#it had nothing to do with claire as a person and everything to do with carmy’s behavior as a professional
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https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8QPgHuh/ ok so i don’t disagree w op like she’s not wrong ppl r weird abt black women, particularly dark-skinned black women when it comes to romance and white men, but the comments abt carmy and syd r killing me bcs ,as a black women myself, i js dont see them as platonic bcs the shows themes and storylines have never leaned toward that in my opinion ! like it’s always been a platonic air, esp w the boss-junior start ! it’s not like there wasn’t any yk potential but i feel like nothing ever blossomed that’s js all i had to say haha !
i think you meant you don’t see them as romantic right 😂 but yeah like what the op is talking about is definitely very real but frankly i think a lot of the people who fixate on sc in particular really.. do not pay attention to anything else going on in the show. like the way people’s entire understanding of season two was framed through a ship lens instead of just taking the characters as they are on their face was kind of alarming and i think claire being there made it worse bc people perceived her as a threat even though she was never meant to be. like i seriously doubt she will be coming back and the point of her character was to demonstrate that carmy treated her like a fantasy escape from his hellhole of a life that he could rely on like a crutch. which no one deserves in a relationship lol. it’s not to say that carmy isn’t a victim of childhood abuse bc he very obv is and needs help but i think most people would agree being a victim doesn’t rob you of the ability to treat other people poorly, which he does regularly. richie is a part of that. sydney is a part of that. claire is a part of that. marcus is a part of that. and so on and so forth. it’s sort of carmy’s central dilemma: he needs to learn how to process and heal from his abuse so he can treat the people in his life better than he is treating them now. and along that line i could maybe see a future for sc, if the show happened to run long enough that carmy got better and became capable of dating someone while respecting their full personhood. but that would also require sydney to reciprocate any romantic feelings he allegedly has for her. which i don’t think she does at all 😶
#like it was very interesting to see everyone say sydney was jealous this season bc i don’t think she was at all#in fact i think calling her jealous is insulting if anything#the restaurant was a project she immensely cared about and put so much work into#so ofc she was going to be annoyed when carmy’s inability to manage his life properly got in the way of that#and also resulted in him lashing out at her where she wasn’t at fault#it had nothing to do with claire as a person and everything to do with carmy’s behavior as a professional#outbox
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"Waking Up in Vegas"
Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:
ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.
Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.
And you? Well, you were done with rules.
For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.
You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.
Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.
God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.
You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.
You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"
What a creative name!
You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.
You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."
He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.
Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.
Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,
"Good morning." - Jason
"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason
"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason
Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,
"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"
Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.
Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.
Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.
Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".
Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.
"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason
You ignored him of course.
The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.
Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.
The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?
Just because he apologized and said he'd change?
Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.
For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.
You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.
He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.
You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.
Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.
Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."
All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.
You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"
Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."
You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.
Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.
By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.
Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.
You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.
As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.
The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.
But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.
London.
You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.
You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.
You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.
There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”
You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.
Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.
Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.
The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.
You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.
The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new
Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.
It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.
You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.
The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.
The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.
Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.
there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.
First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.
It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.
You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.
You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.
Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.
Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.
You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.
You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.
You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.
The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.
Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.
But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.
You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.
You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.
You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.
Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.
So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.
From there, it was off to the next city.
Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.
You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.
He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.
The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.
Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.
This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.
You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.
“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”
Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.
It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.
It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.
The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.
He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.
You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.
Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.
The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.
You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.
You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”
Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.
As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.
It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.
There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.
You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.
But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.
You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.
The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.
A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.
You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.
His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.
"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?
You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.
"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.
After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.
You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.
Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.
When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.
As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.
When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.
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@angelunatic @littledollete @cutelittlesugarfairy @darbystrange @sxftiebee @zealous0mouse @trashlanternfish360 @galaxygirlsblog @euphoria-looney @1simpchunkygirl @a-lurking-fae @analuixxy @naturallyspontaneous @horror-lover-69 @pastel-mouse @ladyrosemone @frankie-moon3 @catley1011 @justannie18 @yandereaficionado @ithoughtthinks @asdfghjklgayblog @shadowyknightbeargoth @peche4et3chocolat @boredselkie @rogueofbullshit @iamabeaner @rosesunderthegarden @nommingonfood @ninihrtss @type-ink @iamabeaner @astterrial @awawage @ironsaladwitch @boredselkie @rogueofbullshit @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @rosesunderthegarden @raging-stars @sulleha @s1mppp
#yandere batfam#yandere dc#yandere batman#yandere jason todd#yandere damian wayne#yandere tim drake#yandere bruce wayne#yandere x reader#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd x reader#yandere batfamily#platonic yandere batman#yandere duke thomas#yandere red hood#yandere red robin#yandere
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Plot holes/crappy writing in TUA 4
• Five, the guy who spent 45 years in an apocalypse and went back specifically to save his siblings from the same fate, ended up betraying Diego with such lightness and unjustified hatred and almost left the whole family because he got rejected by Lila?
• Five and Lila together just because Five needed a love interest when up until a season ago they had a sibling dynamic and Lila was madly in love with Diego
• In the end they decide to sacrifice themselves to destroy the Marigold but then they all reincarnate as Marigold flowers? and there is literally half a bottle of Marigold left intact in Diego's van?
•why in the hell was Lila shooting laser from her eyes? where did that power come from?
• Luther regains his powers and gets his monkey body back even though it has NOTHING to do with his powers since he morphed into that after Reggie saved his life by injecting him with a serum in season one
• in the end, all the past villains are shown together in the correct timeline when they all should be from completely different times
• Five feels like a COMPLETELY different person, the decharacterization was unreal.
• Klaus' new powers are shown for a second and then for the rest of the season he's basically reduced to a prostitute, ruining all the anticipation of seeing his true strength that has been building up since season 2 and nullifying all of his self improvement
• why was Jennifer in a fucking squid?
• in the end how are the children alive if their parents never existed?
• Ben and Jennifer were completely USELESS. and they were supposed to be key characters of the season
• Abigail's storyline made NO sense at all, she was supposed to be one of the most important characters in the show since the foreshadowing of her presence starts in season 1 and then she is reduced to two scenes in which she basically goes "fuck you Reggie for destroying the world, now I'll destroy it too as punishment" ???
• when Five meets the other Fives in the diner he doesn't show any symptoms of Paradox Psychosis
• Ray and Sloane are cut out of the show with two lines without explaining anything
• Diego dies without saying goodbye to his children
• Jean and Gene barely have a role in the whole season
• Allison sacrificed everything and everyone for Claire and their relationship is reduced to 3 scenes?
#tua4#tua#tua season 4#tua s4#tua season four#the umbrella academy#umbrella acedmy#five hargreeves#klaus hargreeves#lila pitts#diego hargreeves#luther hargreeves#viktor hargreeves#ben hargreeves
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Steve Has Older Siblings AU: Robin Edition
In an ideal world, Steve’s family life is completely separate from everything important. But in an ideal world, monsters don’t exist so, you know.
1. Technically the first of Steve’s siblings that Robin meets is Jason because he came into Scoops Ahoy to be an asshole. Robin liked to see King Steve knocked down a peg or two more than the next person but not by a forty year old (he’s 32) loser who has nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon. Robin sees him knock Steve’s hat off his head and then informs him that they had a zero tolerance harassment policy (they don’t) and they can and are denying him service. “So leave, now.”
2. The first time she is aware that she’s meeting one of Steve’s siblings is after Starcourt burns down. They were drugged, tired, and Russians took Steve’s car keys so it felt like a good idea to just lay back on the hood of the Beemer and watch the smoke swirl in the air until they come up with what to do.
They never think of anything, and she is startled awake the next morning hungover and dehydrated by someone laying on their horn. Robin looks at the car and then at Steve, and then asks, “Is that your dad?”
Steve - looking somehow worse than yesterday - just blinks in the direction of the car like, “Richie?”
“Get in the car,” Richie practically seethes, barely lets them get in before he starts asking questions like, what the fuck and are you high, right now?”
“I don’t dooo drugs, Dad,” Steve spat out annoyed and Robin, in the backseat, felt compelled to adds, “Drugs do me.”
They both start giggling and can’t stop even when Richie tries to lecture them.
3. Robin meets Jason again when he attacks her.
She doesn’t remember much about the car ride back to Loch Nora or how Steve convinced Richie not to take them to the hospital, but she remembers flopping face first onto Steve’s cloud of a bed. She remembers him taking her shoes off for her and pulling the covers up.
Then she is rudely woken up by a hand yanking her out of bed and big arms wrapping around her head. They’re barely there before Steve is shoving them off her like, “Fuck off, Jason.”
“Carver?” She asks but, no. It’s the dick from the mall. She is ignored while Jason prattles on about how it’s not his fault that Steve looks so much like a girl that he confused him with one. Then he’s whistling about how Steve has a girl in his bed and how surprising that is to them considering they all thought he was a queer.
Robin stiffens beside him. New queer ally, Steve Harrington, not wanting her to be uncomfortable, blurts out, “What if I am?”
And the room goes quiet. Steve’s quiet. Jason’s frozen. Richie, coming in through the door, wasn’t moving. This family doesn’t really paint a picture of unconditional love and acceptance so Robin throws her entire (unsuccessful) theater career into use and slugs Steve in the arm with a snort like, “Yeah, right. With all the girls you flirt with? Ha!”
And everything comes back to life. The hospital conversation comes up and morphs into an argument immediately. Robin is just happy to fade into the background and observe.
4. Robin probably should’ve met Claire that day too but the hospital was an apparent disaster. She actually meets Claire randomly at Family Video.
She sees a woman who’s kinda cute come in and peruse the shelves. She comes to the counter where Robin is on register and Steve is stocking candy right next to her.
She’s carrying The Muppet Movie and makes small talk about watching it with her kids, and never looks twice in Steve’s directly. She’s not in the system and just laughs, “It’s probably under my maiden name, Harrington.”
Robin gives her a tight smile and finishes the transaction. Claire leaves with barely a ‘bye’ to her brother and Robin decides right there that she hates them all.
#Robin makes Steve sit down and actually tell her what is up with his family. he begrudgingly does#robin: wow. screw them. I’m your family now. no arguments#Steve feeling like he could cry: okay#Richie woke up to news that the mall burnt down and then couldn’t get ahold of Steve#he called Jason and they set out on a search and then painfully ran into the fact that they don’t know anything about Steve’s life#because Tommy and Carol told them that they weren’t friends with Steve and then#ted wheeler said that he didn’t think that Steve was dating kid daughter anymore#and also he no idea where his kids were#steve harrington#robin buckley#Steve has older siblings Au
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holidays headcanons (resident evil)
┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐ characters: chris, leon, jill, claire, rebecca, carlos, luis, ada, wesker warnings: mentions of alcohol, some swearing.
a/n: i know this is late but all the recent love for the restaurant au inspired me!! check that one out here! love u pookies and i hope you had a great holidays <3 if you want me to cover anyone else, or have any other suggestions for au's please let me know! └─── °∘❉∘° ───┘
chris redfield:
this man comes for one reason and one reason alone: the food. you best believe chris redfield is grabbing two plates piled sky-high and scarfing it down before the rest have even served themselves. because of a particular incident involving leon and a nerf gun, chris has been banished to the kids table for the foreseeable future. he gets to sit there with (baby) sherry in a shitty little plastic barbie chair that claire bought off amazon-- the legs are bowing under his weight and are clearly destined to snap during some point in the night. as for the games, chris takes no part in it. why? he's stone cold passed out in the lazyboy. i'm talking full on snoring, scratching at his chest, mouth open, and drooling asleep. nothing is waking that man up from his food coma, other than literally firing a gun three inches away from his ears.
as for you, chris softens a little bit. he'll reluctantly indulge whatever you want to do, even if he's grumbling about it a little the whole time. this man is a practical gift giver, unless claire gets involved and gets you something indulgent in chris' name. if it were up to chris alone, he's replacing whatever you have that's worn down or unusable. he just wants to see you comfortable and stress-free, and he really doesn't have the mind for other things.
leon kennedy:
respectfully, he's the typical white dad of the group. he eats a good amount of mashed potatoes and roast beef, downs a couple whiskeys, and he's out for the count. there's been a couple occasions that he's gotten a little too rowdy, and relentlessly barraged the dinner table with whatever one-liners or borderline traumatic stories that come to his mind. he's fine, he swears, it really was funny that time he almost got blown up.
god forbid sherry grows up and starts bringing partners around the place, leon takes it upon themselves to act like her personal bodyguard. he'll sit in an armchair and stare daggers at them every time they so much as touch her, and it takes a while for him to warm up to them. for the games, do NOT ask that man to play charades. honestly, it will just be embarrassing for the both of you.
leon really does try his best when it comes to you. his gifts are usually something you eyed while out with him somewhere, which he very sneakily bought while you weren't looking. however, he's downright terrible at hiding it for you if he buys it ahead of time. you have to just act surprised and loving about the whole thing, and leon's putty in your hands. there's always a hand around your waist when you're in the vicinity, and leon loves to brag about your title in casual conversations. (eg. "yeah, my wife/husband is a pretty good cook. it's no big deal")
jill valentine:
jill's been banned from helping in the kitchen for five years. it's not her fault, honestly, she got a little too distracted sharing war stories with the others that she forgot the yorkshires were still in the oven. she'll happily eat everything though, or bring a store-bought dessert if need be. every single year, she takes photos of chris passed out in the armchair until she can make a photo album to gift him. there's a framed photo of chris mid-fall after the barbie chair finally gave way that's hanging above the fireplace, courtesy of her. also likes to take lil sips of leons whiskey when he's not looking since he always brings the good stuff.
she claims that she doesn't get into the games, but she gets super intense about charades to the point that everyone's reluctant to team up with her. she's shouting answers like there's a ticking bomb that will go off when the time runs out, and she'll scold you if she thinks your acting performance wasn't oscar worthy. she's flinging around a beer can during the whole thing and nearly soaking everyone in the vicinity.
when you start coming around for the holidays, jill visibly relaxes. she can let a lot of her guard down, and everyone likes to give her shit about how lovesick and happy she becomes. she's also a victim of the practical gift giving trait, but occasionally she likes to buy you something just because she thinks you would look nice in it. but there's always an extra gift at home that she won't let you open in front of the others, she has to maintain some sort of dignity.
claire redfield:
her and rebecca are the only reasons this tradition goes on for as long as it does. rebecca does most of the logistics, claire is the one who keeps that ship running while it's happening. the two of them are such a scary pair when they want shit done, that everyone else just has to follow along. claire is the one that banished chris to the kids table, but still lingers around to keep an eye on sherry and make sure she's eating enough. when sherry's old enough to bring partners around, she's the welcoming one, and will secretly jab leon in the ribs whenever he starts acting up.
