as always...' Aizawa thought as a surge of pride flowed through him. "Well, princess, you look absolutely breathtaking. Don't you think you need to be punished for showing yourself like this to people at such ungodly hours when I am the one who was supposed to see you?" Aizawa asked you with lust blown eyes as he approached you slowly.

You felt as if your feet was stuck to the ground as your boyfriend walked over to you. It was undeniable that you were feeling slightly horny as you had the habit of feeling this way when you drank and now that Aizawa cornered you this way, it really didn't help your case.

"Yes daddy" you answered meekly, peering at the man who currently pushed you against the wall. "Mhh you really are being a good girl now huh... I might actually let you cum if you keep this up..." he muttered before pulling you into a passionate kiss, slowly leaving your mouth to trail down to your neck only to leave hickeys that you would have to cover with a scarf the next day.

His hands were travelling all over you as soon as he started kissing you and at the moment, he was skillfully taking your clothes off, exposing your bare skin to him yet again. It seemed that no matter how many times he had seen you naked, it never was any different from the first time. He would never be tired of seeing you this way, all shy and beautiful just for him. Holding your hands up to stop them from covering yourself, he now took a good look at you which ultimately got him rock hard as usual.

As soon as he was satisfied with the way you furiously blushed under his gaze, he finally picked you up only to go to your shared bedroom and throw you on the bed. With sheer speed, he got rid of his own clothes before getting on the bed with you and burying his head between your thighs to eat you out.

"Look at how wet you are for daddy. Such a good girl for me.." he muttered as he dove into lick and suck onto your clit as if it was the most delicious meal in existence. The only thing you could do was whimper and moan as you held his long hair tightly with your fist, smashing his face into your nether regions.

Aizawa usually loved it when you were needy like this but at the moment, you needed to be disciplined. Pulling away from your cunt, he took reached for his capture weapon that was discarded on the floor and in mere seconds, you found yourself tied up. "Good girls don't interrupt daddy." He told you strictly as you slowly whimpered an "I'm sorry daddy" to him. With that, he went back to eating you out yet again.

You had no idea on how many times you came on his tongue. You were panting and moaning loudly as he finally got up and lined his erection to your entrance. His hand found itself on your throat as he squeezed slightly before plunging into you, only for you to squeak out a choked noise. He fucked you at an unbelievable pace as your brain turned to mush due to the pleasure and lack of oxygen.

"Daddyyyy pleaseee" you managed to choke out as you were close to cumming yet again making Aizawa chuckle slightly through his own pants. "You've been so good princess. Hold on for just a bit longer for me." He commanded you as your eyes rolled back from pleasure. A choked chant of "please" escaped your mouth as you were completely delirious underneath him. As soon as he himself was close to releasing, he commanded you. "You can cum now babygirl." And as soon as he said that, you creamed all over his cock. The spasms in your cunt brought him to his edge as he released his load inside you.

Due to a hard day of being a pro hero, Aizawa couldn't help but fall asleep almost immediately after this rigorous session, thinking about how he could make it up to you for the lack of aftercare on the next day while you on the other hand wondered whether you should come home late more often since it let to such good sex before passing out in his arms.