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thanosscross · 2 days ago

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Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x english speaking reader who try to learn korean for him but fails at first cause learning knew language is hard ?

Yess! I love this idea!! I just hope you don't mind a little twist added! This was just too cute and I just had to make it into a series!!<333 So with Reader also being a performer, just think along the lines of Brittney Spears vibes, just younger :0

All for show 1/? - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x Amercian! Pop-Star! Reader

Summary: After meeting at an award show, Seung Hyun notices international pop-star, Y/n L/n was mainly all for show in the spotlight.

Warnings: Your manager is 100% a dick in this, him trying to sexualize the reader before Seung Hyun fixes it for you <3

Whenever you were invited to guest perform at a music awards show, you were excited to accept the offer, you were in your off year from tours, and shows, so you were itching to get back on stage. You always loved being on stage, it wasn't that you loved attention, or were fame hungry, quite the opposite, actually. You just loved doing what you found fun, and that was dancing and singing, while also having fun with fans during your shows, your agency, just liked to make it look like you were hungry for the attention and male gaze.

Flying to America for one of their award shows, was odd for the boys, not knowing they had actually been nominated for one of the 'highest streaming' awards, The four were excited, practically bouncing around in their seats as they went over show plans and the line-up for the award show. "Holy shit, They're going to have the one girl there, uh!..Shit! Seung Hyun's favorite person to dance to while drunk!" Tae-Yang shouted, trying his best to think of your name "Y/n L/n!" Ji-Yong smiled, having multiple of your songs in his playlist, he didn't care if your choreography and songs didn't fit into the usual K-pop female music, yours diving way more into sexual topics and themes, but you weren't in K-pop, you were an American singer, meaning you could get away with a lot more. "I bet she's awesome in person! Have you seen her on stage!?" Dae-Sung gasped, leaning over the first class seat, looking at the line-up that Tae-Yang had pulled up.

As you walked into the giant room, you'd be performing and rehearsing in, you smiled brightly "I'm so excited! I just hope management approved the outfits I submitted" You said excitedly, holding your best friend's hand tightly, she was actually your assistant, but who cared? You were around each other enough to be considered best friends. "I'm sorry, Y/n..." She whispered, motioning to your dressing room, you sighed walking back to see the clothing rack sitting proudly in the center of the room, of course they wouldn't approve it, why would you ever be allowed to wear pants? You pouted walking over to the rack, your face twisting with disgust as you saw the extremely short spandex shorts, rhinestones and colored jewels covering the cheap fabric underneath, paired with nothing but basically a bra covered in the same rhinestones and jewels. Moving it to the side, you felt a little better, seeing somewhat of a bodysuit, the only difference being, the pant legs of it being cut off into the same shortness as the shorts from before, at least this time you would have more coverage up top.

Making your way to your rehearsals, you waved to the sound workers, making sure your microphone was taped down on your cheek securely, before making your way onto the stage, nodding your head to the intro of your song "Are we doing full effort? Or just running through?" You asked softly, looking towards the stage manager and your manager "Let's just do full effort, You haven't performed in over six months? You're rusty" He replied, you just shot him a glare, rolling your eyes before starting your choreography, singing softly with your backtrack that played through the speakers at the side of the stage.

The boys tried their best to calmly walk inside, jumping up and down for a moment in excitement as they heard music echoing from down the hall, as they made their way closer, following the stage tech to the giant room, Seung Hyun's eyes immediately landing on you as you made your way down to the edge of the stage. You were more breathtaking in person, even in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, you still danced and dropped to the ground like it was absolutely nothing for you. As the music played in the background, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, you just continued to jump along to it, throwing your arms up as the beat faded out. The four boys quickly clapped loudly, bowing towards you as you turned your attention to them "Oh my god! I didn't know other people were here! I'm so sorry! I knew we should've just ran through it like usual" You apologized before turning to scold your manager, the boys just chuckled and protested "No! No! You're okay! That was amazing!" Seung Hyun argued, Dae-Sung smiling and nodding in agreement "Yea, we just got here! We're big fans!" He smiled, causing Seung Hyun to lightly smack his arm, not wanting to blow his cover of acting cool around you. "Awe! Thank you! I've heard your guys' music too, I have it in all of my workout playlists" You giggled, stepping down off of the stage, ignoring your managers protests that you still had one more song to run before you could run off. "BigBang right? Ji-Yong...Dae-Sung, Tae-Yang, and....Do you prefer Top or Seung Hyun?" You giggled, recalling their names the best you could, watching as each boy blushed brightly as your name fell from their lips. Each boy had their own crush on you for different reasons, but all of them fell almost under the same category, your confidence, especially whenever it came to your music videos and performances.

"U-Um..You can call me Seung Hyun" He smiled softly, watching as you smiled brightly, covering your cheeks slightly as you blushed slightly, his smile was even cuter in person. "Nice to meet you boys, I'm Y/n..as you know.." You giggled awkwardly, groaning as you heard the beginning of your song start to play, turning to flip your manager off before walking back to the stage. You two had a love-hate relationship, mainly hate, but with you being the biggest pop-star under your manager's contracts, he couldn't afford to lose you, and you were too big of a people pleaser to leave. Strutting around the stage to the music, you nodded your head lazily, it was your biggest song, so you had done the song and choreography a million times before. "Y/n." Your manager warned, you just rolled your eyes towards him before moving your arms, dragging your hands across your chest before flicking your hands with the beat of the music. As you kneeled down, you shot a glare to your manager, knowing damn well your ass would be on full view during this part if you wore either outfit you had, you rolled onto your hands and knees, crawling towards the edge of the stage for a few counts of the song, before rolling onto your back, bending on knee up as you rested a hand in your hair, panting loudly "I'm not doing that, and you can't force me, Christopher" You demanded, popping up to your feet "You will, or you can be on hiatus for another year" He threatened, narrowing your eyes as you marched towards him, you felt your blood boiling, how dare he threaten that? Whenever you've given the last eight years of your life to him, signing on with him at sixteen, and still staying at 24, even if you were tired of his shit. "You have me half naked on stage and on national television!" You shouted, jabbing his chest quickly, he was quick to catch your finger, holding it as he glared you down.

Seung Hyun clenched his fists, not liking the way your interaction seemed to be going, but Ji-Yong just stopped him from moving forward any "We have our arguments with YG, she has hers" He whispered, watching from afar as you yanked your hand away from your managers huffing loudly "It always responds better with audiences if you're dressed more revealing" You manager smirked, trying to keep his voice low as more of the artists started showing up, you just felt yourself become more angry, of course he was going to make it like you were the problem now. "I'm not wearing it, or I'm not doing the choreography." You snapped before storming towards your dressing room, feeling like you needed to leave before you ended up punching his stupid face. As you sat on your sofa, you glared harshly at the two outfits hanging on the rack, and then the one you had in your bag as a spare, the one you originally wanted. It was nothing special, just a pair of jeans and a crop-top that had come from your merch line that you had customized to be one of a kind by adding rips and adding pieces of your own Jewlery to it, along with a loose oversized flannel to go over.

You never noticed the knocking on your door, or your assistant letting in the tall K-pop star "If you keep glaring that hard, you might be lucky enough to cause them to catch fire" Seung Hyun noted, causing you to jump, turning your attention towards him as you caught your breath from the slight scare "Sorry! I'm so sorry, Aein!" He apologized quickly, he didn't mean to frighten you, he just wanted to make sure you were alright, and didn't need a teammate to kick your managers ass. "A..en?" You questioned, tilting your head as you continued to try and repeat the word, you weren't sure if he had just forgotten your name, or if it was some type of insult or compliment in Korean "Aein, It's um..Sweetheart" He replied, suddenly becoming flustered by his own flirty nickname for you "Oh...Ain" You tried, letting your head fall as you giggled "That's still not right is it?" You asked giggling, watching as Seung Hyun shook his head smiling "Aein.." He said slower this time, sounding out each syllable, watching as you nodded closely, excited to learn a new way to speak to others, and your fans from Korea. "Aein..You're an Aein too?" You questioned, he just laughed softly as your attempt, nodding as you finally somewhat pronounced it right "Very close, so, what's going on with grandpa out there?" He asked playfully, sitting on the chair across from you, you sighed looking at him "I'm sure you don't want to hear about all of that" You sighed, glancing at your watch, four hours until show time, Seung Hyun just shook his head sighing "Maybe I do?" He questioned, smiling a bit as you tilted your head "You know..I don't..sleep with other artists right?..That was a rumor-" Seung Hyun was quick to cut your nervous tone off "No! Aein, I just want to make sure you're alright!" He smiled, watching as you tilted your head even more before slowly sitting back on the couch "That's my manager, Chris, he's a good guy, just a man" You huffed before turning to look at the K-pop Idol that sat in front of you "No offense, I just mean, he fits that stereotypical, womanizer, asshole" You explained watching as he giggled and nodded at your cautiousness, whatever training agency you went through must've trained you for PR well especially if you were cautious around other celebrities in private. "He's got me in those outfits, dancing like I was, and everybody will see everything and It's going on tv so it will always be out there" You huffed, resting your head in your hands as you tried your best not to cry, you weren't really ever this emotional, but you felt trapped, like you had no options.

"Hey, hey, it's okay" Seung Hyun replied, moving quickly to sit next to you, rubbing your back gently as you tried your best to not cry. "I don't know what to do, and I'm crying to a man I just met" You huffed, laughing at yourself softly, glancing up to your vanity mirror huffing loudly "I look so fucking stupid" You whispered, trying to wipe the tears and makeup off of your face, that's whenever Seung Hyun first noticed that whenever you were on stage, it was all for show, while you might've been confident, you didn't seem as confident as you were. "You don't, I think you're just, stressed right now" He whispered, growing frustrated as he tried to think of the words to explain that you were alright and all idols get like that, but his mind was blanking, only thinking of them in his own language. You took a deep breath, giving Seung Hyun a soft smile "That's sweet, but there's nothing shaking my opinion, anyways, what're you doing in here?" You asked, realizing as your emotions started to calm, Seung Hyun never really stated why he was there "Well, at first I was just checking on you, but now, after hearing your outfit situation, I think I have an idea" He smirked playfully, standing up as he grabbed your drink off of your vanity walking over to your outfits before raising his eyebrows “ready?” He asked, trying to hide his smile as you giggled evilly, knowing this was going to piss your manager off “do ittt!” You shouted watching as he pretended to trip in order to spill your drink on your performing outfits “oh nooo! You can’t wear them anymore!” He said sarcastically, laughing, watching as you giggled loudly standing up “I guess I’ll just have to wear my spare then" You laughed playfully, getting your spare outfit, laying it over the back of the couch, smiling as Seung Hyun set the cup back down turning to face you.

"That was really sweet" You smiled softly, nudging his arm gently as you nodded towards the speaker that sat installed in the ceiling as it chimed in to let you know they were calling someone on stage for rehearsals "BigBang members, please make your way to the stage" The speaker said, before repeating the phrase one more time, Seung Hyun smiling sadly at you "See you later?" He asked softly, you giggled a bit, acting like you were thinking hard "I don't know...I don't normally let fans in my dressing rooms" You giggled softly, Seung Hyun gasped looking at you in shock "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! Yes, You'll see me later" You giggled softly, holding onto the door as you watched Seung Hyun take a slight step out before looking at you "Got it..and Y/n?...No matter what you wear?..I think you're yeppeo" He whispered softly, smiling softly as you gave him the same confused expression as before "I'm..awesome?" You giggled playfully, watching as he chuckled softly, a blush rising to his cheeks "It means...pretty or beautiful" He replied, doing his best to translate for you, giggling softly you covered your face "See you later, Seung Hyun" You whispered, watching as he waved goodbye, before walking towards stage with his friends.

As you sat on the couch, in your dressing room, you wondered why you were so suddenly drawn to the K-pop star, he was tall, and very attractive, but there was just something else about him. Maybe it was the fact, that everybody in the world was sure that you were full of yourself and had an ego bigger than the universe, but Seung Hyun seemed to see straight through that, seeing you for who you really were. A stuck, insecure, sweet, shy 24 year old, that just wanted to do best for your fans, not worrying about anything other than that. As you tilted your head slightly, you decided to try your best to learn some common lines in Korean, wanting to be able to communicate better with the boys while you're here, especially Seung Hyun. As Seung Hyun finally entered your dressing room again, he laughed, noticing your state, that was the exact same as last time, except your glare was set on your laptop. "Aein? I can't pour a drink on that" He joked playfully, you just let yourself fall back "Well, I'm trying to learn this, but I can't seem to fucking pronounce that" You huffed loudly, handing your laptop over to the taller man, Seung Hyun couldn't contain his blush as he noticed the phrase you had typed out in English, Korean, and the pronunciations for each word. 'You guys did amazing, best rapper I've ever met'

You both ended up sitting there for the rest of the three hours you had before the show started, Seung Hyun helping you learn different phrases in Korean, even some of their songs, so you could follow along with them as they performed. You would all be rushed from the red carpet, straight to performing, you knew you were the last to perform, before you and the boys announced the winners, you both being the biggest names there. As you watched the boys perform, your eyes were trained on Seung Hyun, watching in awe as he moved around the stage, his deep voice echoing through the microphone as he rapped quickly, his eyes catching yours for a moment as he passed. He could feel his heart flutter whenever he caught your gaze, seeing how amazed you looked, while only looking at him. As you swapped places, and did your set, you smiled at Seung Hyun, looking at him, any chance you got as your manager was silently raging from the side of the stage at your outfit change. As your performance ended, and you all wrapped up the awards show, you smiled at Seung Hyun "Going back home, Aein?" You smiled, proud of yourself for properly pronouncing the nickname, Seung Hyun gave you a similar proud smile "That was perfect! And yea...we are" He whispered softly, grabbing your hands gently, moving to bid you a farewell before you were quick to wrap your arms around him in a hug. "Thank you for helping me tonight, Seung Hyun, You're a good person, and I hope I get the chance to see you again" You whispered, squeezing him slightly as he hugged you back "Anytime, Aein, Seriously, I'm sure I can spill a lot more drinks, especially if it means more of the Y/n, I saw tonight. You seemed so happy, about everything" He smiled playfully, rubbing your back before pulling away, you smiled a bit rocking on your feet, never had you ever had someone read you so well, so quickly, yet here Seung Hyun was, reading you like every secret and insecurity was exposed for him to see, without you ever saying a word.

"I'm always happy to perform.. I just, Don't want to show off my body in order to feel loved and accepted" You shrugged softly before sighing "But, that's show-biz, is it not?" You joked, watching as Seung Hyun sighed softly "There are people who love and accept you for exactly who you are, Y/n, you've just got to hold out and wait" He whispered, cupping your cheek gently before giving you a soft smile "I had my manager contact your manager, so you should be getting my number soon" He smiled softly, bidding you one last goodbye before his manager pulled him away so they could make their flight back home. Seung Hyun could feel his heart drop, and his chest feel heavier as he walked away, he wanted to stay with you longer, just a few hours, wasn't enough for him, he wanted to hear you talk forever, learn everything about you. As he went to get into the car they had to take them to the airport, you stopped him for one last hug "Be safe.. Okay?" You whispered, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away "I will, Aein, just for you" He whispered, smiling as he watched you covered your blush quickly with your hands, giggling softly, you swatted at his arm gently "Are you flirting with me?" You giggled as he climbed into the car "Only if you want me too" Seung Hyun joked playfully, you just giggled loudly, shaking your head playfully as you sighed "You're too cute, Seung Hyun, message me whenever you land, please?" You whispered, standing back so the other boys could file into the car "I will, Aein, get inside before you freeze" He replied sweetly, his tone slightly demanding as you shivered from the chilly fall breeze. Nodding as you laughed softly, moving back towards the doors, waving the boys goodbye as the car pulled away.

"You like him!~" Your assistant sang out, approaching from behind, you just blushed brightly as you turned around "He's so charming! It's like he knows me without knowing me! He even invited me to an art show in a few months!" You squealed excitedly, your assistant squealing with you, happy to see you this excited again, especially since your off year started. "Ooo~ Y/n L/n and K-Pop Idol, T.O.P, I like it" Your manager cheered as he approached "Noo! Keep your grimy little PR fingers away from him! Private life things!" You groaned, watching as he laughed as your actions "Honey nothing is a private life in the Music industry" He replied, causing your assistant and you both to roll your eyes, your assistant quick to step forward "Christopher, So help me, if you interfere with this, or ruin it for our girl, I will kill you, sound good?" She threatened lowly, you nodded your head as he glanced at you, sighing as he sent over a forwarded message of Seung Hyun's number "There, if anything I helped her" He sassed, you just giggled excitedly, pulling your phone out, knowing exactly what he meant as you immediately started to message your new friend, and growing crush.

'Hey! <3 It's Y/n, It's going to be about 10k for those outfits :)'

'10K!? What were they made out of?'

'I'm kidding! <33 Miss you already, bestie, hanging out isn't fun whenever you're not here'

'Aww Aein, you're too kind <3'

You giggled reading his message, carrying your phone close to your chest as you made your way out to the car, your driver taking you back home as you patiently waited for a message from Seung Hyun saying he landed. Excited to hear from again, even if it was just through text messages, he still managed to make you feel more seen than everybody ever has.

What do you think lovelies? <333 I'm definitely doing a part two because this is just too cute! <3 Excited to hear from you!!

Taglist!!!

@onyxmango

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@acehasmyheart

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

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@goodnight-n-go-home

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the-fyre-flie · 3 days ago

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Bruce can't wake up alone. AKA the batkids prefer sleeping in their dad's bed cuz of various reasons:

Dick started the trend cuz he was a little kid, he was scared, and he was desperate for the connections he had lost. The first time he found himself in Bruce's bed was after a nightmare. He had tugged on Bruce's sheets, sniffling and asking for any comfort the man could give. It was awkward and sad but eventually Dick would crawl into the bed and Bruce would instictivly hold him.

Then Jason showed up and filled that void that older Dick left when the boy grew into a man. Even more hesitant than before, but little sunshine Jason was so warm in his new dad's arms and Bruce was more than happy to shield him from the night. Post death/revival, those nights stopped. The bed was cold again and all those hours of trying to protect his little boy had been wasted.

Tim was different. He was a replacement, a coping mechanism, a mimicry of what Jason once was. Bruce had to be forcibly reminded that Tim was just a kid, too, a traumatized kid who wanted more than anything to be that perfect fit in his arms. When Bruce finally opened up again, Tim was more than happy to fall into his bed at night and feel safe in his embrace.

Damian took months before he willingly let Bruce touch him, let alone nighttime cuddles. Like with Dick, it was nightmares that pushed Damian into his fathers room. Relentless horrible dreams fueled by paranoia. Bruce's bed was his safe space after that, a place he could retreat to for queit and comfort away from his own fears.

Cass never fully expressed why she would climb into Bruce's bed, but it wasn't hard to imagine that a traumatized girl wanted someone to protect her. Even if it's hard to say out loud or even put on a page, warmth and safety is important to her and Bruce is the epitome of that to 90% of Gotham. Even if she's gone by morning, Bruce is glad she's doing what makes her comfortable.

Barbara never really needed Bruce, she has her own father she loves thank you very much, but post patrol sleed deprived delirium does a number on the body and so what if Bruce's bed is the biggest and the comfiest in the manor? Plus, Bruce is a massive heated pillow. He'll never argue with her or send her off because what's he's supposed to say to one of his kids? No? Absolutely not.

Stephanie's own dad wasn't too great of a dad, and Bruce isn't exactly perfect either, but she doesn't hate him. When guilt and anxiety get too much, when thoughts of what could have been swamp her, he's been pretty reliable. A dead asleep Bruce can't complain about her sleep habits anyways.

Sadly Duke is the only mainstream bat kid that i can't think of anything for. He just doesn't seen like the type to ever engage with Bruce as familial-ly as that. Perhaps I need to read more...

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practicalgauntlet · 3 days ago

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~You're still my person. Even if I'm not yours.~

Part two

"We kept crossing paths, near misses and almosts, when all I ever wanted was for us to collide." -Jessica Katoff

Synopsis - Some time has passed, and you think you've healed. But when you're shot by an unsub, old wounds are ripped open for all to see.

Category- Angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Notes - Hurt/comfort, you get shot, Canon typical violence, blood and gore, angst, self-loathing, self-blaming, a year has passed between this and part one, gender-neutral reader (I only use They/Them pronouns because I know everyone likes Spencer not just the girlies), I'm so sorry this is so long, you're a trooper if you get through all of this. The fic started writing itself :/

A/N- this is for @bloodredrubyrose and everyone else who wanted the happy ending. I hope this is okay.

WARNING- This one-shot has violence similar to the cases in the show, but I wanted to bring attention to what transpires and is mentioned in this fic. The case revolves around murdered pregnant women and their fetuses. If the topic is too sensitive for you or can trigger anything, I suggest not reading this.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A year has passed since J.J.'s wedding.

You still find yourself hurting, lying awake at night thinking of the possibility of "What if?". You still have to shake away the thoughts of inadequacy, of not good enough.

Sometimes, when you're particularly tired or inebriated, you find yourself still unable to look away from him.

It was three weeks and two days after the wedding when Spencer invited you to hang out with him again. It was a month, two weeks, and eleven hours when he greeted you with a genuine smile again.

It was eight months, three weeks, six days, and two hours when you felt like you could breathe again.

Everything was back to normal. It wasn't bright, shiny rainbows and glittery kittens like Penelope said it would be once you healed. But it was normal.

It was easier to ignore the festering pit in your stomach during the day, easier to look your team in the eye, say, "I'm okay." and mean it. It was easier to watch Spencer heal the same way you were.

