#...well. not much of a rant as i usually have locked and loaded to shove into the tags

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. Two drawings of the same person, humanoid but with honey bee wings, antennae, and miscellaneous other traits. The first one was drawn December 25, 2020, two years ago, and the second is a redraw from just before the time of posting. In the first drawing, the person faces the camera, holding a cup of tea, posed against a blank background. She wears a fluffy top and boots, her entire character in golden tones. The second drawing keeps similarities with the first, but her vague outfit has been changed to a jacket and sweatpants, and she is waving to the viewer and smiling warmly, with the text "TWO YEARS" behind her in green. End ID)

Happy second anniversary-slash birthday, both to my first piece of digital art ever and to a beloved character and world.

(And thanks @ameliejoyart for making it happen. <3)

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

Can you do a bakugou smut where bakugou liked to do the do in the shower bc his quirk doesn't go off on his S/O? If it makes you uncomfortable then it's fine, please and thank you! ❤

Power outage and the grenade.

The power goes out and cause you and BAKUGOU to think outside the box.

TW: shower sex, domination, degradation, breeding kink.

Word count 1400

Today was just not your day. Some ridiculous villain had caused a city wide power outage during an attack in the middle of summer. If that weren't bad enough this week had just been forecast as a record breaking heatwave. You had opened all the windows to get a breeze going in the house but it really wasn't doing you any good at this point seeing as you were sweating more than your live grenade of a boyfriend. You had stripped down to lay on your bed so you could at least melt in comfort when you heard your apartment door open and shut. The sound of heavy boots being tossed at the wall and close dropping to the floor was all the announcement you received to your mans arrival home.

" princess you look like a damn corpse! What the hell are you doing?"

You mumbled that you were trying to melt in comfort before his loud ass interrupted you. He started to shout again only to release a small explosion as he stepped towards the bed. You jumped up much to your tired bodies protest ready to kick his ass out of the house. Only when you looked at him you could see the frustration written on his face. This wasn't his usual expression when he was frustrated this was something more. When you reached out for him he jumped back and held his hands up like a criminal.

"Don't look at me like that baby I wanna touch you but this heat is fucking with my quirk and I keep letting off random explosions without knowing the force that will come out. That bastard fucked my whole day up! I got sent home early and I can't touch my fucking princess!"

While Katsuki growled and ranted you got more and more upset. The one time he gets to come home early and he couldn't even touch you without potential maiming you?! You sat back on the barely listening to him. After a few moments without a response from you he stopped and looked at your heartbroken expression. Standing completely still, he radiated worry and anger before walking out of the room. You heard the shower turn on and guessed he was trying to relax himself. Before you could lay back in your original position you heard Katsuki calling for you.

"Princess get your ass in here!"

You shuffled down the hall slowly to hot and tired to walk normally. Once in the bathroom you were shocked to see Katsuki grining at you. You were also shocked at just how good that man looked wet. The water was running down his skin tracing all the lines and dips that your tongue had traced a thousand times before. Standing halfway in the doorway you give a little whimper, annoyed that he would tease you like this when you weren't able to touch each other. He let's out a cruel chuckle and beckons you forward, croaking two fingers in your direction. You take a few steps forward only to stop an arms length away from the shower.

"Don't look so dumb, princess. The waters canceling out my quirk. So long as we stay under the spray I can fuck that needy little cunt all night."

You thought for a moment about the high water bill you would have next month. But you could honestly give a fuck less at this point. Climbing into a shower with Katsuki had never felt so good. The water was cooling you down even as the feel of his body was warming you up. Katsuki wasted no time reaching between your thighs, arm curving over your ass as he did so. He rubbed the rim of your pussy hole making it clench and twitch at the stimulation. Katsuki was being so gentle and teasing that you jumped and squealed when he shoved two thick fingers inside. Your cry echoed off the walls of the bathroom.

Keeping his movements deep and hard Katsuki pressed his fingers against your gspot while swirling his thumb on your clit. The pleasure was immediately intense, making your knees do weak. You slumped against him, nails digging into his shoulders as you struggled to hold some of your own weight. His fingers began to curl against that hidden nerve with determination that only Katsuki would show. He was working your pussy like he owned it and damn it the man truly did. Just then his thumb sped up overwhelming you. You couldn't take it anymore and bit into his pec, right over his heart, with a scream. Katsuki groaned as he enjoyed the feel of your bullied little pussy squirting all over his hand.

"What's the matter princess? Your wettingly me more than this shower is."

You sobbed at his words, finally pulling away from his chest. As you were about to complain at him he spun you around, lining your ass up perfectly with his crotch. Katsuki, never one to waste time, grasped his cock and ran it up and down the length of your sensitive folds. The hard flesh bumped against your clit making you jerk forward. The growl behind you told you that that movement had been an epic mistake. The hand on your stomach slid up catching your throat in a firm grip. At the same moment the large head of his cock lined up with your hole. In one quick snap of his hips you were impaled on 10 and a half inches of thick cock. A strangled screaming left your throat, matching the shocking orgasm that tore threw you in the same moment.

"Put your fucking hands on the wall baby. Can't have you thinking you can get away from this cock any time soon."

The harsh slap on your ass following those words made your pussy clench and flutter. Following his demand you braced your hands on the wall, legs spread to take the hard fucking you were about to be gifted with. Katsuki's free hand cupped your breast, fingers tugging and rolling your nipple. His thrusts were brutal in the best way. His thick cock spread you open while ramming against your cervix. The force of them had you leaning further into the wall until your elbows rested there. You sobbed every time he held himself deep and ground against your clit.

The pleasure was consuming you, the sound of your wet skin slapping together echoed through the bathroom amplify every sensation. A constant stream of whining left your throat as you begged to be filled. Katsuki tightened the hand on your throat and hammered his cock inside you, fighting to release all of his frustration into your willing pussy. Changing the angle of his hips Katsuki relinquished his hold on your breast only to begin spanking your clit with every thrust.

"You like that don't you princess. Having your clit slapped while I fuck this needy little cunt of yours. Can't getting deep enough inside you. Damn it baby I'm gonna fuck that womb of yours one day, gonna make sure theres no way your not bred by the time I'm done with you."

His words crashed over you like a title wave, forcing you to cum harder than you ever had before. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your pussy locked down on the fat cock splitting you in two. The grip of your walls dragged a deep groan from Katsuki's chest as well as a hot load of cum. The shots of cum bathed your cervix dragging out your orgasm till you were limp and barely conscious. Slowly Katsuki lowered you both to the floor of the shower were you stayed as your breathing returned to normal. Cuddling on the shower floor had not been on your list of things to do today but it definitely wasn't something you would complain about.

"Princess I think we're gonna be here a while why don't you grab some snacks so I down murder our fridge and then I'll see about eating that pussy clean."

You didn't have to be told twice. You untangled yourself from your calm, wet boyfriend and proceeded to crawl out of the bathroom to the kitchen. Using your legs still wasn't on the the table after that fuck but snacks and being snacked on were worth looking silly for.

[loganscanons]

lotus & ivan short fics 2

Summary: I’m in my Lotus and Ivan feels today so here’s some Soft content of them.

The T.V. plays at an almost unintelligible volume in the background, the next episode of the true crime show Lotus had been watching playing automatically without recognition from either her or Ivan. She’d been watching with hazy interest, drunk on most of a bottle of wine, and using the show as a distraction while she waited for Ivan to get home. As soon as she’d heard his key in lock, she’d turned the volume down, waited for the door to open, then demanded that Ivan come sit with her. He’d obliged without hesitation.

Now she sits in the corner of the L-shaped couch that’s too big for their sitting area, with her legs draped over his lap. He has one hand on her knee, the other on her inner thigh, and he listens with silent amusement as she drunkenly rants about the effects that different soils can have on plant growth. 