claire likes to experiment with the games every single year, usually after incidents or fights break out. white elephant got banned after four different people just bought gift cards to the gun store (im assuming this exists there, im canadian). she's shaking the box of names aggressively at anyone who tries to get away, and will tip chris right out of that damn chair. they rarely get to be together with all the missions, so help her god they're going to enjoy it.
you're the first person claire actually brings around. sure, she's had relationships, but bringing you around to family christmas is a big deal. and don't worry, everyone else will tell you just how much of a big deal it is. you're the first person she tells everything too, and on the drive there, she's giving you a full run down on what she thinks of everyone (claire has very strong opinions). for gifts, she loves to buy you things. her favourite gifts are outfits either you can wear on her motorcycle, or matching clothes she painted herself.
rebecca chambers:
the holidays are a stressful time for her. not only does she have to cook for the most ravenous group of people that definitely do not cook for themselves enough, but she has to make sure they don't kill each other during it. despite that, dinner is always amazing, and the desserts are just to die for. she takes a special pride in her desserts, and if a couple extra supplements sneak themselves into the dinner, she definitely does not know anything about that. one of the few things that gets her through the holidays is the extra sweet hot chocolate and egg nog concoction that she makes for herself. leon tried it one time by accident and nearly gagged at just how sweet it was.
rebecca is very into the games and gifts section. it's the one time she gets to sit down and relax a little bit, and she does love how intense everyone gets about the whole thing. she's just happy that everyone can get together, and maybe relax after everything that's happened. despite her enthusiasm and smarts, she is downright terrible at charades. her answers are always way too complex for the minute they have to guess whatever she's miming. how the hell is anyone supposed to guess t-011 from hand gestures?
rebecca is by far the best gift giver out of the bunch. whatever she buys you is well-thought out, personal, and helpful. she likes to have you hang around the kitchen while she cooks, and will always feed you little spoonfuls under the guise of taste-testing. really, she just wants to make sure you eat, especially before chris can get his grubby little hands on the entrees.
luis sera:
leon invited him a total of one time, and luis had just become a permanent fixture of the whole thing. you best believe luis is bringing a karaoke machine and performing bad renditions of holiday music complete with an improvised choreography. he tried to bring leon into it one time, and nearly got roundhoused so hard that rebecca had to take them both out like misbehaving dogs. despite that, he always brings around a home-cooked entree to dinner, which rebecca appreciated greatly. luis also has the tendency to spin great tales about what he did during the year, which are definitely all lies.
in part two of the party, luis likes to be a little tipsy for the whole thing. who can blame him, he likes a party. just don't get him talking about his work, he'll talk about it for hours with increasingly complicated language that only rebecca can understand. like her too, he also gets really into the games section. luis is mentally keeping track of the stores, and will argue with anyone that tries to get the one up on him. i mean, he really deserved the point on the last one, so what if he buffs the numbers a little?
luis love to brag about you to all the others, you're his lovely partner and somehow agreed to date him, how could he not? his gifts for you are always a little extravagant, because he wants everyone else to know just what a good boyfriend he is. you're also the reason why he got chewed out over pda during the holidays. luis is just not the kind of man that can keep his hands off you, it's the season of romance.
carlos oliveira:
he's the one person who rebecca allows in the kitchen. carlos is always willing to help, and he'll even do it with a cheesy little apron on. it just makes his ass look nice, and these people deserve a treat on the holidays. god forbid carlos, leon, and jill are sitting together for dinner. they're throwing around the worst jokes known to man, and cackling loudly the whole time, especially if they're a couple beers deep. he's used to a big family, so this kind of gathering is right in his element. he makes sure there's enough food and drink for everyone, even if he's next to chris in eating it all.
another victim of getting too into the games. he likes to have fun and joke around, so he's definitely energetic, but doesn't take it too seriously. carlos is ultimately there to have a good time, and if a pretty woman is telling him to play, he's definitely not going to say no. he's relaxing back in his chair, beer in hand, yelling out suggestions and laughing loudly.
for you, he's just happy to bring you around and show you a good time. you don't have to worry about a damn thing during the holidays, carlos is doing everything so you can just lay back and enjoy the festivities. your drink is empty? carlos is already up and heading to the fridge. you want more dessert? there's another plate already in your hands.
ada wong:
no one really knows the reason she's here. people suspect she found out the location through her own means and just started showing up. or that wesker invited her for insurance reasons. she'll offer to help in the kitchen, and they always turn her down because she's definitely overdressed and they don't want to risk her getting dirty. during the dinner, she just like to witness the inevitable trash fire, or chatting quietly with luis about whatever work drama happening with him.
she's not playing any games. don't ask her. ada will give you a mean glare until you leave her alone. she wants to sit there and watch the wreckage and drink her little drink, she is not playing charades even if there's a gun to her head. get her to gossip though? she will happily engage in telling you dirty secrets about everyone else ( no one can figure out how the hell she knows these things).
ada's rigging the whole thing so you win. she wants to see you happy, and you'll be even happier when you see what she's got you. again, there's no way to tell exactly how she knows what you wanted, but you can be sure you're getting it. and it's in a pretty box, carefully put together and wrapped with a red bow. there's also a mistletoe in her pocket, for when she can finally get you alone.
albert wesker:
no one knows who invited him. no one knows where he is the whole time (he's in the bedroom, pointedly avoiding everyone else). he'll come down to dinner, eat his food, say nothing, and go back upstairs. he's also not going to engage in any sort of ugly sweater tradition, he's wearing all black, and god help anyone who tries to get him to wear anything else. wesker will speak up about his open disdain for chris, but it's quickly shut down by rebecca before he can start a fight.
he doesn't really come around all that often. he prefers to do his work, have his own celebration, and pretend all these people don't exist. after certain events, he becomes a bit of an unspoken topic amongst everyone else-- just a person that used to come around thats' been replaced by their new family.
the only way he'll do anything for the holidays is if you're there. yes, he's going to complain and say he has better things to do, and he would much rather have your own private celebration, but he'll reluctantly do it if you bother him enough. he's giving you his present in private and away from prying eyes, because that relationship is just between you two, not these other people unworthy of even looking at you. whatever you tell him you want, he'll buy. money's no object for him, and anything that will make you happy while he works on other things.
#happy belated holidays everyone !!#and if yall have suggestions please send them to me i love hearing from everyone#resident evil#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy imagine#resident evil fanfiction#ali writes#leon kennedy#chris redfield#chris redfield x reader#jill valentine#jill valentine x reader#rebecca chambers#rebecca chambers x reader#claire redfield#claire redfield x reader#albert wesker#albert wesker x reader#ada wong#ada wong x reader#carlos oliveira#carlos oliveira x reader#luis sera#luis sera x reader
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who's been at your apartment?
pairing; carmy berzatto x reader
content warnings; MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY (pls), angst turned to smut, afab!reader, oral (r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, light dom/sub dynamics
summary; you and carmy had ended things a month ago but you just couldn't keep away from each other.
this has been sat in my drafts for far too long, like last month i was obsessed with 'your apartment' by wallows (i saw them on tour, hearing the song live was insane), and this was born, it's probably one of the more horny things i've released so please enjoy <3 my little end of the year treat for you all <3
also i have a whole ass playlist for this dynamic with carmy and it's eating my brain up when if i think too hard
You and Carmy had been dancing around each other for months. Your situationship - that neither of you had ever been brave enough to call a relationship - had ended messily but mutually. It hurt you both but as you both did, you bottled it up and pretended like nothing had happened.
You were amicable with him inn person but when you got home, you cried on the phone to your best friend about how much you missed him. And then you went back around, doing it all over again the next day.
Your best friend had tried to get you to move on, think about someone else but it never happened. Nothing seemed to distract you from him.
Carmy had similarly been struggling. Even the stress of opening The Bear hadn’t distracted him from you. Even Syd and her refusal to sign the partner contract hadn’t distracted him. Seeing you every day made him crazy and seeing you laugh and smile and seem so care-free drove him even crazier.
He didn’t understand how you weren’t falling apart at the seams. He was. Even if he hid it, he was falling apart without you. And he would lie awake at night thinking about how you were moving on and imagining all the ways you had moved on. It was his own unique form of self-harm. Or that’s what he thought because he didn’t know that you were also falling into that same pattern.
You knew that Carmy didn’t sleep around but he had gotten closer to Claire recently. He had been friends with her for as long as you had known him - so your entire lives - and that made it even worse.
Was he sleeping with her? Did she hold him like you had? Was he moving on?
It drove you crazy.
And service at the Bear was driving you crazy. It was stressful, the new menus every day basically made it impossible to be efficient. Everything was difficult and the company was drowning and Carmy was drowning. He was stressed and you could see it but you couldn’t do anything because you were drowning too; drowning in your own feelings and your own self-inflicted mental wounds.
Service was the most stressful you’d had since Carmy had joined months ago and the intensity in the kitchen seemed to increase with every passing second.
Every second counts.
That was becoming increasingly true as you rushed your way through dinner service. When the last order went out and everyone cooled off and Carmy had stopped asking for food to be re-fired over and over and over and everyone began to clean up, you felt like your head had finally come up from under the water.
The tides were calming but then you made eye contact with Carmy and it was like you were drowning again. He was anxiously chewing on nicotine gum as he quickly averted his gaze from you. You looked away and ran your hands across your face.
“Fuck,” You mumbled to yourself before you turned away and went straight to the back door. You couldn’t exist in that kitchen, you felt like you were drowning. The night air was soothing as you dropped onto the bench next to the back door. Your hands rested in your lap as your whole body slumped back into the brick wall.
You couldn’t get the thoughts out of your head. Carmy with Claire, Carmy fucking Claire, Carmy touching Claire. It was driving you fucking insane. You let out a rough breath.
“Fuck,” You muttered again. You leant forward, elbows on your knee as you rested your head in your hands, “Fuck!” You shouted before you let out another rough breath, kicking your heel into the bench.
It felt impossible to think. Nobody could distract you enough to keep him off your mind. Sydney, Marcus, Tina, even Ebra had tried to help but nothing. He was stuck in your head, invading every bit of free space, sinking his claws in.
The memory of him was branded into the deepest part of you. The genuine look of relaxation when he was asleep beside you was seared into your mind, his smile when you said something funny, his laugh that you rarely ever heard, the way he became pliable and obedient after a stressful service and his face when you kissed and praised him was burnt into the very deepest parts of you. The reminder of how good he felt between your legs and how easy he slipped inside you and fucked you until you couldn’t think persisted in every corner of your mind.
It was like every part of you was clawing, desperate to get back to him.
But you couldn’t talk to him, you couldn’t speak, any time you went to text him, you couldn’t do it and the words clawed at your throat, desperate to spill out but they never did. Instead, your throat was left sore.
“Yo, Chef, gonna finish cleaning your station?” Carmy asked as he appeared outside the door. His voice was a little awkward, trying to be casual but both of you could sense the tension that needed desperately to be broken.
“Yeah, uhm, give me a sec,” You said as you lifted your head out of your hands. You cleared your throat and wiped your hands down your apron - force of habit. You glanced at him, giving him a small smile. That was a mistake. He was looking at you so softly. It made your head spin and you had to look away, “I’ll be there,” You added, hoping he would take the hint and walk away.
“Yeah, take your time,” He responded. You nodded and when you didn’t hear him move, your body felt like it was burning up. This was so much. There were words on the tip of your tongue, desperate to get out but finding no way, “Everything good?” You didn’t even know how to respond to that as you stared blankly at the night sky.
“Are you fucking Claire?” The words fell from your lips before you even knew what the fuck you were saying. But they were out there. It wasn’t what you wanted to say but you needed to say it, to do something about this because fuck, you were losing it. With or without him you were losing it.
Carmy was baffled by your question, pausing and not entirely sure what you wanted to hear. He cleared his throat and glanced at the kitchen before he stepped down out of the restaurant into the back alley.
“No,” He retorted. You nodded and rested back against the wall, “Are you?” He asked. Your eyebrows furrowed.
“What? Fucking Claire?” You asked, unable to help the way you teased him as an amused smile spread over your lips.
“No, fuckin’ hell, no. I meant, fucking anyone,” He quickly corrected, stumbling over his words.
“No.” You didn’t feel the need to elaborate. Both of you knew why. It was fucking obvious to everyone.
You both fell silent and a soft breath escaped your lips, somewhere between relief and annoyance. You felt like you were being tortured by this, by him. It wasn’t exactly all his fault but you fucking needed him. You wanted him so badly and you had no idea how to tell him, how to do it.
“Want me to help with your station?” He asked after a beat. You nodded and he nodded back in response. You then got up from the bench and the two of you headed into the kitchen. The silence that lingered between the two of you was somehow comfortable as you cleaned. You worked in tandem, together, perfect and in rhythm. It was easy.
The two of you had always been easy, well, until it wasn’t but it had been mistake to quit just because it wasn’t fucking easy anymore. You felt so stupid.
Once you were done with your station, you took the trash out together. You were both deep in thought, not needing to speak to understand what was going on here. Carmy held the bin open as you chucked the black bags inside.
Your mind was running around in circles. You felt like you were going crazy and every time you looked at him, you wanted to scream and cry and kiss him all in the same instant. It was mind-numbing and dizzying and you didn’t know what to think. And his hand was on your back when you stood on your tiptoes, supporting you as you threw the bags into the trash.
His hand was on you, his eyes never left you. It was making your head spin and he wasn’t saying anything.
Granted, neither were you, but he wasn’t saying anything. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to kiss him and when you made eye contact, you caught the way his eyes briefly glanced to your lips.
You were halfway picking up a trash bag when you let out a ragged sigh.
“Fuck this,” You stated. Carmy’s eyebrows furrowed and you dropped the bag. You were done, done with this fucking back and forth bullshit. You turned to him and kissed him.. He let out a sigh of relief into your mouth as he kissed you back. His hand kept the bin lid up, frozen and yet relieved all in the same instant. After a moment, you pulled back, “My apartment or yours?” You asked bluntly.
“Mine.”
You threw the last few bags out, washed your hands, grabbed your shit from the locker and got into Carmy’s car - heading straight to his apartment.
The tension was only growing and neither of you really speaking as he drove.
“You really haven’t been fucking Claire?” You asked as you stared out the window.
“No, not fucking Claire,” He retorted. You nodded and let out a breath of relief.