You were so proud of him. It felt like your Spencer was back. His long-winded speeches about something that didn't seem relevant but ended up helping the case drastically, his magic tricks in the bullpen when Hotch was in his office, and his goofy authenticity. All of it was back, at least partially.

He still got quiet when J.J. was around and closed in on himself. But compared to those days after the wedding, he was making immense progress. You just wished he let you in so you could help.

"I don't think they're listening."

You barely hear Morgan's voice over the bubbling thoughts that threatened to take control and invade your mind.

"Oh, sugar they're definitely not listening."

Penelope's hand was slamming down on your desk, startling you out of your reverie.

"What's on your mind, honey pot?"

She asks, propping herself up on the table. With her quirked eyebrow and intense look in her eye, you knew what she was asking.

"Are you still hurting?"

She was right to be worried, right to involve herself in case you got worse again. But instead of thinking about Spencer and how you'll never be on the receiving end of his affectionate gaze, you were actually thinking about the case.

There was a lull in leads, the ones you had only took the team to a dead end. Dead body after dead body and still nothing.

"I'm fine, Pen. This case is just taking a lot out of me."

And it was true. The BAU had been called in because a dead body had been unearthed by a gardener somewhere East. A heavily pregnant woman had been murdered, her unborn child ripped from her body and buried with her.

It was horrifying, to say the least, the brutality of the unsub turning your breakfast sour. But it had been seven hours since the team landed in the small town, and you were still no closer to finding the culprit.

"Why don't we get something to eat, hmm?"

Penelope suggested, hopping off the table and holding out her hand for you.

"If you're getting food, get me a little somethin'. I'm in the mood for Chinese!"

Morgan yelled from across the room, his hip propped against the clear board Spencer was mumbling at.

"I guess we're getting Chinese."

You chuckle, standing up and following Penelope out of the makeshift conference room the local police allowed you to use. As you were passing Spencer, you turned to him and called his name.

"Do you want anything specific?"

He looks to you, eyes reluctantly leaving his equations as he's pulled from his thoughts.

"What?"

There was a surge of affection at the sight of his pursed lips and furrowed brows. The way his hands fiddled with the marker, clicking the lid on and off the end.

"We're getting the team Chinese takeout. Do you want anything?"

"Just a fork."

You nod your head, peeling yourself away from his attentive gaze. When you and Penelope get in the car, she places a hand on yours. You didn't take your eyes off the road, but you could tell that she was looking at you with that look again.

"How have you been, sugar?

It felt good to have someone watching over you, someone in your corner, to ask if you were okay even after time had passed and you were healed.

"I've been doing good."

She was the only one to know of your breakdown on Rossi's front porch. She was the only one you allowed to see what it did to you those weeks afterward. How depressed you were, how hopeless. Penelope Garcia was your best friend, and she was the only one to know you were still unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Spencer Reid.

"Are you sure about that? I know this case is a doozy but I know that look in your eye."

You briefly take your eyes off the road once you reach a red light, patting the hand that now rested comfortingly on your thigh.

"Yes, I'm fine. It doesn't feel like the world is ending anymore. Plus, life is unfair sometimes. I just need to roll with the punches."

She looked at you, her knowing eyes always privy to the storm that rolled beneath your skin. In one final attempt to comfort her worry, you flash her your most believable smile.

Penelope quirked an eyebrow and looked away, not at all convinced but persuaded to leave it be for the time being.

The trip for food was brief. You got various dishes in case the team was in the mood for a certain thing. You were back at the station within twenty minutes, walking into the conference room to something you never wanted to see.

Your team was gathered around the table, faces grim as they spoke towards the phone sitting in the middle.

"Another body..."

Penelope whispers, catching the eyes of Morgan as he shakes his head solemnly. Hotch was already giving the team their orders.

Morgan and Emily were dispatched to question the family as the local police had already ID'd the girl. She was a well-known and loved woman; she was a part of the PTA, led the neighborhood watch, and hosted bake sales for all parts of the community.

J.J. was asked to stay behind and deal with the journalists and news anchors that suddenly surrounded the station.

That left you and Spencer to follow up with the police at the scene of the crime. Spencer drove the two of you there, your knee bouncing in the passenger seat as you watched the scenery pass by.

"I don't get it..."

Spencer mumbles. When you look to him for an explanation he was already glancing at you.

"Why pregnant women? Why take the baby out and bury it with the mother? It makes no sense."

You flip down the visor, both because you need to get the sun out of your eyes and to do something with your hands.

"Maybe they're surrogates for his real target? A mother? Maybe he's upset at his mom and taking the baby is a way to give mercy to his inner child."

"Or maybe," Spencer counters, long fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he pulls into the crime scene. "They're surrogates for a wife."

The scene before you was gnarly. And unfortunately, the unsub had changed M.O.

The woman was buried in a shallow grave like the others, dressed in a thin white gown, poised perfectly like Snow White with her child tightly swaddled in a towel and tucked safely in her arms. The only difference was the lack of blood, the lack of brutality. That, and she had blonde hair whereas the other victims were brunettes.

"He's devolving."

You mutter, feeling sick at the sight of her.

"Or he's getting close to what he's wanting to do."

You look up at him from your squatted position, taking in Spencer in all his glory. He looked so good in his FBI vest, with his sweater and tie peeking out from the collar.

You shouldn't be thinking of him like that. Not when a woman and her child had lost their life and they lay decaying in front of you. Not when you should already be over him.

"What do you mean?"

"She looks perfectly preserved. Sure, she's laid out in the same outfit and the same position. The color and the way she's laid are meant to symbolize purity. So we know he isn't murdering for hatred. He feels sympathy for these women. But look at this,"

He crouches next to you, the movement sending your heart into overdrive. His sleeves were rolled up as he shoved his hands into some blue surgical gloves. You could even smell his cologne.

"Her hair," He picks up a strand. "Her hair had been styled. There's a texture to it that means he used hairspray. And while the others' hair was wild and unkempt, most likely because he kept them for some time or they fought back, her's is washed and curled."

"So we know this woman is a surrogate, but he's not acting on any sexual or vengeful impulse?"

Spencer turned to you, looking at you from above his sunglasses.

"I think we're ready to give the profile."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"We are looking for a white male in his mid to late thirties."

Morgan starts as he leans against one of the desks, his arms folded against his chest. Emily stepped up, continuing on as she stared each and every officer down to make sure they were taking this as seriously as it was.

"Look for someone who had recently lost a wife and child during the birth, someone who is most likely blue collar. He would have been a normal man up until his loss. Now, he would be agitated and easily riled up. Getting into fights or arguments when he normally wouldn't. "

You step in, delivering the line you rehearsed in your head over and over on the ride back to the station.

"He's kidnapping pregnant women so he could relive the birth. So he could hold his child and kiss his wife. But he's desperate, so he is taking the babies out prematurely and amateurly that neither victim survives. He would need a space to do all of this, a garage, a second home, or a place of work. Somewhere concealed enough to not draw attention but spacious enough to perform the c-section."

It was now Hotch's turn to deliver the final line of the profile.

"He will continue to take women until he gets what he wants. We need to make sure Kate Smith is his last victim."

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You found him. Carl McGregor, a welder for a construction company. His wife of six years died giving birth to his child, and he went off the rails.

You sympathized with him, knowing that he was in so much pain. But that didn't excuse what he did to those poor women and the families they were a part of.

Carl was hiding out in his garage, a woman in the last week of her second trimester strapped to the table; screaming for help.

You were the first on the scene, your legs carrying you just a bit faster than the others. When you opened the garage door, you had to put every ounce of will not to tackle the guy to the ground.

"FBI! Put the scalpel down Carl!"

Carl was hovering over Debbie Park, a young mother of three and a half. He had her strapped to a makeshift stretcher and her terrified screams broke your heart.

"No!" Carl said with a crazed look in his eyes. "My wife is about to give birth, give her space!"

You lower your gun so the barrel isn't aimed straight at his skull but keep it raised just in case. When you spoke, you made sure you sounded as calm and understanding as possible.

"Carl, your wife died three weeks ago giving birth to your son. Let Debbie go so her husband doesn't experience the loss you did.

You don't know how or when Spencer made it into the garage but he suddenly appeared in the shadows, his gun aimed at Carl.

"No, please!" Carl was focused on you, his shaking hands still holding Debbie down. "This is my wife! Why are trying to take her away?"

You lower your gun entirely, feeling safe with Spencer there to have your back. You approached Carl slowly, keeping your body crouched as if you were approaching a scared and wounded animal. Because that's exactly what he was. A scared and wounded animal.

"Carl?" You put a hand on his shoulder. He winces but doesn't attack. "Debbie has a family, she has three kids and a husband who are worried sick about her. Do you want to put her husband and kids through the same pain you're feeling?"

It all happened so fast. First Carl was lunging at you, a gun you didn't know he had raised before you could pull your own. Debbie's screams mixed with yours as Spencer fired his gun and took Carl down.

There was a sharp sting to your chest, your right shoulder to be exact just under your collarbone. Upon Carl's death, his finger squeezed the trigger and put a bullet three inches from your heart.

Spencer was in front of you before you could collapse, cradling your head to save it from bashing against the concrete ground.

"I need a medic!"

Spencer yelled into his com, his face wild with worry as he pressed his hands into your wound.

It hurt, sending a blazing fire throughout your body. In the back of your mind, you heard yourself scream from the pain, your throat raw and ragged. Your hands uncontrollably gripped Spencer's vest, clutching him closer to you as you tried to breathe around the sharp, boiling pain.

"You're going to be okay, the medic is on his way."

Spencer's voice sounded far away, garbled and hazy like he was underwater. Panic soon tore across your body, thrumming through your veins as you tried to ignore the sticky warmth pooling through your shirt.

"No, no, stay with me. Stay with me please!"

You barely felt Spencer's cold hands patting your cheek. You had to say it now, as you were dying. This was your last chance to tell him how you feel. You already felt yourself slipping away.

"Spence..."

Your mouth felt so dry, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. He was shaking above you, pulling your body into his lap as he rocked you back and forth.

"I'm here, I'm here. I'm not leaving, you'll be okay."

You felt he was saying that more for himself than he was for you.

It was hard to unfurl your fingers from his vest but you did it, lifting your hand to cradle his cheek. It was now or never.

"Before I dye, I need you to know-"

"No!" Spencer seethed. You had never seen him so emotional before, so upset he looked feral. "You are not going to die! Where's my fucking medic?!"

"I need you to know, that I love you."

He smoothed his hands over your face, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from your eyes. "I love you too, you're my best friend."

You let out a breathy, strangled, humourless chuckle. Of course he'd make you spell it out for him.

"I'm in love with you, Spencer..."

Black was edging your vision, your ears ringing as you watched Spencer blink once, twice, before the medic pushed him away.

Faintly you felt your body being moved, that white-hot pain once again rendering you speechless as you finally succumbed to the darkness that was calling to you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Spencer couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't taste, or hear, or feel. Frantic, animalistic worry overpowered every other emotion. Logic be damned, facts be damned.

"Reid, calm down or you're gonna wear a hole in the floor."

"There is a high chance the bullet nicked a vital vein or artery. It took us fifteen minutes and thirty seconds to get her to the hospital and another six minutes for the doctors to start operating. There is a higher chance that she lost too much blood and will need a transfusion. If she needs a transfusion there is a chance she could have a Febrile non-hemolytic transfusion reaction or a Transfusion-related acute lung injury. There are so many possibilities to think over and every time I think I've found a way to stop them another one pops up. Do not tell me to calm down!"

Morgan backed off, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"My bad, man."

Emily was next to approach him and he had to look away from the worry on her face.

"Only thinking about what could go wrong will only cause you more stress. Maybe you should go home and take a shower."

"Stop telling me what to do."

He didn't recognize his voice, and he knew his friends didn't recognize him. So he backed off, settling himself in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, and put his head in his hands.

Emily was right. Derek was right. But if he thought about anything other than the complications that could take you away from him all he would focus on were the last words you uttered before blacking out.

"I'm in love with you, Spencer."

He didn't know what to do with that information. After J.J. he didn't allow himself to even look a second longer at someone that was out of his league. Which was everyone. Especially you.

You were so kind and gentle with him. You let him go on his rants, asking him to finish what he was saying if the team not so subtly told him to shut up or bluntly interrupted him. You loved his endless facts and knowledge and you told him often.

You were like a beacon of light when you entered the room, his gaze unconsciously looking for you wherever he was. You were his best friend; you knew everything about him and still treated him like a human being. Not some computer, not some freak.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. His hands were shaky and he couldn't keep still to save his life. He had never felt like this before, not when a gun was pointed in his face, not when the bureau was infiltrated. Not even when Emily was in the hospital.

He'd never been this scared shitless before.

And then it hit him.

He was in love with you.

He had been for a while. Maybe after J.J., maybe before. Spencer didn't know when it happened or how deeply it had been buried. All he knew was that it was now so fucking obvious.

It felt so natural. He had always thought you were going to be a permanent fixture in his life. Always thought that you'd be a phone call away when he needed you and he'd be the same. Whenever he thought of something you were always there, in the back of his mind like you belonged there.

He faintly heard a commotion, the sound of chairs scraping against the ground and footsteps running away. He looked up from the floor, his body fuzzy from the realization.

Spencer bolted from his seat the moment he saw the doctor standing in front of his team. He gently shoved aside Morgan and J.J. needing to hear the news as close as possible.

"They're stable and awake. It had just barely missed their heart, but they will heal with no permanent damage."

Spencer could have dropped to his knees with relief, his body sagging and his lungs deflating.

"Can I- we see her?"

"Of course, but we still need to take their vitals frequently. And a room full of people would not be best stress-wise so I suggest one to two people at a time."

Morgan clapped him on the back, a knowing look on his face before shoving him forward.

"We're going to get something to eat. You check on our sunshine."

After all the attitude he threw their way, he was dumbfounded that they would give him such a precious opportunity.

"Thank you,"

"No problem, Pretty Boy."

When Spencer entered your room, it was like he walked into a different reality. You were usually so bright and shining, carving a path of light and kindness wherever you stepped, but now you were lifeless. The tubes and wires hooked up to you made you look so uninhabited; pale, and sickly from the blood loss.

Spencer approached the bed, being careful not to make any noise that would startle you awake. Your eyes were closed and he assumed you were probably in and out of consciousness due to the pain meds they were pumping into you.

He hated seeing you like this.

"Spence?"

He hadn't realized you had awoken, too focused on all the machinery you were hooked up to.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

Spencer didn't know what to do with his body so he just stood there, willing his emotions into submission and picking at the skin of his thumbs.

"I feel like I just got hit by a train."

You groan and he is at your side immediately, checking the monitors and making sure your pain meds are working. They were, but he needed to make sure.

"What no fact about processing pain or how it affects the body?"

You were looking up at him now, a pained but genuine smile on your face. In the hour that he worried relentlessly about you, he feared he'd never see that again.

That smile faded into something akin to concern when he didn't respond.

"What's wrong Spence?"

"I thought you were going to die."

He sounded so small, even to his own ears. Weak, scared. Like a child.

You waved him over closer, and he listened. If you told him to, he would follow you to the ends of the earth. It surprised him when you grabbed his hand and placed it over your heart, the roughness of the gauze grazing his shaking fingers. He tried to pull away, but you kept him there so he could feel your heartbeat.

"I'm still here, Spencer. You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Do you-" He couldn't stand not knowing anymore. The probability of people saying things they didn't mean while bleeding out was too high for him to think clearly any longer. "Do you remember what you said to me?"

He watched your face turn sad, your lips turn inward and your eyes drop to the hospital-grade blanket. You also dropped his hand, the limb numbly swinging back by his side.

"Yes," You refused to look at him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put you in that situation, it was unfair of me."

"No, I-"

"I understand if I've ruined everything. I don't blame you if you don't want to be friends anymore."

Before he could think and rehearse a thought-out sentence, his mouth moved and spoke for him. "I don't want to be friends."

He realized his mistake not a second later. And to make up for it, to take away the pain on your face, he gently grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

"I love you too, so much so that the idea of you dying turned me into an illogical and emotional mess."

Tears lined your wide eyes as you stared up at him, your cheeks regaining some color. Now that he's said it out loud, he couldn't keep his mouth shut even if he tried.

"I love you so much, that I want to take away all your pain. All the bad memories and shitty feelings that take away that pretty smile. I'd do anything for you."

You reached up and cupped his cheek, much like hours before, your lip quivering.

"I'd do anything for you too, Spence."

"I know."

It felt natural to kiss your forehead, to settle into the small hospital bed, and tuck you gently into his side. It felt natural to, days later after you were discharged, take you on a proper date and call you his.

A/N- Realistically I know there would be more turmoil, less trust, and more self-doubt during the confession part but this is fiction of fiction so let's just pretend okay:) I'll save that stuff for the full-length stuff. Also along the lines of reality, I know that there is such a thing as a bulletproof vest, but I needed drama so forgive me.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #no use of y/n #canon typical violence #angst with a happy ending #confession

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kquil · 2 days ago

Text

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER EIGHT

08 : PASTRIES

CHPT. SUM. : Alpahard comes for a visit and you help the Belbys run their shop while Damocles focuses on the wolfsbane potion. Everything appears to be going as planned.

LENGTH : 9.7k

TAGS : OG Walburga is a scheming bitch ; Orion is an absent and neglectful father ; Alphard is a good uncle who loves his nephews ; Reader just girl bossing it ; Ruth and Damocles are couple goals ; Reggie finally being happy and very baby

CONTENT WARNING : talks of divorce

A/N : I'm posting this now to give it a week before I post the 9th chapter on February 1st -- you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little late on that update though because I'm currently out of commission from the most horrible cold/flu I've ever had (╥﹏╥) -- please send your thoughts and prayers because I haven't had a peaceful night's sleep the last two days and I swear this impromptu post is also a part of the delirium I'm experiencing

← PREV. 07 : INVESTIGATIONS | SERIES M.LIST

14th September 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga throws a fit, trapped in the abyss of your mind. She’s furious, seething from your menacing intrusions upon her life and secrets. It was frustrating and annoying beyond belief! The intricate web she had just begun to create was unravelling before her very eyes, and she could do nothing but watch! She had meant to secure a different future with her forming web; impervious to the imminent cycle of life she had witnessed that fateful day months ago. She had made one fatal mistake in all of her meticulous planning and preparation, labouring over an ancient ritual that would guarantee full obedience from her two boys. And, rather than force her mind and ideals over the thoughts and actions of her two sons before their fates began to set permanently, she was being made to fall under the thoughts and actions of another individual, you.

Being forced to watch you take over her shoes has been Walburga’s own personal hell. It’s far more painful knowing that she has no say over what you do. She’s limited to only watching, watching and agonising over her perfect plans being torn to shreds. The love and kindness you were showing her sons was unbecoming, going completely against her values on the way a mother should parent. It’s clear that you know nothing about how to raise two young boys born into the most ancient and noble house.

Walburga’s resentment grows and grows by the day. As a prisoner forced to share her identity and existence with someone who goes against her beliefs, it is unbelievably torturous. She screams ‘NO!’ and ‘STOP!’ at every offending action you take, all of which seem to be the exact opposite of her true self. Openly showing affection? Her sons will only grow clingy and burdensome. Being open to conversations? Growing boys should only speak when spoken to and not dare question the things being told to them for their own good. Cooking without magic? (Cooking at all!) There’s a house elf to fulfil that role. Thinking about your foreign behaviour has anger quickly bubbling up from her stomach. You’re so foolish!

But there was hope…

After every major fainting spell Walburga has induced, your unconscious body has left your thoughts and mind completely silent and open to her reclaim. Dwelling in the dark depths when all is silent, Walburga can feel a ticklish sensation from afar. And it only grows ever palpable after every major blackout. A wicked smirk touches her lips as she reaches forward and feels the wisps of connection between the floating space she was suspended in and the tangibility of the physical world.

One powerful, familiar thought moves her fingers a centimetre. It was small but a big step forward. The solid material she registers at the edges of her nerves -–the feeling of bedsheets atop a solid mattress— was alien in its distance and bizarre for its unfamiliar yet known sensation. It was like returning to something and your brain had yet to recognise the perception as one that was formally commonplace.

However, just as Walburga was wrapping her mind around that singular, grounding feeling, it was suddenly ripped away. Once again, she was surrounded by an empty coldness, suspended in an unfeeling space. Despite the frustration that quickly mounted inside her, it was accompanied by a resolve that plastered itself solidly in her chest, a determination to bide her time and remain patient. She will wreck terror and havoc when times are right and after she’s deteriorated your hold, she’ll regain full control once more.

It will only be a matter of time…

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You wake up to a familiar scene and sigh sadly. The ringing in your head is a powerful one, an annoyance that makes the sun rays falling through the gaps of the curtains feel like a knife to your eyes. Reaching for your wand, a silent swish fills the gaps, shutting away the sun and reducing the sting in your eyes to something you can easily blink away. The curtains act like a filter for the light outside, partially bringing a soft, green radiance into the room.

At the sight of your youngest curled up against you once again, you lean down and affectionately kiss his crown, “I’m sorry, little love,” although you kept your voice to a quiet whisper, it’s enough to raise Regulus from the warm abyss of slumber. Your little prince sits up and rubs his eyes as you admire his adorable image.

“Good morning, my darling,” you comb his hair back from his tired eyes and lean close with a lowered, soft voice; an intimate moment between mother and son, “did I worry you again?” Regulus nods silently and launches himself into your arms as you apologise over and over.