Mid-rant, Lotus pauses to catch her breath, and in those few short seconds, she gets distracted by the way Ivan is looking at her. She knows Ivan’s appearance is intimidating and unnerving to most; he’s covered in tattoos, towers over others, and is usually scowling, the frown lines etching into his skin as he ages. And she knows how dangerous he can be and the history he has with violence. His appearance doesn’t even fully reflect how terrifying he could really be. 

But when he’s looking at her like that, with such a loving expression, his scowl relaxed and replaced by soft adoration, she can’t possibly see him as scary.

“I love you,” Lotus says, not for the first time since he got home. She puts her palm against the side of his face, and strokes her thumb across his cheek bone. She’s not often verbal about her love for him, but wine loosens her lips and makes her more affectionate.

<<I love you, too,>> Ivan signs. He puts his hand on top of hers and leans into her touch. His eyes fall closed. For a few seconds, neither of them say anything, enjoying the silent presence of each other. He turns his head and kisses her palm, and she smiles.

Lotus has lost the thread of her soil spiel, her thoughts now occupied by her affection for Ivan. He opens his eyes and looks at her intently, his gaze searching and intense but soft. 

“What?” she asks.

<<Tell me what you like about me again, please?>> he asks.

Lotus laughs. He only asks her that when she’s drunk, probably hoping she won’t remember. She does remember, but she never brings it up when she’s sober. She likes that he asks. She likes the excuse to tell him everything about him that makes her happy. 

“Okay.” In a quiet voice, she says, “I like your smile aaaand...I like your eyes. I love your tattoos.” Her fingers ghost over his skin, up his upper arm and shoulder, stopping at his neck. With her forefinger, she traces the shape of his lotus flower tattoo. “I like this one,” she says quietly. “I’ve never really liked my name, but this made me like it more. I like that you have a tattoo for me. I never...I never thought I’d be someone who likes that.” 

For a few seconds, she says nothing, distracted by the feeling of happiness bubbling inside her. She breathes in deeply and blinks, returning her focus to Ivan’s question.

With a thoughtful expression, she continues, “I love when I make you laugh. Sometimes you look at me with this expression like you’re trying not to laugh and that’s…” she trails off as she tries to grasp the words to describe her feelings. Unable to find anything adequate, she settles for saying, “I love that. Your happiness makes me happy.”

As she talks, she traces her forefinger absently over Ivan’s skin.

“I like when you listen to me talk about the things I like or the...the things I’m studying. Even if you don’t really know what I’m talking about. And sometimes--sometimes you bring up things I said a while ago, and it makes me feel listened to. You make me feel listened to.” She looks at him with a contemplative expression for a moment, then readjusts so she’s sitting up and leaning toward him. Tilting her head, she says, “I’ve never had that. Someone who cares so much about my accomplishments - especially my educational accomplishments...I guess Connie and Jules do. But, they’ve both always cared about school; school would come up with them whether I brought it up or not. It’s different...I’ve never felt like I could really share what I’m learning with someone. But...but I feel like you care. That you want to know.”

She can’t properly express her feelings. She hopes he understands how much his interest means to her. “You make me feel like someone is proud of me, and...and I never realized how much I wanted that.”

<<I am proud of you,>> he signs. <<You are incredible.>>

Lotus leans forward and affectionately bumps her forehead against Ivan’s shoulder. 

She then pulls back, and continues her stream-of-consciousness list of things she likes about Ivan. “I like that when you get home from work, you kiss me, even if I’m barely awake.” She smiles. “I like kissing you.” She presses her lips against his, then nips lightly at his lower lip.

“Hmm,” she hums. “I like how you look in sweaters. You look hot in sweaters. You should wear more sweaters, babe. And button-ups, with the sleeves rolled up. That’s hot too.” she traces her finger up his forearm. “And I like your muscles, and...I like when you get silly when we go ice skating.” The thought of him chasing her around the ice with a playful grin makes her smile to herself. 

“Hmm...I like when you leave me notes in Russian for me to translate. I like your eyes,” she says, as she looks up and her gaze meets his. “Did I already say that? You have pretty eyes.”

Lotus leans into him, hiding her face against his shoulder as she wraps her arms around his neck. He winds his arm around her back and pulls her closer. Her mind is occupied by thoughts of Ivan, and for a couple minutes, she’s quiet. Then, she pulls back as far as she can while still having her arms around his neck, so she can look at him as she talks. 

“There’s this thing you do sometimes - when you’re happy, I think - that I love. You...you do a little wiggle that makes me think of a happy puppy.” She mimics the movement. “That’s why I started calling you puppy. My puppy…,” she kisses his jaw. “I didn’t want to tell you that, because I didn’t want you to stop doing it.” She abruptly pulls back. “You better not stop doing it.”

There’s a twinkle of amusement in Ivan’s eyes. He pulls his hands away from her to sign, <<I don’t think I could if I wanted to.>>

“Good,” she says. “Because if you do stop, I will never forgive you.” 

 Ivan smiles and brushes hair out of Lotus’s face, then kisses her. 

“I love you,” she says again. 

<<I love you, too.>>

“I’m not done telling you what I like about you,” she says. Ivan wraps his arms around her middle and listens quietly as she continues her rambling.

--

With a laundry basket propped against her hip, Lotus goes through each room in the apartment, collecting towels and linens to be washed. She can’t remember the last time that the folded blanket that’s draped over the back of the couch was washed, which as far as she’s concerned, means it’s been too long. As she reaches for the blanket, Ivan looks up from his video game. It’s a game with guns and shooting; something she’s not interested in.

Ivan pulls off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck, and looks at her expectantly.

“What?” she asks, as she shoves the blanket into the basket.

He balances the controller on his knee, then signs, <<Are you coming to sit with me?>>

She smiles, feeling a rush of affection for him. With a teasing tone, she says, “You’re so needy.”

The way Ivan looks at her, his gray eyes soft and wide, is reminiscent of a sad dog begging for food. She knows he’s not consciously looking like a lost puppy; it’s effective regardless. She’d been thinking about joining him once she finished the laundry, but that look fully convinces her. She leans over the back of the couch and kisses his cheek.

“Yeah, I will in a few minutes, Puppy. Let me start this load of laundry.”

Once the washer is running and filling the apartment with a dull background noise, Lotus settles on the couch beside Ivan and sets her weekly planner on her lap. She uncaps her pen, intending to strike out tasks on her To Do list, but her attention is captured by the T.V. screen. Ivan’s headphones rest on the coffee table in front of him, and the game he’s playing is different than the game with guns that he’d been playing before. She watches as Ivan’s character passes several idle characters.

Confused, she asks, “Why aren’t you talking to them?”

He looks at her and cocks his head to the side, then shrugs. 

“Aren’t you supposed to talk to them?” she asks. “Why else would they be there?”

Ivan looks back at the T.V., and his character approaches a man standing alone.

“No, wait,” Lotus says. “You skipped so many people. You have to go back and talk to them first.” She recaps her pen and sets it and her planner on the coffee table. Scooting closer to Ivan, she leans against him.

Ivan looks at her and kisses her temple. His smile is amused, though Lotus isn’t sure why.

“What?” she asks, feeling like she’s missing the joke.

He just shakes his head, still smiling.

--

The sound of a key in the lock startles Lotus, making her jump, and she reflexively looks to the door. She was lost in the pages of her book, her mind completely occupied by fictional characters and their journey. As the lock turns, Lotus glances at the clock. She’d lost track of time; it’s well into the early hours of the morning, late enough that Ivan has finished his shift and returned home. As he opens the door, Lotus marks her page and places the book on the coffee table.

Lotus smiles as Ivan enters the apartment and steps out of his shoes.

“Hey, how was work?” she asks, stretching her arms above her head. She’s been sitting still for too long. She tosses back the blanket that covers her legs, inviting Ivan to join her on the couch. 

Ivan says nothing, just crosses the room and flops onto the couch, resting between Lotus’s legs and hiding his face against her chest. She runs her hands over the back of his head, her fingers moving through his buzzed hair.