“So I was the last one to touch you?” You questioned as you turned to look at him. He nodded, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. You nodded, letting your hand slip over the console to rest over his thigh. His head snapped to you again, taking in your face.
Your mind was screaming good, good, I’m the only one who should touch you but you kept those thoughts to yourself as he continued to drive.
The second Carmy had the apartment door closed, your hands were on his face, pulling him in. You were kissing him, arms wrapped around his neck as you tugged at the curls at the nape of his neck. He gasped and you used it as an excuse to lick into his mouth, pulling him towards the couch. You didn’t care about getting to the bedroom, you just needed him, right fucking now.
You pushed him until he was sitting on the sofa and he groaned into your mouth as his hands roamed up your sides. His hands slipped under your t-shirt, his cold fingers slipped over your warm skin. It made you shiver as you whined softly into his mouth. He smirked against your lips and tugged you down so you could feel how hard he was.
You whined just a little louder, grinding down against him but his hands snapped to your hips, keeping you still.
“No,” He panted against your mouth as he gently began to kiss across your cheek and jaw. His nose nudged your jaw up as he sucked and nipped and kissed at the skin of your neck. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed against him as you let out breathy whines, “Good girl,” He praised softly when you threw your head back so he had better access to your neck.
You were needy and compliant in his arms as he flipped you both over so you were lying across the couch beneath him. He used his knees to nudge your thighs open. His hands slipped over your crotch and he could feel the heat, glancing up at you. A shit-eating grin was spreading across his face.
“Really fucking needed this, huh?” He asked. You whined, using your heels to wrap around him and tug him closer. He quickly grabbed your calves, holding you back as he looked at you, “Words, baby,” He reminded.
“Take them off, please,” You begged as you wiggled in his lap, desperately trying to get something from him. You needed him. It had been too long.
He needed it too which is why he was quick to strip your jeans off.
“Fuck,” You said softly as he threw your pants to one side. He moved so fluidly and the look in his eyes, the desperation was making your head spin.
His thumbs then hooked under your panties and he glanced at you, seeking permission again. You nodded your head, “Yes, please,” You reaffirmed, desperate and needy. He pulled them off and threw them in the direction of your pants before his head was between your thighs. His tongue was licking up across your inner thighs, kissing and biting and nipping at the skin as you whined and squirmed under his ministrations. Your fingers were quick to bury into his hair, gently tugging them closer to where you desperately needed him as you squirmed.
“Please,” You begged softly. Carmy hummed, smirking against your thigh as he pressed kisses along the skin. Whenever a little whine escaped you, he took his time to bite and nip at the spot.
“Carmy,” You were fucking breathless and needy, unable to think straight and he had given you nothing. “Stop- stop teasing,” You whined, just as he pulled your thighs a little wider. His hands moved to your pussy, using his thumbs to gently push your folds open. He leant forward and used the flat of his tongue to lick from your opening all the way up to your clit. The feeling made you grip his hair even tighter, a needy whine escaping your lips. Tears formed in your eyes, desperate and so beyond needy.
“Forgot how good you tasted,” He murmured against your pussy before he began to lap at your opening like a man starved. The mix of his saliva and your wetness coated his face as he reacquainted his tongue with every part of you. His tongue then moved to your clit. He gently sucked it into his mouth and your back arched off the couch.
All that fell from your lips were whines of his name as he sucked and lapped at your clit. He used his hands to pin your hips down to the couch, not giving you even a moment of reprieve. You couldn’t decide whether to watch him or stare at the ceiling or close your eyes. The pleasure was so overwhelming; you didn’t know how to think. One hand gripped his hair, nails digging into his scalp while the other gripped the couch cushions for dear life.
He gave a particularly harsh suck to your clit before he began to lap across your cunt again. His tongue licked across your entrance before he traced it all the way up again. His fingers replaced his tongue at your entrance, one finger gently nudging past your walls. It took him with ease, greedily sucking him in. You whined softly.
“Oh, Carm,” You let out as your head fell to the side. The feeling of having someone else inside of you - even just his fingers - was a new kind of euphoria. You let out a soft whimper when he began to curl his finger, pulling in and out.
“Such a pretty pussy,” He murmured as he pulled away to watch his finger sink in and out of you. Once he was sure you were ready, he added a second one and glanced up to see the way your face contorted. You were squirming, desperately shoving yourself further into his fingers, “So fucking desperate.” You looked down at him, using your hand to tug him towards your mouth.
He swallowed your moans as he kissed you, his fingers starting their brutal pace inside you. Every time he thrusted them in and out, he crooked them at just the right angle to make you see stars. You could barely think straight, let alone kiss him. Carmy swallowed every moan as he licked into your mouth. Your eyes closed, head thrown back as he pulled you closer and closer to orgasm, just from his fingers.
“Baby,” He whispered against your skin as he trailed his kisses across your face and towards your ear, “Feel good?” He whispered directly against your ear. Your loud moan as he crooked his finger at just the right angle was the only way you could respond as your thighs began to shake.
“Please, please, please,” You begged as you gripped his hair, pulling him into your neck as your back arched. You could feel the coil tightening and then you were hit with a blinding orgasm. You were panting and whining and moaning as you released around him, walls throbbing around his fingers. He gently coaxed you through before pulling his fingers out. Your grip on his hair had loosened almost completely as he sat up, taking his fingers into his mouth.
You watched with wide eyes as he slowly licked up your wetness from his fingers. You had forgotten how dirty Carmy could be and watching him had your head spinning.
“You look so pretty, baby,” He praised as he trailed his saliva-slick fingers across your thighs. Your cunt was throbbing and he watched with a smirk on his face, admiring how wet you were. It was all just for him.
“Carmy,” You let out, whimpering as you gently reached out for his arm. He looked up at you and you gently pressed a kiss to his fingertips, kissing up to his tattooed knuckles. The action made his heart melt and then you placed his hand on the hem of your shirt, silently begging him to strip it off. He did, without hesitation. He was quick to trail kisses along your stomach, taking in every inch of the exposed skin. He breathed heavily, transfixed by the taste and smell of having you this close. His tongue slowly licked up and across the skin of your stomach before he nuzzled his face back into your cunt. His nose pressed up against your clit which made your hips instinctively hump against it. The feeling made you breathlessly and Carmy chuckle against you.
“Needy,” He said as he pressed a kiss against you before licking his tongue all the way up to your clit.
“You’re the one who told me to leave, haven’t been able to fuck anyone else,” You murmured back. The smirk that spread across his face was dangerous and you felt the way his licks and kisses became more confident. His fingers held your thighs apart as he began to eat you out like a man starved.
“Fuck, Carmy,” You moaned out, not expecting the sudden stimulation. Your back arched as he sucked on your clit, his tongue flicking back and forth across the sensitive bud. Your eyes rolling back at the stimulation before his mouth moved down. His tongue nudged past your entrance, licking into you while his nose continued to press against your clit. The double stimulation was driving you wild, desperation clinging onto every whine and praise that fell from your lips;
“So good, Carmy, make me feel so good.”
“Tongue feels so good, keep doing that, please, please,”
“No-one else can fuck me like this, no-one makes me feel this good”
“Don’t want anyone but you.”
You felt like you were losing your mind as Carmy used his tongue and nose to slowly break you apart. You didn’t expect the orgasm until it was cresting over you. Your back was arched, pushing your cunt into his face, your hands gripping his hair, thighs wrapped around his head as you moaned out his name like a prayer.
Your thighs loosened around his head as he licked up the slick and cum that leaked out, cleaning you up before he sat up. He looked pleasure-drunk as he used the back of his hand to wipe the slick from his chin. You were staring, watching the way his mouth turned to a smirk. His hands slipped over your thighs, tugging you towards him.
“You okay, baby?” He asked softly. You nodded, following his lead. You dropped into his lap without a second thought and wasted no time, grabbing his face and kissing him. Carmy was a little breathless still but would never deny the kisses as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You kissed him over and over again before he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss.
You groaned out in satisfaction as you wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting yourself up to get a better angle on the kiss. You gently licked across his bottom lip, begging for permission. He opened his mouth, letting you lick your tongue into his mouth. It was hot and heavy and you felt dizzy from kissing him but this was all you had wanted.
For weeks, this is what you had craved. Your hands slipped down to the hem of his white t-shirt and you slowly began to tug it up, desperate to get it off him. Your hands clawing for any touch of skin. You broke the kiss, only for a moment, before your hands were wrapped around him again. The shirt was discarded somewhere with the rest of your clothes and your hands roamed his chest.
The strong muscles made you feel somehow even wetter and all you wanted to do was kiss and lick your way down his chest. But another part of you desperately needed him to fill you up, you needed him to fuck you like he always did.
You broke the kiss, whimpering his name. Carmy opened his eyes, pressing kisses here and there as he asked what was wrong.
“Need your dick,” You admitted shamelessly. Carmy let out a soft ‘mhm’, his hands moved down to your waist.
“Yeah?” He asked as he pressed kisses over your face. You whined, wiggling in his lap and pressing your still wet cunt against the fabric of his jeans. The grunt he let out was music to your ears.
“Let me take them off, please,” You begged softly as your hands trailed down to the waistband of his jeans.
“Okay, baby,” He responded. You smiled happily, dumb on pleasure and desperate for his cock. You unbuttoned the jeans and tugged them down, standing up off the couch to finish pulling them off his legs. Once they were gone, you could see just how hard he was.
The tent in his boxers was hard to miss and it made you smirk.
“Did I make you this hard, Bear?” You cooed, teasing him. Carmy looked up at you and he tugged you back into his lap.
“Don’t be rude or you won’t get this cock at all,” He snapped back, his voice right in your ear. The dominant way he spoke quickly put you right and you nodded, swallowing thickly. He cupped your face with his hand and gently but slowly kissed your lips. It was the kind of kiss that made your head spin which is why you didn’t notice Carmy nudge his boxers down or flick the tip over your cunt until he was pulling your hips down to sink into him.
You let out a stuttering whine as you sank down onto him. You weren’t used to taking him so Carmy took to slowly pushing in but it wasn’t long before he had bottomed out. You felt so full, your forehead pressed against his as you panted, breathless. You felt so fucking full.
“Carmy,” You whined his name, high-pitched and needy as you buried your face into his neck. It felt so good.
“Good girl,” He praised, his fingers running through your hair. You whimpered at his words, slowly lifting off him. You followed his movements, letting him guide you up and down. You slowly got used to the movements, eyes rolling back, mind going blank as you felt him fill you over and over again.
“You take me so well.”
“I’m so proud of you, baby, look at you.”
He let out soft words of encouragement as he guided you. It was soft and slow, every thrust hit the spot that made you see stars. Your fingers dug into his hair and when the pace became too soft, you slowly began to speed up. Carmy smirked against your hair, your head still buried in his neck.
But your thighs were exhausted and he could tell from the needy whines you were letting out that you wouldn’t be able to keep this pace up for much longer.
So, Carmy grabbed your hips and pulled you all the way down onto his cock before flipping you both so you were lying on the couch again. His arms caged you in as he began to fuck you. Every movement of his hip was quick and sharp as you threw your head back. His cock made you see stars as you grappled for anything to hold onto. His thrusts were speeding up, taking you quicker as he felt your walls throb around him. Part of him was chasing his own orgasm, desperate to cum in you.
“That feel good?” He asked as he pressed kisses along your chest and shoulders and neck, his teeth nipping at the skin as he fucked into you. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you gripped his shoulders, legs wrapped around him as you moaned and whimpered his name like a prayer.
You nodded, unable to let out anything coherent especially when he added a finger to your clit. The quick circles he ran over the sensitive bud made your walls throb around him. You were both desperately chasing your orgasm as you moaned his name and begged for him to take you, to cum inside you. You needed it.
And then you both fell apart.
Your legs were shaking, head thrown back, chest pushed up as you let out a loud moan of his name, devolving into heavy panting as Carmy filled you up. He worked himself through the orgasm, painting your walls white with his cum before he pulled out completely. A soft whimper fell from his lips and your eyes opened to take him in. He was panting as he watched a mixture of yours and his cum leak out of you.
Some carnal part of him wanted to scoop it up and push it back in but he held himself back. He watched it slowly leak out over your couch cushions as he panted, desperate to get his breath back.
“Carmy,” You said softly, grappling for his attention. His head snapped up as you looked at him, “Come ‘ere, please,” You begged softly. He followed your hand and then you tugged him down onto your chest, allowing you to move him however you wanted. Once you had settled him, you buried your face in his hair, “Missed you,” You muttered softly. Carmy nodded his head, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.
“Missed you too.”
#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader smut#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x you#reader-insert#reader insert
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Her Best Secret Part 4
1950s Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: Natasha and R are two married woman having an affair
w/c: 4.9k
Part 1
Warnings: Hetero Sex, Slight Violence, Angst, homophobia
Note: If you don't like angst don't read
Being in love is surreal. It’s nice. It makes you feel alive. The butterflies in your belly never seem to settle. The flowers bloom like never before. The sun shines brighter. Your senses feel heightened with every brush of skin, every lingering glance.
Being in love is what humans are made for. To love is to be loved.
Being in love behind your husband’s back… well, that’s a bit harder to sell.
You wish you could say you never meant for this to happen, but that would be a lie. It was never supposed to be easy. It wasn’t supposed to feel this impossible, either.
Early morning showers were your favorite. They gave you a moment of peace before the house wakes up. A quiet moment before Claire’s cartoons fill the air before Sam’s voice calls your name. Just you, the warm water, and the illusion that everything is simple.
But today, it didn’t feel peaceful. It felt suffocating. The steam clung to your skin; no matter how hard you scrubbed, you couldn’t wash away the guilt. Or the want.
You pressed your forehead against the cool tile, exhaling sharply.
What were you doing?
You already knew the answer. You’dknown it since the first time Natasha kissed you. Since the first time she pulled you into her arms. Since the first time you realized you loved her.
You were thinking with your heart and not your head. You were thinking of yourself without any regard for others. It was a confusing feeling. It should be exciting and thrilling. Which it was. But also scary. It was overwhelming. It was terrifying.
How did this happen? How did you let this happen? You love your husband. You've always loved your husband. And you love your daughter—more than anything.
So how was it possible that you also love her?
How was it possible that you fell in love with a woman you've known for years but never truly met until a few months ago?
Sam made you happy. Sam loved you. Sam married you. He gave you a home and a family.
Natasha makes you happy, too.
God, she makes you so incredibly happy.
Maybe that's why you were terrified. You'd never felt this kind of happiness before—this kind of love.
And the worst part was that it wasn’t a competition. You didn’t love Sam less because of Natasha. And you certainly didn’t love Natasha more because of Sam.