The night before, Kreacher had been open about another blackout you’d experienced. And, although Regulus was grateful, he was anxious all night long. It never fails to make his heart jump to his throat. He remembers your still—far too still—body laying in bed, in a room entirely separate from his father’s. You look at peace but it wasn’t a comfort; you didn’t appear to simply be asleep, rather, you looked more deathly… he dreads to even think back on such thoughts. He’s only comforted by the sound of your steady heartbeat and soft breaths so he wastes no time in reaching for his blanket and sleeping beside you, close enough to hear the rhythm of your heart and the melody of your breathing.

“A-are you feeling sick?” that wasn’t the real question he wanted to ask, you can see the truth in his pleading, sweet eyes. Are you afflicted by some sort of incurable disease that cannot be stopped?

Regulus closes his eyes to savour the kiss you press into his forehead, “I’m perfectly healthy, my little love. Please don’t worry too much,” you pull away to cup his face tenderly in your hands and thumb over the softness of his cheeks.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and the tense, fretful atmosphere is washed away by your shared giggles.

Kreacher soon appears with a tray of breakfast and another phial of magenta liquid. You eye the offending potion for a hard second but before you can groan, Kreacher is already lecturing you.

“Mistress must drink! Must must must!” he insists with beseeching eyes, urging the phial into your hands.

“Let me, at least, have some breakfast first, Kreacher,” you try to set aside the phial and reach for the breakfast tray instead while Regulus suppresses a laugh at the scene. He couldn’t believe his mother felt the same way about healing potions as wizarding children and newly appointed witches and wizards did. It was amusing to see a reflection of childishness in his mother, who had always been so cold and unfeeling.

“No!” Kreacher pulls the breakfast tray away from you, insistent on having you drink the potion before any food, “Potion first, Mistress!”

“FILTHY ELF! DISOBEYING COMMANDS! I TAUGHT HIM BETTER THAN THIS– LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SERVANT!” Walburga’s shriek makes you wince, and Kreacher takes it as the sign to draw back and apologise for his loudness while Regulus balances comforting you and the spiralling house elf.

“Kreacher is deeply sorry, Mistress…” Kreacher suppresses his guilty thoughts in favour of his mistress’ well-being. Going into another one of his many anxious episodes won’t be helpful to you. “Please drink,” he cups his hands around your own to fold over the phial once more. His large, watery eyes, silently plead for you and lift in relief when you finally agree and down its disgusting contents.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” you smile at the elf who finally sets the breakfast tray on your lap above the covers.

“Mistress is w-w-welcome…” he stretches out the syllables of the unfamiliar word, appearing unsure over its usage but his tense shoulders immediately sag in relief as soon as he sees yours and Regulus’ kind smiles. You had been urging him to use the word for quite some time and are happy to see that he was finally confident enough to begin trying it. Hopefully, after this first try, he’ll be more confident in using it in the future. Sending you a thankful smile, Kreacher handles the empty phial and disappears after wishing you and his young master Regulus a good morning.

“Kreacher looks happy,” Regulus comments absentmindedly before taking a bite of toast. Once again, the two of you are sharing breakfast in bed and you lovingly wipe away stray crumbs from the corners of his smiling lips, “I like him even more when he’s like this!”

Melting from his sweet words and the brightness in his eyes, you nod in agreement, “Me too,”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Finally out of bed and roaming the house, you notice Orion’s missing jacket from the hallway coat rack and call for Kreacher.

“Master Orion asked for his healing potion, Mistress,” Kreacher shuffles his feet and wrings the hem of his shabby clothing between his hands. It appears that he too is uncomfortable with Orion’s reappearance, although, you suppose your husband had suffered long enough. Calculating the time in your head, you resist the urge to sigh sadly. Three days. The poor fool. You hoped he would have lasted longer than that but you suppose it was fun to see him suffer while it lasted. It was karma working its best under the hand of a spiteful wife.

“I see…” you patiently search for the house elf’s eyes before asking the important question, ”Did he say ‘please’?”

After a pause, Kreacher finally nods, “Eventually, yes, Mistress,” Kreacher looks unsure, probably remembering the tense exchange he had with the patriarch, however, it’s soon swept away by your smile and gentle pat against his bald and wrinkled head.

“Well done, Kreacher,” the house elf’s ears wiggle in glee and you see a shy smile creeping up from under his long nose.

18th September 1971 | Muggle London

“You’re excited,” you giggle at the sight of your youngest practically skipping along beside you.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Uncle Alphard. Sirius and I always love it when he comes over,” you smile at his response, happy to know that there was an adult figure he and Sirius felt safe around; Walburga and Orion were definitely not a safe place for themdespite being their parents. “I’m happy you two aren’t fighting anymore,” although Regulus beams up at you, you couldn’t muster an equally bright smile in return. What did that mean? You were positive that Alphard only got into a serious fight with Walburga when he supported Sirius running away at 16. Perhaps this was a lead-up to that?

“Me too, dear…” For the moment, you keep your questions to yourself. The books and movies kept the relationship between the Black family rather vague so you’ll pick up the clues along the way. For now, it’s better to focus on your darling son and the precious memories you’ll make despite the modest outing to the French bakery. “What do you think we should have for afternoon tea with your uncle? Hm? I’m thinking of English breakfast,”

“That sounds great, mother!”

“And for snacks? What would you like to have on the menu?”

“Butter scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam,”

“Of course, a classic. Anything else?”

“Chouquettes, Macarons, Eclairs, Madeleines, Mille Feuille, Profiteroles!” all French baked goods.

“Goodness,” you exaggerate your reaction and smile at the light giggles it draws from Regulus, “All of our teeth will be falling out by the end. How about we include some finger sandwiches too? We can buy fresh bread and assemble them at home,”

“No crusts?” Regulus asks without hesitation and your heart warms; you love knowing he feels safe and secure enough with you to speak freely.

“It’s the only time crusts are not allowed,” you wink and silently awe at how his beaming smile seems to get even wider. Many depictions of Regulus made him a stoic and cold character but seeing his bright disposition and childish mannerisms was a delight. You prefer him like this. And you want to keep him this way forever, such a motherly sentiment. All you have to do is make sure he doesn't feel forced to abide by the toxic pureblood family rules and beliefs. Instead, you will gently nurture his interests, gently guide him whenever he feels lost and make sure he always feels supported. And you will do the same for Sirius.

Happy and content, the two of you walk into a lovely French bakery with high spirits. The warm atmosphere and welcoming fragrance of freshly baked goods leave you both enraptured and salivating at the mouth – it was hard to resist not getting a bit of everything. Together, you pick out the best-looking pastries to box up before selecting a loaf to be pre-cut and packaged for your convenience. The bakery staff were very helpful and were more than happy to oblige with every request. They also lovingly cooed over Regulus, who partially hid behind your long skirt, though this only seemed to make them all the more awed by him. His softly spoken gratitude was what had pushed them over the edge, and you could only laugh as they offered an extra macaron for him. Regulus was a very sweet boy and looked very much like a prince, so you didn’t blame them for their swooning.

“They liked me, Mother,” Regulus shyly addresses as you make your way home. He holds the wrapped-up, pre-cut loaf under one arm as his other holds onto your spare. As a gentleman, he insisted on carrying both the boxed pastries and loaf but you argued against it, insisting on wanting to hold his hand; the equally shared burden was your compromise. You think it was the best option, really — the best of both worlds.

“As they should, my baby has all the irresistible charms,” your open praise makes him shy into the folds of your skirt once more and you suppress an adoring coo.

“You really think so, Mother?”

“I know so, little love. I’m confident in this for your brother too,” you fake an exasperated sigh, “I’m going to have my hands full in the future. You two are going to be such heartbreakers, I’ll have girls constantly knocking on my door with tears in their eyes,”

Regulus giggles as he looks up from your waist, eyes sparkling from your playful antics, “I won’t do that to you Mother, I promise,”

“But it’s not about intention, you see,” you eye him with a kind smile, “when someone falls in love, they fall in love, there’s no saying ‘no’ to it. And with two very handsome, exceptional sons, well…” you let his thoughts silently complete the rest of your sentence and resist reacting to the adorable pout that forms on his lips.

“I’m very sorry, in advance, Mother,” his sincerity draws out a laugh but you’re filled with pride, regardless. Honesty is a great trait to have.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you, darling,”

In anticipation of Alphard’s arrival, you and Regulus help Kreacher make finger sandwiches and brew the tea. The closer the time ticks to two in the afternoon, you ask Regulus to help you prep the tiered dish rack while Kreacher dresses the teapot with a tea cosy. By the time Alphard arrives via floo network, the reception room is already well prepared, clean and proudly displaying a delicious tea spread.

“Uncle Alphard!” Regulus cheers and launches himself at the square-jawed man who steps out of the green blaze, exiting your fireplace. He is smartly dressed in a black three-piece suit and polished oxford shoes. His hair is gelled back in a flattering style of frame for his handsome face — straight nose, shapely lips, piercing eyes and level brows. It makes you wonder if he was dressed in his work attire or not. Tea should be a comfortable occasion, especially when hosted by family, for family. What did he even work as?... You hardly know anything about the man, so you have to keep yourself alert to any potential hiccups you may accidentally let slip. You’re supposed to be his elder sister, after all, you should know more about him than his name.

“Good afternoon, Regulus,” Alphard grins at his nephew after visibly shaking off his shock. Never before had he seen his youngest nephew so high-spirited. Their greetings were also usually much more formal than this, distant and dispassionate. This type of behaviour was strongly discouraged by his sister, so the sudden change was rather suspicious. Alphard, however, wanted to believe in Regulus’ sincerity for the sake of such a sweet boy. He instinctively looks around for Sirius but remembers all too quickly that the eleven-year-old was in Hogwarts for his first year, hence the primary topic of his arrival.

“Welcome, younger brother,” you smile warmly at him, ignoring the look of surprise that he doesn’t attempt to cover up. At least he manages to dip his head in a hesitant nod of acknowledgement, “Let's head to the reception then shall we? Orion won’t be joining us, I’m afraid,” you don’t see it but Alphard releases a muted sigh of relief, easily veiling his real emotions by smiling warmly at Regulus, who walks close beside him.

All furniture that occupies the reception room stylistically matches one another. They’re all made of dark walnut wood, embellished with elegant silver accents and dark green leather. The central table has a dark leather sofa on one side and two grandfather chairs with swirling arms on the other. There’s a decorative fireplace on one side of the room with a drab oil painting hanging above the mantle and the only light source is from the open window, occupying the far right wall upon entering.

“Can I sit next to Uncle, Mother?” Regulus politely asks, not wanting to separate from his uncle but also not wanting to make you feel excluded.

“You can sit wherever you wish, little love,” you smile softly, sitting in an armchair and watching as Regulus eagerly pulls Alphard to sit on the sofa with him. Your youngest is already chatting his uncle’s ear off about the snacks featured on the tiered dish rack. This then led him to talk about your morning visit to the bakery, where he had charmed the staff to offer an extra macaron.

They ‘really liked him’ and now his ‘mother is very worried’, why? Because he’ll ‘become a heartbreaker one day’. Alphard listened intently, still shocked but eager to listen to his nephew who he had never seen so bright and secure. Every few seconds, however, Alphard would look towards you for signs of any rising anger or frustration, compounding into an explosive outburst. He was familiar with that. He was familiar with your disapproval. However, there wasn’t a single trace of any negative emotion on your countenance. Rather, your eyes were full of affection and warmth, directed at Regulus while sipping your tea, silently listening to their exchange. Never before had he seen his eldest sister look so… content.

Pausing for breath, Regulus finally remembers the occasion and flushes adorably. His face is much rounder, healthier looking, Alphard notices and is shocked when you allow him to have a small plate to pile on his share of the delicious selection of goodies on the tiered dish. The majority of which were rather sweet to taste. He didn’t know his sister to be one who encouraged the regular consumption of sugar because you would only allow it for special occasions such as Yule and birthdays. Not wanting to startle his nephew, however, Alphard bites his tongue and distracts his racing thoughts by pouring his tea.

“Milk and sugar?” Alphard asks, bewildered at the options freely offered on the coffee table. You had long forbidden milk and sugar to be part of afternoon tea after finding how his tastes had affected your two sons’ preferences.

“Of course,” you voice as if he had been crazy to question you, “everyone is free to make their tea however they wish,”

Alphard follows Regulus’ lead and freely makes his tea… just the way he likes it. With lots of sugar and lots of milk. If you were going to test him, he was going to test you right back and readily anticipate your outward, shrieking protests. However, there were no shrill screeches or ear-splitting lectures over how muted, milky and sugary he liked to have his tea. Rather, Alphard, heard you giggle. His older sister. Giggling? The world must be coming to a terrifying end! Slack-jawed he looks up and stares wide-eyed at your cheerful smile.

“I see you and Regulus have similar preferences in tea,” Alphard shares a sheepish look with his nephew, “How refreshing. It makes me wonder how good it must taste for the both of you to enjoy tea the way you do,” another giggle.

Regulus happily offers his cup, “You can try some of mine if you want, Mother,” Smiling at his nephew’s kindness, Alphard is even more awed by your drastic change in behaviour.

“That’s very sweet of you, little love, thank you. But, how’s about I finish my cup first and I’ll see about having a sip of yours if you have any left?”

“Alright!”

The happy atmosphere wasn’t something Alphard was used to, especially not from his older sister. However, he was grateful for his nephew’s happy disposition. His sister’s strict education and harsh manner of child-rearing left plenty of room for worry but, no matter what seems to have changed, provided that his nephews stay happy and safe, Alphard would happily keep his many questions to himself. Perhaps this was maternal instincts finally taking over. He dare not interrupt by drawing attention to it.

When there’s a lull in the conversation and everyone takes a sip of their tea or a bite of their selected treat, you begin to investigate the relationship between the original Walburga and Alphard. You weren’t impervious to Alphard’s shocked expressions in your periphery; admittedly, it was admirable of him not to make a scene out of his staggering surprise at your ‘odd’ behaviour. It’s fair for him to believe you’re still his original, bigoted sister. You can only speculate that he wasn’t drawing attention for Regulus’ sake and you admire him for that.

“Alphard,” he hums in acknowledgement, setting down his cup and reaching for a madeleine, “how is your work?” your question makes him visibly freeze up but the moment he realises Regulus is watching, he smoothly eases back into normal, less robotic motions.

“It’s been well,” you can tell he wants to leave it at that, satisfied to leave the topic there. However, you were not and kept silent, quietly pushing him into answering further, “...the office has been operating normally. My client is dealing with a relatively common case of discrimination based on pregnancy at the workplace,” he’s a solicitor then. And practising mostly in employment law, it seems. “And before you say anything about women needing to better plan their pregnancies and how a woman needs to be at home with her husband rather than working, I want to remind you of the company,” his voice is firm and he’s plainly referring to Regulus being present, therefore dubbing the subject matter sensitive. However, his insinuations on the original Walburga’s dogmatist beliefs make you visibly disgusted and it pulls on his interest. Never had he seen his sister look so abhorrent to the views he knew she supported.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I appreciate that you’re doing good work for the people who need it—”

“Even for a half Veela?”

“Everyone deserves to be fairly represented in a court of law, dear brother. And please don’t interrupt me again, Regulus should find quality, male influence in his uncle, please demonstrate the appropriate, good manners for him,” Alphard is surprised by your sharp eyes and firm demand. You had always been demanding but never to this degree, never to such a reasonable degree, and never without raising your voice. Yet, your voice has remained level, only adjusting for firmness.

How odd… Alphard doesn’t know whether to laugh mockingly at your hypocrisy or dare to feel hope for the positive change he’s beginning to see in his sister.

“...I apologise,” Alphard nods to you before turning to Regulus, “I didn’t set a good example Reg, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay Uncle,” Regulus beams up at him, happy to be referred to by the affectionate nickname his uncle hadn’t been able to call him in many months.

“Why not ‘Reggie’?”

“I’m sorry?” Alphard looks genuinely perplexed by the change in behaviour. You had always strongly reprimanded him for daring to call your sons by any affectionate nicknames as you wanted your boys to stay faithful to their full birth name — it was a source of pride, after all. To be named after the stars and be in the most ancient and noble house, their names were sacred and it was a mockery to shorten despite it being done with affection. But now you were supporting it?

“‘Reggie’ is a cuter nickname,”

“Reg is good— cute enough, it’s short and sweet,”

“But Reggie is cuter than Reg,”

“Both are cute,”

“...Reggie is cuter, though,”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I will keep calling him Reg and you call him Reggie,” the boy in question was a healthy shade of red now. For a lighthearted argument to centre around him like this wasn’t what he anticipated happening but he was happy to see his mother and uncle getting along harmoniously. Not once have they raised their voices or forced the other to leave the room in a huff. This was nice… Sirius would have really liked this. Maybe Regulus should send another letter, even if his brother has yet to reply to his previous one.

“What nickname do you call Sirius?” you ask, voice soft and eager to continue the topic of your sons. This was another new side Alphard was seeing to you, his usually cold and unfeeling sister had never been one to perpetuate gossip surrounding her sons, and yet, now you were so eager to— and on a topic that is so innocuous and unproductive. But it was a good change, one that he’s sure will be a good influence on his beloved nephews.

“Siri,”

“That’s perfect,” you smile into the lip of your teacup and sip, “we can agree on that front,” Alphard actually manages to chuckle and nod along. He had prepared himself for a harsh and loud argument, not this but he dare not complain; this was a very pleasant surprise. He even dares to feel confident in re-addressing a long taboo topic.

“...You feel I do good work as an employment lawyer?” he begins, hesitant, his hands beginning to shake. The suddenly nervous man opts to set his cup down and wipe the sweat from his hands along his trouser-covered thighs.

“Of course,” you wonder where the conversation is going.

“And what of my extracurriculars too?” he avoids your eyes and your mind flashes with a memory of a young Alphard nervously standing before his elder sister, his small hands curled into fists on his knee-length shorts. This man is your younger brother now. However, you can’t help but think that Walburga cared deeply for him despite their strained relationship, judging from the fond memory that had flashed behind your blinking eyelids. In the depths of your mind, you imagine she still likens him to his much younger, toddler self, an endearing but common trait in an older sister.

“Extracurriculars?”

“My voluntary work with the less fortunate, typically with other magical beings,”

You frown when you finally realise what had caused the strain between brother and sister. Walburga had belittled and strongly protested against a man who only did good. A man of justice. This was the man who favoured Sirius in the original timeline because they shared the same sense of justice and the need to rebel against their bigoted family.

“I’m sorry Alphard,” you look into his eyes with such sincerity that Alphard feels as though he could cry. He had grown up admiring his sister but the instant he had begun to think for himself and see the unfairness of her skewed views, he swears he had felt his first ever heartbreak. His sister, who he had loved and admired so much, who he thought of as an amazing person was not who he thought she was and the revelation was earth-shattering. It broke his heart all the more when he saw his younger brother Cygnus follow in her footsteps. “I’m sorry for all the past unsavoury comments I said to you about your profession, and on what you have chosen to do with your life and beliefs. I was wrong, the way I thought of the world was wrong. I’m truly sorry for who I was before. And I want to assure you that I am no longer that person. I think what you’re doing is truly wonderful and this world needs more people like you in it. My boys need a good uncle like you to help raise them with good values and sense for the world,”

Alphard looks at Regulus, eyes wide with shock, his mind reeling and needing something to ground him, to confirm that the shock he was feeling was reasonable, but to hope for the best and to trust in his sister’s words again was feeling too much at that moment. All he needed was Regulus’ reassuring smile, and that was exactly what his young nephew faced him with, as if to say ‘It’s alright uncle, you can rest assured now,’.

“Why….” Alphard slowly turns his attention back to you, “why did you change your mind?”

You smile to yourself, “For my sons, of course. They deserve the world, the least I can do is be a good mother to them,

“You’re the best mother in the world!” Regulus protests as your eyes humbly close.

“Let’s not lie to ourselves and completely forget what has happened. I have hurt many people with the way I used to act, for believing in the things I used to believe. What’s worse is that I have hurt those most dear to me and those who I should have taken better care of… I’m very sorry Alphard, I don’t think I’ll be able to express how truly apologetic I am. It wasn’t right of me to hurt you that way,”

Blinking back tears, Alphard musters a crooked smile, his voice slightly shaky but his heart light and chest warm, “Apology accepted, dear sister,”

“You said you wanted to talk about something important, little brother?” you wanted to move on from the topic, but Alphard no longer knew if he had the right to express his worry. After witnessing your change in demeanour first-hand, the weight on his shoulders was finally lifted, and his chest didn’t feel so heavy.

“...after the sorting ceremony, I was worried about Sirius and Regulus – they are my nephews, after all. I wasn’t confident in their safe treatment at home,” Regulus looks to his uncle with an appreciative smile, earning an affectionate ruffle of his hair.

Smiling softly, you take his implicit criticism with grace. It wasn’t even your doing but you move forward with it anyway, “thank you for worrying about them but, as I said, I am a changed woman,”

Alphard smiles into his teacup and hums in contentment, “I can see that… I’m glad – you’re also no longer against my profession and my extracurriculars. The moment you accepted my request to come over for tea, I was somewhat relieved but getting to see your change myself was even more of a relief,”

“I’m sorry again, for the past. I don’t know what on earth was the matter with me,” your slight jab at the original Walburga has the witch throwing a muted tantrum in the back of your mind. It’s quite hard to resist smiling wickedly at how easy it is to rile her up.

“No matter…the past is in the past,” Regulus nods and readily agrees.