“That bad, huh?”

His groan is silent, but she can feel the vibrations of it against her. She runs her nails over his scalp and gives him a few moments to relax.

“You okay, honeybee?” she asks. She trails her thumb along his jawline and tilts her head, trying to get a better look at him. 

He sighs, his breath warm against her, and turns his body so he’s leaning against the back of the couch, but still partially on top of her.

Looking up at her, he signs, <<Drunk people are annoying and stupid.>>

Lotus smiles. Ivan isn’t someone who complains. The fact that they’ve reached a point where he’ll express his annoyances and complaints to her makes her feel warm inside. She puts her hand against his cheek and asks, “Wanna tell me about it?”

He closes his eyes and leans into her touch before signing, <<Tomorrow. Now, sleep.>>

“Okay, but not on the couch,” she says. 

Lotus knows he could fall asleep anywhere, but she would much rather they sleep in bed. She’s more likely to fall asleep and stay asleep for at least a few hours in bed than she is on the couch. Ivan stands and stretches, reaching his arms up, and she notices dried blood on his skin and clothes.

“You have blood on you,” she says.

<<Not my blood,>> he shrugs. Lotus looks at him, her expression blank. Ivan glances down at himself and back at her, then signs, <<Shower, then sleep.>>

“You better,” she says. 

When he gets out of the shower, Lotus is already snuggled in bed. She looks up as he pulls back the covers to lie beside her. As he gets comfortable, she curls against him, wrapping her arm around his middle and draping her leg over his. Sleepily, he kisses Lotus’s forehead, and minutes later, he’s asleep. 

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Part 11

Summary:  Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 11: Louise’s life is threatened

Warnings: Violence, attempted assault 

         Alfie took pride in the fact he was trying to control his temper. He wasn’t very successful but at least he tried. When it came to punishments, he did everything to keep it out of sight of Louise. She would witness the occasional backhand or cane whack to the knees but that was it. Her dealings in the bakery were purely administrative. The shadiness and the blood never involved her.

           Unfortunately, things were coming to a boiling point. The Italians were suspicious of Tommy's relationship with the Russians as well as the Peaky Blinder’s feud with the Changrettas. So, Sabini reached out to Alfie, attempting to bury the hatchet yet again and hopefully gain the alliance back in case the Shelbys made a move.

           Alfie wasn’t in the mood, but he decided it could be helpful to at least hear Darby out.

           “One last thing, Tommy called about something. He says it’s urgent. I guess he wants to meet as soon as you can.” Louise kept in stride with Alfie, her arm linked with his. “I said maybe you could meet with him tomorrow morning.” She handed him the note for a reminder.

           “Right,” Alfie tucked the slip of paper away in his pocket. “I’ll call him back later tonight.” He stopped mid-way down the cellar hall and turned to face her. “You’re the fucking best, d’you know that” His eyes wrinkled with a smile, adoration in his gaze.

           “For answering the telephone?” Louise teased with a coy smile. She stepped closer to him, smoothing down his loose white shirt.

           “Nah, just for everything.” He murmured and kissed her forehead. “Love having you ‘round.” His thumb grazed down her cheek. The brief tender touch sent chills down Louise’s spine.

           “Alfie.” Ollie’s voice came from down the hall. A group of men was following behind him.

           Louise had never met Darby Sabini simply because Alfie kept her away from any meetings with him. Yet, he had no power over what happened next.

           “Alfie,” A mustached man greeted as they approached. “So glad you agreed to sit down with me. I’ve missed you, old friend.”

           Louise could feel Alfie tense up beside her. “Lou, go upstairs.” He muttered to her.

           She opened her mouth to speak but the Italian men were blocking the only exit to the stairs. So she had no choice but to stay near him.

           “And this must be the secretary you’ve kept hidden from me. I’ve heard the word about how protective he is of you.” Sabini tipped his hat to her. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet.”

           Louise tried to ignore Alfie’s clear displeasure. Instead, to keep the peace, she smiled politely. “Louise Barnes, it’s nice to meet you as well.

           “Alfie, how could you keep such a beauty locked up in a place like this?” The Italian tutted. The two men at his flanks sported faint smirks. One was eyeing Louise too much for Alfie’s liking.

           His upper lip twitched and he waited a beat so he didn’t explode. “You want to fucking talk business? Or are you wasting me time?” No matter what he did, the anger continued to grow the longer they stood there. The more time they spent with Louise the more uneasy he got. Tension was thick in the air and he knew something was up.

           “I should be off anyway.” Louise tucked the diary under her arm. She touched his shoulder to offer some sort of comfort and courage to keep his cool. “I’ll just be upstairs.”

           “No, no.” Sabini waved a dismissive hand. “You can stay.”

           The man to his left smirked. “Yeah, we want to look at her during the meeting instead of Solomon’s fucked up face.” He spoke to his partner in Italian. He didn’t bother to speak quietly because he wasn’t aware of Louise’s grasp on the romance languages.

           Louise narrowed her eyes. “Pardon me?” She spoke with venom in her voice.

           The man furrowed his eyebrows, obviously not considering the possibility she could understand him.

           “Don’t you dare speak about him like that.” She snapped. “He is more a man than you ever will be.” She shot back.

           Alfie couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Looks like you fucked up, mate.” He drawled. “She knows more languages than you know words.”

           Disgruntled, the man’s hand twitched but Ollie had already confiscated their weapons. Sabini sighed. “This is about you and me, Alfie. Now I’m hearing you’ve gone weak because of a woman.”

           Alfie gripped his cane tightly and tilted his head to the side. “Be foolish to think I’m weak now.” He cocked an eyebrow. “See, I know things, right, things ‘bout Tommy Shelby that you don’t. Things that could fucking ruin him, mate.” He gave a faux sigh of burden. “But since Tommy’s such an old friend I think I’ll honor his secrecy.” He ignored the curious side-eye that Louise gave him at the mention of a Shelby secret.

           It was Darby’s turn to get riled up. “You’d protect those fucking savages? Let them come into London and muck about like they own the place?” He demanded, his face growing an unhealthy shade of red. “Those gypsies need to be dealt with!” He said in a warning tone.

           “They do, yeah.” Alfie lazily ran his hand over his beard. “But I’ll be doing that on me own, won’t I? Don’t need you, ‘specially not after your men insult both me and me dear Louise.”

           Sabini stood there fuming for a few moments. Then his eyes shifted to Louise. She tried to hold her ground but his cold stare was crippling. She subtly moved closer to Alfie to reassure herself. “Y’know, it’s a shame.” Darby’s voice evened out again and he began to look smug. “Some men believe they have no weakness. They think they’re invincible. But men like that usually fall the hardest. Do you agree, Miss Barnes?”

           Louise swallowed but couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure exactly what Sabini was getting at, but she had a gut feeling. It had something to do with her.

           “What do you think would happen to Alfie Solomons if something were to happen to his Achilles Heel?”

           Alfie lost it. Ollie and Louise had to hold him back from attacking the man. “You fucking threatening her?” He roared. “You absolute cunt, I’ll put you six-feet-under if you even think about hurting her. I’ll fucking rip your fucking guts out, fucking cut your head off and stick you on a fucking pike!” His threats echoed through the narrow cellar hall. “Then I’ll move onto the next of you fucking wops!”

           A few of Alfie’s men ushered the Italians back upstairs and out of the building.

           Alfie reached behind him for his gun tucked in his waistband. His hand shaking violently.

           “No, no, no!” Louise grabbed his wrist when she saw what he was doing. “You’ll only make things worse.” She dug her fingernails into his skin so he wouldn’t fight against her.

           Alfie was in such a state of rage he could hardly hear her. He stared at the stairs where the Italians had just disappeared. His temper got the better of him and he wanted to follow Sabini and blow his brains all over the bakery.