This wasn’t supposed to be hard. This isn't supposed to feel complicated. This wasn’t supposed to tear you apart.
"Hey," Sams's gruff voice startled you as he poked his head into the shower curtain. "Mind if I join you?"
You shook your head.
He stepped inside, and you backed up a few inches to accommodate him. You're standing toe to toe, bare and wet.
The shower wasn’t big enough for the two of you, and he had to keep his arms at his side because if he lifted them, he'd touch you.
It wasn’t the ideal setup. You didn't care before. How close you were to him. You didn't care about silly things like personal space.
Now, everything mattered. Everything felt like a test. Everything felt like a mistake.
He tilted his head to the side and studied your face. His eyes narrowed as he reached forward and grabbed your arm.
"What's on your mind?" He asked.
"Nothing," You lied. "I'm just a bit tired. Maybe I'm coming down with something."
"Hmm," He hummed. He reached forward to kiss your forehead. "You feel pretty good to me."
"Thanks, I think."
He chuckled.
"Come here," He wrapped his arms around you.
It was awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn’t push him away. You didn’t tell him to stop.
Because this was Sam. Your Sam. And even though you're in love with Natasha, you're still in love with Sam.
"I love you," He whispered, kissing your lips.
"I love you too," You kissed him back. You know where this is going. You and Sam had sworn off shower sex long ago. It was too slippery and much too dangerous. Standing there with him, though, you couldn't say no in his space. You didn't want to say no. "Sam,"
He pressed his forehead against yours. "I've got you,"
And then he kissed you again.
The shower was forgotten. The guilt and the want were forgotten. The world was forgotten.
There was only Sam and his warm, safe, loving embrace.
It wasn't the shower that washed away the guilt. As he pressed you against the tiles, you allowed yourself to react to his hands. His touch was familiar.
"You're so beautiful," He murmured.
"Yeah?" You questioned as his hands traveled along your body.
He kissed your neck. He sucked the skin, marking you as his own. You moaned.
"Please,"
"Anything,"
You knew the second he was inside you that the guilt would come back. And it did. But then, you could pretend it didn't exist. When he lifted you in his arms to get a better angle, you could imagine a life where nothing had changed.
A life where Natasha had never entered the picture.
A life where things were simple and easy.
But a life like that didn't exist.
You couldn't have both.
"Oh God," He groaned.
"Sam, Sam, Sam," You repeated his name like a prayer.
When he came, so did you. You clung to him. Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, your head buried in his neck, your breath hot on his skin. You could feel the sting of tears in your eyes. You were still thinking of her. Still imagining you were in her arms and not his.
"Sam," You sniffled. Quickly adjusting your positions, you dropped your leg so that you were firmly planted on both feet.
"Yeah?" He panted.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
*******
The bell above the diner door jingled as another occupant stepped inside. Wanda crossed her legs, adjusting herself in the booth, trying not to display her discomfort. This place was nothing special - vinyl booths, checkered floors, and the sounds of a tiny boombox playing from the end of the hall. Natasha had been there before and invited her. A cigarette sat between her fingers, untouched but smoldering. She had a way of making herself look relaxed even when she wasn't
"Thanks for inviting me here," Wanda smiled gratefully. "Between the twins and Vision, I don't get out much."
Natasha smirked, tapping the cigarette against the ashtray. "Figured you could use a break. Motherhood’s a hell of a thing, ain't it?"
Wanda exhaled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It is. Rewarding, but exhausting." She tilted her head slightly. "Still… doesn’t seem like you to call me out for something like this."
The waitress approached, setting down a steaming cup of coffee before Wanda and refilling Natasha’s without asking. She gave the redhead a polite smile—one Natasha didn’t return.
"That so?" Natasha murmured once they were alone again.
Wanda blew on her coffee, observing Natasha over the rim. "Yeah. It is."
Natasha finally took a sip of her coffee, leaning back against the booth, her free arm stretched along the seat. "Can’t a girl just want some company?"
"Of course," Wanda shrugged. "I didn't mean to assume. It's just that you and y/n are usually attached to the hip. We've never truly hung out alone. Not in ages."
"We used to."
"Right, right. I remember. Those were the days, huh? We had some good times together."
Natasha nodded slowly. "We did. Things were simple back then. Easy."
"Are they not easy now?" Wanda raised a brow.
"You're a loyal friend," Natasha guessed.
"To a fault, yes," Wanda nodded.
"So loyal that you haven't brought up what you saw or heard even to me."
Wanda stiffened, fingers tightening ever so slightly around her coffee cup. She held Natasha’s gaze, searching for any sign of playfulness, but found none.
"Should I have?" Wanda asked carefully.
Natasha shrugged, tapping ash from her cigarette. "Most would’ve."
"I'm not most people," Wanda said plainly.
"No," Natasha agreed, studying her. "You're not."
Silence stretched between them, tense and unspoken.
"You gonna tell me what you want me to say?" Wanda finally asked.
Natasha smirked, but there was something tired in it. "A confession, a scolding, a warning—take your pick."
Wanda sighed, setting her cup down. "You love her." Her voice lowered.
It wasn’t a question.
Natasha inhaled slowly, flicking her cigarette against the ashtray again. "Yeah."
"You’re playing with fire," Wanda warned.
Natasha finally looked away, exhaling smoke through her nose. "I know."
Wanda hesitated, glancing toward the door as if checking for prying eyes. "Steve and Sam don’t know."
"Not yet," Natasha murmured.
"But they will," Wanda said. "Secrets don’t stay buried forever, not in this town."
Natasha hummed in agreement but didn’t offer anything more.
Wanda shook her head. "And when they do, you think you can handle the fallout?"
Natasha turned back to her, a small, almost wistful smile on her lips. "Doesn’t matter. Damage is already done."
"She's a woman," Wanda began, but she couldn't find the words. This was Ohio in the 1950s.
Natasha leaned forward, stubbing her cigarette out. "Don’t,"
Wanda sighed, rubbing her forehead. "You can't expect this to be a secret forever. You have families. There's a child involved."
"I'm aware."
"So you're prepared? For whatever comes next?"
Natasha swallowed thickly.
Wanda watched her, a deep sadness settling over her. She didn't have the words. What could she say that would make things easier? What could she say that wouldn't make things more complicated?
"I'm sorry."
Natasha closed her eyes briefly. "It's not your fault. Just promise me you won't say anything?"
Wanda looked down, tracing the handle of her cup. "You have my word."
"Thank you," Natasha's voice cracked.
She couldn't bear to say anything else.
Not here.
Not now.
******
Steve never minded running errands. He enjoyed getting things done and checking items off a lengthy task list. Natasha always had something waiting for him whenever he got too busy with work. He’d be apologetic and get to it whenever he could. It was usually simple stuff—mowing the lawn and cleaning out the garage—nothing out of the ordinary.
This time, it was the car. Buddy’s Auto Shop had been expecting it for a tune-up. He was almost out the door when he remembered something. Weeks ago, Natasha mentioned her wedding ring needed resizing. He figured he’d swing by the jeweler while he waited for the car.
Keys in hand, he pivoted and headed upstairs to their bedroom. Her perfume still lingered in the air. He liked that. Doing something nice for her, even small, made him feel good.
He checked her nightstand first. Nothing. Then, the vanity. He never really went through her things, so he wasn’t sure where to look. The dresser drawer stuck slightly when he pulled it open. Inside, the usual clutter—loose change, an old receipt, a tube of lipstick rolling in the corner. No ring.
His fingers brushed against something different—a small, leather-bound book. The spine was worn and creased from being handled often. He picked it up, wondering if the ring had fallen underneath, but his attention snagged on a photo slipping from between the pages.
Huh.
Their wedding picture. He always liked that one. Maybe she was making some kind of scrapbook? Natasha wasn’t sentimental, but she always found new ways to surprise him.
He almost put the book back. Almost.
But curiosity got the best of him.
Just one page.
His thumb flipped it open to the bookmarked section. The first line hit like a punch to the gut.
"I never meant to fall in love with her. I never meant for us to be this close. Her smell. Her eyes. Her touch. When she looks at me like that, I forget the life I built before. I forget my name."
Steve’s grip tightened around the pages. His eyes scanned for a name, some clue, anything that told him this wasn’t what it seemed.
But there was nothing.
Just Natasha. And someone who wasn’t him.
The book hit the vanity with a thud. His breath felt too heavy, too loud in the room's quiet. He ran a hand down his face.
Natasha was in love.
And not with him.
*****
Steve paced the length of the bedroom, back and forth, for what felt like forever. His mind was a whirlwind of scenarios, each worse than the last. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe this was something Natasha was writing—fiction, not a confession. None of it was real. It couldn’t be. Because if it was, then he was a fool. The faithful husband hoped his wife wasn’t stepping out on him.
His jaw clenched as he ran through the possibilities. Who could it be? It had to be someone he knew. Natasha didn’t talk to strangers easily. That was one of the things he always admired about her—her ability to keep a close-knit circle despite being distant. But had that distance been because of him? Had she grown tired of his late nights, his unwavering predictability?
Steve forced himself to reason. He went over names.
Diane from three doors down? No.
Wanda Maximoff? No, not her type.
Not that he even knew what Natasha’s type was regarding women.
Then, his stomach twisted.
You.
His fingers trembled as he opened the book again, flipping through pages, scanning for confirmation. There was no name. Not once did Natasha write your name. But the descriptions are so vivid and specific. He knew.
It all made sense.
His grip tightened around the book before he snapped it shut. His anger burned white-hot beneath his skin, but he refused to let it take over. He needed to think and be smart about this.
So, he made two phone calls.
One to you.
And one to Natasha.
He needed answers. Now.
*******
“Mama, a worm!” Claire said excitedly, stepping barefoot through the garden. Her little toes were practically covered in dirt as she explored, utterly unbothered by the mess.
You were absentmindedly pulling weeds from your flower bed when she toddled over, holding up the squirming creature with pride.
“Oh, dear, please put that down,” you said, scrunching your nose. It wasn’t genuine annoyance—just amazement at how fearless she was.
“Hey, how about some lemonade?” Sam called from the porch. “And maybe those sandwiches you like? I can try my hand at it.”
“Oh, I would love sandwiches, Daddy,” Claire lisped, clutching the worm. “See?”
Sam chuckled as he made his way down the steps. “Always an adventurer,” he mused, crouching next to her. “Are you scaring your Mama with those things?”
Claire giggled, wiggling her toes in the dirt.
You wiped your hands on your shorts, shaking your head with a small smile. “She’s fearless, that’s for sure.”
Claire beamed, utterly unaware of the slight wriggle of the worm in her grasp. “It tickles!” she giggled, watching it squirm.
Sam laughed, stepping off the porch and walking toward the two of you. He bent down, ruffling Claire’s hair. “Alright, kiddo. How about we let Mr. Worm go back to his family?”
Claire pouted, but after a moment, she carefully placed the worm back into the soil. “Bye, Mr. Worm,” she whispered before returning to Sam. “Can we still have sandwiches?”
“Of course,” Sam grinned. “I’m about to make the best sandwiches you’ve ever had.”
You raised an eyebrow, standing up and dusting off your knees. “That’s a bold statement.”
Sam smirked. “You doubt my skills?”
“I’ve seen you burn toast, Sam.”
Claire giggled, clinging to his leg. “Daddy, don’t burn the sandwiches!”
“Okay, okay,” Sam threw his hands up in surrender. “No burnt sandwiches, I promise.”
You chuckled, kissing Claire’s forehead before glancing up at Sam. “I’ll come help you. Just to make sure we don’t end up with a disaster.”
He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Wow. No faith in me at all.”
You shrugged playfully. “Not when it comes to cooking.”
Claire ran ahead toward the house, already excited for lunch, and you followed to grab her arms quickly.
"You are not stepping on my clean floors with those feet, Missy," You shook your head. "Nuh-uh, I'm going to hose you down right out back."
"Mama, no!" She protested, laughing as you scooped her into your arms.
"Mama, yes," You grinned, carrying her to the hose. "You're lucky I'm not washing you with a bar of soap, little girl."
"I don't smell that bad!"
"Oh yeah?" You challenged, putting her down. "How about you give me a big hug and a kiss, and I can be the judge of that?" Claire fell into your arms, leaving a sloppy kiss on your cheek.
"I'll get started on the sandwiches," Sam didn't linger. He was hungry, too.
"Good idea," You winked. You reached for the hose, turning it into a gentle spray, and directed it towards her toes.
"Mama!" Claire cried as the cool water splashed against her feet. "it's cold." She shivered.
"I'm sorry, kitten, it's just for a second," You cooed. "Just a quick wash."
You hosed her feet, cleaning the dirt off her little toes. In the distance, you could hear the phone ring.
"Sam?" You called.
"Got it," He yelled back.
"Now, who could be calling us on a Saturday afternoon?" You mainly said to yourself.
"Maybe it's Grandma Joyce," Claire shrugged. "She likes to talk."
"That she does," You laughed, grabbing the towel. "Maybe wear shoes next time you decide to explore, huh?"
"Yes, ma'am."
You kissed her nose.
You carried Claire into the house, kissing her cheeks and making her giggle. Her little arms wrapped around your neck, clinging to you as you stepped inside.
As you crossed the threshold, you saw Sam hanging up the house phone. The old rotary dial clicked as it settled back into place.
“Who was that?” you asked, shifting Claire in your arms.
Sam glanced up, his easygoing expression slightly strained. “No one important.”
He turned to the counter, focusing on the sandwiches, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.
Claire wiggled in your hold. “Can I help, Daddy?”
Sam smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How about you play in your room for a bit, sweetheart? I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”
Claire pouted. “But I wanna help.”
“I know, peanut,” Sam said, ruffling her damp curls. “But Mama and I need to talk for a minute. Just grown-up stuff.”
You watched as Claire’s little face scrunched up in protest, but Sam had a way of persuading her. “Tell you what,” he said, crouching to her level. “You pick out a book, and we’ll read it together after lunch. Even the long ones.”
Claire considered this, then nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”
She kissed you quickly on the cheek before scampering off down the hall, her bare feet pattering against the wooden floor.
When she was out of sight, you turned to Sam, crossing your arms. “Alright. What’s going on?”
He let out a slow breath, wiping his hands on a dish towel before finally meeting your gaze. There was something different in his eyes—something guarded.
"Six years together, and I thought I knew everything about you," He said.
"What?"
"Why?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." You shook your head.
"Tell me now!" He asked again, slamming his hand on the counter. "The truth, goddamnit."