“I’m really happy Sirius got into Gryffindor. In his letters, he says how happy and at home he feels there,” Regulus’ eyes shine with such pride, it was easy to smile with him. Alphard is comforted by the thought of his eldest nephew having a good start away from home and, atop that, being supported by his mother and brother. He holds no hope for Orion however, many of those in the family have heard of his inappropriate behaviour at Hogwarts. It was unbecoming from the patriarch of the most ancient and noble house. That was why many assumed why he had not made any public appearances at the Wizengamot for a few days, using sickness as an excuse in his letters to the office.

“Which Hogwarts house would you like to join, Reg?” Alphard asks, curious. Judging from your displays of changed temperament and child-rearing, he assumes and hopes his youngest nephew no longer admires the idea of going to Slytherin as he’s known his sister and Orion to have ceaselessly enforced onto the two.

Growing shy, Regulus looks to his lap and picks at his fingernails nervously, “I don’t know… as long as I’m happy and feel at home, that’s all that matters, right, Mother?” Regulus looks to you for assurance and smiles when you nod with fondness in your eyes. A slight tension leaves Regulus’ small shoulders immediately and he settles back into the sofa with a silent sigh of repose, Alphard following closely behind his nephew. What a relief.

The interactions and conversations with you have been quite a shock but in the most pleasant sense. Alphard no longer felt his fingers tensing at the thought of writing a letter to his eldest nephew. They had already exchanged some letters and Alphard was concerned that the assurance within Sirius’ written words was nothing but something to cover up the tensions at home from his sorting ceremony. What a relief to know that it was all true. Sirius did feel happy, he did feel supported and he did miss home. If Alphard’s own mother acted the way you did, with soft affection, fond eyes and a warm touch, he would miss home too.

Light conversation and the peaceful atmosphere continued until Regulus had to do his scheduled piano practice. Regulus politely excused himself while Alphard stared in wide-eyed confusion and awe as another miracle played out before him: you showing open affection for your son by kissing his forehead in front of company before he promptly left for his piano. A silence draws out as you wait for the distant sounds of piano playing to continue your conversation. This time, however, you aim to finally put your central plan into action, one that you were finally seeing the answers to when Alphard revealed his profession.

“What do you specialise in as a solicitor again?” you begin.

“Employment law, sometimes corporate and civil law too,” Alphard states nonchalantly, closely examining your face, his heart beating faster at the implications of your lack of a strong reaction. He supported the change in you but you can tell that he has yet to fully believe in the dream world that was playing out before him.

At the sudden look of worry on your features, Alphard leans forward with concern, “What’s wrong?"

Sighing heavily, you set down your teacup and lean back, "Do you know anyone working in Family law?”

“Naturally…” he answers, his silence carrying a question as he stares at you with a raised brow.

“I want a marital separation from Orion… and I want to take the kids – it’s not safe for them here with him around,”

Alphard nods and immediately begins to hatch a plan. It was a natural mode of work he had refined throughout his years as a solicitor, “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave…and I think I may know of someone who you can talk to. They’re a half-blood specialising in family law, who actively pushes for similar laws being passed for muggles to be transitioned into the wizarding world,”

That sounded like the perfect lawyer for you, “I would really appreciate that Al, thank you,” you say the nickname without thinking and are ready to rush out an apology but stop in surprise when you see the warm smile on Alphard’s face.

“You haven’t called me Al in years… you must really want to leave your husband,” he teases, trying to distract from his choked-up voice and tear-filled eyes. You laugh airily and nod as he joins, the happy atmosphere contagious between you. This was the type of relationship Alphard had always wanted with his sister. It was a shame that it only came about now when you’re actively experiencing rough times at home with Orion.

Before leaving, Alphard goes to Regulus, momentarily interrupting his piano practice to say goodbye. His youngest nephew insists on escorting him to the fireplace with you to properly wave him off and he doesn’t protest. That was the first time Regulus had ever seen his mother and uncle wave goodbye happily, sharing a warm smile and promising to see each other again soon.

This would definitely be worth writing another letter to Sirius.

6th October 1971 | Belby’s Potions and Ingredients

“Thank you again for helping out my husband and me,” Ruth smiles softly at you, setting aside her embroidery momentarily, not wanting to draw too much attention to her weak, shaking hands.

“It’s not a problem at all,” you look over to where Regulus’ legs were sticking out from where he sat examining some bottled potions, unable to help your smile as you and Ruth sat behind the counter together, “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’m afraid I can’t trust Regulus to be home alone even with his tutor Peony as a deterrent,” Ruth’s brows furrow at the implication of your words and reaches for your hand as a silent comfort. It isn’t the right time to pry into your home life, Regulus was such a happy child and she knows it’s all because of you; you’re doing your best to protect him as a mother should and that was good enough to you it seemed. In the meantime, she’s satisfied with offering a quiet consolation.

“You’re doing more than enough,” the two of you share a small, knowing smile and you thank the gods for Ruth’s kind and gentle disposition. It’s been rather lonely despite you having the best sons to look after. You’ve often found yourself aching for a friendship and you’re confident you’ve found one in Ruth.

“Thank you, Ruth,”The shop bell rings as a customer strolls in and greets you at the counter, “Good afternoon, do you happen to have any dried nettles?” you greet the man kindly and readily offer your help.

“You can find them in the second aisle down and can have your pick between whole leaves or the powdered sort,” you helpfully offer your guidance while Ruth returns to her embroidery.

The man thinks to himself for a moment, “Which would be more effective for umm…curing boils?” he looks rather bashful at the confession but you provide no judgment. Thinking for a moment and giving Damocles’ simplified shop notes a look through, you finally give the anxious man his answer.

“Both are equally effective. Only the crushed nettles mean for a quicker brewing time as they will turn the potion green much quicker,” the man nods along to your suggestions, eyes slightly shifty, probably eager to brew his boil curing potion at home, “Or you can purchase the potion itself, and save yourself the trouble,” a relieved laugh escapes the man.

“I’ll go for that then!”

“You’ll find the potion on the back wall, it should be blue,” he nods eagerly and thanks you before rushing to the back wall of the shop.

“Goodness, you’re a natural potions shopkeeper,” Ruth giggles beside you, her eyes tired but full of life.

“Why thank you, madam,” you bow at the waist exaggeratedly and grin, “I’ve actually been reading up on some potion books so that I can be of some help for Damocles,” Ruth tucks her chin in and bashfully avoids your eyes.

“It’s so very kind of you to help someone like me,”

“None of that,” you tut and hold her hand in the same comforting way she had held yours mere moments ago, “You are not allowed to refer to yourself in such a way, you hear?” Ruth is hesitant but nods anyway. You guess it’s her attempt at not causing a fuss but you’ll accept it.

The man returns with the boil curing potion at hand and the purchase is done smoothly. You have to hand it to the glamour you placed on yourself; without it, you’re sure many customers would leave without so much as taking more than two steps in the door — you wouldn’t have been any help to the Belbys at all. Wanting to protect Regulus’ identity as well, you’ve also fixed him with a glamour too and ensured you still look like mother and son.

“I see that you’re looking rather well despite it being only one day after the full moon,” you comment, brightening Ruth’s expression with a smile.

“Damocles is incredible!” her eyes sparkle as she talks proudly of her husband’s achievements, “The recent changes he’s made to the potion have made it so that I don’t feel as anxious during my time under so I don’t feel as mentally exhausted atop being physically drained. I think he said something about a stone. A wishing stone?”

You hum and nod in understanding, “the moonstone then,” she confirms with a soft gasp of remembrance, “That’s wonderful news, Damocles must be really happy,”

“Yes, but he is not yet satisfied…” she huffs and scowls, however, her delicate features don’t make the emotion appear quite as menacing on her face; she makes it look rather sweet actually, “I swear that man adores being sleep deprived and overworked. It’s worrying…”

“Maybe that’s his real aim,” you wink at her perplexed appearance, “I’m sure it’s healing to the soul for a man to experience his beautiful wife’s sincere worries for his well being,”

Ruth blushes a deep red and looks away, but you still manage to see the smile playing on her lips, “oh you!” The two of you giggle together as Regulus comes bounding over with a grin on his face, holding up a small sprig of dried lavender that’s tied together at the stems with a rough string.

“Mother, this smells lovely, you should smell it too,” he holds up the lavender and watches eagerly as you lean on the counter to smell it.

“You’re right, it smells very soothing,”

“I want our house to smell like it,”

“Oh? That’s easily done,” you turn to Ruth with a smile, “would it be okay to purchase your entire stock?”

Ruth’s jaw drops, “You want our entire stock? B-But that’s so costly!” if Ruth’s jaw could have dropped any lower, it would have dropped to the floor when you merely shrugged your shoulders. As if buying an entire stock of one ingredient didn’t put a dent on your finances.

“We have a rather big house and Reggie wants our whole house to smell like lavender, so we need everything you have,”

Regulus smiles as you both turn to him, “It really is a very nice smell,” Ruth can’t say no to you both and smiles gratefully. She knows your hidden motive. You were already helping the couple so much but you couldn’t just stop there, you also had to purchase from them too.

“May I, at least, offer a family friend discount?” Ruth barters and watches as you turn to Regulus to ask for his opinion.

“Should we accept, Reggie?” you tilt your head thoughtfully, “Should we accept paying less for this hard-working couple’s labour?” Regulus shakes his head ‘no’.

“That wouldn’t be fair Mother, nor polite,”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Regulus beams up at you and Ruth awes at the young boy’s innocence, “How is my son so well mannered?” it was supposed to be a teasing remark but Regulus, accustomed to your teasing now, is quick to reciprocate with his own.

“It's because I have you, Mother!”

“Oh!” you heat up at the cheeks, “I think I’ve taught you some bad habits, Reggie,” Regulus doesn’t deny the statement and laughs with Ruth at your flustered expression.

Once Damocles finally decides to take a break from brewing in the back room and analysing his previous notes, he sits beside Ruth and leans his head against her shoulder. But not before softly kissing her cheek. It was a timely break as no customers came to purchase anything and there was a quiet lull in the shop’s activities. Wanting to give the couple some privacy, you take the time to go on a small mission with Regulus, similar to the bakery run you did for his uncle Alphard. This time, however, those baked goodies will be for Ruth and Damocles. They both deserve some good tea and snacks. You try not to take too long and opt for only a small collection of pastries, some sweet and some savoury as you don’t know their preferences.

“I hear you’re purchasing our entire stock of lavender without our prestigious family-friend discount,” Damocles presses as soon as you and Regulus return, avoiding the temptation of the pastries you had brought back.

“The lavender smells really nice,” Regulus explains, “and I thought it would be good for the house to smell like it,”

“Precisely, Damocles,” you grin when you see the potioneer’s eyes soften at your youngest’s beaming smile. “I only want to fulfil my Reggie’s wishes. And I also agree that the lavender smells lovely,”

“A-at least let us offer the discounted price,“ he’s almost pleading.

“Nonsense,” you huff and cross your arms with slightly narrowed eyes, though not too threatening, “are you saying I can’t afford to pay full price?”

“O-of course not, Lady—”

“Then I’m paying full price and that's final.”

Damocles falls back into the chair you had once occupied as Ruth comfortingly rubs his shoulder, “I told you it was no use arguing, dear,”

“I suppose not…” Damocles looks at you with searching eyes before huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “Alright then, since you’re so insistent,”

“Wonderful! Now, you two need to eat, I’ll brew some tea in the back. Do you like French Earl Grey?” you ask, moving to the backdoor as Damocles lifts Regulus onto the counter.

“We don’t have french earl grey?”

“I bought you some while I was out,” the couple shake their heads in disbelief once more before Regulus pulls away their attention by running through the collection of goodies you’d both purchased. The French early grey you had brewed was a new taste to the couple, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“Is that rose?” Ruth asks with wondrous eyes as Damocles smiles beside her, lovingly admiring her sweet expression.

“Yes, french early grey adds rose petals to the blend. Do you like it?”

“Very much,” Ruth beams and takes another long, savouring sip while Damocles leans over and whispers that it’s one of her favourite essences to have in anything palatable.

“And she loves Turkish delight,”

You can tell that Damocles didn’t want to take a break for too long, his eyes often drifting to his backroom door and his fingers twitching uneasily on his lap. If it weren’t for Ruth, you don’t think he would have allowed himself to finish his tea or his pastry. But thanks to his loving wife, he was willing to reach for a second and third pastry. The entire time, Damocles was drawn all the more to her, often checking her likeness for the pastries she wanted to try in the small spread, even offering her several bites of his own. He also worried often for her health and well being, always being the first to jump in making her feel more comfortable, either by fetching a blanket to keep her fragile frame warm or pillows to keep her posture upright. They’re truly a match made in heaven, you’ve never seen a more compatible pair. And you’re happy Regulus was a witness to it all. Seeing their close bond and equally loving dynamic would help enforce in his mind what healthy relationships look like.

“When you finish your break and before you return to brewing, may I have a word in private with you, Damocles?” you ask, partway through your pleasant tea break.

“Of course,”

As you step aside with Damocles, he’s already launching into an oration of gratitude. There’s clear appreciation in his eyes and stance as well as his words. “I’ve been able to get a hold of ingredients I couldn’t even dream of working with. I can’t even begin to express how life-changing your help is to both me and Ruth, thank you. I actually have some hope that I can manage to pull this off,” he laughs to himself humbly, in disbelief of his own words.

“I have full faith in you, Damocles. I know you can do it, the boundless love you have for your wife will ensure that you succeed,” he blushes slightly at your words but doesn’t deny anything.

“I haven’t been able to send you the updated reports yet, would you like to take the duplicate notes from my lab?”

“I’d appreciate that but I have something I want to talk to you about first,” Damocles nods, reminded of your earlier request and the reasoning behind it, “I just wanted to ask what you plan on doing after you’re successful with the potion,”

His voice goes quiet but his smile is beaming, “You really have that much faith in me?”

“Yes, I do,” your voice is stern as the potioneer’s eyes grow slightly distant, looking over your shoulder where Ruth is happily chatting with Regulus, who remains seated atop the counter still in his glamours, “You’re the only other person who’s believed in me so strongly other than my wife– not even my own family…”

You pat his shoulder comfortingly, “You’re an incredible potioneer and you adore your wife, I know you’ll go through the ends of the earth for her alone, you can make this potion work for her,”

Damocles nods with a grateful smile and finally answers your earlier question, “In all honesty, I haven’t given it much thought… the natural direction I’d go with the potion would be to present my findings to the ministry so that it may be mass-produced and given to werewolves in need of it,”

You’re shaking your head in disagreement before he could even finish his thoughts, “I strongly argue against that,” your words strike confusion in the potioneer. He’s sure his findings would prove helpful to many werewolves and you can see the belief in his eyes but do your best to convince him otherwise. It’s important that he knows where you stand in all this so that you bring him to the same level and see eye to eye on the matter.

“Do you know about the werewolf code of conduct?”

“Yes, of course,”

“It requires registering as a werewolf to the ministry and vowing to never bite any innocents and locking yourself away during every transformation,” you begin to explain, gauging where his knowledge stands.

“I know that,”

“And do you know anyone who happily registered as a werewolf to the ministry?” Damocles can’t answer confidently, rather, he stays silent. “Did Ruth register? Would you like her to?”

“…N-no…” Damocles hated that he couldn’t trust in the ministry but they‘ve proven nothing when it comes to the protection and fair treatment of other magical creatures, especially werewolves.

“I know the plan I want to carry out will only further perpetuate the stigma against werewolves and lycanthropy but the ministry has already proven that they cannot be trusted or relied upon in the matters of lycanthropes. I am, at least, confident in providing some help, do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” his voice doesn’t waver and you smile.

“You’ll be sacrificing a great reward, I’m afraid,”

“How so?”

“Surely discovering a treatment for lycanthropy will grant you an Order of Merlin as a reward…”

“I don’t care, so long as my wife is safe and happy and as long as we can actually help people like her, I’m willing to follow your plan,” as before, his voice doesn’t waver and you’re confident in his words. He’s a good man.

“Then it shall be!” you share a firm handshake. If only Harry had met an adult as capable and reliable as Damocles… you’re sure he wouldn’t require such dependence in the future, however, not in the future you’ll be creating, at least. And you’ll make sure of the same for his parents and all their friends —- all characters you love and wish only the best for. And it’ll all start with your two beautiful sons.

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Tucked away in your home office, you look over the notes you’ve made on your current plans, avoiding the pages you’ve filled with notes on the secret parlour only for the Black family ladies’ use. You know it’s something you’ll need to confront very soon, in the meantime, however, you were perfectly occupied by current projects you were hard at work on.

Damocles sent you the report he duplicated from his most recent findings and Ruth’s improved condition following the full moon. Not only was he a loving and dedicated man with a passion for potion making, but he was also brilliant in his report writing. He kept his notes concise and easy to read by providing clear categories of the specific things he wanted to track. From your side of the research, reading up on potions from the Black family library, you had written him a letter back with suggestions on how to make the potion more potent. One such suggestion was his use of the Mandragora, Mandrakes. Rather than mandrake leaves, you encouraged him to use the body of a mandrake instead. It’s a little pricier than just the leaves, but it was nothing you couldn’t afford. The dragon blood was something you were having trouble with, however. It wasn’t cheap, and, having to look ahead at the wolfsbane potion’s mass production, dragon’s blood would be an annoying ingredient to include financially. So you promised to look for alternatives that might be able to give the same effect. You were even willing to look into ‘muggle’ books for a potential alternative.

After securing Damocles’ opinion following the future success of his wolfsbane potion and having some back and forth with Alphard on the family lawyer, he had been easing into setting up a meeting with you; you’ve started looking at properties all over the UK. You have a good idea of what you want to look for. However, the primary, most important criteria for these properties to have were that they don’t belong to the Black family. And so, you neglect the wizarding properties completely and look into muggle properties instead. The price wouldn’t matter, although you wanted to secure a separate line of income first so that Orion remains unsuspecting of your efforts to escape him; you don’t want any additional tensions happening at home, especially with Regulus still here. As soon as Regulus begins to attend Hogwarts, however, you’ll finally put things into action. Until then, you have a little under a year, which you hope will be good enough.

A squeaky pop shifts the air to your right, and Kreacher appears with a tray of tea and biscuits, “Mistress’ tea is ready,” he presents with a smile, wordlessly making the arrangement float up and make a home for itself atop an unoccupied portion of your desk. Smiling at the house elf, you nod in thanks and express your gratitude. Wanting to appease you further, he gestures to his big ears and informs you of an owl that sounds to be arriving very soon. With a nod and a soft word of gratitude, you walk to your window and open it up in anticipation of the delivery.

Sirius’ owl was the first to arrive and you figure it’s a response to one of Regulus’ many letters. Seeing your eldest son’s familiar handwriting addressing the letter to his little brother makes you smile, and urges you to write him one soon as well. Thanking the sweet barn owl, you offer her a perch and kindly ask Kreacher to fetch it some feed as a reward. The second owl that arrives is much smaller and carries a package as well as a letter. The parcel is only small and its wrappings are a buff brown, held together with some twine. The letter is addressed to you and you have a pretty good idea of what it may be.

You give the letter a quick read-through and smile with a nod before opening the small package to reveal a golden band. Its inner face is engraved with runes, and it easily fits onto your pointer finger. Before returning to your desk, you give the small owl a bowl of feed as a reward, too. Seated back at your desk, you pour yourself some tea and take a generous drink with the ring still on your pointer finger.

“Mmmm~” you hum in satisfaction, “tastes like strawberries,” It’s been a few weeks and those two have already made such amazing progress. You expect nothing less from the same two people who were able to enchant Sirius’ protection pin. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to rope in the goblins to craft this ring. It’s only a simple design because it’s the prototype but you plan on making a more decorative line of these to sell. For now, you have yet to test it against an actual potion but you dread to think about waiting for another blackout to do so. With a thoughtful hum, you return to your office and place the letter at the centre of your desk, planning to write a response later on. For now, you’ll deliver Sirius’ letter to Regulus —you’re sure he and Peony won’t mind the interruption and that he’ll be happy to receive Sirius’ response.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 09 : ... →

A/N : I'm so sorry, my darlings, for taking so long to update this series (ó﹏ò。) I know I promised monthly updates but with Christmas and then New Year straight after, I was pretty occupied (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) Nevertheless, I hope you lovelies enjoyed this chapter!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ I promise there will be more of Sirius in the next chapter since we hardly had any of our baby in this one

#sirius black #regulus black #alphard black #walburga black #orion black #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fix it fic #marauder era #reader insert #mother reader #isekai au #divorcing orion black series #the black family #the black brothers #sirius and regulus

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athetos · 2 days ago

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A few other things I’m chewing on from severance s2e2:

Them needing Mark to do ‘Cold Harbor’, to the point that they actually re-hired the others, is pretty big. At first I figured they put Gemma near him just as a silly experiment but now I’m fully convinced it’s because he knew her so well that even as an innie he’s able to subconsciously retain a lot of that and thus is able to sort her brain better than anyone else. She might be the only braindead person they’re trying to revive right now just to prove that it works before they do the founders, so they can’t just abandon the project.

Cobel is going to inevitably team up with mark in the future, I think he’s going to track her down and they’ll have a heart to heart, she’ll reveal why she’s been so invested in his life and their work and team up to take Lumen down. I feel she could be swayed fairly easily into turning against them if the right things were said and she realized they’d never let her get what she wants anyway.

It didn’t occur to me that being severed fucks you over severely if you ever look for another job. Beyond the obvious “most people outside of Lumen think being severed is inhumane and would never hire someone who would agree to it,” you have no fucking job skills! You can’t tell what you did on the job, not because of an NDA, but because you genuinely don’t know. It’s like having a however many months/years long gap in your resume with nothing to show for it, but worse. No wonder Lumen must have a high retention rate for severed employees - you’ll probably come crawling back begging for a job because it’s all you have left.