           “Alfie, stop!” Louise and Ollie had to keep pushing him back. “Go!” She shoved him towards the empty cellar and slammed the door behind them. Ollie stood by the door just in case Alfie wanted to make another attempt at following Sabini.

           “Those fucking Italians…I swear…” His words slurred together from the white-hot anger coursing through his veins like strong alcohol.

           “Sit down.” Louise pulled his gun out of his waistband and emptied the bullets onto the table.

           “He’s going to fucking pay…” He kept pacing and ranting.

           “Alfie, sit down.” She dragged a chair out. “Now!” Her voice overpowered his and bounced off the stone walls.

           The man grumbled but sat down. His hands continued to shake, itching to strangle the life out of Darby.

           “Look at me.” Louise knelt down in front of him. She latched her hands around his wrists like shackles. “Alfie, look at me.” She urged again.

           He finally let his eyes fall on her. “He’s going to try an’ use you against me.” His gruff voice started to lose its ear-shattering volume. “I knew this would happen, I thought I could be more careful but I was fucking foolish to…”

           “They wouldn’t dare do anything of the sort.” Louise let go of one of his wrists to touch his cheek, directing his eyes back to her. “Sh, love, just take a deep breath.” She murmured.

           He couldn’t muster up the strength. His heart was beating unbearably against his chest. Fear mixed with anger caused his stomach to twist up in knots. “Just like fucking Tommy Shelby.”

           “No.” She interrupted him again. “That’s not going to happen. They know what the Shelbys are doing to the Changretta’s, Sabini wouldn’t make that mistake.” Whether or not she believed that or had any merit to speak on it wasn’t the issue. Louise was confident in Alfie’s ability to protect her.

           Alfie reached out and took her face in his hands. His blue eyes studying her beautiful features. He would never let someone take her away from him, especially not a rat like Sabini. “C’mere.” He stood and went for the door.

           Louise held the empty gun just to keep it away from him as he cooled off. They returned upstairs and Alfie brought her to his office. She closed the door behind her and went into his desk.

           “Alfie!” She snapped when she saw him draw out another gun.

           “Calm down, s’not for me.” He set it on the desk. “M’giving it to you. Gotta teach you how to defend yourself, right?”

           Louise stared at the loaded revolver. “I don’t know if I want to carry that around.” She said quietly.

           “I need you to. Give me peace of mind.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

           She walked over and set the empty gun on the desk too. “Alright, but only because you want me to. And I’ll probably never have to use it.”

           “Rather you carry it and never use it than need it and not have it.” He nodded curtly.

           She stopped in front of him and touched his cheek. Every inch of him was so familiar. She internally scoffed at the idea that anyone would think he wasn’t beautiful. To her, Alfie was gorgeous. And he was hers.

           Alfie didn’t want her to know how worried he was about Sabini’s cryptic threat. He started taking precautions where he found necessary. Since they were living together, it was easier to assure her safety. But there were moments when he was uneasy. If he had to leave for longer than a few hours, Alfie made sure she was well guarded even if Louise didn’t realize it. He wouldn’t skimp on protection if it meant keeping her safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           But he couldn’t always be there especially if Louise made her own decisions.

           That night, Louise realized she’d forgot her scarf at the bakery. She decided to return to retrieve it. Alfie was working late and hadn’t eaten either so she parceled up a dinner to bring.

           The sun was gone and the stars had just started to weakly speckle over the city. Camden had become so familiar to her now; she accepted it as her home. Her sense of security was shattered just a moment later when she heard someone come up behind her.

           Before she could look back, rough hands grabbed her. A cloth muffled her scream as she was dragged into a nearby alleyway. She was shoved to the damp ground, her hands and knees scraping against the stones.

           “Scream and I’ll cut that pretty little face right off ya.” The man snarled with a sinister grin. “Louise Barnes, right?”

           Terrified, she slowly nodded. A Surrey girl raised in the protection of wealth never thought she would be subjected to such violence. She wasn’t taught to fight. Some of her friends knew how to fire a gun purely for sport. The first time she saw such violence was from Daniel. But she felt too weak to fight back. Only a few times, when Daniel was staggering drunk, was she able to defend herself. Then, under Alfie’s protection, she’d felt safe again. She let her guard down and even stopped wearing the knife on her thigh. She wasn’t worried something like that would happen to her. Once she saw the glint in the blade, she realized how naïve she really was. Dread and the fear of death soaked into her skin like a sickness.

           “My boss has been looking for you.” He informed her and grabbed her by the hair.

           Louise bit back a yelp of pain as he yanked her to her feet.

           “You’ll make me some good money once I bring you to him.” The man traced the blade’s tip over her cheek. “It’s all business, love, Sabini just needs a little something from Solomons.”

           So Alfie had been right. Louise started to cry, shaking in fear. She had been so sure she was protected.

           “But you might be fun to play with ‘fore I hand you over.” He dragged the knife down and to Louise’s horror; he started to cut the clothes off her.

           No.

           Her mind returned to a night when Daniel forced himself on her. He stunk of gin and his hands were too rough. She yelled at him to get off but he didn’t. So she reacted in the only way she knew how.

           The instincts returned back to her and she sharply kneed the man in the groin. He cursed and doubled over in pain.

           It gave her enough time and space to react. Ever since Sabini’s threat, she carried the revolver per Alfie’s request. Her hands shook as she retrieved the gun from the holster on her thigh and pointed it at the man.

           He straightened up after the pain subsided and laughed when he saw her gun. “You think you know how to use that, love?” He taunted and lunged at her.

           It was a blur. Louise pulled the trigger.

           The humor slipped right off his face. The bullet lodged through his chest. Blood started to spread through his shirt and he collapsed to his knees. A blank look of shock overcame his features.

           Her ears rang. In a panic, she ran from the alley straight to the bakery. Wide-eyed, her dress in tatters, she rushed inside.

           Ollie was nearby and dropped everything to meet her by the doors. “What happened?”

           Louise just shook her head. She had no idea how to form the words.

           The young man turned and called for his boss. Once he heard the alarming yell, Alfie left his office.

           A sickening feeling overwhelmed him when he saw Louise standing there with a loaded gun in her hand and another man’s blood spattered on her face and coat. “Lou…” He hurried over to her.

           The words came out without warning. “I just killed someone.” She blurted. “I shot someone. I just shot someone.” The rambling mess came out too fast for her to process.

           “Okay, tell me what happened.” He carefully took the gun out of her trembling hands. He handed it to Ollie who tucked it into a handkerchief.

           “He said Sabini wanted me. He tried…he tried raping me.” Fresh tears sprung to her eyes. “I didn’t know what to do.” Her knees buckled so badly she thought she would collapse.

           Alfie enveloped her in his arms to keep her upright. “Sh, s’okay love. You did the right thing.” His voice quivered with anger. Sabini had just made a deadly mistake.

           Louise sobbed in his arms, her fingers curled around his shirt. “I killed someone. I killed him.”

           Alfie rubbed her back and motioned for Ollie. “Go find him.” He commanded in a hushed whisper. “If he’s dead, go dump him on Farringdon to send that fucker a message. If he’s alive, you bring him back here.”

           Ollie nodded and left with a few other men.

           Alfie scooped Louise up and brought her to his office. “I’ve gotcha, love.” He whispered and sat at his desk. She curled up in his lap and refused to let go of him. He wasn’t sure what else to say to her. His brain was spinning at the idea she was nearly ripped away from him just like Grace Shelby had been taken from Tommy. He was so angry he didn’t know how to articulate it or even act. He could only hold her to reassure himself that she was still there.

           A little while later, Ollie came to the office. “Sir.”

           Alfie looked up and could see it in his face. He nodded. “Get Ishmael, have him bring the car ‘round. Take Louise home, I want four men in front of the flat. Make sure Evelyn doesn’t go out either. I don’t know who else Sabini will go after.”