"Sam, I swear I-"
"You've been seeing someone," He interrupted. "For months. A woman."
You felt the blood drain from your face. Your knees felt weak. This was the end, wasn't it?
"Sam,"
"Answer me!"
"I..."
He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. "That's it, huh? You can't even deny it."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You've had that woman here under my nose for months, and you're sorry?"
"Sam,"
"What could she possibly have given you that I haven't?" He demanded, stepping forward. "What has she done for you that I haven't?"
"Please," You took a step back.
"Is it the sex? Is that what's got you going?" He stepped closer to you. "Or are you so stupid to ruin your life for no reason?"
"Sam, stop."
"Or is it something else? Are you in love with her?" He pressed. "Tell me now." His voice was louder, making you jump.
"Sam," You repeated, swallowing thickly.
"You have a daughter," He reminded. "We have a daughter."
"Sam, I know, but if you'd just let me-"
"There's nothing you can say," He shouted. He was getting angrier by the minute. You'd never seen him so angry. "She's been in our home. Our fucking home. She's been watching Claire. She's been touching our daughter. Infecting you. Breaking what we have apart. Did you think about that when you were fucking her?"
"I-" You choked, tears forming in your eyes. "Don't say that."
"What? The truth? That's what's happening, isn't it?" He stepped closer, but you didn’t even realize your back was against the counter. "You're fucking her."
"Don't touch me," You slapped his hand away when he reached for you.
"I can't believe you." He was shaking his head.
"Please, just calm down,"
"Calm down?" He scoffed, grabbing your arm. "How can I calm down when you're being so reckless, huh? Do you have any idea what you've done? I knew I shouldn't have moved you here. I should have listened to my parents."
"You knew this was coming."
"I knew I should've married someone more like Diane."
You tried to pull away, but he held onto you. "Stop. Don't say that. I'm not a mistake. Sam, just talk to me."
"Talk? You want to talk?" He asked, backing away from you before swiping his hand across the table. The plate clattered to the floor, shattering.
"Sam, don't,"
"Shut up," He snapped. Another bout of anger has him almost in your face again.
"Sam, Claire's here," You told him brokenly. "She's here and doesn't need to see you like this."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Sam, please."
"This is your fault, y/n," He growled. "You did this. You're the one who wanted to move here. You're the one who has been sleeping around. You're the one who's fucking a woman."
"Sam, enough," You pleaded.
"God, I just..." He breathed. "I'm leaving."
"What? Sam?" You followed him to the foyer, where he grabbed his jacket and keys.
"I can't be here right now. I can't look at you."
"Sam, please. Don't do this. It's not what you think."
"What's it then? You've been lying to me," He accused. "You're fucking someone."
"It's not like that," You shook your head. You couldn't believe you had to plead your case.
"It's exactly like that. You're sleeping with a woman,"
"I didn't plan for it to happen."
"You never think, y/n," He sneered, shaking his head. "Always doing whatever the fuck you want. I bet that's why she's with you."
"She loves me,"
"I love you." He shouted louder this time. "That doesn't matter to you. Don't wait up for me. I can't even look at you right now."
"Sam," You reached for his arm, and he shrugged you off.
"Get away from me," He said lowly. "If you think I'm going to let my daughter be around this shit, you're dead wrong. Don't come after me."
"Sam," You tried again.
His shove wasn’t hard—just enough to create distance—but the way you stumbled and the sharp gasp that left your lips was enough to snap something in him. His rage flickered, replaced by something unreadable, something almost haunted.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he said again, softer this time like he was more afraid of his own words than you were.
You stared at him, wide-eyed, breath caught in your throat.
He shook his head, something breaking in his expression. “I’m leaving. Stay the fuck away from me.”
The door slammed behind him.
And just like that, everything was ruined.
Your marriage.
Your family.
Everything.
You sank to the floor. Numb. No tears came, not because you didn’t want to cry, but because you didn’t know how. The exhaustion, the weight of it all, crushed your chest, leaving you hollow.
This was the end, wasn’t it?
You didn’t move. Couldn’t.
What had you done?
“Mama?” Claire’s small voice carried from the steps. “Can I come down?”
You didn’t answer.
“Mama?” she asked again, hesitant this time.
You forced yourself to lift your hand, patting the floor beside you. “Come here.”
Claire ran over, climbing into your lap without hesitation. She curled into you, warm and trusting, her arms wrapping around your middle.
“Where’s Daddy?” she asked, tilting her head to look at you.
Your throat tightened. “Daddy’s…” The words wouldn’t come.
“Is he coming back?” Her voice was so small, so full of unshaken faith.
You swallowed hard. “He’s… not feeling well.”
Claire frowned. “Is he sick?”
“No,” you whispered, stroking her curls. “Just a bad day. A really bad day.”
*********
Natasha entered the front door, dropping her keys onto the entryway table. The brunch with Wanda was nice until the call came.
Steve’s voice had been calm. Too calm. Come home.
Now, standing in the living room, her stomach dropped.
Two bags sat by the door, neatly packed.
She furrowed her brows. “You going on another fishing trip?”
Steve shook his head. “They’re for you.”
Natasha’s stomach twisted. “What?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for something on the coffee table. The moment she saw it, her pulse stuttered.
The diary.
"You went through my things?"Natasha’s jaw tightened. Anger flared, hot and immediate,
"Don't." He said firmly, holding the book in his hand.
"Why do you have this?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Steve,"
"Answer the question," Steve interrupted. "I have a right to know, especially since you've been keeping it a secret from me. For months."
"You went through my things."
"And what you wrote," He ignored her. "You know the things you write what you've been feeling. How long?"
Natasha clenched her fists. "Steve, this isn't the right time for this conversation."
"There is no better time than the present," He snapped. "I can't believe I've been so blind. I knew you were hiding something, but this? I was going through your things to get your ring resized. You know the one you haven't worn in months?"
"Steve, you don't understand," She pleaded.
"Don't understand what, huh?" He challenged. "That you've fallen for someone else? That you've been having an affair?"
"I never meant to fall for her," Natasha said, looking at him.
"What difference does that make, huh?" He raised his voice. "You did it anyway."
“Save whatever explanation you’ve got,” he said evenly. “I already called Sam.”
Her breath hitched. Sam. You. Claire.
Fear clawed at her throat. “Steve, tell me you didn't call him-"
"I did," Steve interrupted. "Because he deserves to know."
Natasha bit her lip.
"How long has this been going on?"
She remained silent.
"Tell me how long," Steve repeated.
"Long enough," She finally admitted. "Six months."
Steve's expression hardened.
"How could you?" He said in a low voice. "How could you do this to me?"
Natasha took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."
Steve clenched his jaw. "That doesn't mean shit."
"Steve,"
"No," he interrupted. "Do you know what this means? Not only are you fucking someone, but it's a woman. I'm not even worth your respect. You don't respect me as a husband."
"That's not true," She said, stepping forward.
"Really?" He scoffed. "How else would you explain this? How would you explain the fact that you've been cheating on me for God knows how long if you're telling me the truth."
"Steve," Natasha breathed. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this. For you to find out like this."
"Oh, were you going to sit us down for dinner and have a conversation? I don't fucking think so."
"Steve,"
"What?"
"Let's talk," She insisted. "Not like this. Just let me-"
"There's nothing to talk about." He interrupted. "We're done."
Natasha felt like the ground was falling out from under her. She opened her mouth, then closed it.
"I booked you a room," Steve continued. "At the inn. I won't be there."
"Steve, please," Natasha said, a tear running down her cheek. "Don't do this."
"Take your bags," he said firmly. "I'm not letting you stay here a second longer."
"Steve, this is my house too."
"Was," he corrected. "Your bags are packed. Take them and leave."
"You can't do this," Natasha shook her head. "I can't."
"You can and you will," he replied.
"I won't."
"Fine," He said. "You can sleep in the car. I'm not changing my mind."
"Steve," Natasha said. "I love her. You have to understand."
"You're a fucking liar," Steve spat. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have cheated on me."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it," Steve said, his jaw tight. "Tell me what I'm supposed to understand. Tell me why the woman who I've spent my life with, the woman I've committed to, has betrayed me."
"She makes me happy,"
"So do I,"
"Steve, it's not like that,"
"How's it like then?" He asked. "If you've fallen in love with someone, how the fuck am I supposed to compare?"
"She's-"
"Enough," Steve shook his head. "Get the hell out."
Natasha's shoulders dropped.
What had she done?
next part
#natasha romanoff#black reader#natasha x reader#black widow x reader#natasha romanov#black widow x female reader#natasha x you#it’s super angst
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hollywood u never specified what addison’s mother is sick with, or if it’s terminal; just that she’s really sick, right? rather, that she has been really sick (for a while). personally, i’ve always read it as if it were terminal. lmao not surprising. anyway you know what that means *hits her with dead parent beam*
#i know her and shae bond over it too at some point#i’ll be honest her mom has cancer to me and i’m making her die#nothing against mrs. sinclair that’s just how life is. you accept it with time. anyway this is important because i think it happens#around the time addison and claire are not speaking#<- i think they’re on really bad terms too. like. they had a really bad fight really ugly things were said by both of them#their friendship is basically over (that’s what both think). because it gets Personal really really quick (as it often does with claire)#theyvstart fighting because claire hid her relationship from addison/claire lied to addison/addison thinks she’s been insincere this#entire time and then it quickly transforms into Something Else. Resentment is a terrible feeling and my god how it festers.#so that’s the context of their relationship and then i think addison receives the news her mother Will Die. and then claire abandons#everything to be by her side. they don’t ever talk about it (this) but they do talk about Their Fight and Stuff afterwards#<- plus relating to addison i think it’d be cool to explore the whole thing of her mom not knowing she changed majors. because in my canon#addison is not starring in anything after she changes major lmao. that plotline is stupid sorry. i already said NO studio plotline HERE. an#majors*#it includes this. but also because i think it makes things more complicated and i want to think about it. does she tell her mother at any#point? if she doesn’t how does that make addison feel after her mothers death? is she guilty forever? is she okay with it because her mom#died ‘happy’? how does grieving her mother impacts her work?#<- also addison not starring in anything besides ticket to ride of course. i meant according to canon and that plotline. and that’s the onl#thing she’s in after that. addi is exclusively a designer to me for (industry) Reasons#i don’t want character having an easy way out. i want them to live with the consequences to their actions. good and bad.#characters * sorry it’s 8 am and i haven’t slept#anyway that’s what i’ve thought so far. i love killing a character and having the living dealing with it#that happens with hunt and claire too and i think it’s funny. we’ll talk about it another time
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A Second Chance pt.4 {Blurb}
Poly!Marauders+Lily x Fem!Reader - Zombie Apocalypse Au
Summary: Avoiding spoilers
Cw; Guns, death, zombie apoc typical violence)
a/n- I restarted this three times
Wc-2464
Amazing People- @mooonyxoxo @sippinpeachtea @amethyistheart @zjasminelouvre3 @idonotknowenglish @le-clair-de-lune @shylahstarzz @losttoliterature
Masterlist
The path to the stream was familiar, each step resonating with memories of your own journeys back and forth. The subtle breeze welcomed you back as you tried to alcamate to your new normal. The wind smelt fresh, like weeds and wet rocks, the song birds were singing despite how late it was, and you could hear the sounds of creatures around you simply living. It had been a while since you considered yourself, and other survivors for that matter, on the same level as the common rat and squirrels.
Yet, the presence of Sirius didn't bring you the same comforts as the common chipmunk. The forest, usually a haven of tranquility, felt different today, alive with an undercurrent of tension. It didn't help that you still felt the hair on your neck rise with discomfort. Still unable to shake the feeling that there was more than just Sirius’s eyes on you.
Sirius, despite your warnings and slight nagging, stayed casual, his eyes wandering the surroundings with a curious hum that shouldn't have been annoying as it was. He seemed less affected by the pressing silence and more intent on making conversation.
"So, {Y/N}." Sirius began, trying to cut through the heavy quiet. "How long did you say you've been out here alone?"
You sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of the question. Sirius's voice, though casual, seemed to echo in the stillness of the forest. You wished you could just ignore him. You wanted to.
After what happened to Peter you didn't have time to stop and think about how unfair it was for you to blame him solely for it; so you stayed high strung. You just wanted to make it back to Hermione.
Everything within the last 24 hours was too much and in truth, you just wanted a break. So the conversation wasn't horrible.
"About a month since my camp was attacked.” You mumbled, keeping your tone even. You didn't want to delve too deeply into the memories of that night, but it was impossible to ignore the shadow it cast over you. Your heart ached helplessly at the memory of some of their faces. Seeing flashes of Regulus’s bloodied face would haunt you for days.
"That's rough." Sirius responded, his voice softer this time. He seemed to recognize the tone you were taking. “Listen-”
“I don't need your apologies.” You quickly cut him off and he scoffed a bit.
“Just listen.” He rubbed his face with both hands before he pulled his hair back. “I didn't truly know what was going to happen. If I did, I would of said something, I swear it.”
“Nothing you can do about it now.” You dismissed him quickly and he huffed in disbelief.
“We are in the same boat. We are the same.” He challenged and that's when you stopped, looking around you as that feeling you got at the front of the house only worsened. No longer just paranoia, true fear rocked through you.
“Sirius, stop talking.” You hissed at him and he shook his head.
“No! I get it, I fucked up. But we are the same. We would both do anything to protect our people, I can see that in you. I think you can tell you're a hell of a lot like me too.” He insisted and you continued to shush him.
Your head snapping around to look behind Sirius when you heard a twig snap behind him. Not a normal one, like one you'd soon hear scurrying after as a rodent scared itself. No. It was something else.
“What?” Sirius huffed before he turned to look.
Everything happened in a matter of seconds. You felt a metal rod against your throat. It was a gun. A gun someone was using to force you back against them, threatening to choke you if you squirmed too much.
You looked up and watched as another person shot out from behind you.
“Sirius!”
And like that, the figure hit him hard with the butt of his gun, making him fall to the ground.
“Fuck! {Y/N}!”
The forest seemed to close in around you as the situation escalated, the once familiar path now a stage for a dangerous confrontation. Your heart pounded in your chest, and every instinct screamed for you to fight back, but the cold metal against your throat held you in place, a chilling reminder of the peril you were in. You didn't notice how the figures seemed to tense up at your name. Like they knew who you were.
Sirius lay on the ground, dazed but conscious. He groaned, trying to shake off the blow, but the figure who had hit him stood menacingly over him, gun still drawn.