I have a bad feeling something is going to happen to Devon. The one executive guy overheard them, and I have no doubt that they know she’s the one encouraging Mark to keep looking for Gemma and answers. However, she did also convince him to keep the job, so…

I need more info on outtie Irving so fucking badly. I need to know what he knows. How is he retaining information from his innie? Is it really from sleep deprivation (and Motörhead)? How did he have Burt’s name? What is going onnnn!

#severance spoilers #severance #ash.tv

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loversray · 3 days ago

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“Byler is in Stranger Things to show unrequited love” Yet, it isn’t.

Stranger Things has shown unrequited ‘love’ before, with Dustin’s crush on Max (who liked Lucas) which i feel like it’s a storyline that most people forget. Which it’s okay, since it’s not that relevant to the story, i just wanted to show how differently Dustin and Max’s story is to Mike and Will’s.

🧢👩🏻‍🦰 How exactly were Dustin & Max written?

For starters, the show doesn’t tell us why Max and Dustin would be good together as a couple. They go well as friends, yes, but they do not show a meaningful conversation between them that really shows the romantic chemistry and how much they understand eachother, like the Lumax bus scene.

Dustin only thinks Max is “awesome” because she skateboards, and has the top score in Dig Dug, because he doesn’t know her.

They highlight that Dustin is not in love with Max, hence the Steve scene, where Steve goes “You’re not falling in love with this girl are you?” which to Dustin honestly says no, because he’s not in love, it’s a just crush. Also an important note when writing something unrequited with 15 year olds.

Then, Dustin speaks to Lucas and says “he could feel the electricity” between him and Max, which is him ultimately accepting that Max does not like him back, and instead likes Lucas.

Is he upset about it? Yes, he is, however, it’s not mentioned again in the show after season 2 because he’s over it. In just a few months, he’s got a new girlfriend, and he doesn’t like Max anymore. He got over it quick, because it was just a crush, and he didn’t know her that well.

In seasons 3&4, Dustin is able to act completely act normal around Max, because he doesn’t like her anymore.

Now, while Lucas also liked Max at first, not as much as Dustin, and as he talks with her more and knows her better (hence, them having more scenes) you see Lumax developing.

💙💛 Where does this put Byler?

Byler is written very differently. First, by season 4, Mike and Will have known eachother and been bestfriends for 10 years. (Since kindergarten), so right off the bat, they KNOW eachother. Dustin didn’t know Max.

Stranger Things has so many scenes of Mike and Will to show us just how special this thing between them is. They have a lot of scenes filled with chemistry, showing how much they understand eachother and how they’d do anything for eachother. (Said by Mike, he’d do anything for Will.)

So, they show us why Mike and Will would be a good couple. Something they didn’t with Max and Dustin.

Noah Schnapp then went on to say “You could never really tell if [Byler] was something romantic or just a really special friendship.”

Next, they show us just how much Will’s in love with Mike. (Also confirmed by Noah Schnapp) So, not a crush like Dustin. He’s in love with Mike. The painting and the van scene proves it. It shows us Will’s feelings for Mike, and how actually deep they are.

Will doesn’t say “Mike’s cool because he skateboards” like Dustin says about Max, he says “You’re the heart, and without you we’d (I) all fall apart.” and “You make her (me) feel like she’s (i’m) not a mistake at all. Like she’s (i’m) better for being different.” Basically, that he’s better for loving Mike. Mike makes Will feel like he’s not a mistake.

So, it’s very obviously NOT a shallow crush, and not something Will can move on from in a few months like Dustin. Will’s happy ending is not moving on from Mike, it’s getting together with Mike. If he moves on in like, a year with someone else completely whom he shares no understanding with, it’s completely bad writing, and i stand on it.

#byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #byler endgame #will byers #byler is requited #stranger things 2 #byler analysis #max mayfield #dustin henderson #byler is canon

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theangelsheardyou · 1 day ago

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Everybody talks abt the bakugous adopting toga, now get ready for: the togas adopt bakugou

They adopt him when he's around 5 years old, after an accident with his Quirk awakening heavily injures his mother, putting her in a medically-induced coma. His father isn't capable of taking care of a child after that, and katsuki is sent into foster care. Part of him has given up on the idea that his dad would ever take him back, but the other part is clinging onto the hope that his mother would wake up and find him. Wherever he is.

The Toga's foster Katsuki for a few months initially, which turns into a full year. Himiko, about 6 years old, likes the idea of having a new little brother.

(I've heard theories before that Himiko already had some other unnamed siblings since she's described as "the oldest daughter of the family" but to keep things simple let's just say she was an only child up until this point.)

(Also, I don't know whether this is canon or not, but while Himiko is her first name, we aren't sure if Toga is her real last name. But again, to keep things simple, let's just say that it is.)

Katsuki was a tough nut to crack, or maybe he would be if his foster parents ever really tried. From what we see in Toga's backstory, I assume they're not really there for their kids emotionally. As long as they eat three meals a day and have a roof over their heads, they've done their jobs, or at least that's what they think.

Katsuki and Himiko are left alone a lot. Maybe their folks are always busy at work or just didn't spend much time with them. Either way, the two become closer as the only kids in the house.

Now, canon Katsuki would probably be really judgemental about Himiko's gorey interests, but in this AU, he has literally almost killed his mother. He's in no place to judge and he knows that. No matter what crazy infatuation this girl has, it's got nothing compared to what was practically a murder.

Katsuki's a little more closed off at this age, kind of like in the canon storyline, but at age 5-6. Having lost his parents, his friends, and being put in some stranger's home, he's not the type to really show off anymore. He's hard to get to know, but Himiko never stops trying.

Despite everything, a bond begins to bloom.

Katsuki and Himiko are inseparable. They do little kid things like Katsuki going "watch this!" Before doing something cool and making sure his sister gets to watch, and Himiko cheers him on like he's just done the most amazing thing in the world. And to her, it probably was.

This is where Katsuki's show-offiness begins to bloom again. He loves showing his sister all his achievements. A perfect score on a test, an award from the sports festival at school, no matter how big or small he shows it to his sister who always cheers him on and encourages him to keep going. He works hard to get better at school, does well in sports, all to get his sister's attention, which she gives generously. She loves watching her little brother succeed in everything. Everyday she's so, so proud of him for something new. She's proud to call him her brother.

Katsuki's personality rubs off on Himiko, too. She starts to get a little competitive, especially when the two play against each other. Be it badminton, tennis, or even just a game of tag, these two are unstoppable. And there's never a sore loser because one will always be proud of the other no matter what the scores are.

Himiko also rubs off on Katsuki, more than she'd like to admit.

I don't think canon katsuki was ever the type to be grossed out or queasy about gorey things. He'd probably find dead animals on the side of the road and call his sister so she could check it out too. As they get older, he brings along a camera, so he can take pictures of all the bloody details for her to examine later. By now Katsuki has been legally adopted, though there still isn't much of a bond between him and his new parents. They are proud of his achievements of course, but they prefer to show him off at parties like a showdog. He prefers Himiko's way of showing her pride in him way more. It feels more genuine.

Katsuki and Himiko aren't exactly delinquents, but they do get into trouble a lot. Katsuki has grown to be a little more violent due to Himiko's influence, enjoying seeing the blood burst from someone's face when it comes in contact with his fist. After he beats someone up, he likes to take a moment to examine his handiwork. A broken nose, a black eye, a tooth landing somewhere, he finds joy in it. He's definitely more of a bully in this AU, not out of anger, but out of pure bloodlust.

At this point he hasn't heard much from his dad, but he visits his mom at the hospital now and then. He gives her updates on his new life, tells her about Himiko, and all his achievements. Part of him doesn't really think she'll ever wake up again. But another still clings onto the hope.

Katsuki and Himiko are middleschool outcasts. Weirdos. Freaks. They don't have many friends, but they have each other, and that's what counts.

Katsuki is still very into heroes, but he let go of the idea of ever becoming one. The shame from his Quirk awakening has left him afraid to use his own Quirk for almost ten years now. It's Himiko that encourages him to use it, calling it a beautiful ability that should be shared. It takes a while, but by graduation, Katsuki is dead set on becoming a hero. Not for money or fame, but for his sister.

Katsuki has also been very supportive of Himiko's interests from the beginning. In fact, he encourages her to become a nurse. After middle school she starts studying medicine, and by the time Katsuki's at UA, guess who's Recovery Girl's cute little sidekick/apprentice.

Himiko gets a front-row seat to all of Katsuki's high school achievements. She cheers him on from the sidelines as he wins the UA Sports Festival, while also treating all the poor souls who fought against him. This is actually how she meets Ochaco. A real meet cute.

She gets angry at how the awards ceremony went, and even got Recovery Girl to use her status at the school to speak to the teachers on her behalf. She's still pretty ticked off by the time they get home, and tells Katsuki to throw the medal away, but he doesn't. He keeps it in his room. It's a symbol of the first time in his life that someone aside from his sister acknowledged his abilities, his Quirk, as a good thing. Aizawa's speech during his fight with Ochaco was proof. After that, he follows his teacher around like a lost puppy, and in turn Himiko does, too. Now he's got two little blonde kids tailing him, and he just gets used to it at some point.

Katsuki's personality is a lot less angry and more a...weird kind of friendly. He got like, half a cup of bimbo-ness from Himiko, as well as a couple of her more tame friendly influences. But he does sometimes get a little too close, and asks questions very bluntly, sometimes offending or making people uncomfortable. But considering 1-A is just a mosh pit of weirdo high school kids, they all get along just fine.

Katsuki and Izuku reunite at UA. It was actually Izuku who approached him. Having missed all the middle school bullying since Katsuki was in another school at the time, the same one Himiko went to, he's a lot more confident. The two have a grand reunion and become better than best friends. They, along with Himiko and Ochaco, hang out together a lot in and out of school. It gets to the point that Ochaco gets a little too happy when she gets injured, knowing she'll get a free pass to visit the cute nurse at the infirmary. Izuku gets to join Himiko on the front row to all of Katsuki's victories, which assigns him as Vice President of the Katsuki Fan Club instantly.

I have so many more ideas for them and I kinda wanna draw/write more about it, so tell me what you think! If this gets very little attention my shyness and short attention span will probably shift me to something else😅

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echo-riot · 3 days ago

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✞⛧Sevika/Abby/Ellie if you cheated on them ✞⛧

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angst m?

✞⛧ Sevika ✞⛧

✞⛧ Sevika doesn’t react right away. She’s too angry, too betrayed to speak. The silence between you two feels suffocating. She just stares at you, her grey eyes turning cold like metal, her jaw clenched so tight you can almost hear her teeth grind.

✞⛧ She’ll act like it doesn’t bother her at first. She’s tough. She’s not the kind of person who lets things like this get to her. But the truth is, it cuts deeper than any blade. The realization that you—her person, her ally, the one person she’d let in—would do this to her? It’s too much. It’s a betrayal she can’t shake off.

✞⛧ Don’t expect her to shout, to throw things, to cry. Sevika doesn’t cry. She’ll leave instead, disappearing for a few hours, but when she comes back, she’s colder than before. Her metal arm will be clenched tight, and her voice will be low, almost a growl, when she speaks.

✞⛧ She’ll corner you in a room and ask in the most dangerous tone possible, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Did you think I’m that stupid?” But there’s no yelling. It’s all calm, controlled rage.

✞⛧ Sevika will demand answers, but she won’t beg. She’ll force you to say the truth, to admit it, and when you do, her gaze will be so intense, so full of pain, that it’ll break your heart to see it. But she won’t show the hurt on her face. No, she’ll mask it with anger, with disgust.

✞⛧ She’ll remind you of everything she’s done for you. All the times she protected you, fought for you, killed for you. How she made you hers in every sense of the word. But now? Now you’ve thrown it all away for someone else. For what? A stupid mistake?

✞⛧ Sevika won’t scream. She won’t make a scene. But her body will shake with fury, her fists clenching at her sides. If you don’t beg her to stay, if you don’t apologize properly, she will walk away. Not even a backward glance.

✞⛧ You’ll feel the weight of her absence for days, weeks, months. When you come across her in public, you’ll see the way others look at you with pity, knowing what you did. But Sevika? She’ll act like you never existed. She’ll keep her distance, refusing to give you the satisfaction of seeing her hurt.

✞⛧ She won’t immediately forgive you. It’ll take time. If she does forgive you, it’s not going to be easy. She’ll keep you at arm’s length, never fully trusting you again. And when she does decide to let you back in, there’s no guarantee you’ll be the same person you were before. You’ll have to prove you’re worthy of her trust again, and that won’t happen overnight.

✞⛧ If you beg for her forgiveness, don’t expect it to be given easily. Sevika’s pride won’t let her give in that quickly. She’ll make you work for it—show her you’re sorry, prove that you won’t do it again.

✞⛧ She’ll probably stop calling you “hers” for a while, at least until she knows she can trust you again. You’ll feel the sting of her indifference every time you see her with someone else, every time you hear her laugh with someone else.

✞⛧ But you know what’s worse than her coldness? The rare moments when she lets her guard down. When she finally speaks to you, when her voice cracks with the emotion she’s been holding back. That’s when you realize just how deeply she was hurt. That’s when the guilt eats you alive.

✞⛧ If you think Sevika won’t find a way to punish you, you’re dead wrong. She might not do anything overt, but she’ll make sure you feel the consequences. A cold shoulder. A brush off. A reminder that she’s a force to be reckoned with—and you’re not the only one who can be ruthless.

✞⛧ Sevika won’t apologize for anything, but her actions will eventually speak louder than words. If she’s willing to take you back, she’ll show you in the way she holds you when she thinks you’re asleep, in the way she keeps her arm around you when no one else is around. But even then, there’ll always be a part of her that’s guarded, that’s holding back. Because you’ve proven that even the strongest walls can come down. And she can never forget that.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

✞⛧Abby ✞⛧

✞⛧ Abby finds out in the worst way possible. You think you’ve been subtle, but she’s been watching, quietly observing every small change in your behavior. She notices the way your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes anymore, the way you avoid her touch, the way you get quiet after your phone buzzes. She knows. She always knows.

✞⛧ When she confronts you, she’s calm. Too calm. It makes your stomach drop because you know that when Abby is this still, this composed, it means she’s broken. Her voice doesn’t shake, but you can see the hurt in her eyes, even if she tries to hide it behind that stoic, cold façade.

✞⛧ Abby won’t scream. She won’t yell. She just… stops. She’s quiet for a long time, and that silence feels like it stretches on forever. It eats away at you, because the worst part is that she’s not angry—she’s disappointed. She’ll never yell. She won’t even beg you to explain. She’ll just leave. And that will hurt more than anything.

✞⛧ When she walks away, it feels like everything in her life just crumbled. All the walls she built to protect herself, everything she sacrificed, was because she trusted you. And now it feels like all of it is gone.

✞⛧ You’ll try to apologize, to explain that it was a mistake, but Abby’s not stupid. She’ll cut you off before you can even finish, her eyes sharp like knives, “Don’t you dare. I’m not stupid. Don’t make me regret ever giving you that trust.”

✞⛧ She won’t leave immediately, but she’ll pull away, emotionally, physically. Her touch? Gone. Her warmth? Gone. You’ll feel cold, like you’re just a ghost in her life now.

✞⛧ Every attempt to make things right will feel like it’s hitting a brick wall. You’ll buy her gifts, write her notes, try to touch her hand… but nothing works. She doesn’t want your apologies, she doesn’t want your gifts. She wants the trust that you broke—and now it’s gone forever.

✞⛧ You’ll regret it. Oh, you’ll regret it so hard. Because Abby Anderson isn’t the type to let go of people easily. When she loves, she loves deeply. And when she cuts someone out of her life, it’s like she never even knew them.

✞⛧ You’ll sit there, remembering the way her fingers would curl around yours, how she’d soften when she kissed you, the warmth of her body wrapped around yours at night. And then it hits you: I fucked up. You threw that all away.

✞⛧ And the worst part? When she’s gone, Abby won’t look back. She’ll keep moving forward. She’ll survive, like she always does, but it will kill her inside. Because she thought you were worth fighting for. And now, she’s fighting against herself. She’s fighting to forget you.

✞⛧ Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t. But every time you do, you’ll see the coldness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. You’ll see the wall between you, a divide she built to protect herself. She’ll never forgive you, not fully, and the pain of that will linger with you for as long as you live.

✞⛧ Abby doesn’t forgive easily, especially when it comes to betrayal. And now you’ll never be able to take back the damage you caused.

•|||——————————————————————|||•

✞⛧ Ellie ✞⛧

✞⛧ Ellie would feel a pit in her stomach, like someone just ripped her heart out and stomped on it. She doesn’t know if she wants to scream or cry, so she does both in her head while trying to stay calm on the outside.

✞⛧ She wouldn’t confront you right away. No, she’d need time to process. Maybe a couple days of silence where she avoids your gaze, her mind racing, but too hurt to speak up.

✞⛧ When she finally confronts you, it’s not with anger. It’s with quiet, devastated hurt. Her voice shakes, her hands trembling, and she’s trying to hold back tears. “Why? Was I not enough for you? What did I do wrong?”

✞⛧ She’s the type to think she’s messed up somehow. That she’s broken. Maybe you left because of something she couldn’t give you, maybe it’s her past catching up to her—her survivor’s guilt, her trauma.

✞⛧ The guilt would consume her. Even if you were the one in the wrong, Ellie would still find a way to blame herself. She’d second-guess everything she did for you. “Did I push you away? Was I too much?”

✞⛧ Her jealousy would become unbearable. Every time you talked to someone else, a dull ache would sting in her chest, knowing what happened. She’d try to act like she’s fine, but the weight of the betrayal would linger in her eyes.

✞⛧ If you tried to explain yourself, Ellie would shut down. She doesn’t want excuses. It’s too late for words now. She wants to forget everything and pretend like it never happened.

✞⛧ She’d probably push you away at first. Not because she doesn’t care, but because it hurts too much to love you knowing what you’ve done. She’d rather you hate her than face the possibility of being with you and feeling that same sting every time you touch her.

✞⛧ But deep down, she’d want you to fight for her. Not with words, but with actions. Show her that you’re sorry. Show her that you really want her. But she won’t admit it. Instead, she’ll act cold, distant, and self-destructive.

✞⛧ Ellie would start locking herself away even more. Her guitar would be the only thing that comforts her, strumming out painful, broken chords, her soul pouring into each note.

✞⛧ Every time she sees you, there’s this flicker of hope in her that maybe, just maybe, you’ll regret it, but it fades every time you look at her like she’s just a thing to you.

✞⛧ If you genuinely want to make amends, it would take a long time. Ellie’s not one to easily forgive, not when the wound is this deep. She’d need space to heal, but even then, she’d always wonder if you’d hurt her again.

✞⛧ She’d become distant, but in her quiet, fragile way, she’d want to be loved again—just not in the same way, because she can never go back to the naive hopefulness she had before. That part of her is gone.

✞⛧ The scars would remain. She could never forget, not fully. But she might forgive, in time—if only because, deep down, she still loves you. Even if it scares her. Even if it hurts too much.

✞⛧ But don’t be mistaken. She’s no fool. If you do it again, she’ll walk away. And she won’t look back.

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scarlettriot · 17 hours ago

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Alright. I simply cannot get the idea of getting hot and heavy in the back of some limo with Ei and a little sprinkle of sneaking around too. I don’t know where this came from or anything so here. I’m leaving it. And that’s all.

It’s sorta smutty so no minors or ageless. They’re aged up, in case that wasn’t self explanatory. Reader gets a little jealous. Other than that it’s basically just fluff with fucking.

I did not proof this what so ever. Sorry. I’m tired. I don’t even have a rough word count for you but it’s pretty short.

The two of you leaving together after some big award show after he finally breaks into the top 10. Only you’re most certainly not the woman his agencies PR team has been setting him up on dates with. The super model who’s been all over him, the face of his active wear line, the woman they want to see him with.

He’s been putting on a good show for them. Even dipped her in front of all the camera the red carpet was lined with and kissed her as a hundred flashes went off.

But, gods, she’s just not you. The cute little waitstaff always serving drinks at these events. The black skirt they make you wear hugs your curves so tightly and he can see every dip of your plush hips and he remembers what it was like the first time he got to feel you.

He was stiff in his perfectly tailored pants before the hors d’oeuvres came around.

The first chance he got, he’d slipped away. Thankfully, his accomplishments were already recognized. He’d done his part, stood up, waved, went on stage, he didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone else. He just needed to find you again.

“I— oh fuck— I’m gonna have to get back before someone realizes I’m— I’m— right there, right there, yes please—!” It was too hard to think when his fingers were buried deep within your cunt.

He had you propped up on the back of his limo. Making you cum with your skirt all bunched up. “Don’t think you gotta go anywhere yet, pretty,” he chuckles and licks off his fingers.

“I do though, I do,” you tried forming a sentence, “I could get fired,”

He pulled your legs around him and carried you around to the door to slip inside with you. “Told you I’d get you a job at my agency, then you wouldn’t have to worry about this job.”

You sucked on his neck as he undid his belt, “don’t know how your girlfriend would feel about me working with you daily… having this happen far more often?” Because you’re not stupid, you knew if you took him up on that offer you’d be on his dick every chance the two of you had.

“She’s not my girlfriend and you know it.” He made that abundantly clear the first time he made a move on you months ago and you questioned him.

He’d just barely slipped his cock free before you were sinking down on it with a groan that would reply in his head for a lifetime. “I don’t think she knows that.”

He chuckles and it makes you clench around him. “You’re real cute when you’re jealous,” hands grip hard on your hips and he pushes you down as he grits out, “and if she does know it, that’s—not— my— problem—” rocking his hips to watch your eyes roll back.