           Alfie carried Louise to the car and promised she would be okay if she let go of him. He kissed her cheek and said Evelyn would take care of her until he returned home. Ishmael and Ollie drove her back to the flat while he went back to the bakery. He descended to the cellar and found the man bound and gagged. His gunshot wound was still bleeding and his front was completely soaked. He looked delirious from the pain.

           Alfie rolled up his sleeves and stepped towards the man. Rage built up when he saw the scrawny man who tried to attack his Louise. He lifted his cane and pressed it right against the gun wound. The man screamed and thrashed about in agony.

           “Oh fuck, does that hurt?” The gangster faked concern. “Sorry, mate.” He eased up on the wound. “Tell me who you work for.”

           “Sabini.” The man coughed up a bit of blood. “Please, call an ambulance.” He begged.

           “Yeah, alright, an ambulance.” Alfie chuckled darkly. “After what you’ve done? Mate, you’re going to wish for death once I’m done with you.” He cracked his knuckles. “It’s gonna be a long night for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent tag: @sansajonsastark​

Tag list: @vehement-care​ @kimmietea​ @eleventhdoctorsangel​ @fire-treasure-iii​

Masterpost

PB Masterlist 

[sweetcatmintea]

Bitter Chocolate and Night Rain

@inkovert (implicitly) requested a fluff drabble between Whitney and Marcos. I went with a scene that actually comes from the story (I figured it’d be good practice for when it comes up). It ended up kinda,,, angsty <.<;;;; But I’m pretty proud of it and hope you enjoy this scene from A Hare’s Worth. Feedback is appreciated ^u^

Words: 2644 Characters: Marcos, Whitney, Freddy (mentioned), and Mella

The day was long, but eventually, the chittering of the café grew quiet as the patrons shuffled back along their journey, continuing their lives. In one smooth movement, Whitney switched from waving farewell to the final customer to flipping the welcome sign and locking the door to the 6pm Café. Marcos cleared tables as Whitney swept tiles. It was days like these that made her grateful for the evening still. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad had they more help, but with Freddy visiting home and their aunt and uncle surveying a new supplier, the pair had been run off their paws. Marcos ambled towards the kitchen, carefully balancing a stack of plates and mugs, backing through the swinging door. He wasn’t as bothered by the busyness as Whitney, sometimes it was good not to have too much time to think. Not that she was bothered per se, but she would have preferred more time to keep things organised. Just a little would do.

Chocolate and pecans spiced the air, soon to be overtaken by soap and steam. Although the baker had left hours ago, their work lingered. It had been Freddy’s idea to do a promotion each fortnight. A new tea and an arrangement of desserts specifically made to compliment the brew. This time it was an exotic black tea and cocoa blend, resulting in numerous fruity and chocolatey treats for customers to choose from.

Whitney hummed in delight as they cleaned, Marcos washing up and her packaging left over food. “It’s been a good week, don’t you think? I reckon Uncle Antonio will be happy with the sales. The new blend really hit it off with the customers.” Speaking of which… Her palms thumped onto the counter, ears flicking back. “That one woman though. Did you see her? How many times do you have to tell someone you don’t sell burgers at a tea café?! Honestly!” Rant pausing long enough to swipe an errant strand of raw sugar hair out of her eyes, she continued, mimicking the interaction, “’I want  beetroot burger.’ Who even eats beetroot? Do I say that? No, I say ‘Oh, I’m sorry, we don’t sell that here. Can I interest you in a toasted sandwich instead?’ ‘No, it has to be a burger. You sell food, why don’t you just make one?’ Oh, I forgot we apparently had a ~secret menu~. ‘We don’t have the ingredients for that.’” Taptaptaptap. Her foot thwapted the floor in irritation. “Then, then! She says ‘That’s fine, you can just go to the corner store and get some.’ Just go to the corner store and get some? Can you believe the that? The nerve! The entitlement! Ugh!” Letting out a huff, she shoved another cake slice into a box, perhaps more roughly than was necessary.

Marcos hummed in acknowledgement but didn’t look up from the sink. She’d expected him to at least chuckle at the dramatics, (even though she was genuinely annoyed at the woman). At least his advice was still characteristically his.

“People are strange. There’s nothing to be done for it now, why don’t you pick out which dessert you’re bringing back to take your mind off it?” A perk of closing duty – taking home unsellable but still edible foods.

“Hm, that’s true. They’ve been really nice this round. The dark chocolate tarts are as bitter as my soul. I love it.”

“There’s no accounting for taste I guess.” Marcos shrugged, a teasing lilt to his voice. That wasn’t the joke she thought he’d made. That was twice he’d curve-balled her. Usually he’d indulge her rants, laughing along as she spouted ridiculous scenarios she claimed she’d definitely do next the time. She thought for sure that he’d say some dumb thing along the lines of ‘you’re mixing up caramel with chocolate if you want it to match your soul, Cottontail’. Then she’d get mad at him for the silly nickname and they’d banter like usual. She didn’t let the concern reach her face.  

Marcos drained the sink, readying to leave. “I liked the sweet chai from the last lot better.”

Whitney passed him the desserts she’d claimed, taking the remaining boxes herself. “Haha, we could tell. I didn’t think you’d really be able to eat all of the cinnamon buns you grabbed. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“I’m a growing boy.”

~

Double checking the store was locked securely, they took the excess food around the back. Kids were already waiting. Some skinny and ratty, others better off but not by much. New laws had been passed preventing Whitney or Marcos from giving food, even that which would otherwise go to waste, to beggars – especially Tainted ones. Instead, they carefully discarded the boxed onto a table specifically for storing such waste, happened to mention aloud which ones had gluten and which had been in contact with nuts, then left. They certainly didn’t smile at a raccoon child who thanked them for their kindness before scampering off. They were good, law abiding teenagers after all.

Although it was still relatively early, the sky was already darkening. Heavy storm clouds loomed overhead. Wind rustled through the trees, green with new leaves, sending flower petals skipping along the street. Whitney huddled into her button-up sweater, pulling it tighter over her body.

“I hope the rain holds off a little longer. Might have to take Mella out for a jog instead of a walk.”

“Maybe you should skip today. You don’t want to get caught in a downpour. Who’ll run the shop if you get sick?” Marcos really was trying to match Whitney’s light-hearted energy, but he knew she was onto him. Having her worry about him (or him burden her) over a funk wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“Can’t slack off. As Mella’s proper parent - we don’t count Freddy and you know it. He spoils her rotten - it is my responsibility to make sure she gets what she needs, and what she needs is a walk every day.” She bounced her shoulder against his side, lips quirked into a cheeky smile. “You could always come with us if you’re worried. I’ll even let you carry me home if I get splashed. Mella too, of course.”

He bounced her back, careful not to topple her over. “Maybe I will.”

“I wasn’t joking about jogging.”

“I know.”

She raised her brow incredulously. “You, jogging?”

“It does happen on occasion.”

~

If Mella, short for Caramel, had her way, her tardy care takers would have been barrelled over by her unrestrained joy the instant they crossed the threshold back into her territory. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for the weary pair, Whitney really was a good dog mum. Mella had been trained well. Nobody was trampled by an ecstatic rottweiler on that day. Minding her manners, but not curtailing her demands, Mella waited “patiently” at the door, tail thumping and lead in mouth.

True to her word, five minutes and Whitney had offloaded her things, swept her long hair into a pony tail and was out the door again. Mella trotted along, enthusiasm shedding years off her face. Marcos kept pace, quiet save the tapping of his claws against the ground. He’d never liked that feeling. His body was there but his mind was somewhere far away. A world Whitney wasn’t privy to.  He’d still smile and nod when she pointed out the funny letter box on Birch Street – ironically a tree had fallen on it leaving it much more squat than it was prior – or when she’d make silly puns out of random objects they passed. She’d have been happier if he meant it.  