"Don't move.” The voice behind you commanded, harsh and rather loud in your ear. Instead of listening to reason, you began to squirm, the gun tightening on your neck. It was a man’s voice, edged with authority and a hint of desperation. You could feel his breath on your neck, the tension in his grip. You had been in this position before, you absolutely hated it. “Knock it off!” The voice snapped at you, tightening the gun just enough to earn a desperate gasp from you. "We don't want to hurt you, but we will if we have to."
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "What do you want from us?"
“Us?” He chuckled. “Just you and that other lady back at the house is all. And your kids.” He chuckled and your face paled. Glancing down you felt your stomach turn helplessly, they had the mark of a death eater.
By the time you noticed Sirius seemed to as well, trying to get to his feet, only to be kicked back down by the other figure.
The Death Eaters, in their twisted minds, sought out 'religious renewal.’
One of those things they preached about was sanctuary for women.
No one was stupid enough to truly believe that they had their best interests at heart, certainly not you. Especially when they started hosting public ‘purity unions’ for anyone brave enough to travel to their base.
Again, a trick you hadn't fallen for. The simple idea that you were able to avoid them this long and was about to be dragged there now of all times was terrifying.
Your mind raced, desperate for a way out. The weight of the gun and the cold threat in the man's voice made it clear that any rash movement could be your last. But the mention of Hermione and the others ignited a fierce determination within you. That meant they knew where the house was. They had been watching. They waited until you and Sirius were gone. You couldn't let them fall into the hands of these monsters.
Sirius, despite being kicked down, managed to lock eyes with you. There was a silent understanding between you two. You had to act, and you had to act now.
"Listen.” You pleaded, swallowing thick, trying to buy some time. "We don’t want trouble. We’re just trying to survive. Just like you."
"Talk?" The man behind you spat, his breath hot against your neck. You wanted to hurl. "There's nothing to talk about. You’re coming with us, and that's final."
Sirius, now on his knees, glanced at you, licking the blood from his lip. You could see the gears turning in his head, formulating a plan. You just needed to give him a bit more time.
Time. You could buy him time. You prayed to god he was trustworthy enough for this.
"Please.” You whispered, your voice desperate. "We have supplies. Medicines. Food. We can share it with you. But if you take us by force, you’ll get nothing because the rest of our group will hide or destroy it."
The man only laughed at you, something that filled you with dread. You didn't have many bargaining chips to begin with. It was a slim window, but it was all you needed. "Is that so?" He taunted, his grip tightening ever so slightly.
“Good thing we have some people there already, yeah?” He breathed heavy on your neck and as if to punctuate his statement you heard a gunshot coming from the farm house.
You gave a sob, choked up and quite as you began to hear babies crying. Faint, desperate, and so fucking far away. The men laughed at you, the one over Sirius raising his gun to Sirius’s head.
Sirius took the opportunity. With a sudden burst of movement, he lunged forward, grabbing the barrel of the gun aimed at him and twisting it with all his strength. The attacker, caught off guard, stumbled, giving Sirius the opening he needed. He delivered a swift kick to the man's knee, causing him to collapse in pain.
Taking advantage of the chaos, you threw your head back hard, connecting with the face of the man holding you. He grunted in pain, loosening his grip just enough for you to twist out of his hold. You dropped to the ground, rolling away as he swung the butt of his gun at where your head had been moments before.
"Run!" Sirius shouted, his voice raw with urgency. He managed to wrench the gun from his attacker, firing a wild shot into the air. The deafening crack echoed through the forest, startling birds into flight and momentarily disorienting the Death Eaters.
You didn't need to be told twice. Pushing off the ground, you scrambled to your feet and took off running, your heart pounding in your ears. You could hear Sirius struggling behind you, but you couldn't think about that. Your first priority had to be Hermione and little Harry.
The forest blurred around you as you sprinted, branches whipping at your face and arms. Your mind raced with frantic thoughts, but you forced yourself to focus on the path ahead. You had to get to the farmhouse, had to make sure everyone was okay.
When you made it there the door was wide open, and there was a dead body in the grass. You slowed to a stop, giving a shaky sigh of relief when you didn't recognize the figure.
You looked him over and cursed when you didn't see a gun, but the pleading from inside hit your ears hard.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead.
Creeping closer, you tried to make as little noise as possible. The pleading voices grew clearer, more desperate, and you could hear Hermione's little cries among them. Your heart clenched with both fear and determination.
Peering through a broken window, you saw a scene that made your blood run cold. Two Death Eaters stood inside, their guns drawn, while Lily clutched little Harry and Hermione protectively. The children were huddled in her arms, their faces bright red with tears and snot.
James stood between them, and Remus was sitting on the seat you had left him in, unable to move with a gun to the back of his neck. You could barely make out James pleading.
You took another deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm despite the terror gripping you. Your mind raced, trying to formulate a plan. You needed a distraction, something to draw their attention away just long enough to give them a chance.
Your eyes scanned the room through the broken window, taking in every detail. James was trying to reason with the Death Eaters, his voice steady despite the tension. He didn't seem to just back down and roll over like he did with you.
Remus, though immobilized, seemed to be quietly assessing the situation, his eyes flickering between the intruders and the small clan. Then, his eyes flickered to the window. Both of your eyes locked in a second, yet he remained calm and simply averted his gaze.
Remus never failed to impress you.
You took another deep breath, feeling a surge of resolve. His calm reaction gave you the reassurance that he trusted you to act. You couldn't let them down.
Your eyes darted around, finally resting on the pile of firewood. If you could create a loud enough distraction, it might give James and Remus the opening they needed. You picked up a handful of small rocks from the ground, weighing them in your hand. This had to work.
With a steadying breath, you hurled the rocks at the pile of firewood through the broken window. The clattering noise was loud and sudden, echoing through the farmhouse. The Death Eaters whipped around, guns raised, their attention momentarily diverted.
James took the opportunity, lunging forward to tackle one of the Death Eaters, and you rushed the back door to come help.
Only, you rushed in to watch Remus, moving with calm and swift determination, stand and snag the gun from the stunned intruder. In the same motion, put a bullet through his head. Without flinching, he then turned and fired at James’s tussle buddy with that same overwhelming calm.
You stopped dead in your tracks, the back door creaking slightly as you pushed it open. The scene made you take a full pause, you had always assumed Remus was the softest of them all but his actions were precise, calculated. Like he had done them a million times before. The Death Eater's body slumped to the ground, and James quickly disarmed the other, pinning him down.
The sudden silence was deafening, punctuated only by the ragged breathing of everyone in the room. Hermione and Harry were still crying, clinging and shaking as Lily clutched them tightly, their faces bright red and distressed. James stood over the fallen Death Eater, his chest heaving with exertion.
Remus, still holding the gun, looked up at you with a grim expression. "Are you alright?" He asked, his voice steady despite the tension.
You nodded, swallowing hard. "We need to get out of here.”
“Damn right.” James hissed and stood, turning to face you before furrowing his brow. “Where's Sirius?”
You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, you heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from behind you. You turned to see Sirius emerging from the trees, disheveled but alive. Relief washed over you as he jogged up, his eyes scanning the scene inside the farmhouse.
"I'm here," Sirius said, slightly out of breath. "But we need to move, now. More of them could be on the way."
James nodded, looking at the rest of the group. "Right, we can't stay here any longer. Grab whatever you can carry. We need to find a safer place."
Lily, still holding onto Harry and Hermione, stood up, her face set with determination. "We need to get the children to safety first. Then we can figure out our next move."
Remus, still holding the gun, moved to help gather things, before you finally managed to croak out.
“Car. I have a car. It's shitty, probably can only take us a few miles but-”
"That'll have to do." Sirius interrupted, his voice steady despite the chaos. "We just need to get out of here. We can worry about the rest later."
The second you were all finished packing you left. Didn't take longer than ten minutes.
You turned quickly, leading the way through the back door and out into the cold air. The forest felt different now, less like the home you made of it and more like a looming threat. The shadows seemed to stretch toward you, and the distant sound of rustling leaves began to sound like whispers of danger, warning you of the trouble that might still be lurking just beyond the trees. Still, you suppressed your emotions. The growing fear at knowing you had been being watched, the feeling of the gun to your neck, the feel of his foul breath on your skin-
“{Y/N}?” Lily’s voice called out to you, almost grounding you to the moment. You gave a small steady breath, smiling and reaching out for Hermione.
Lily gave you a worried look before you took her and looked down at the girl in your arms. She had cried herself to sleep, her little body curled against you, her face streaked with tears. You gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, wishing you could wipe away all the fear and confusion swirling in this world around you.
“We’ll get through this.” You whispered softly, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to comfort her or yourself. Your heart was racing, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but you forced yourself to focus.
Sirius, James, and Remus were already moving ahead, keeping an eye on the surroundings. You could see the tension in their shoulders, the way they scanned the trees as if expecting danger to pop out again. Lily moved that much closer to you, but you all stayed silent.
“Over here.” You called to the boys as you guys made it to the barn that was hardly standing. You gestured to it and Sirius walked over to open the swinging doors, grimacing at the rusty old bucket of a truck.
“Is it quiet?” He turned to you and you scoffed.
“Not at all. But it's fast as hell.” You confirmed before you walked over. James opened the back seat and helped Remus into it. He then lifted Lily up with Harry next, turning to you. He held out his hand and you hesitated for a moment.
Turning to Sirius and noticing his cut lip was still bleeding, he had a bad bruise forming on his head and a few scratches from the tussle.
James looked between you two before he tilted his head to the passenger seat before he got in the back. You took a deep breath and climbed into the car, still securing Hermione as you shifted your weapons to the side. Opening the dash to toss Sirius the keys.
“Are we ready?” He looked back at the group, the back seat particularly squished with everything- and everyone.
There was a thick silence before Sirius huffed. “Let's get the fuck out of here.”
~~~
Back in the once still forest you left behind, none of you were aware of a shadow slothing his way through the tree line.
One of the men Sirius had managed to get down wasn't quite dead yet. After fighting off the zombified version of his partner, he watched you and the rest of the group drive off.
In a car that looked painfully familiar.
The walk home for him was hell, his wounds were still fresh and bleeding, each step sending waves of pain through his body. He gritted his teeth against the agony, his mind racing with thoughts of vengeance and the need for retribution.
The memories of the skirmish replayed vividly in his mind- Sirius’s sudden burst of movement, the way you had fought back with a ferocity that surprised him. He had underestimated you, and that was a mistake he wouldn't repeat. But at least he could come back with something. Having found the elusive {Y/N}.
When he finally made it back to the mansion, the sun had rose behind him. Stumbling in, half bloodied and bordering on unconscious.
He pushed through the heavy door, the creaking wood protesting against his weight. The moment he stepped inside, the air shifted, the atmosphere thick with tension and the lingering scent of fear. It was a stark contrast to the familiar, almost cozy feel of the mansion he had once known. His old home.
“Where the hell have you been?” A voice barked from the shadows. It was Lucius Malfoy, leaning casually against a wall, his eyes narrowing as he took in the state of the man before him. “Father Tom isn't happy. You’re supposed to report back! What happened out there?”
Avery winced, clutching his side where a deep gash throbbed, blood seeping through his fingers. “We... we encountered them. They were not alone.” He forced out, each word a struggle. “That girl at the barn down the road. She had a group with her.”
Lucius's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing further as he processed the information. "A girl? With a group? This is unacceptable, Avery. You let them escape? You know what Father Tom will do if he finds out about this."
Avery struggled to hold himself upright, the pain coursing through his body threatening to overwhelm him. "I... I tried to capture them. But they fought back- hard. Sirius Black was there, and he wasn't alone. They’ve become more organized, more dangerous. He was with that James Potter and his goons.”
Lucius took a step closer, his condescending demeanor shifting to one of intense interest. “Sirius Black? So, the traitor has resurfaced. And you say this girl, this survivor, is connected to him?” He paused, a calculating look crossing his face. “What if she’s more than just another survivor?”
Before Avery could respond, a third figure emerged from the shadows- a tall man with dark hair and sharp features that seemed to cut through the dim light of the mansion.
It was Barty Crouch Jr., a (now) high-ranking member of the Death Eaters, his presence commanding and terrifying, considering all he's already done for the organization. He stepped forward, a smirk playing on his lips as he assessed Avery’s battered state.
“Sounds like the perfect gift for Tom, doesn't it? After such a momentous mistake. Oh Avery, run in with a bunch of kids? You get sadder every time I see you.” He taunted, crossing his arms. “Did you really think you could take on Black and a bunch of survivors? How cute.” His smirk quickly turned deadly, relishing in the familiar deranged anger they had grown to know from him. “Where is he?”
Avery winced at Barty's taunt, his frustration boiling beneath the surface. “I'm sure you heard as you were eavesdropping, Crouch.” He snapped, “We were caught off guard. Black put a fucking bullet in me and that damn girl broke my nose, least you could do is go fetch Narcissa.”
Barty raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You’re wounded and still trying to bark orders? I’d be careful with that tone, Avery. You’re lucky to be alive after failing so spectacularly." He leaned against the staircase, smirking at Lucius. “You heard the boy. Go fetch your wife. Though, if it were me, I'd let the bastard bleed. I bet it will feel wonderful compared to what Tom will do to him.”
“That wasn't all.” Avery finally piped up as he leaned back against the marble wall, looking up at the ceiling as he panted. “I got her name.”
Lucius's interest piqued as he leaned closer, curiosity mingling with irritation. “What do you mean you got her name? Who is she?”
Avery took a moment to catch his breath, the pain in his side sharpening with every second. “She’s {Y/N}. The girl from the camp. She had the truck we left behind, it's her. I'm certain of it.”
Barty’s expression suddenly darkened and his face fell hard. “What?” He whispered.
Lucius gave a weak scoff. “You may have just saved your own ass with that, Avery.”
As the atmosphere in the room thickened with tension, the heavy door creaked open from down the hall.
First out was Narcissa, who gawked at the boys in front of her before hurrying over to help Avery. “What are you guys doing? He's bleeding.” She spoke in a firm tone.
Behinder her, there was the soft sound of a baby’s cry and Evan Rosier stepped into the light, followed closely by Regulus Black. Regulus holding up a little blonde kid on his hip.
Evan's demeanor was lax, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of a threat, while Regulus’s face bore a grimace of pain, a bandage wrapped around his head where a nasty gash marred his brow. Still, the kid seemed unbothered by his angry expression. Evan had to charge himself forward to stop Barty from taking down the bleeding bastard.
“You better not of fucking touched her!” Barty shouted as he tried to jump past Evan who eventually had to tackle him against the wall. Holding his shoulders and looking at Barty with a hard look.