“You’ve said it yourself though, she’s what your PR team wants. I’m nothing like her.”

He huffed before his arms wound under your legs so he could hold you up and fuck up into you as he damn well pleased. “Also told you that I don’t care what they want. You say the word and it’ll be you on my arm at these events, not her.”

You laughed before he made it into a blissed out moan.

“What? Don’t believe me?”

The windows were fogging up, anyone walking by would damn well know what was happening here. And he didn’t care at all. He’d bullied himself into you over and over again, tearing at your little outfit, unable to help himself.

Of course, you didn’t seem to mind with the way you were babbling now, tits bouncing with your head tossed back, pleasure coursing through you. “What’s the matter, pretty? Can’t do anything more than moan for me now? Should I stop and letcha think?”

His pace slowed and you cried out, “noooo!”

“Then answer me, baby, you believe me, don’t you?” Gods, for a man railing you within an inch of your life, his tone was soft and sickeningly sweet. “Promise if ya let me I’ll do this to you all night long.” Not that these quickies weren’t fun but just once he wants to see you splayed out in his bed. “I’ll make you cum over and over, as much as you want.”

He took your chin and made sure you were looking at him as he added. “I want you. For more than just a fast fuck at a party. Lemme take care of you, in every possibly way there is.”

With his cock filling you up so completely, and his eyes carrying so much hope, how could you ever deny him?

#kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #mha #mha x reader #mha smut #best red rock shark ♥️🦈#I really don’t know what this was #my brain is mush #gonna go back and hide under my rock now #later

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novascharms · 2 days ago

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teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.9 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

nine

tuesday, february 4th

rafe’s house was nothing like you’d imagined. for some reason, you’d assumed it would mirror him—bold, maybe a little intimidating, with an edge that kept you guessing. but it didn’t. it was a california coastal house, nestled right by the beach, with open spaces, too many windows, and sliding glass doors that made the whole place feel like it was constantly trying to let the outside in.

it wasn’t ugly—far from it—but it felt impersonal, like something plucked straight from a magazine. it just didn’t feel like rafe.

“found him,” rafe’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. he strolled into the sleek, sparsely decorated kitchen with dona tucked securely in his arms. the small dog blinked up at you, and your heart melted on the spot.

“hi, buddy,” you beamed, leaning forward eagerly as rafe handed him over. “hey, cutie.” you scooped dona up, cradling him against your chest like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“he was hiding in my mom’s office,” rafe explained, leaning against the counter. “he’s so quiet, she didn’t even notice he was there.”

it was true—dona was the quietest dog you’d ever met. you couldn’t even recall hearing him bark before. was that normal? you made a mental note to research silent dogs later.

“he’s so sweet,” you whispered, stroking his soft fur and holding him close. “i just want to keep him in my pocket forever.”

rafe chuckled, sitting beside you on the kitchen island. “pretty sure he’d love that,” he said, watching as dona curled up contentedly in your lap.

the island was smooth, polished to perfection, but the kitchen itself felt untouched, like it had been designed for show rather than actual use.

you looked down at dona, unable to take your eyes off him. “i don’t think i can focus on anything else for the next two hours,” you murmured, gently scratching behind his ears. “maybe we should reschedule.”

rafe laughed, the sound warm and familiar, though it startled dona, who shifted slightly in your lap. you swatted rafe’s shoulder. “don’t bother him,” you hissed, trying not to smile.

“midterms are in a month,” rafe reminded you, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine. “don’t leave me hanging.”

you groaned softly but relented, cracking open his algebra book. “fine. but dona stays right here.”

“deal.”

as you explained the next chapter, you couldn’t resist sneaking glances at dona every few minutes. he napped peacefully, his small chest rising and falling, and it took everything in you not to smother him with affection. fortunately, this chapter was easier, and rafe caught on quickly, diving into the exercises with a focus you didn’t always see in him.

you watched him work, giving him space to make mistakes and correct them as he went. at first, you focused on his process, the way his pencil hovered before he committed to an answer. but then your attention drifted—to his concentrated expression, the way his brows furrowed slightly when he wasn’t sure of something.

his hair, tousled and messy, fell into his eyes, and you found yourself wanting to reach out and brush it away. he chewed on his pen cap absentmindedly, his lips pursed just so, and suddenly you weren’t thinking about algebra at all.

it had only been two days since that night in your room when rafe had confronted you so forcefully that you’d been left reeling. for the first time in your life, you’d gone against one of your plans—your carefully constructed, foolproof plan—simply because he’d asked.

the scariest part was how easy it had been to give in. there hadn’t even been a debate in your head; you’d just done it. and now, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to cut him loose. the thought of not seeing him anymore felt heavier than it should have, like something you weren’t ready to carry.

things between you weren’t the same, not really. there was a distance, subtle but undeniable, and you couldn’t tell if he felt it. you hoped he didn’t because it was the only way you could continue this friendship in any capacity.

"i just heard that angelo called callie to tell her that—" a young girl, maybe thirteen, with dark brown hair tucked behind black-framed glasses, walked into the kitchen mid-sentence. she stopped short when her eyes landed on you and rafe sitting at the kitchen island. her gaze darted between the two of you, assessing the situation with a curious tilt of her head. "jenny, i'll call you back later," she said quickly, pulling the phone from her ear and hanging up.

you glanced at her, then at rafe, who was already setting his pen down with a smirk. "hey, wheeze. don’t let us interrupt," he said, leaning back in his chair. "i bet jenny’s dying to know what angelo told callie."

she rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she stepped closer, her elbows resting on the cool marble of the island across from you. "he told callie that jamie told him he doesn’t want to be with jenny anymore, which would totally break her heart, but she’ll recover," she said, delivering the gossip like a headline.

"this is my little sister, louisa," rafe said, gesturing toward her with a casual wave of his hand. she grimaced immediately at the mention of her name.

"just say wheezie," she corrected, scrunching her nose as if the full name physically pained her.

you smiled warmly. "nice to meet you, wheezie. i’m y/n, rafe’s tutor."

her eyes lit up with recognition, and she pointed accusingly at rafe. "oh, you’re the reason i’m stuck eating dinner alone with mom and dad twice a week."

"i’d argue that it’s rafe’s fault for failing algebra in the first place," you quipped, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

wheezie burst out laughing, a high, genuine sound that echoed through the kitchen, while rafe placed a dramatic hand over his chest, feigning offense. "god, take it easy," he groaned, though the grin on his face betrayed him.

you shrugged, running your fingers through dona’s fluffy fur as he dozed beside you, his little paws twitching occasionally in a dream. wheezie was still laughing as she pushed off the counter and started to head out of the room. "i like her," she called over her shoulder, glancing back with a mischievous grin. "you should keep this one."

you knew she was joking, her tone playful and light, but her words hit differently. they echoed in your mind, intertwining with cora’s comment about there being a new girl every day. your thoughts began to spiral.

how many girls had sat right here, in this exact spot? how many had met wheezie? had they laughed with her the same way, joked with rafe like this? suddenly, the weight of it all—the lingering questions you hadn’t dared to ask—pressed heavily on your chest.

"it’s just you and your sister?" you ask softly. rafe shakes his head, the movement slow and deliberate. "i have a twin," he says, almost like it’s nothing.

your eyes widen, and if dona weren’t napping peacefully on your lap, you’d scream. "what? you have a what?" you gasp, leaning forward, incredulous.

he laughs under his breath, the sound low and almost teasing as he scribbles on his notebook. "i have a twin," he repeats. "you know, when a baby splits apart in the stomach and—"

"i know what a freaking twin is, rafe!" you hiss, sliding his paper away from him. his head lifts, amusement sparking in his eyes as he looks at you. "how did i not know this?" you whisper-yell, your voice sharp but quiet enough not to disturb the dog in your lap.

still chuckling, he pulls out his phone, scrolling for a moment before sliding it across the table toward you. you grab it quickly, the screen lighting up with a picture of a girl.

"she’s beautiful," you mutter, the words slipping out absentmindedly as you study the image.

"she is, right? her name’s sarah," he says, his gaze softening as he looks at the picture. but there’s something about his smile—it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"she doesn’t go to our school?" you ask, confused. you’d never seen her around, never even heard a whisper about "rafe’s twin."

"she doesn’t live here," he says simply, locking his phone and setting it aside. the shift in his tone makes you pause, your attention fully on him now. he’s fiddling with his pen, spinning it between his fingers like it’s the only thing grounding him.

"we have a… complicated relationship," he begins, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you can’t quite place. "a lot of ups, a lot of downs." his words come slowly, deliberately. "her leaving was… inevitable, i guess. it had to do with a lot of things—some of it was my fault, some of it was stuff i couldn’t control. ultimately, space just… felt like the only option. she lives with my aunt now."

"do you see her much?" you ask carefully, not wanting to push too far.

he hums, shrugging lightly. "less than i’d like," he admits, his lips pressing into a thin line. "but she was just here for christmas." his expression falters for a moment, the vulnerability on his face making your chest ache. you want to smooth away that little frown, want to say something to make it better.

"we can stop talking about it," you offer gently, tilting your head to catch his gaze.

his eyes meet yours, searching for something, and then he shakes his head. "no," he says firmly but not unkindly. "she should be talked about. she’s really, really great. i don’t talk about her enough."

"why is that?"

he hesitates, the words sticking to his tongue before spilling out. "i’m… protective," he admits, his voice low. "i want to protect her. her reputation, her choices… everything. i don’t want anyone talking shit about her because of the stuff we’ve been through. and honestly—" he pauses, running a hand through his hair, his laugh soft and bitter. "—it just really fucking hurts."

your heart twists at the way his voice breaks, the way his fingers curl tightly around the pen in his hand. "i feel like no one’s ever going to get me like she does," he continues. "and then there’s the twin thing, you know? it’s like… walking around lopsided all the time. like something’s missing. she’s missing."

as if sensing his distress, dona stirs, lifting his head and turning his sleepy gaze toward rafe. you smile softly, reaching down to pick him up and hand him to rafe. his arms encircle the small golden retriever instantly, and he pulls him close, burying his face in his fur for a moment.

"thanks, buddy," he mutters, his voice muffled. "such a good boy."

"it’s obvious you love your sister more than anything," you say honestly, your voice quiet but firm. "and it’s obvious you have a bond no one else could ever understand. i know you’ll find your way back to each other eventually."

he looks up at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. this time, it’s real.

"you know," he says after a beat, "we were born holding hands."

"wait, seriously?" you lean forward, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "that’s amazing. there has to be some kind of paper or article about that, right?"

"yeah," he says, his smile widening just a little. "we were even on the news for it."

"how did i not know this? that’s so cool. how does something like that even happen?"

he shrugs, scratching dona behind the ears. "i don’t really know. our mom had a c-section, and we just… came out holding hands. i think about it all the time."

you grin, your chest feeling a little lighter. "see? even more proof that you’re connected for life."

he nods, his gaze dropping back to dona as a soft hum of agreement escapes his lips.

you straightened up at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and rafe glanced past you. "hey, dad," he greeted casually.

curious, you turned to see a man who bore a striking resemblance to rafe, carrying three paper bags in his hands. "evening," he said with a nod toward rafe before his gaze shifted to you. "you must be y/n. the tutor. it’s nice to meet you. i’m rafe’s father."

his handshake was firm and businesslike—not overly warm, but far from cold or intimidating. you appreciated the straightforwardness of it.

"yes, that’s me," you replied with a polite smile. "it’s nice to meet you, too. i really appreciate you inviting me for dinner—you didn't need to do that."

"of course, we did." a soft, welcoming voice caught your attention, and you turned to see a woman descending the staircase. her smile was radiant, warm in a way that instantly made you feel at ease. "you’re tutoring my son for free and feeding him twice a week? we should be inviting you over every week."

you couldn’t help but smile at her sincerity. "he’s a good student. he makes my job easy," you said, glancing at rafe.

his mom walked over to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and ruffling his hair in an affectionate gesture. rafe groaned softly in protest, brushing her off with a half-smile as she moved toward her husband, who was already unpacking the food.

"that’s a relief to hear," mr. cameron said, his tone carrying a subtle hint of authority. his eyes narrowed slightly as he gave rafe a pointed look. "don’t waste this girl’s time."

"i’m being an exemplary student, don’t worry," rafe replied smoothly, though the quirk of his lips suggested he wasn’t taking the admonition too seriously.

"regardless, i’m very happy you’re here," mrs. cameron said, her voice warm as her eyes, which you now realized mirrored rafe’s almost exactly. "i’d like to show my gratitude however i can."

"thank you. that’s really kind," you said softly, struck for a moment by how much of her charm and warmth rafe seemed to have inherited.

"rafe, go get your sister," mr. cameron instructed, turning back to the bags. rafe nodded, pushing off the counter to head upstairs just as your phone buzzed in your lap.

you glanced down at the screen, spotting hazel’s name flashing with an incoming call. when you looked up, mrs. cameron was already watching you, her expression understanding. "go ahead," she said with a small wave of her hand. "we’ll wait a couple of minutes."

you smiled gratefully. "thanks," you murmured before slipping into the hallway, phone in hand, leaving the warm hum of the cameron household behind for just a moment.

“hello?” you call out softly, your voice barely echoing as you walk through the wide, pristine hallway. the walls are lined with pictures and art pieces, each one meticulously arranged. there are plenty of rafe and wheezie—candid smiles, school portraits, snapshots of them growing up. sarah’s presence is sparser, almost like an afterthought, but she’s still there in glimpses. a photo of her by the beach, another of her with their mom, both smiling like they’re sharing some private joke.

your phone buzzes in your hand, and hazel’s voice spills into your ear, sharp and annoyed. “are you still at his house?”

you wince, knowing exactly where this is going. “yes, hazel, i’m still at his house,” you say, your tone gentle, trying to diffuse her frustration before it spirals.

she sighs loudly, her irritation evident. “i don’t like that you’re there.”

you walk over to one of the massive windows, the kind that seems to stretch forever, letting in streams of golden sunlight. outside, the pool glitters under the sun, the water sparkling like a lure. it looks so inviting, and for a moment, you imagine dipping your toes in, though you know the water would be icy cold.

“like you haven’t made it abundantly clear,” you smile, trying to keep the edge out of your voice.

“are you sure he’s not going to hurt you again?” hazel presses, her concern bleeding through the frustration.

“he won’t,” you say firmly. “the first time wasn’t even really his fault. it was mine.”

“you’re sure he has good intentions? i feel… iffy about him.”

you take a slow breath, your fingers brushing against the edge of the curtain as you stare out at the idyllic backyard. “hazel, it’s fine,” you assure her, but she isn’t convinced.

“how do you know?”

“because he’s not a bad guy,” you say, the words steady but soft. “i agreed to do this, and i have to see it through.”

“just promise me you’ll keep your distance. don’t let him get too close.”

“okay, i won’t,” you say, the words automatic.

“promise!”

“alright, i promise. i won’t let him get too close.”

“because you don’t want a repeat of last week, right?” her words sting more than you expect, the memory of your little breakdown flashing vividly in your mind.

“no,” you say quietly, “i do not want a repeat of last week.”

“alright, then you better listen to me. don’t play games with me, y/n,” she says, her tone softening slightly but still firm.

“okayyy, mom.” you drawl, a hint of teasing slipping into your voice, trying to lighten the mood. “stop scolding me now.”

“whatever,” she mutters, but you can hear the affection hidden in her exasperation. “i love you. call me when you’re on your way home.”

“mkay. love you too.”

you hang up, slipping your phone into your pocket and taking one last glance at the sparkling pool before turning back to the house. hazel’s words linger, her concern wrapping around you like a tether, but you shake it off. you’d promised her, after all.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

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mmywanda · 4 hours ago

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Dandelion — W.M

chapter one of Forbidden Pleasure

—

Pairing: CEO!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you decided to join your family's business, you had no idea the ceo of the rival company would be so.. alluring.

Warnings: None.. yet ;)

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: My first series! I promise it’s going to get more exciting soon, this was just setting things up.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

—

You'd never been into business. Despite your family being famous for their own very successful company, Nexus. No, you preferred working in that little library, where it was quiet, and the most stressful it got was when someone returned their books too late. Why would you want to be involved in a business full of money hungry people who think of nothing but financial success?

So that was precisely what you told your father when he called you up one Saturday morning, trying to persuade you into following in the footsteps of the majority of your family. And what didn't help your case was the fact you'd be laid off from your job, as there wasn't enough funding in the library to keep all four employees.

"I don't want to be a part of it, dad, I've told you this so many times." You spoke between chews, the crunch of your slightly burnt toast echoing through the call.

"You're twenty two, (Y/N), it's time you step up and join us. You could be valuable to the team."

You rolled your eyes, "And what value would that be?" Both of you knew that you'd passed through college with barely average results, and was lucky to have found a decently paying job that didn't require better grades.

"You're good with people, we need that."

Glancing over at the small stack of bills across you on the kitchen table, you sighed. "I don't want it to change me." What if you turned into an emotionless robot? And had to work behind a desk everyday? And that desk may be on the twenty fourth level of a glass tower building?

"You won't change, I know you."

Doubt swirled around in your mind, eyes scanning the small apartment you lived in. You would have to find a job soon, though it would be difficult given your low qualifications and lack of experience. Here you were, being offered a job that would most likely be well paying.

"Fine. I'll do it."

—

The first matter of business was shopping. Your wardrobe consisted of cardigans, faded jeans, a skirt you refused to ever wear again and a few shirts that looked very outdated compared to the modern city you lived in.

Walking into a clothing store that wasn't your typical go-to was scary. You'd chosen a different one so you could find more professional outfits— because you'd probably be kicked out of the office if you were to walk in wearing your usual attire.

"May I offer you some assistance?" A woman appeared in front of you almost two seconds after you'd stepped through the automatic doors. Her eyes scanned you, as it was obvious this was your first time in that store.

You smiled, shaking your head, "No, it's okay thank you. I'm just browsing." When she left with a nod, you walked to the pants section, looking at the wide selection of styles, material and colours. You didn't even know where to begin. Eventually you decided that darker shades like grey, black or navy would be appropriate. Picking a few out, you folded them over your arm, ready for the dressing room later.

Next was shirts, that just like the pants, had a very large selection, perhaps even more. A sigh left your lips.

Twenty minutes later you'd accumulated clothing items and two pairs of shoes. It was a bit of a struggle to get to the dressing rooms, and once inside a cubicle, you dropped the pile onto the stool. Another sigh left your lips. Is this what business people went through every year? Well, probably every month, based on what you knew of business people. Granted, your only knowledge of business style was from The Office, and it wasn't like that show was renowned for its fashion sense.

Trying on a few outfits, matching different things, you decided on what you would purchase. Making your way to the cashiers, you avoided the gaze of the store assistant.

"That will be three hundred and eleven dollars, fifty cents." The cashier's bright smile almost smoothed over your shock, but not quite. Three hundred and eleven dollars?!

As much as you wanted to apologise and leave to find a store that had cheaper prices, you wouldn't be able to handle the judgemental stare of that woman. So, you got your card out and pressed it against the card reader. When it let out a double beep, indicating it hadn't been approved, you tried again, to which the cashier said, "You have to put your card in. The contactless limit is two hundred."

Your face flushed. If it wasn't obvious that you hadn't spent this much money before, it was now.

That evening, you laid on your couch, staring at the cracks in your ceiling, instant ramen in a bowl, cooling down from its boiling temperature. You thought about what would happen tomorrow, your first day in the office. Well, you knew you wouldn't have a desk job exactly, you'd be more like an assistant to any of the managers or executives— whatever that meant.

Trying to shake your mind of all the worries, you ate your ramen, despite it burning your tongue. At least it was a distraction from the overthinking anyway.

—

You woke up with a start, phone alarm blaring. Your first instinct was to sit up, but an ache in your neck forced you to pause. It seemed you'd fallen asleep on the couch, head having been in an awkward position all night. You thanked the you from yesterday who set the alarm in preparation and had placed the phone beside you.

It didn't take long to put your chosen outfit on, but what did take long was pleasing the perfectionist in you. You stood in front of the mirror for a while, adjusting your hair this way and that, fiddling with the simple silver necklace you were wearing.

"It's no big deal, (Y/N), you're not going to meet anyone important on your first day."

That's what you kept telling yourself during your journey to the office building. It took a train and a four minute walk until you reached your destination. Walking into the lobby, you were struck by how sharp, clean and unnecessarily big it was. Pale marble flooring, bright white walls, even brighter ceiling lights despite it being a sunny day outside. And the very large 'NEXUS' logo on the far wall. Your shoes squeaked against the marble, and you wondered what sort of material the soles were made out of. Perhaps the marble was made to mock people with shoes worth less than a thousand dollars.

"How may I help you?" The receptionist asked as you approached him. You smiled, masking your nerves.

"I'm (Y/N), I'm meant to be starting my job today."

He nodded quickly, suddenly sitting up straighter, you assumed because he believed he would get in trouble if he wasn't the most professional he could be in front of his boss's daughter. You then noticed his name badge that read 'Evan'.

Evan picked up the reception phone, tapping a few numbers before speaking, telling someone that you had arrived. The conversation was short.

"Take the elevator to the ninth floor, first door on the right." He pointed you in the right direction. You gave him your thanks and then found yourself inside the small metal box also known as an elevator. You hated them, though you guessed it would have to become part of your routine now.

Once arriving on the ninth floor, you examined the decor— plain walls with an occasional framed art piece (the kind that looked like a toddler had painted that would sell for millions).