The sky grumbled, bemoaning its load. The complaints continued as they moved, increasing in urgency until the clouds could hold off no longer. Hounded by sheets of rain pelting after them, they completed the walk in record time. They piled through the door, back to the safety of their home. Sopping wet, Whitney bolted for the towels. Too late. Mella shook, splattering the rustic, but cosy, wallpaper of the front hallway. Moisture seeped in, greeting the stains that had already made home there. She was never quick enough. Very pleased with herself, Mella ran head first into Whitney’s open arms, allowing her to dry Mella properly.

~

Unassuming hours ticked by. The roaring storm quieted its protests to a murmur of rain. Marcos melted into the armchair, tracing his finger over the vintage bee patterns on the fabric as he listened to the drops peppering the window. He wondered absently if the night creatures had tucked themselves away or if they braved the weather, wagering their lives for food. He wondered if the children waiting behind the café were snug in their beds. He hoped so. He hoped a lot of things. He once believed that was a bad habit. The world needed hope, even a tealight was valuable in the dark. As he blindly gazed out the window, watching the black being overtaken by white condensation forming on the glass, he took the moment to be present. To be aware of where he was – a comfortable home that always smelled of honey and flowers, feet aching and back creaking from a long day. With people he cared for and who cared for him in return. A deep breath to steady his heart, flightful and jittery as ever. The past was behind him. There was nothing he could do for it in this moment. The scars may twinge or open again in a year, a day, even an hour from now, but in this moment, they were okay. He was okay. Another deep breath. What was next? He didn’t know. That was frightening. He felt his hands grow clammy. That was okay. Sadness and pain would be there, that was certain, but they never last forever. One way or another, he would be happy again. He could not change that either. Right now, he was safe. One last deep breath. He opened his eyes, not really knowing when he had closed them.

Whitney lingered at the entrance of the lounge room. Two mugs in one hand, a plate in the other. He smelled the tart and tea before he saw them. The bitterest of chocolate and shy lavender.

“I thought you were going to bed?” His voice was sticky, as though he’d just awoken. How long had he been thinking?

She shrugged the non-liquid bearing shoulder. “I was but I figured you could use some company.” She made her way over to him, ignoring the rest of the furniture.

Marcos took the cups while she slid onto the seat, legs propped over the arm of the chair, bunny tail pressed against his thigh.

“You shouldn’t push yourself. I’ll be headin’ to bed soon.”

She snorted at that, rolling her rose eyes and taking the mug decorated with cute hearts and rabbit ears. “Yeah, and babies come from mail order catalogues. I just brought you some tea. It’s not going to kill me. In fact, it just so happens to be my day job.” She nodded to the tea. “It’s lavender and camomile. It’s supposed to be very calming.

The mug warming Marcos’ hands cheerfully decreed ‘Who’s a sweet potato? I yam!’ He took a sip. She’d added honey and milk – just the way he liked it. “Does it work?”

“It tastes nice.”

“Fair enough.” Either way, he already felt better with her there. She leaned into his chest, taking a thoughtful bite out of her tart. The clink of the silver spoon against ceramic almost inaudible with the rain. For a while, little else filled the comfortable silence they had fallen into.

“Do you want to talk about it?” So Whitney had noticed his funk. Darn.

“About what?”

She pressed her hand into his. “You worry so much about everybody else, let me worry about you for a change.” He made a non-comital noise but didn’t move his hand. Taking it as an invitation to continue, she did. “His birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

He blinked, equal measures surprised and touched. “You remembered?” Her nod bloomed tenderness in his soul.

“He was important to you. Of course I remembered.”

Marcos shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. I’ll get back to normal soon. I just, I just need a little time.”

“It’s okay to not be okay, y’know. You don’t have to smile and joke all the time. You’re not, you’re not being a burden if you’re hurting.” She squeezed his hand. “I want to help. Do you want to talk?”

“I don’t, but…” Guilt flashed through him. “I think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you wanted to talk to me a while… If, uh, if you wanted to… if you’re not too tired that is…”

“’Course.” A gentle smile to tame the wildest of worries. “Did I ever tell you about the time I went to the beach when I was little and I convinced Freddy that the crabs would carry him out to sea if he fell asleep?”

“Not recently.”

“Okay, fantastic. Well, I think we were seven? Maybe eight? No, seven. And we’d been waiting all year to go…”

~

They stayed like that well into the night. Whitney recounted tale after tale of her childhood antics. The time the twins had accidentally locked themselves out of the café (with a customer still inside), the time Freddy smuggled Mella into class in his backpack, a disastrous episode with a fan, fresh paint, and carelessly placed glitter. It didn’t take the pain away, it sat a dull ache in his deepest self, but now, surrounded by the soft fluttering that somebody cares, it wasn’t so raw. The feeling settled over his body, dusting red where it pleased.

Whitney’s stories slowly came to a close as sleep over took her. She was almost finished the cupcake catastrophe that nearly got her banned from the kitchen when her words turned into mumbles, turned into quiet breath falls. Her hair had fallen in her face again, and Marcos’ arm, and shirt for that matter. Sitting as they were, together and peaceful, Marcos felt drawn to rest his head against hers. She still smelled like wet dog. Her strawberry shampoo could not overpower Mella. There was little in this world that could. He sighed. It was comfortable. He’d probably never be able to tell her properly how much her words meant to him. Somehow, he felt like apologising, saying he was sorry she ever had to treat him so kindly. It was a strange thing when your gratitude is so much it begs forgiveness. He’d probably never really try to express the pleasant emptiness she left him with. It was so like her though, to notice another person’s pain and busy herself about fixing it. There was something so special about her willingness to sit through it with him rather than force a laugh track to dampen the atmosphere. There was something so special about her. Though, that’s probably why he loved her. Wait, what did he just think? He – His ears stood to attention. He lo- The realisation hit him like a bus with no brakes. He loved her. A furious blush burnt up his neck to the tips of his ears. Oh Stars, he loved Whitney. What was he going to do? Did he tell her? Could she, could she maybe love hi- no that’s absurd. But it might not be. What if it was? Oh stars, what if it wasn’t? He glanced down at her, horrified to see the blush had reached his hands. At least she was still asleep. She hadn’t seen the mess that he was in the current business of becoming.

Too ensnared by the sudden Emotions, he totally missed the secret smile had crept onto Whitney’s lips. It’s about time you realised you silly hare <3

Tag list 

@inkovert, @snobbysnekboi

[digressfromreality]

Sometimes, We Survive By Forgetting

Synopsis: "You can erase someone from your mind. Getting them out of your heart is another story," Deidra whispered to her newest friend. A stray black dog she found, that had hurt himself outside of her home. What Deidra didn't know that the stray dog, was her brother-in-law, Sirius Black, who was very surprised to find his brother's wife very much alive after all these years.

Warning: SMUT, abuse/torture                        Part 1 of ....

(Current timeline: January 1996)

"Pity, pity. I thought you would have weathered better after all this time Lady Black." The Dark Lord, tutted, as he kicked her crumpled body over onto her back again. She moaned, trying to open both eyes. Her right eye must have swelled shut, making it difficult for her to make out the dark lord's menacing form. "You thought you could hide from me, from my Deatheaters?"

"No," she croaked. "I've never wanted to hide from you." She wheezed as the Dark Lord stomped on her wand holding hand.

"I didn't catch all that Janelle. What didn't you do?"

"I was forced. I, uh," she wheezed again, was her lung collapsing, "Regulus did this to me. Please believe me."

"Regulus Black, betray me? Unlikely." Voldemort swooped down, scaring Janelle with the sudden closeness. His face was more snakelike that she had remembered all those years ago. "But you," he jabbed with his wand, "you, the impressible Janelle Fawley, you on the other hand, were always the wildcard in the deck."

"But sir-" He grabbed her jaw with a sudden fierceness, forcing her silent.

"No matter, the truth has a way of coming out, one way or another."