“The hell mate!? What's gotten into you!?” Evan shouted and Barty was panting, glaring at Avery.
“Bastard attacked {Y/N}! Got that fucking shiner to prove it!” He shouted and Avery huffed.
“I did my job!” Avery snapped back.
Regulus took a step forward, his eyes wide with shock as he absorbed the situation. His face switched from his hard scowl to soft and almost vulnerable at your name. “Wait, wait. {Y/N}? Our {Y/N}?” His voice wavered slightly, and there was an urgency in his tone that caught everyone’s attention.
Avery's eyes narrowed, irritation flickering on his face. “Yes. That’s what I’ve been saying. She was with Sirius Black and they’ve formed some sort of group. She fought back, fucked me up, but she's alive.”
Regulus’s expression darkened, a mix of concern and anger. She was with his brother? His brother was still alive? That meant the Order could get back together.
But mostly, that meant you were okay. The men he sent out looking, the days he was losing hope, you were out there. “But she was here? Down the street the whole time?”
“What the fuck have you idiots been doing? We send you to get one girl and you come back empty handed and four men down!” Barty snapped at them from where Evan had him pinned.
“An entire month and she was right there.” Regulus snapped as Narcissa led Avery to the back room as he began to stumble, the adrenaline wearing off.
The three watched Avery retreat to the back room, Lucius gathering Draco up as he passed Regulus.
The three boys exchanged looks between each other. There was a long silence before Evan finally let go of Barty.
“I'll kill him.” Barty mumbled and Evan gave him a toothy smirk.
“Leave it. She's alive mate.”
“Alive and with Black.” Barty snapped and rubbed his face. “Who's to say what's going on? What's happening?”
“We'll find her.” Regulus affirmed. The two looked at the shorter boy who was staring at the door.
“We’ll just send someone more competent.” He mumbled and both boys turned to look at Even.
#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#sirius black#remus lupin x reader#remus x reader#james potter#sirius black x reader#sirius x reader#remus x sirius#remus lupin#remus loves sirius#moony x padfoot#james fleamont potter#james x lily#james x reader#marauders#marauders era#the marauders#the marauders era#regulus black#barty crouch jr#barty crouch junior#evan rosier#bcj#hermione granger#hermione fanfiction#gay dead wizards#dead gay wizards from the 70s#marauder era#gay dead wizards from the 70s
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Rahu & Ketu: Abuse & Addiction
TW: drug overdose, death, suicide, abuse, childhood abuse
Nodal influence can be very destabilising and intoxicating. They're opposites but as they say the extremes of anything is a meeting point for it's opposite, so Rahu & Ketu share many similarities.
Rahu & Ketu are both shadow planets, Rahu is the head whereas Ketu is the tail. This in itself reveals much about the nature of the two. Rahu is over immersed in the world whereas Ketu is completely cut off from it.
When I say Rahu is over immersed/over stimulated, I don't mean they're profoundly connected to reality, I mean the opposite, they're deeply immersed in Maya/illusion that they often have no sense of reality. Rahu is the head, imagine if you lived in your head all the time? You'd be in your own la la land, disconnected from what is actually happening around you. This is Rahu energy. Without your body, you cannot use your senses, you cannot fully feel alive or experience reality. Rahu being the head means you're cut off from what is "real". You only live in your head and what happens in your head is very subjective and completely illusory.
They are so deeply immersed in an illusory world. This can manifest as substance addiction, video gaming, fame, material success, internet addiction, overly obsessed with "binging" content, maladaptive daydreaming etc, any experience that disconnects you from what is "real" and immerses you in something that feels very real but isn't real. Both Rahu and Ketu people suffer from addiction, Claire had mentioned that Nodal influence can make someone prone to addiction but why Rahu and Ketu are addicted tend to be very different. Rahu is overstimulated, they always need more of everything. There are people who spend 10 hours a day just watching YouTube videos or IG reels or whatever, that's because they need that much stimulation, since they live in their heads. Their minds need that kind of fodder to thrive off of. Once you start using any kind of substance, your brain builds a tolerance for it and you have to start using higher and higher doses to get the same high. When a Rahu native accumulates wealth, they start indulging in it but nothing is ever enough. They never feel "full", they don't have that fuse in their brain that flares up and says "this is enough". Basically they never know when to stop, they just keep going and going and going with anything they immerse themselves in. People play video games for 3-4 days straight without leaving their game set up. They don't ever feel satisfied. This is scary because "feeling full" is our brain's way of asking us to stop. Without that mechanism, we would overindulge and overdo everything which is what these natives do.
This is also why relationships are so tricky for Nodal people. They give too much and immerse themselves to the point where it's detrimental to the relationship. You either feel like you're losing part of yourself to it or the other person feels like you're consuming their energy too much (which makes them feel drained). Moderation does not exist for Nodal people either they're completely detached or they're completely obsessed.
Its similar to Jupiter energy in the sense that Jupiter is also very expansive and has the ability to immerse itself in everything and give so much but Jupiter has other principles that firmly ground it in reality as it is not a shadow planet like Rahu. It is not suspended in an illusion, Jupiter natives give so much or do so much because they have the internal space to do so, not out of a tendency to immerse themselves in Maya/illusion. Jupiter is the opposite, they see through Maya and find it hard to consciously part take in it.
Taylor Swift- Ardra Moon
She works harder than anybody in the biz. Her concerts are like 3 hours long and she does like 40-50 shows on average. She's ALWAYS doing THE most. She releases a new album every 2 years or so, has other projects etc this is a positive manifestation of Rahu energy because it allows you to be deeply immersed in your craft and your world but it also means you live in a bubble and you are cut off from "real life".
Ketu is the tail, it is cut off from reality and feels profoundly disconnected to reality. It is hard for these natives to feel like they relate to anything. This is why Ketuvians struggle with addiction. They use substances because they want to feel something, want to feel tethered, want to feel connected. They have to use higher doses because it helps them feel heightened emotions when they usually don't feel anything at all.
Ketu is connected to spirituality because natives who feel disconnected from the real world to this extent find it easier to immerse themselves in the occult and in esoterica. It is more abstract and requires you to think non-logically, i.e, experientially, but this is something Ketuvians have a hard time with, they themselves feel very "abstract" or like they aren't real or don't exist, so while they're intrinsically drawn to the esoteric, they feel untethered/ungrounded by immersing themselves in it too much. They need something they can cling to, they need something solid that they can attach themselves to.

All Rahuvian nakshatras belong to the Shudra caste, specifically the Butcher caste, this is very interesting because Shudra is the lowest caste (Mleccha is "outcaste" which means it exists outside the system entirely), to be Rahuvian means to operate on the lowest level. Butchers have to slaughter meat to make a living, that is unpleasant and brutal work, and only if they are disconnected from it can they keep doing it. They cannot be too focused on what they actually do because then it will be hard for them to do their tasks. They're not repulsed by it because they're disconnected from it.
2/3 Ketuvian naks are also Shudra caste whereas Ashwini is the only Ketu nak that is upper caste as it is a Vaishya nak.

(table by me hehe)
Rahuvian naks are found in all 3 ganas (Swati is deva gana, Ardra is manushya gana, Shatabhisha is rakshasa gana)
2/3 Ketuvian naks are Rakshasa gana (Mula, Magha) with only Ashwini being a Deva gana nak
I feel like Ketuvians are always made to feel like the bad guy / people villainize them a lot. They're the "ugly ducklings" who have to "win" approval as they're never accepted for who they are.
Rahu needs to immerse itself in something because its sensory perception is limited and they need to really indulge to grasp what is "real". Its very common for people with heavy Rahuvian or Rahu in a malefic placement to experience hallucinations or feel like their grip on reality is very thin.
Ketu has nothing perceive with at all. Its like being completely lost in the shadows or the dark. There's no perception taking place at all, it makes the natives inwardly drawn because its truly hard for them to absorb from their surroundings unlike Rahu which absorbs easily and fully. Rahu is over immersed whereas Ketu lacks immersion at all.
Lets look at the yoni animals of Rahu & Ketu naks respectively
Rahu: Ardra -dog yoni, Shatabhisha- horse yoni, Swati-buffalo yoni
Ketu: Magha-rat yoni, Mula- dog yoni, Ashwini-horse yoni
one common theme is that all these animals are abused, mistreated and exploited
(rats are the go to animal for lab testing, dogs are valued for their loyalty and are at the mercy of their owners, horses are made to endure so much labour, buffalos are farm animals)
all of these animals are also associated with dirt/filth in some way or another which is perhaps why people with Nodal influence often have a dishevelled appearance. They're bad at taking care of themselves.
Both horse yoni & dog yoni are divided among Rahu & Ketu naks whereas the yoni consort for Swati is Hasta (Moon ruled) and Magha is Purvaphalguni (Venus ruled).
Horses are very strong but very fragile animals. They start walking almost immediately after birth, they sleep standing up but they require a lot of attention and care as their health tends to be very fragile. Even though horses are associated with working hard, its not exactly innately part of their nature, it's just that they've been domesticated into being that way. It represents a very powerful active energy, as horses can be highly temperamental and unpredictable.
Dog yoni on the other hand, makes a person very needy and eager to please others. Dogs depend on the affection of their owners and without it they feel unhappy. Both these nakshatras have obsessive tendencies and a people pleasing nature. They're also two nakshatras who endure abuse the most.
I've noticed that a lot of people tend to have both nodes in their chart and I wonder what its like to house such contradictions. On one hand you're extremely involved, on the other, you're supremely detached.
The entertainment industry is one where people with Nodal influence really thrive but also often, self-destruct themselves. Its immensely hard to balance these energies since Rahu heightens whatever is in it, the way Jupiter expands whatever it touches. Both planets make you feel manic but in different ways.
Addiction is the result of an overactive nervous system and a coping mechanism. Ketu feels cut off from society/life/the world so in order to feel connected, it over indulges. Rahu needs something that will help them fully lose themselves, idk if I'm explaining it properly but you know how the best movies you've watched are the ones where you feel like you were in them experiencing those things with the characters? Its like that
There is an unhappy pattern of Rahu & Ketu influenced people being abused, I have especially noted this among child actors but also others.
Taylor Momsen- Swati Moon
Her parents signed her up with Ford Modeling when she was just 2 years old. "No 2-year-old wants to be working, but I had no choice. My whole life, I was in and out of school. I didn't have friends. I was working constantly and I didn't have a real life."
This theme of not experiencing "real life" or reality is very prominent in the lives of Rahuvian and Ketuvian people. It can be interpreted in many ways according to the context but there is always a sense of being deprived of what was "normal" or "real" as a result of which these natives had to live in their imagination or indulge in other things.
Like the child star who worked their whole life playing other people (acting is very Rahuvian) or the loner kid who spends all their time immersed in movies or video games because that feels more "real" to them.
Fame is also an inherently Rahuvian experience bc it's an illusion & a prison.
Judy Garland- Ardra Rising, Mula Moon
She was emotionally abused and controlled by her mother who got her addicted to drugs by the time she was a teenager. She was also sexually abused by the studio executives she worked with. Judy had a very tough life.
Aaron Carter, Ardra Moon, Mula Rising
Aaron Carter claimed that as a teen musician, his family spent $500 million of his money on 15 houses and 30 cars. He claimed that when his parents sold the houses, he didn't get a cut of the profits. He also alleged that his dad shot a .44 magnum near his ear — which resulted in him going 70% deaf in one ear — to force him into signing a $256,000 check.
Being heavily tattooed (more examples at the end of this post) is also a very Nodal thing to do.
He unfortunately passed away in 2022 from an accidental drug overdose. This is also a very unfortunate pattern among Nodal celebrities.
Macaulay Culkin- Shatabhisha Moon, Magha Sun & Mercury
Macaulay Culkin's father Kit managed him during his childhood career. Macaulay has shared that his father was controlling and had him on a very busy filming schedule in the early '90s. He added his father made him stay up every night to study the lines he would have to say the next day. Macaulay asserted that his father was "such a crazy person" that he forced him to do SNL without cue cards when he hosted the show at 11 years old. Macaulay has explained that he felt his father was jealous of him because “everything he tried to do in his life I excelled at before I was 10 years old.”When Macaulay stopped acting after his 1994 movie Richie Rich, he told his parents, “I’m done, guys — hope you all made your money because there is no more coming from me.”His parents were never married and after he stopped acting, his mother filed for custody. Macaulay ended up taking his parents to court to stop them from controlling his $17 million in earnings. Since then, he and his father have been estranged.
I feel like the "child star gone wild" is a trope meant specifically for Nodal people
Keke Palmer, Magha Sun & Mercury, Mula Moon
Palmer shared on IG:
"Due to traveling and scheduling both of my parents had to stop working to support my career and be present for my three siblings, leaving me with the financial responsibility around age 12. Which I took great pride in because I knew what it would do for generations to come and a huge blessing that I could even help out. However it caused me a lot of pain because I essentially had to abandon my childhood feelings and desires, becoming like a parentalized child, which is something some of you can probably relate to in your own way. This was something that I have had to continuously work through because I am grateful but often feel like.. I missed “IT”. Life can be such a tragic comedy because how funny is it.. that now becoming an actual parent, and the responsibility I’ve always carried being more valid now than ever, has in fact given me the chance to feel what it’s like to be a kid again, I get a chance to explore a lot of the things I missed out on with my son, His freedom is like, the most priceless gift to me. He is already teaching me so much, it’s like he awakened the little me inside that I thought was long gone."
Ketu dominance = being your own parent, being neglected by your family or having to be your parent's parent.
Michael Jackson, Magha Sun & Mercury, Shatabhisha Rising
From a young age Jackson was physically and mentally abused by his father, enduring incessant rehearsals, whippings and name-calling. Jackson's abuse as a child affected him throughout his grown life. reading about the lives of the Jackson siblings and how severely they were all abused is very perspective altering and sad
Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen, Magha Moon, Ashlesha Rising (inc the ashlesha placement bc its another nak often subject to control and abuse)
“With what we were doing in business when we were younger, I don’t think it ever felt like we were actresses,” Mary-Kate “Because we spend so much more of our time not in front of the cameras, building a brand. Ashley agreed, saying: “I always looked at myself, even as a kid, as a business woman.” Mary-Kate said she wouldn't wish her childhood on anyone, and said she felt like a "monkey performer."
they quit acting in the mid 2000s and rarely make public appearances and god only knows what they endured in the business bc neither of them will talk about it.