Hearing distant voices coming from various closed doors, you decided dallying wouldn't make the start of shift any easier. You found the first door on the right, knocking lightly until you heard a familiar voice call out— "Come in." So you did.

The office was spacious, a desk in the middle, and seating behind it was your father. He gave you a warm smile, standing up with an outstretched hand. You mentally sighed at his usual strange way of greeting family members. You shook his hand before taking a seat in front of him.

"It's good to see you here, when was the last time you visited?" He prompted, clicking his silver pen against the table.

"A few years ago, the Christmas party."

You remembered it begrudgingly. The night you fell onto a table that happened to be seating several ice filled buckets for the champagne. Let's just say it was an extremely humiliating memory that always made you shiver. The chill of the ice had never quite escaped you.

Your father chuckled, nodding as he recalled the same night. "Ah, yes. How could I forget." You rolled your eyes, refusing to smile until he changed the subject. "Anyway, let's talk business."

He pulled out a new planner journal, handing it to you. Flicking through it, you noticed a lot of dates neatly jotted in. You gave him a questioning look.

"My assistant kindly added important dates and meetings."

Your eyes widened slightly, "I'm going to join meetings?" That was something you hadn't expected.

"As a note taker, for now." His expression showed how keen he was for you to progress in your role and reach a high position in the company on your own. He wasn't going to get you a higher job just because you were his kid.

Scanning the dates written down for the current week, you saw there was a meeting scheduled for today. Anxiety immediately bubbled inside you at the thought of being in such a professional setting with equally professional people, as an inexperienced ex-librarian.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). It's not a huge deal." He hesitated, before correcting himself. "Okay, it is a big deal."

You groaned, leaning back in the chair that you had to admit was very uncomfortable. "What is it about? Stock shares or something?" It was very obvious that you pulled the term out of your very limited knowledge on business that lived in the back of your brain, because your father's eyebrows creased in amusement.

"It's our annual meeting with Maximoff Industries. And let's just say our companies have difficulty clicking."

The name 'Maximoff Industries' was familiar. You knew that they created things in the technology area, and as it so happened, Nexus did too, so it was no wonder they didn't 'click'.

"How do they normally go?" You had to gauge how terrible the experience would be for you. Scenarios ran through your mind, the most rational being; raised tones, interrupted sentences, perhaps even a few cold glares (gasp).

"We have a small partnership in a few products, so the disagreements normally stem from financial shares, and what name is listed first under the annual report. It normally ends in a handshake though." He attempted a smile, but it was clear that he had a very strong distaste for Maximoff Industries. "It doesn't help that their CEO, Wanda Maximoff is a.. difficult person to get along with in terms of business."

"Why?" You asked, wanting to know what to expect in the meeting, even if you were going to be sitting in the corner.

Your father sighed, leaning back in his chair. "She's.." He thought for a long hard moment. "She has this look, like she knows more than you, like she's superior. And she very obviously craves control over every situation without explicitly expressing it. It's infuriating, but hard to explain."

It didn't seem like much to go on; having a certain expression and craving control. Wasn't that a description of half of the earth's population?

Your father checked his watch, "It's going to start in twenty minutes." You internally panicked, because you hadn't expected things to start so soon. He smiled kindly, leaning forward in his chair a bit.

"It's okay, (Y/N), you're not going to be talking." That didn't exactly reassure you, because it meant you would have to maintain a calm act in case anyone looked your way.

"Alright, let's do this." Faking positivity was the first step, right?

—

The meeting room was empty when you and other representatives from Nexus walked in, including your father. They all took their seats, presumably their allocated ones. There was a chair set aside from the very long table, which you guessed was for you. Sliding it backwards a bit, you sat, spending a very awkward minute trying to decide how to position your legs. Should you cross them or not? Before you could come to a decision, you heard people entering the room.

You looked up, counting five very professional looking businesspeople. Thinking that was all, you opened your notebook, until you sensed one last presence. Glancing across the room, a woman entered.

She was dressed in a black suit, white shirt and heels. Hair brunette with lighter streaks, eyes a deep shade of green. But the overriding feature of this woman was her aura. Everyone in the room fell silent, most of the Nexus members seemed to have a polite but forced smile.

"Ms Maximoff, it's good to see you." Your father announced, making a small gesture with his hand to indicate for the woman to sit at the opposite end of the table— although she'd already done so.

"Yes, it's a pleasure, Julian." Wanda Maximoff replied, her tone smooth, with an underlying accent you hadn't heard before. It was very alluring all the same. You noticed she'd addressed your father by his first name.

"How have you been? I heard y—" Your father began, until he was cut off.

"Let's just get to business, shall we?" Wanda's hands rested on top of the table, revealing her many intricate and no doubt expensive silver rings.

"Oh, yes." Julian cleared his throat, gesturing to his coworker, a manager to start the presentation. You tried your best to quickly note down the points the manager was making, including comments from the other company.

But you felt your attention slipping, because from your angle, Wanda Maximoff was just to the left of the presentation screen. You were inexplicably drawn to her, the way she held herself, and not to mention her immense beauty.

You were suddenly startled when the face you were staring at turned, green eyes locking with yours. All oxygen left your lungs, not from panic of being caught staring during a professional meeting, but because Wanda Maximoff was piercing. Though her head tilted back to the presentation. Finally you were able to breathe, fingers gripping the notebook edges.

"So what's the point of decreasing the amount of products manufactured if it's in high demand?" Wanda questioned, leaning back in her seat slightly, directing the question towards your father instead of the manager.

He paused, thinking through his answer before replying. "Retailers are going to be bidding higher prices in order to stock it."

Wanda Maximoff's eyebrows quirked, a slight upturn of her lips now revealing to you what your father had described earlier; The Look. It indeed felt like she was in control, as if she was negotiating a deal with a child.

"Why don't we ask someone else's opinion?" Wanda's eyes snapped to you. Horror rushed through you as everyone followed Wanda's directed stare. All eyes were on you.

You felt your face heat up, having absolutely no idea what to say or do other than look towards your father helplessly. He nodded his head, as if urging me to speak so they could move on quickly.

"Uh—" Words were failing you. Wanda's expression shifted from expectancy to amusement. She was enjoying your embarrassment, it seemed. "I think it could work.. people tend to want to buy things that are exclusive." You didn't have anything to base that opinion on, but you hoped it sounded more certain than it did in your head.

Wanda's stare remained on you for a few agonising seconds before nodding once, accepting your answer. "Let's take ten, my team need to discuss this." Everyone nodded quickly in agreement. The Nexus members waited for the others to leave the room, but they didn't. Your father let out a very quiet but infuriated sigh at Wanda's blank though slightly smug expression . He stood, muttering to everyone to leave with him, including you. You'd never exited a room so quickly.

Once you were a few metres down the corridor, you exhaled, leaning against the wall, the conversation between your company distant to your ears. You were busy calming down from the humiliation. You hadn't felt this way since falling into a table with ice buckets in this very building.

Why had Wanda singled you out? Surely she knew how uncomfortable that would be for someone who was clearly new.

You needed water. Luckily you knew of the staff lounge that had a supply of refreshments.

The 'lounge' was thankfully empty, consisting of several pristine couches and counter with a kettle and an array of coffees and teas. You headed towards the water cooler. Grabbing a small paper cup, you flicked on the switch for the water to start filling the cup slowly. It was when it reached the halfway mark that you were startled by a voice.

"It's an interesting opinion that you have."

You spun around, facing Wanda Maximoff. It was hard to breathe again.

"Do you know a lot about consumer behaviour?" She asked, emerald eyes fixed on yours. The question stunned you for a moment, not entirely understanding. But you'd done enough reading to be able to guess what her words meant.

"Not really, I just notice what people around me seem to buy." Good, you're doing good— you told yourself.

"You don't do the buying?" She asked, head slightly tilted to the side.

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, no. I'm the type to keep something until it's completely incapable of doing its job." For example; your toaster.

Wanda's lips twitched into a smile that almost felt like a smirk. "That's an unfortunate attitude to have when you're working in this industry." You swallowed, throat feeling very dry as you still hadn't had that water yet. Wanda seemed to finally notice the cup in your hand.

"Drink."

The simple word felt like a command, and you found yourself raising your cup without hesitation and taking a gulp of water. It felt like a relief to your dry throat. The woman's smile was now definitely a smirk, though what she was smirking at, you didn't know.

"I haven't seen you around here before. When did you start?" The question was a simple one, but the way Wanda delivered it made it seem a lot more important, like she actually interested.

You were just glad it was an easy one to answer. "Today, actually."

She nodded slowly, "You're Julian's daughter?"

"Yeah, he's wanted me here for a while, and I needed a job." You had to tell yourself to just chill out, because you were starting to overthink your answers, despite there being no need to.

Wanda reached a hand out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, inadvertently directing your attention to her hands. The silver rings shaped her fingers perfectly, the dark red varnish on her nails standing out as they brushed against her hair. You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away.

"Those plants look half dead."

Your eyebrows raised at her very random statement. Since when did plants become a part of the conversation? You went along with it, noticing the few potted plants and vases with flowers that did look very wilted.

"Do you know the name of that one?" Wanda pointed to a specific plant, green leaves and yellow flowers. You knew nothing about plants.

"Tulip?" It was more of a question than an answer. Wanda let out a chuckle at your painfully wrong answer. She shook her head in amusement.

"Dandelion." She stated, suddenly studying you with some type of curiosity and intrigue. "You remind me of a dandelion."

Your expression was quizzical, wondering why a yellow flower could be associated to you in any kind of way. "Why?"

Wanda smiled mysteriously, carefully leaving the question unanswered as she checked her watch. You could tell by the watch strap alone that it was probably worth more than your student debt. "The break is over." And with that, she began walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. You were stunned for a few seconds before snapping out of it. Realising that the cup was still in your hand, you threw it away, walking as quickly as you could back to the meeting room without embarrassing yourself.

Everyone was in the room by the time you'd survived the walk back. You kept your eyes down and sat in your corner (of shame). The conversations started again, and you tried your best, yet again, to make notes. It was a bit easier to concentrate as Wanda hadn't done any talking yet.

It was boring, really, listening to your father and Maximoff Industries' representatives disagree on very simple things like the font for whatever the damn products they wanted to sell.

Finally, Wanda spoke up after listening to the conversation she appeared to have found just as boring as you had. "Let's do it. Less products for higher sales, as ridiculous as it sounds. Though, something would have to be put in place.”

You glanced up from your notebook, pen hovering above the page. Even Wanda’s own coworkers seemed confused.

“I will have regular meetings with a representative from Nexus, just so I can keep up to date with your side of this new decision.”

You could practically see the cogs in your father’s brain whirring, as he probably didn’t know now if this new idea would be a mistake. He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’ll look at my schedu—“

“It will be (Y/N).” Wanda stated clearly. Once again, you found all attention on you. You were just as bewildered as the other surprised faces.

“Me?” You uttered, cheeks flushed at the idea of Wanda Maximoff wanting to meet you again.

A smile twitched on your lips as she studied you from across the room. You felt the presences around you fade away when your eyes locked with green ones. She spoke in a slow but deliberate way, “You will accept, won’t you?”

Without thinking twice, you simply replied, “Yes.”

—

#ceo!wanda maximoff #ceo!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda mcu #elizabeth olsen #lgbtq #wlw fanfic #dom!wanda #sub!reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader

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coraniaid · 2 days ago

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Standard disclaimer that I understand themes and motifs and I'm aware that the reasons characters do things in fiction is because the writers have decided it will drive the plot, rather than because of those fictional characters (who do not in reality exist) being inherently "good" or "bad" people.

Additional disclaimer that I don't think there's any one single reason that Faith ends up spiralling after Finch's death and siding with the Mayor, that the necessary dominoes started falling years before Faith was even Called as a Slayer and that by the time Faith had lost her first Watcher and been living out of a motel room for months and been tricked and betrayed by Gwendolyn Post and accidentally killed a man there probably wasn't anything anyone could have done to stop her from doing all of that.

One more disclaimer: I do not, despite what the rest of this post (or any other posts I may have made or fanfiction I may have written) might suggest, think that Faith's story in Buffy the Vampire Slayer would be somehow improved if she hadn't had the character arc she has in canon. I do not think it would improve the story if Faith hadn't ended up making a series of terrible and short-sided and selfish decisions which ended up making not only her own life much worse but also many other peoples' lives worse [and a couple of other peoples' lives much shorter]. I do not think Faith's fall and eventual redemption is a problem that somehow needs to be fixed.

That being said though ...

Why on Earth, when Giles realizes Faith is lying to him about who really killed Allan Finch, does he decide the best course of action is (1) to pretend to believe her, and (2) make a big show of acting as though Buffy's in a lot of trouble before sending Faith back home to her motel room? In Consequences itself the only excuse he gives is that he "needed [Faith] to think he was on her side" but .. well,

First, newsflash, Rupert: you are meant to be on her side. That is the job you signed up for and are still insisting on doing despite nominally being fired!; and furthermore

This only explains why he pretends to believe Faith. Why does he make a show of throwing the book at Buffy, something that can only help to convince Faith she was right to lie? ("If this is what he's saying to Buffy, his first Slayer and obvious favorite, imagine what he'd be saying if he knew it was me?")

Why not pretend to believe Faith, reassure her she did the right thing by coming to tell him -- and that he's sure she only did it because she knew Buffy needed help -- and then give her the speech he later gives Buffy about how "this isn't the first time something like this has happened" and he "has no plans to involve [the Council]"?

Why not tell Faith that this isn't the first time Buffy herself has been accused of killing a man and questioned by the police? Why not tell her that he himself once accidentally killed a man, and that's something that he and 'Buffy' now have in common? If possible, he could even take Buffy aside and explain the truth to her, and ask her to play along with the charade for now?

Surely if Faith sees that Giles isn't prepared to throw Buffy under a bus, and that he acknowledges that "the Slayer is on the front side of a nightly war" and that "accidents happen", and he's more interested in making sure both of them get the help they need than meting out punishment, she's much more likely to actually admit the truth eventually?

Even if she doesn't want to do that, why not just ask Faith to "sit in" while he talks to Buffy about what "she" did and asks her to explain how she was feeling, so that Faith is in earshot for any advice or suggestions he makes about what to do next? Giles says out loud in this conversation with Buffy that he's worried about "scaring [Faith] off", so ... why is that exactly what he decides to do?

Again, note the disclaimers above: I know the real answer to my question is "that isn't the story the writers wanted to tell". It is necessary for the short-term twist that Faith seems to have convinced Giles to blame Buffy for Finch's death, and for the longer term plot that Giles be unable (or unwilling) to offer Faith any help. I understand that.

But -- in-universe, pretending Giles and Buffy and Faith are all real people -- is there an explanation for this that doesn't boil down to "Giles is a pretty lousy Watcher and should probably not be acting in a mentor role at all?". Why has he decided that the number one priority before anything else must be for Faith to admit it was her, and not the girl Giles can't help but see as a daughter, who killed Finch, when he accepts that -- whoever did it -- it was entirely accidental? If he's not telling the Council anyway and nobody is going to be sent away to be punished, what is the actual issue here?

"There is no help for her until she admits what happened." Okay, Giles, but why have you decided to unilaterally invent this rule, and why do you never use it for anyone else? We saw way back in Faith, Hope & Trick that Giles has no problem at all lying to people who aren't willing to admit the truth in order to help them. If, that is, by "people" we mean "Buffy Summers". Why can't you do the same thing for a girl you don't personally like?

#btvs #I am firmly of the belief that nobody but Faith is to blame for the things she has done to this point and will continue to do #Faith is a person capable of making her own decisions and taking responsibility for her own mistakes and choices #nobody forced her to side with the Mayor or repeatedly betray Buffy or assault Xander or try to kill Angel or anything else she does later #but also -- just as firmly and at the exact same time -- in a way I'm pretty sure it's actually probably all Giles's fault

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fancyfeathers · 3 days ago

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Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Okay so it may not be the ending but just thinking about if Daughter!Darling joins Young Justice when she becomes the sidekick of Black Canary, like I don't know if it would be the comic version or the show version but slightly modified timeline so at the start of it or something, so Dick is Nightwing instead of Robin, I don't quite know that part yet, but if it ends up that way just imagining her joining soon after Artemis joins or they brought in at the same time. Like she spent a few months training under Black Canary and given her past work on her original team in Gotham it's for the best that she works with others since that is what she knows and is familiar with, though it would be a little challenging when she has to work with Dick who is seriously against her being a vigilante.

It's a struggle for her in reality, she is not used to an environment like with the team, the type of environment she is used to is living in an abandoned, while renovated, warehouse and taking on more rough and gruesome crime on a street level, things like murders or whatever someone like the Scarecrow or Two Face has going on. She does not like dealing with the order of the Justice League puts on the team, even when she moved to work with Black Canary she was still treated as an equal to her, an equal with a bit more to learn still. When she joins the team, she can hardly stand how she is treated, like sort of how Roy (or Will really) acted in the very beginning, but she decides to give it a shot because Black Canary and Green Arrow think it would be good for her and they were the first two Justice League members to take a chance on her and think she could one day be a member of the Justice League or at least on the level they are.

When she is on the team it only makes things harder than if she was not, she constantly gets into fights especially with her brother, like he throws her back in fights as if to protect her but it just disrupts the missions even more. Then it does not help that when she first joins that her father is the one assigning missions, giving her the more safe tasks but she always deviates because she does not want to be stuck on the sidelines while everyone else gets to see action.

She worked far better than her old team, but after their final fight together in Gotham they all went their separate ways, while they remain in touch with one another, Daughter!Darling is the only one continuing work as a vigilante, or a hero would be a better word for it now. Like at the end of the first season when they vote in members of the Justice League, she gets brought onto the team, well almost, she decides to ditch last minute, she is meant to be a street level hero, not a Justice League member, not yet anyway, maybe one day but as of now she needs to work on herself and become able to function on her own, find herself without a team because all her life she had someone looking over her shoulder if that be her father, one of her siblings, an ex-boyfriend, an old team member, a new team member, or even her mentors.

She is going to become her own hero; become someone she can be proud to be, find someone who also needs to grow alongside her, who needs to break free of what they've known just like she does, find a Rattlesnake to her Songbird.

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didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback · 6 hours ago

Note

Ingrid only has 64 minutes in the 6 matches we consider important

played only in the away game against Man City

was benched in league games against Atletico and Real Madrid, home game against City and only outfield 1st team player to get 0 minutes in Super Copa

Do you think Pere has something against her because last season she showed up in every big game

okay, so yes, it is a bit surprising that ingrid didn't get any minutes in the last two matches. i did not expect her to start in either match, but i would have thought she would have come on as one of the subs.

her situation reminds me a lot of alexia's last season, when she wasn't starting in the important matches and everyone thought that jona had written her off.

but here's what i think is happening. mapi was injured last year and that's why ingrid got to play so many matches in the first place. mapi and ingrid are two fantastic cbs, and pere likes their partnership the best so far. but he still has faith in ingrid and still wants to rotate her in.

let's not forget the data. out of the 5 matches this month, she has played in 3 of them. not only that, there have been 16 liga f matches so far, and ingrid has started in 9 of them. she also started in 4 out of 6 champions league group stage matches.

ultimately, i think pere is still tinkering and figuring things out, and it's only natural for ingrid to want to play every match. all big time players want that. but i'm not anywhere close to saying goodbye. 🙏

well, i wouldn't call ingrid a bench player when she is still starting matches for us. of the 3 matches she played in January, she started in 2 of them, and like i said above, she started in over 50% of the liga f matches and champions league matches we have played.

ultimately, no, i don't see her leaving, but i do think she's having conversations with pere and marc about the future. it's only natural!

#ingrid engen #mapi león #irene paredes #pere romeu #fcb femení #futfem #woso

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avifaunaa · 2 days ago

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these little regrets [ j.t. & s.s ]

Pre-Fic: Um. Hey. This is my first post on tumblr and have absolutely zero idea what I’m doing. Be gentle with me while I figure out the works of it.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jackie Taylor x Fem!reader x Shauna Shipman

Summary: Your university’s soccer team, the Yellowjackets, crash land in the middle of the wilderness and you must all learn to survive. Unfortunately, this means things get messy when everyone’s periods arrive and yours doesn’t. Especially when Jackie and Shauna learn the reason why.

Content Warnings: Buckle up, my first fic here is kind of dark: A very obvious hint of pregnancy but it is not inherently discussed at large, periods, a pre-established dubious situation ship ( r x j&s ), obsessive and manipulative behavior, non-con, predator and prey dynamics, praise and degradation ( r receiving ), vaginal fingering ( r receiving ), cunnilingus ( s receiving ), some aftercare

Word Count: 4.8k

men and minors DNI

The summer had started bleeding into fall and things were starting to get a little tense between the team. Nat was gone more often and returning with less — but Lottie insisted that they had enough to keep them all above water.

You weren’t so sure.

You were so nervous about the amount of food in the stores when you did the daily count — a job you’d been given by Shauna to do — and would return to her with your concerns.

Today she was in a bad mood, the knife stuck deep into the table and dripping blood into the same stain it had collected from in past months of use. She moved her gaze to you when you approached her, unreadable and detached.

But an eyebrow raised slightly, breaking the fortified stature of Shauna Shipman. She stood straight when you were only feet from her, the table keeping you both separated.

“You never look happy anymore,” you mentioned, breaking the ice as you glanced at the meat she had cut into sections. Rabbit this time — not large like the last one which meant less rations.

“Neither do you,” she replied, palms flattening on top of the surface to meet your gaze. “What’re we looking at?”

You swallowed, curling your fingers together in a locked embrace. “Not counting the rabbit you’re working on, we have the duck jerky left in five strips, two pouches of the berries, but they’ll need to be rationed with meals soon if we want to use them, some cut meats to cook, and three granola bars I found Krystal hoarding.”