-------------------------------------------

(Past: Summer 1995)

Again she dabbled between the vials on the hidden shelf. Her only companions over the last decade, were the memories of a life she had forgotten. Deidra pushed back the vials, looking for the memory labelled For When you're Lonely.

"Regulus I know it will hurt for a while," the blonde pulled the raven haired, lanky boy flush against her, "remember I'm always here for you." He nuzzled further into her embrace, he needed the comfort, he needed the guidance. He wanted to be strong, but for once he could not do it. She played with his hair which usually slicked back had become unruly from the tussle with... Sirius. He tried to steady his haggard breathing with her lulling humming. 

Finally, his anger subsided and a new emotion risen, gratitude and a sense of intimacy? She had quietly and without question, had tended to him in his darkest hour. Without her familiar quips or haughty laughter, she refreshed him with a kind embrace during his moment of weakness. He took in a long breath, smelling vanilla verbena. 

Yes, yes this was comforting, this was right. He could feel her stroking halt as his stormy eyes met hers. Her eyes smiled, and as genuine as her flashy grin. "As long as you ever need." He offered a small grin in return. Surprisingly, swiping a stray lock from her eyesight. He wanted to look at her entire, welcoming face.

"Your appreciation will never be forgotten." He whispered, flicking his wand at the door.

"Regulus!" She squealed as her hauled her into air with his grip around her derriere. He sat her onto a desktop, her legs spread apart with him strategically situated between them. "What, what are you..." She paused, listening to the plop of her cloak as he shoved it off her shoulders. "Ah.." She screeched as her fingers dug into his shoulders. The creeping of his fingers under her blouse tickled.

"Just relax Janelle, let me return the favor." She shivered, of all the teenage fantasies a girl could have, this was the hottest to come true. She licked her lips in anticipation, feeling his fingers ghost over her breasts. Regulus took her flushed appearance, and lack of disapproval was encouragement to continue his advancements. He brought his eager mouth to hers, it was sweet and warm. His heart began to shudder as she reciprocated his intensity.

Maybe she wanted this as well? No time for trivial thoughts, she was allowing it for now. 

She moaned as he rolled her nipple back and forth between his digits. Perky and eager as he had hoped. In the few minutes of passionate snogging, a fury of hands had relieve her of her constricting jumper and lined undershirt, leaving the top half of her bare. Her chest was full and heaving as he had always imagined. While Regulus had his tie unfastened and his button up shirt wide open. 

She couldn't help but admire his lean physique, Quidditch kept him in jealousy inducing greatness. He couldn't take it any longer, his hand finally wandered up her skirt, brushing against the laced line entrance, he smirked feeling the wetness beneath had surpassed the thin fabric. "You want this to happen don't you?" He smacked his lips, as he applied some needed pressure. Her body quivered beneath his.

"Yes, Reg..ah, Regulus. Please." She wheezed out in breathy moans. "Please, please." His fingers pushed the fabric over, slowly sliding his fingers down her slit. She shivered, her body literally lurched forward in desire. He wrapped his free hand around her while pulling her lust filled face close to his. He pressed a finger into her while the pad of his thumb rubbed rigid circles. Oh, did he relish her reaction, a bit too much. He was a bit selfish, and pressed another digit in while his thumb spread her lips farther open, teasing her clit as he slammed and curled his fingers inside her.

"Please, I..." She really moaned, loud and proud this time. He was delighted to see how wet she was after she came. They were both panting as he pulled away from her. He licked his moistened fingers as she looked away embarrassed.

"Just as sweet as the rest of you."

"Oh shut up." She muttered, as she slid her undershirt back over her head. She quickly squealed, and pushed his chest. "Ew don't kiss me now. That's disgusting." He laughed.

"It wouldn't be any different if you kissed me after pleasing me." She pulled her jumper over now, it was a sad sight for him.

"Still gross." She fastened her cloak on looking expectantly at him.

"What?" He asked as he fixed his tie. She pointed between the two of them.

"What would you call this, Black?" He smirked approaching her until she backed in a desk again.

"Well Fawley, since we're defining terms." He pulled her close again, he could feel her heart hammering against her chest. "This is my claim on you. Just as it should have been in the beginning. It's time to tell my cousin to bugger off."

And every night, she relived these forgotten memories. A life she lived prior to her accident, which from what was left in this house, wasn't as accidentally as it seemed. She longed for a chance to meet this boy she dreamt of, this Regulus.

-----------------------------------------------------

His senses were keen, he knew that in this animagus form they were almost as strong as a wolf, but he had to be imagining this? He could see her long brunette hair tumbling down her shoulders, bouncing back and forth as she walked with her arms full. She reminded him of her, when he was in his youth. 

Before she colored her hair like the sun, where her hazel eyes were complimented with the chestnut waves. Even her scent was familiar, a calming smell, like the vanilla verbena soaps she used daily. She religiously wore the same scent over and over again, like she never could bare the thought of smelling different. But he had to be wrong, him, with the entire wizarding world thought her and him to be dead. And here she was gardening like a muggle, with no cares in the world. 

He had been watching her for a while now, trying to make sense of his observations and his reoccurring thoughts. First and foremost, she was a witch. She had been putting on a good show, maybe so the surrounding muggles never caught on, but she would cast spells all the time. To make things bloom bright, or make her basket loads lighter. She always had her wand in the sleeves of her clothing, which made him very wary. 

When she was gardening she would converse and lament to herself, if anyone else would have hear her, they would think she had gone mad. But Sirius understood, even sympathize with her. Twelve years in Azkaban had left him with little communication with others, talking to one's self was a way he spent many days trying to occupy himself. To hold onto some form of normalcy as the others around him went mad from torture. She looked up in his direction, Sirius panicked, had he been panting? He slowly tried to back away from line of sight, only to get his leg caught. He howled in pain, why had he done that?

She saw the creature, her direct stare must have startled it. She was going to continue her gardening until she heard a cry. She approached the beast, slowly, the black dog was growling, showing his teeth at her. She assessed the situation. The poor thing had gotten its leg caught, it was bent at a weird angle.

------------------------------------------

"Albus you have to believe me. It was her!" Sirius was pacing around the room, while Dumbledore stayed transfixed near the fire place.

"Hasn't Alastor warned you about daily excursions?" Sirius rubbed his temple, trying to ignore the subject change. "Yes, Albus but this was her. This was Janelle Fawley." He paused, "I couldn't be surer in my life."

"Ms. Fawley disappeared right before your brother Regulus. It was assumed that they disappeared together. Even her father, Hector, never heard from his daughter again. If this truly was Janelle, I would believe she would have made some attempt to see her father when his health began to decline."

"That's it though, isn't it?" Ranting his inner thoughts out loud. He began his maddening pace around the room again.

"I don't follow you." Albus admitted.

"She would have, if she had remembered to do so." Albus smiled at the idea.

"You believe someone erased her memory."

"Not someone, my brother did."

"How could you be sure? I was under the impression that they were happily married." Sirius stopped, then quickly turned and kicked a chair.

"I don't know. Maybe they were, maybe they weren't. All I know is my brother's wife is alive with no seeming recollection of who she was. Or where he is. She's been living alone all these years."

"And did you come by this information?" Sirius cursed, he hadn't meant to let that slip.

"Well she has a soft spot for strays. I've been there plenty of times this last couple weeks. I've needed to know everything about her."

"Why is this?" Albus asked humbly, not trying to provoke him any further.

"To know if she was real, or if she was all in my head. Sometimes in Azkaban, I would dream of my family, and, and," Sirius choked up, "I just wanted to believe that this time it wasn't a hallucination."

"What is it that you would like me to do?"

"Excuse me?" Sirius was slightly taken back by Dumbledore's brash comment. He offered him a smile in return.

"You wouldn't be relaying all your suspicions to me without wanting me to pursue it. Am I wrong to assume?" Sirius shook his head, he still sometimes forgot how his old professor was always so perceptive.