“Where was she hiding them?” A dangerous twitch moved Shauna’s upper lip, her eyes getting a dark gleam.

You blushed. “She had them buried under a pile of — um - strips she’s using for her period. They were clean but —“

Shauna raised a hand, effectively silencing you to your great relief. You licked your cracked lips and unlocked your hands, rubbing your scraped up arm instead.

“Fine,” she finally sighed, pushing off the table. “I’ll ask Jackie to send Nat out again tonight. This won’t keep us for a week.”

“Okay,” you said, looking down and kicking your worn tennis shoe in the dirt. “I’m gonna go help Misty with the water bucket, but I’ll see you later.”

“Wait.” You look up before you can turn around, and see Shauna watching you carefully. “Are you cramping? Hungry? I can . . . Offer a couple of extra rations. But only if you’re quiet about it.”

You tug your lip between your teeth, cheeks starting to burn slightly. This was Shauna trying to care for you in the only way Shauna could, you supposed. She was the more emotionally conservative between her and Jackie when it came to you when you had grown close over the last year.

Her way of showing it had been acts of service, or being overprotective as a way to communicate her feelings to you. It didn’t fix that she didn’t open up to you in the same way that she did to Jackie, though.

“I should be . . . I should be okay. I don’t want to take anyone’s rations. Fairness and all,” you told her.

“I offered it because I think you need it more, not because it’s fair,” Shauna stated, pushing off the table completely and grabbing the shirt-turned hand wipe rag as she smeared the fresh blood off of her palms and onto it instead.

You wanted to deny her offer, but the look she gave you was a warning. You swallowed hard, feeling trapped by obligation to accept but drowning already in the guilt of knowing you’d get extra while your teammates starved a little more.

“I don’t want to make anyone mad.”

That earned her the tiniest of smiles from Shauna. “Oh, sweetheart,” she crooned, “you let me take care of that. Your periods are really bad from what I remember. You skipped classes an entire week once.”

“You remembered that?”

“Of course. Now — don’t worry about anything anyone says. Just take the extra food.”

Something about the offer felt terribly wrong but declining a second time would flame the already short fuse Shauna had these days.

“Okay,” you agreed, demure. You adverted your gaze again to the side. “Misty’ll be looking for me, so . . .” You trailed off.

“Sure.” A dismissal, but you felt her watching even as you turned and high tailed it away to find the curly haired blonde, heart racing in your chest as you made your escape.

You got worried when everyone seemed to sync up but your period managed to evade you.

You got scared when the vomiting throughout the day started.

You had been so careful — the party before the team had left for their big game. It was a booze filled night of entertainment and fun and sex. The guy was lost in your memory — some frat boy who crashed the party with his friends but managed to snag your attention briefly.

You woke up the next morning and left before he could so much as stir in the sheets. You had been careful — you assured that even in your drunken lustful haze, demanding the condom before anything else further.

But now here you are weeks later, recovering from a spell of nausea and feeling the world spinning beneath your feet. Your breakfast was gone on the forest floor.

“Bunny?”

Jackie’s footsteps were loud as she approached you, a frown marring her freckled features.

“Hey, Jax,” you said, wiping your mouth and straightening up before your body was ready. “What’s up?”

“I was coming to find you, actually,” she said, rubbing her palms down her pants. “Shauna and Lottie said that today’s rag cleaning day if — y’know.”

“I’m — okay,” you quickly, too quickly, agreed. “Um, I’ve been throwing mine away, though.”

Jackie blinked owlishly at her, then pursed her lips. “That’s a waste, don’t you think, Bunny? Have you been ripping all your clothes up the entire week?”

Fuck.

“Mine are really bad. Super heavy. You’ve seen the tampons I have to use, Jackie,” you shoot back, hoping she’ll drop the matter.

She doesn’t. But she does stray closer. “I haven’t seen you ripping your stuff up, though, now that I think about it. You’ve only got the three outfits left. Not a piece torn off of them.”

You had nothing to say, caught foolishly in your own lie too quickly for it to have grown. “I-“

“You’re not on your period, are you?” she asked, arms crossing, eyes darkening.

You didn’t answer, a panicked heat coursing through you as you looked anywhere but at her face. “Please don’t tell anyone. I — I don’t know what’s —“ you broke into tears.

There was silence as you broke down, before Jackie sighed. “Oh, Bun,” and stepped into your space to wrap her arms around you. Soft hands carded through your hair, and despite yourself you curled deeply into the embrace.

“I think I’m —“ you choked, a sob echoing through your shattered heart and battered body. You didn’t have it in you to say it lest it be true.

“Mm, I know.” Jackie’s chin rested on top of your shaking head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. But we’ve got to tell Shauna.”

“No!” You wailed, face burying deeper into the jacket that smelled so starkly like Jackie and home. “No, anyone but Shauna.”

“Listen to me.” Suddenly, your comfort was gone and those hands fisted your shoulders in type grip as Jackie forces you back and stared hard at you, “You lied to my face and lied by omission to Shauna by not telling her you fucked someone before we left. You know how she is, Bun.”

“She’ll hate me,” you spluttered, thinking of the fury that Shauna can express at times.

“Hate you? Doubtful. She’ll be so pissed. I’m so pissed. We gave you rules that might, didn’t we Bun?”

“I don’t — I don’t know,” you sniffled. You don’t remember much of that night — most of it drowned in drinks and loud music and Shauna and Jackie before they left you to your own devices like they sometimes did.

“That’s alright,” Jackie said, hand reaching up to pet your hair again, “but you’re still going to have to answer for breaking them. A broken window can’t fix itself.”

Your brain was fuzzy with confusion and desperation as Jackie spoke. Why would you be punished for a set of rules set for one night weeks ago that you don’t remember?

“You told me nothing was —“ you began, than wisely shut your mouth before it got you into real trouble.

“What?” she asked, lips pulling into a thin line as she eyed you. “We told you . . . What?”

“Nothing,” you whispered and instead try to lean forward to seek out her comfort despite the unease that overcame you tenfold.

“Okay.” She let you back in, soothing your tears and promising you things you should have known would never have happened — mercy.

You didn’t eat.

Jackie had stayed miraculously quiet the entire time when you both returned to the cabin, only offering Shauna that sly little smile of hers as greeting.

The look Shauna returned was nothing less than scolding, but you didn’t dare to ask what over.

Shauna set you up with a meal double the amount everyone else had. Marina made a noise of protest while Van questioned why you got more.

“Because the Wilderness allowed her so,” Lottie said in place of their butcher, quiet but presently watching with a curious look. “It wants her to have more — so she will.”

“Fuck that,” Tai said, glaring between you and Shauna, “that’s not gonna happen. We need this to last, Shipman. Remember?”

Shauna met her glare with a steely gaze that could make, apparently, even Taissia Turner back down ( but not without grumbling ).

Your stomach suddenly flipped into your throat as conversation rose around you, everyone finding it wise to drop the matter as though it never happened at all.

You played with the scraps of meat, pulling it apart and squeezing it between your fingers but not taking a single bite. The juice from them soaked your fingers with grease, leaving behind an oily sensation.

Jackie leaned over from where she sat close to you, lips brushing your ear, “Eat it, Bunny. You’re going to need it more than you think.”

Your eyes flicked upward, locking instantly with Shauna — who was across from you by Lottie, leaned into her as the other girl murmured something.

A glint — and she gestured to your meal with just a couple of fingers. Eat it, went unspoken, but was silently ordered.

You ate it slowly as your teammates came to a finish with their own, trying in vain to stall the inevitable. By the time you had finished it all under Jackie’s watchful gaze, everyone else had gone and gotten ready to bed down for the night and were chatting quietly amongst themselves.

“Bunny.”

Your attention focused on Shauna while you wiped your fingers slowly on your pants, wishing you had things like napkins.

Or space.

“Yeah?”

“Jackie told me something interesting earlier, before dinner,” she said quietly, leaning an elbow on her criss crossed knees and laying her chin upon her palm. “I’ve been asking Lottie what we should do.”

Your unease creeps back in like venomous snakes into a cradle, twisting your guts and tightening around you.

“Can we — please can we um, go outside?” you whispered, fingers making grooves into your the skin of your arms you hadn’t realized you’d wrapped around yourself.

“I think that would be best,” Lottie agreed, moving to stand first. “The Wilderness must be privy to this change.”

You had no idea what Lottie was talking about and you almost told her that you only wanted it to be you, Shauna, and Jackie, but you were silenced by Jackie wrapping her fingers around your wrist and squeezing.

The cabin had grown silent as the four of you got up and began moving to the door with a direction to outside. You refused to look at anyone, at anything, but your shoes — which you’ve become rather familiar with in the last few weeks.

Outside was colder than it was earlier in the day. The sun hadn’t completely set yet, but it was shaded behind the trees and no longer had warmth to offer.

Jackie didn’t let go of your wrist even when the four of you found a spot near Shauna’s makeshift butcher’s corner.

“So, Bunny,” Jackie started immediately, smiling like she was about to express something good, “we agreed to talk to Shauna.”

You shuffled closer, almost behind Jackie, clenching your fists in her jacket and closing your eyes. “Jackie, please.”

“Now, Bun,” Jackie said, tone losing some of its joy and taking a harder edge. “This is what happens, remember? You don’t get to be a slut and get away Scot free!”

A shallow breath escaped someone’s chest. You guessed Shauna, because Lottie was still next to her and eyeing you and Jackie thoughtfully but without much interest in the situation.

A laugh followed the breathy sound, “Jackie you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Jackie pouted, nose turning into your hair, “She was taking so long to tell you.”

“She’s being punished.”

“Yeah, and I’d like to move to the fun part of the punishment sometime tonight.”

“You’re being a brat,” Shauna warned, but it held no merit. It was amused, if anything, in the way that Shauna always found amusement in Jackie’s antics.

Jackie’s eyebrows fluttered, “Then give me what I want and I’ll be on my absolute best behavior.”

Shauna snorted but turned her entire focus to you now. Your relief at being forgotten went down the drain and was lost as she regarded you with an icy stare. “So, you just bend over for anyone — is that it? Take what’s give to you?”

“N-no—“

“Because,” Shauna interrupted, stepping closer, into your bubble as if it didn’t exist in the first place, “I could have sworn that Jackie and I told you to go home when we did that night. We trusted you to listen to us and I don’t know — keep your fucking head on?”

“I don’t remember—“

“We know,” Jackie soothed, petting you again. The interrogation — the nice and mean — it was keeping you from thinking clearly. “But there’s still a price to pay, unfortunately. Right Lottie?”

Lottie blinked, jolting from whatever thought scape she was in. “The Wilderness senses an imbalance,” she stated, her head swiveling to look out into the darkening forest, “and it demands it be restored willingly before it starts taking it from us instead.”

“I — how does that have anything —“ panic began to rise, and your voice started to raise, but a hand slapped over your mouth as Jackie reeled around and pressed herself against your back.

“Shut up,” Shauna told you, lip curling, “and listen to us for once, you stupid little thing. Can you do that? Can you listen?”

Trying not to cry, you nod shakily. Anything to stay alive.

“Good girl. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to let you go and you’re going to run from us, yeah? Let’s play a game of hide and seek.” Shauna grins now.

Jackie hummed against you, hand still across your mouth, “Shauna didn’t want to, but I’m making her give you until the moon is all the way up — when it’ll be at it’s brightest. I think it’s more fun that way. To see you trying to hide in the shadows.”

Shauna tilted her head, seeing you tremble. “When we catch you — and we will — the balance will be restored. Now Jackie is going to remove her hand, and you won’t scream because then they’ll know about our game and I’ll have to cut your time in half. Deal?”

What choice did you have? With a nod so shaky that it barely came through, Jackie released you from her hold. The four of you stood there for a moment, and you blinked away tears as Jackie purred,

“Run, Bunny.”

You darted off into the forest, escape and fears of what happens if they capture you keeping you from thinking about much else.

You’d been running for hours by the time the moon offers a harsh glow on the forest floor. You’ve ran through a river and tried your best to cover your tracks — but you knew too well that Jackie had been learning things from Nat lately.

It’s all to be used against you tonight.

You needed to find a hiding place and quickly — you may have a better chance of making it through if you were able to find somewhere to wait the rest of the night out and hope they passed you.

With a racing heart and a knowledge of the little time you had left, you sought out anywhere that was tightly packed but able to contain you even if uncomfortably.

Your answer was a fallen tree log, dug out as a nest by some animal long ago but since abandoned if the materials inside were to go by. You did your best to shuffle around and use the old shrubbery as a barrier to make it harder for them to spot you.

Time continued to pass by and now it was a terrible waiting game that you had no upper hand in. The energy you had spent playing it was exhausting and you were losing the effort to try and stay awake the longer you hid.

You were cold, too, and you recall Misty once telling one of the girls that falling asleep while exposed in the cold could easily kill you. You weren’t sure how much of an expert Misty was on matters of wilderness survival — but she had been right on a lot of it so far.

It didn’t take much longer for them to track you down.

They’d been quiet amongst one another, but they didn’t want to spook you if you were nearby. Jackie had ordered silence when she noticed how frantic your tracks became and she grinned at Shauna.

“Bunny found herself a hole somewhere.”

And so the search for the hole began, footsteps trying to be light as they sought you out in the dead of night when the moon shone at its brightest.

A red sneaker flashed in your peripheral vision — and —

Fingers curled around your ankle and jerked you out of your hiding spot — not gently — and Shauna was waiting to grab you by the hair as you fought them.

“Hey, Bunny,” she crooned, uncharacteristically soft.

Jackie shoved you down face first and the impact of your nose and forehead hitting the cold frozen floor had you seeing white.

Your head was pulled up again and when your vision cleared, it was Shauna who was there. “Sorry, pretty girl,” she said, sending a look over your shoulder, “We can count that little bump as points towards your punishment.”

You groaned, head swimming. “Don’t hurt me.”

Jackie laughed behind you. Your legs suddenly split open forcefully and you could feel someone settling behind you. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she promised. “As long as you tell us who bent you over and fucked you like a bitch in heat when you could’ve asked us like usual.”

“I don’t know.”

A deadly silence replied to your answer. Then your chin was grabbed roughly, neck twisting at an upward angle so that you had nowhere to go but Shauna — who appeared back to normal very quickly.

“You better know. You let him breed you like a common whore.”

You cried out when your pants were roughly jerked down your legs, exposing you to the cold air. Jackie breathed in when she saw you — staring for a moment.

“You’re going to want to tell her, Bunny,” Jackie finally said when your sobs weren’t enough to deter either of them, “or she may get really pissed.”

“Please, please! I promise I don’t know! I don’t remember so much of that night! I left when I woke up!”

Shauna’s grip remained iron tight as she watched you plead. Your tears were flowing at a rate she otherwise would be enraged to see — but it was her causing it. Her and Jackie. Nothing was more perfect than this moment.

“Okay, we believe you,” Shauna decided after letting you sob it out a few more seconds.

“L-let me go, please,” you whined, fingers digging into the frozen earth underneath you in an effort to gain some form of control. “The balance. It’s fine now. Please.”

Jackie laughed. “Yeah, that might be fixed, Bunny. But this is something else now. We’re going to reclaim what’s been taken from us.”

You closed your eyes, drawing your arm into you and burying your face in it to muffle the sobs as your panties disappeared next. With Jackie between your legs and forcing them to stay open and Shauna raking rough hands through your hair, you had no true way to escape.

“Next time,” Jackie starts as two fingers spread you open and find the shameful wetness there, “you may not be so inclined to seek things out that you already have.”

“Hey.” Fingers snapped in your face and Shauna tugged on your hair. You looked up at her and in that time she stuck her thumb between your lips. “You’re so fucking slutty that you couldn’t wait a day? You just took it from the first person who looked at you right?”

“No! No! I don’t know! I was sad!”

“I thought you couldn’t remember,” Jackie reminded you, nails digging into your ass. “Are you lying to us again?”

“No!” you squealed, trying to wiggle away but had nowhere to go. “I only meant — I do remember feeling sad! Because you left without me! Again!”

“So you slept with someone else?” she reiterates, nails digging into deeper.

“Stop!” You cried, overwhelmed and wanting this to end. They ignored you, awaiting your answer, “I did it because I’m tired of the mixed signals you’re giving me! I was sad, and needed to feel somethin’!”

Shauna growled low in her throat, grip tightening so hard it had you squealing again. She loosened it briefly, “So instead of being a good girl and coming to us with your feelings like you’re usually good at, you whore around?”

“I’m sorry!” You sobbed, beyond comprehension and unable to even clearly understand the situation anymore.

Jackie and Shauna shared a look between them that you missed — it held a satisfactory gleam that gave them endless pleasure.

“If you’re sorry, you’ll prove it,” Jackie cooed when she finally released her nails from your skin and let them drift back down.

“A-anything,” you whimpered, “please just don’t be angry anymore.”

“We’re going to take back what belongs to us,” Shauna told you, leaning down and brushing her chapped lips against yours. It was a tender kiss and your addled brain was fooled into the false sense of security.

It distracted you until two fingers pushing into your heat pulled you away, a gasp breaking from your lips and causing Shauna to chuckle deep against you.

“You were so wet already, so ready for me,” Jackie mentions, leaning her body across your back as her knees pumped in time with her fingers in your pussy. “I could be forgiven for thinking you didn’t want this.”

You went to answer, but the strangled noise you made is all you could offer as her fingers twisted and pushed. Her breath was hot and quick against the back of your neck as she worked you up roughly.

Shauna tapped your jaw with rapt energy. “If you want to come, you’re going to ensure I do as well,” she crooned as she unzipped her pants and worked them down. She stayed on her knees but drew your head close.

“You know how to please Shauna, Bunny,” Jackie murmured, teeth finding home in your neck briefly, then releasing, “so do it.”

You did as you were told and started nosing into Shauna’s thighs, tongue licking a stripe upward first — she needed her clit stimulated first in order to be receptive to anything else.

It was more difficult when Jackie’s pace kept getting rougher and she found it necessary to work in a third finger. You cried out against Shauna, making your displeasure known.

“You’ll take it,” Jackie said, kissing the bruise she left on your neck, “because you want to atone for your sins and this is how you do it. But you can cry. We don’t mind.”

Shauna encased you between her thighs when you started becoming a little shifty — something she’s done since the minute she had you in her and Jackie’s bed.

“Fucking — tongue inside,” Shauna ordered, now digging into your scalp. You did as she said, moving away from her clit and focusing on eating her out instead.

“Good fucking girl,” she gasped, pushing into your face, using it to ride against for more stimulation. “Yeah — you could’ve been doing this instead of —“ you curled your tongue, not wanting her to insult you further, “fuck!”

Unfortunately for you as Shauna’s pleasure increased, Jackie would increase yours along with it. She was grinding herself roughly against you, and her thumb had finally began to rub hard circles against your clit.

And then she found your g-spot. She felt it, stuttered in movement when you let out a noise of near ferocity, and began thrusting deeper in earnest.

It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before — even with them. Your emotions were plummeting but your body felt entirely too good for you to ask for a reprieve you know you wouldn’t get.

So you let yourself be thrown into the pleasure you were given so you wouldn’t be forced to hurt at the hands of the two women you thought you knew and loved.

Shauna stuttered above you when you dragged your teeth lightly across her, not having meant to. She came with a low groan, shuddering through it as you licked until she finally came down.

Jackie had stopped inside of you to watch Shauna — and though you couldn’t see it, her eyes were glazed over with adoration as she watched Shauna in bliss.

When Shauna pulled away from you and pulled up her pants, eyes glazed over, she tapped your chin again.

“Are you going to make a mistake that horrible again?”

You shook your head. The moonlight reflected the wetness that remained on your face and it meant everything to Jackie right now.

Shauna looked up at Jackie. “Make her come.”

Jackie began anew, more forceful in her fucking than she was previously. She was brutal in pace and in effort: using all of her willpower to send all your nerves into overdrive.

You were a mess under her, crying out to stop, for it to never end, for —

Jackie rubbed your clit once, twice, three times and with a painful shiver that racked your entire form, the orgasm raced through you like a tidal wave coming to devastate an entire city.

You sobbed through the power of it, unable to handle just how much jolting waves were spasming through your body.

Shauna put your head in her lap and ran her hands across your shaking form as you rode it out, Jackie unrelenting and sending you straight into another.

Eventually, however, she slowed her movements until she was still above you. You shivered beneath her despite your shaded body heat and you were choking on your emotions.

“We love you, you know,” Jackie whispered into your back, closing her eyes to bask in the moment. “We love you so much.”

“I didn’t want this,” you whispered, but you sought out their comfort and their gentleness as it was given. You needed to flee from their cruel brutality and be welcomed back into their warmth.

“We know,” she said, pulling out slowly. She pulled your pants up. “But you needed to learn this lesson and understand that every action has a reaction that fits.”

“You did really, really good,” Shauna said suddenly, lifting your face again to kiss you.

“So good. Our good girl once more,” Jackie added.

They let you lay there for a while, soothing your hurts that they know to be the cause of but unwilling to accept.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” Shauna was the one to slide you into her arms once you were too exhausted to cry — too drained to protest.

You tucked her face into her chest, knowing that this was the truth: they will never let you go.

When they returned to the cabin around dawn, Lottie was still awake. You were asleep in Shauna’s arms and had been for a while. They let you sleep.

Lottie stood from the porch when the two approached. She smiled at them.

“The balance has been restored.”

#jackie taylor #shauna shipman #jackieshauna #the yellowjackets #jackieshauna x reader #content warning #dark fic

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