"Is there any way you could pay her a visit. See if I missed something. I want to know why no one has found her before."

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"How may I help you?" The brunette stood behind the door, gazing at the strange man. His blue eyes twinkling, and his long white beard slightly raising as he smiled at her. She seemed to calm at his demeanor, no matter how strange his dressing robes were.

"Good morning, Miss. My name is Albus Dumbledore, I was wondering if you had a moment to talk?" He saw the brief recognition pass her hazel eyes.

"I'm, um, sure. Come on in. Would you like some tea, sir?"

"Ah yes if you don't mind." She gestured for the man to take a seat at the table, while she busied herself preparing the water. She sat out the china, while he sat. She pulled another chair to the table as the water boiled.

"So, um, Mr. Dumbledore how may I help you sir?"

"Well first I would like to know if you remember me?" Her brow furrowed in confusion, he hadn't tripped anything in her recollection. After about a minute she gave up. Maybe he had confused her pleasant stare for a knowing one.

"I'm sorry sir. I was in an accident a decade or so back. I'm not so good with names or memories."

"Not even your own?" He asked quietly. She shook her head.

"No. The identification I had on me at the hospital said my name was Deidra Noir. But it's never felt truly right. It sounds more like something I would name a daughter than myself." She coughed, she hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"If I understand correctly, Noir means Black?" Again Albus could swear he could see the clogs turning her head. She blushed, embarrassed.

"I thought it sounded more like a perfume more than anything. I guess I never thought to look it up."

"If you don't mind me asking Deidra, how did you sustain your trauma?"

"They said a car accident, but they said they found me lying outside a hospital. No car in sight. Probable hit and run. But I sustain head injuries and nearly had the skin and muscle tore off my arm. They almost had to use skin grafts." The kettle began to whistle she quickly stood up, trying anything to hide her flushed skin again. Albus had waved for her to sit.

"Let me get it."

"No, no you are my guest."

"No, no trouble at all." He waved his wand, bringing the drink-ware, and boiling kettle over to the table through the air. She sat there with her mouth agape. He offered to pour hers as well, but she shook her head.

"You're a wizard as well." So she knew about magic, despite the 'memory' loss. Albus had expected as much.

"So you know that you're a witch Deidra?"

"Yes." She shyly admitted. She was baffled by meeting another wizard. All these years she had been surrounded by non-magical folks.

"Do you remember going to Hogwarts?" Her eyes widened, she had studied at the best wizarding school in area.

"I went there?" She happily exclaimed. "What house was I in?"

"Slytherin." He said less enthused. She was put off by his dejected tone.

"Oh. Was I a bad student?"

"No, no. You were an exemplary student while attending there." She smiled. "You had an aptitude for charms and transfiguration."

"I had a feeling." Trying to hide a wry smile, she had more than just a feeling about that subject.

"But the crowd you fell in, well that's a different story altogether."

"Am I wanted? Did I break the law?" She began to panic. He could see her worries surface.

"That answer is a little more complex. Are you wanted by the Ministry, short answer no. Are you wanted by others? That is a more likely possibility." She took a long sip of her tea, not sure of how to react.

"Am I in danger?"

"At the present moment, no. But..."

"But what?"

"If we were able to find you, the others might be able to find you."

"Who is we?"

"The Order."

"Of the Phoenix?" He smiled.

"And you came by this information, how?"

"I have my sources."

"Very well." They discussed a few disjointed items that she had wondered about the wizarding world. Finally she asked the question that had been vexing her since he first began to explain himself.

"Sir?"

"What was my name?"

"Formerly Janelle Fawley." Albus saw that this name was not foreign to her. But he wasn't able to tell how or why that was. She gave a sigh of relief before quickly thinking, "Formerly?"

"You had recently gotten married before you disappeared."

"And...And��my husband?"

"Regulus Black." She let out a breath of surprise. The young man preserved in the vials near her bed. The man who in memories had kept her company, kept her safe from the unknown threats all these years. "Presumed missing or dead along with you, but I have the suspicion of the latter." She looked crestfallen, he patted her hand. "I'm sorry my dear."

"Do, do I have any other family?"

"Your father died not too long after you had gone missing. Dragon pox is harder on older wizards."

"Oh, um, what was his name?"

"Hector Fawley."

"An ex Minister of Magic. He, he resigned after Gridenwald was defeated." She stared at him in disbelief. "After, after you defeated Gridenwald. Mr. Fawley, my father, hadn't taken the threat seriously, or at least that is was the history books say."

"Yes. He did resigned after that. He also was busy finding a suitable wife. He end up marrying a few different times then having children, you and your brother later in life."

"Brother?"

"Yes, yes older brother Sean."

"Sean Fawley." His name made her lips tingle. She wasn't alone. "How much older?"

"About 5 years. He had a child, Sullivan, he is enrolled at Hogwarts currently."

"What house?"

"Hufflepuff."

"Pureblood or half-blood?" His eyes darken and she covered her mouth. It was almost like a reflex that she couldn't help. "That was rude, never mind."

"I'm really not sure. Blood purity is not Hogwarts agenda or criteria for new students." He scolded her, she didn't really know why that question had come out. She couldn't really remember meeting another magical being before this point. She was basically as capable as a muggleborn. God, why did that thought churn her stomach? "It may be wise to have you return to the wizarding world."

"To see my brother?" He patted her hand.

"All in due time."

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Later while reviewing her letters, she found the names that perpetually running through her mind the last few hours. She had knew that she had seen some of these names before, and suddenly these entries in elegant script held much more meaning than previously.

1980:

Albus Dumbledore –

Titles: Headmaster at Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot

Allegiance: Hogwarts, International Confederation of Wizards, Ministry of Magic and Order of the Phoenix

Opinion: Trustworthy

The Fawley Family –

Titles: Purebloods, ex affiliation of Ministry of Magic due to resignation of Hector Fawley

Allegiance: Mixed. Haughty purebloods, but stood indifferent to the rise of The Dark lord, except for Janelle Fawley.

Opinion: Questionable

The Black Family-

Titles: Purebloods, Noble House of Black, Dark wizards

Allegiance: Mixed. A majority are Deatheaters and pureblood extremists, except Sirius Black. The only one not afraid to stand up for what was right.

Opinion: Hopefully redeemable

No question that, she gulped, Regulus had composed these various lists. But now, this one really did make an impact. The wrong crowd, the very one her and her apparent husband had fell in: Deatheaters.

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(Current timeline: January 1996)

She shivered as the Dark Lord released her from her mind. He stood up and smiled down at her beaten body.

"You might be of some value yet." He gestured for Narcissa and Bellatrix to come closer. "Feed her and make sure she stays breathing. We will continue this get together at another time." He disappeared with a crack and Bellatrix let out of eerie laugh. Janelle twitched slightly hearing the familiar laugh. Her laughter had always led to something horrible.

"Cissy, let's get cleaned up and eat something. I'm absolutely ravished after today's events." Bellatrix cackled again before trouncing up the stone steps. Narcissa waited for her sister's silhouette to disappear before she waved her wand.

"Episkey." Narcissa whispered. Janelle moaned as her bones cracked, resetting themselves. What Janelle would kill for a glass of water, her lips were beyond chapped. But she was wheezed again, trying to chuckle. Who was she kidding? She was bound to die here. Narcissa kneed down next to Janelle's still bruised body, her brow furrowed. The poor girl was going to be tortured again and again until the Dark Lord was satisfied. A fate worse than death. If Narcissa had the courage she would put her cousin's poor wife out of her misery, but she did not. She had a family to think of, while Janelle did not. "I hadn't meant for our reunion to end with your demise. I am sorry Janelle."

"Cissy, leave the traitor be. We can feed her later." Bellatrix called from the floor above.

"Coming Bella." And like that Narcissa Malfoy was gone. Janelle was alone once again.