Sarah Michelle Geller, Ashwini Sun conjunct Ketu, Shatabhisha Moon
Sarah herself enjoyed the path she'd ended up on, she has rules in place for her own daughter. Recalling the "industry abuses" she experienced as a teenager in Hollywood, she said she hoped she'd "set up a safety net for these actors that I didn't have," but that she and husband Freddie Prinze Jr. have "rules in place" that mean daughter Charlotte "can't be in front of a camera until she graduates high school."
Kylie Jenner, Swati Moon
Kylie started appearing on her family's reality show when she was 10
In 2016, she told her sister Kim in an episode of the show: "I feel like I've had anxiety for too long. I feel too much, I care too much, I read too much. Some people are born for this life and some people aren’t. I just know I’m not supposed to be famous.” in an old IG post she said: "I’m proud of myself, my heart, and my strength. Growing up in the light with a million eyes on you just isn’t normal. I’ve lost friends along the way and I’ve lost myself too sometimes. My first tattoo was 'sanity' to remind myself everyday to keep it. I’ve struggled with anxiety my whole young adult life." "I know I don't want to be famous forever. There's gonna be a time where I feel comfortable, I'm at a good place in my life, and I just stop."
Natalie Wood, Ashwini Moon
The late Natalie Wood was forced into acting by her mother, Maria, who missed her chance to become a performer and instead focussed her efforts on pushing her daughters to stardom.
While young Natalie had a natural talent for performing, it seemed that her reason for going to movie sets was more to please her mother than to quench any desire of her own.
Bella Thorne, Mula Moon
"I was sexually abused and physically growing up from the day I can remember till I was 14. When I finally had the courage to lock my door at night and sit by it. All damn night." She has also stated that she only started acting as a child to support her family.
Drew Barrymore, Shatabhisha Sun
Drew's mother took her to clubs and allowed her access to drugs and alcohol, ultimately leading to her institutionalization at the age of 13, and emancipating herself at 14. Drew described fame at such a young age as "a recipe for disaster."
Edith Piaf, Mula Sun & Mercury, Magha Mars
Born in Paris practically on the streets, she struggled from day one, the daughter of street performers. The mother, a singer, eventually abandoned both Edith and her father for a solo career. Piaf spent her youth entertaining passers-by, receiving little formal education in the process. She often accompanied her father's acrobat street act with her singing and at various times was forced to live with various relatives, in alleys or in cheap hotels. An aborted love affair left her with a baby girl at age 17, but little Marcelle died of meningitis at 2 years old. Devastated, Piaf returned to the streets she knew, now performing solo. Her fortunes finally changed when an impresario, Louis Leplee, mesmerized by what he heard, offered the starving but talented urchin a contract. He alone was responsible for taking her off the streets at age 20 and changing her name from Edith Gassion to "La Mome Piaf" (or "Kid Sparrow"). Piaf grew in status entertaining in elegant cafés and cabarets and became a singing sensation amid the chic French society with her throbbing vocals and raw, emotional power. From 1936, Piaf recorded many albums and eventually became one of the highest paid stars in the world.
Later in life she became an addict and died in poverty at the age of 47.
Brittany Murphy, Swati Moon & Venus
she was a child star who was managed by her controlling mom. she battled with eating disorders and drug addiction. rip britt.
Justin Bieber, Shatabhisha Sun conjunct Saturn
Justin shot to fame at a very young age and was severely exploited by his management/everybody around him
Now here are some heavily tatted celebs and their placements







L to R
Rihanna- Shatabhisha Sun
Paris Jackson- Ardra Moon
Cheryl Cole- Ardra Sun & Mars, Shatabhisha Moon
Demi Lovato- Magha Sun
Jungkook- Magha Moon, Mula Rising
Ruby Rose- Swati Rising
Machine Gun Kelly- Ashwini Sun
The 27 club refers to a phenomenon where several musicians have died by age 27, many from an overdose. Unfortunately many of them have Nodal influence.
Brian Jones- Shatabhisha Sun
Jimi Hendrix- Mula Rising
Amy Winehouse- Mula Moon
Kurt Cobain- Shatabhisha Sun, Ardra Moon,
Janis Joplin- Ardra Moon, Mula Mars, Asc conjunct Ketu (in Dhanishta)
Jim Morrison- Ketu conjunct Rising (in Shravana)
several other celebrities who have died from overdoses also tend to have prominent Nodal influence
John Belushi- Mula Rising
Phillip Seymour Hoffman- Mercury in Ardra 2h, Mars conjunct Ketu in Swati
Prince- Shatabhisha Moon, Ketu in Ashwini
Whitney Houston- Shatabhisha Rising
River Phoenix- Magha Sun conjunct Ketu, Swati Ascendant conjunct Jupiter
Elvis Presley- Shatabhisha Moon
Margaux Hemingway- Ashwini Rising
Nodal planets are shadow planets and it can be very difficult for these natives to manage this energy as it is energy without a source, Rahu & Ketu don't have physical form or existence, that is a lot of uncontrolled energy to possess within yourself. Many people turn to spirituality and other esoteric sources and good Rahu & Ketu influence is vital and necessary to study or gain access to gnosis, study astrology or other occult matters but when this energy is imbalanced in their chart, these natives are more prone to self-destruction than any other planetary dominance simply because the unbridled energy is impossible to contain and requires some kind of coping mechanism. I have dated several Nodal men and they all dealt with varying degrees of addiction to varying substances and they all spoke about "wanting to feel more real" or how "nothing feels solid". I will try to focus on the positive manifestations of the Nodes on a future post.
thanks for reading<333
#astrology notes#astrology observations#vedic astro notes#nakshatras#astrology#astroblr#astro notes#astro observations#vedic astrology#sidereal astrology#jyotish#rahu#ketu#ashwini#shatabhisha#mula#magha#swati#ardra
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I turn my collar up against the wind. Building, now. Bracing. Whipping up, tunnelled through the buildings, and the street is alive despite it. I’ll never underestimate an Irish person’s determination to spend a Saturday night drinking. Art school looking girls, small fringes, smoking cigarettes outside the bars, huddled beneath the awnings as the snow comes in a slant. Milk white legs out to the world, feet in thick-soled boots. A Dublin squawk of merriment rises over music that bleeds onto the street and I feel, for one moment, I am seventeen again. When going out was exciting. Groups of boys chatting to groups of girls, taking the piss out of them, to conceal the weight of our desperation beneath humour. Hoping that by asking if that’s her ma’s coat, you can touch her boob over her top while kissing her later on. Sincere was the worst thing you could be. Everything was a joke.
The joke now is my life, actually. Contemplating this reality while trailing behind the others. I look down at my trembling hands. It’s ridiculous to be nervous about a bar in Dublin after stumbling into full-blown sex in a Berlin darkroom while looking for the beer garden. I’m meant to be made of hardier stuff now, and I’m scared of a party. A girl’s nineteenth birthday party. My nervous system believes she is going to attack me with her teeth when I enter the room, instead of just being like, oh, hey. I remember you, yeah. Why’d you come, again? What’d be worse, really? Her indifference, or her teeth in my throat? The answer is genuinely unclear.
“Jude?” Jen is waiting up ahead. I’ve trailed too far behind, and she’s looking concerned. “Jude, what’s up with you?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
Claire and Shane can’t hear as they idle around the door of the bar. I hadn’t realised we’d arrived. “We don’t have to go in. Literally,” says Jen. “The three of us can go say hello and I’ll come back out. We can go home, then.”
I make an indignant sound. “What? I never said I’m not going in.”
“What’s with the face? You’ve had that face on you since the restaurant.”
“It’s just how I look.”
She huffs, unimpressed, and stomps towards me. “Look,” she says. “No one is forcing you to be here. If you want to go home, just go.”
I keep my back straight, don’t stoop to her. Act like she’s overreacting. “I’m obviously going to go in.”
“You piss me off when you’re like this.”
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“Go on,” stands aside for me. “Go in then.” And I hesitate. “Well, I want a cigarette first.”
“Do you have one on you?”
“No.”
“Well, me neither.”
“Okay, I’ll bum one off someone else.”
Sighing. “Yeah, fine then. I’m going to head inside with the guys, so you just come whenever.”
“Right.” She goes then, catches up with the others, all looking around at me before pushing through the doors into the bar. I take a breath. Roll my shoulders. The tension is ridiculous. This prolonging of the inevitable. Approach a girl opening a pack, ask her if I can bum one. She tells me to fuck off, and I have to laugh at that. “Jesus, fair enough,” I say. “Fuck me, so. Power to you.”
I hesitate by the door, flex my hand around the handle. Sounds muffled within. Voices. Any voice could be hers. Stalling there, trying to pick it out, as if I’ll just know. As if I can properly remember the way she sounds. But I do. Gentle. You’d never be able to hear her in a crowd, her voice seeming to hit the same decibel as the general hum of a room. You’d have to lean in closer, and she’d hate that, needing to raise her voice, but I liked her rural accent in my ear. I remember imitating it, stretching out the vowels, dragging the words into something ridiculous. I thought it was funny. Thought she did, too, even when she told me off. Thought maybe she’d kiss me for it. That was the rule, right? If you wanted something, you made a joke out of it first. Because sincere was the worst thing you could be. And everything was a joke.
I’m getting cold now, just standing here, and there aren’t any more excuses. She could be right there, on the other side of the frosted glass, like breath on a cold window. Finally, pressing into the handle, pushing my weight against the door, stepping inside.
The heat of the place clings to me in an instant. The damp, thick air of a bar that’s been hopping for hours already. A wall of noise. Music muffled beneath layering voices, the place crowded to the point of discomfort with arty looking types, indistinguishable, nearly, from the ones out on the street. My skin prickles beneath my coat. Heavy now. Too much. Someone bumps my shoulder on their way out, and the door swings behind me.
My eyes scan without meaning to. A radar for her. Flashes of movement. A hundred brown-haired girls, and yet.
There.
Not immediately. Not like some movie where the crowd parts and angels sing to reveal her standing under some holy light, just the movement of an arm, concealed halfway behind somebody else. Tucking hair behind an ear. She’s talking to Shane, his shoulder hiding her face, but I know her hands and how she uses them to express herself. I move closer.
“Happy birthday, lovely!” That’s Jen to her now, giving her a hug. See the side of her head from where I am, face covered by a swoosh of her hair. Shorter. Straight, just brushing her shoulders in a way that makes her neck look long. “... and so great to see you again.” Jen’s being overly polite. Thinks Evie hates her, still.
“You too, oh my God, of course. You’re so welcome here, really.”
They let each other go. She knows I’m here. I feel the charge. Stands back, crosses her arms, uncrosses them, and again. Her body faces me. I go to greet her, but her head twists away, finding something else to look at. Wanting so much not to look at me. Hatred or indifference, I don’t know. Which is more gruesome? Considering again the teeth in my throat. I’d take that instead, yes, let her rip out my jugular. A splatter of blood across the glass counter. “Evie.”
Pretends then she has only just noticed me. She speaks coolly. “Hello.”
I catch myself smiling. Thin. False. For the benefit of others. She is taller than I remember her being. Thinner, ethereal and, yes, angular. One collarbone is exposed in an asymmetrical dress, white and prominent in the light.
“Happy birthday,” I say to her. “It’s really good to see you again.”
“Oh my God,” she says. “Sorry, but your accent.” She’s trying to make fun of me, maybe, though her face reveals genuine surprise, dropping her curated coldness in that moment to gawk into my face, like meeting my alien doppelgänger. I like that. Her mocking my voice. Feel my strained smile becoming real. “Sorry, Jude, sorry. You just sound so different.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah, like an American.” She leans back to take me in, holding herself with this renewed sense of ease I don’t remember her having. Eyebrow raised with amusement, but I���m not sure her expression is warm. Others are watching our interaction around the bar. Her friends. For the first time, I’m in her world, when I’ve only ever known her in mine. The scale tips. The power shifts.
“Well, actually, I am an American.”
She laughs. “Yes, but you never sounded like this before.”
I hadn’t realized I sounded different at all. I open my mouth to say something, but she just nods, satisfied. Like she’s figured something out about me I haven’t yet. I feel it, the moment she comes to her own quiet conclusion about who I am now, before I have had the chance to show her.
“Well, it’s been too long,” I say. Funny, the enormous weight in those four short words. I hold my arms out for a hug. She hesitates a beat, drawing back, not sure she should, but there’s relief when she accepts. She steps into me. Her smell—immediate and familiar. My body remembers before. “How have you been?” I look at her face, stupidly tempted to touch her cheek.
“Oh, I’ve been fine.”
“Yeah? And college? You’re in NCAD, right?”
“Ah, yeah, I am. I’m–”
“Evie! Come over here quick, you silly bitch. We found your cake!” Someone is bellowing it, stomping across the bar with a lit birthday cake, enormous sparkler spluttering in the middle of it.
Who the fuck is that? I want to say to Evie, but she’s already going. Slipping away towards her friend, feigning surprise. Totally did not expect the cake, you guys, wow, thank you, this is gorgeous.
Happy birthday, they’re all singing now. The weird, raucous droning sound of about thirty art students making no effort, too cool to bear the sincerity of holding a consistent tune. The DJ hasn’t bothered to turn the music off, either. Calvin Harris throbs in the background of their caterwauling, then clapping as Evie blows out the candles. I try to meet her eye through the ribbons of smoke, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she hugs them—all these people I don’t know, and probably never will. Wondering to myself what she wished for, knowing, too, that she’ll never tell me.
Beginning // Prev // Next
Corresponding LG Chapter
#lucky boy 2012#and there she is#she literally looks so hot from his POV every time#LG she's like i'm such a rat faced beast#Jude sees her and melts to a puddle on the tiles#sims 4 storytelling#ts4 story#sims community#simblr#show us your sims#show us your story
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Chris Redfield: General Headcanon
Request: "I saw your post wanting more requests/head cannons, and I was wondering if I could request again? if not that's chill lol. but if you are I'd love to hear your head canons just about Chris in general."
I had an idea to try and do two timelines seeing as Chris has been through a lot, so I did some for pre-trauma and post-trauma, hope you guys enjoy
Happy reading my lovelies
Pre-trauma Chris (before S.T.A.R.S & Early days in raccoon city) (Basically, before the horrors of the spencer mansion & umbrella’s bioweapons wrecked his life)
Optimistic but reckless – Chris was always a bit of a maverick, known for his rebellious streak in the air force before being discharged. He believed in justice but wasn’t afraid to bend the rules if he thought it was the right thing to do. He had an innate desire to protect people, but back then, it was driven more idealism rather than deep personal scars.
Big brother mode – He was probably always overprotective of Claire, even before their parents passed. He likely worked multiple jobs to support her, possibly taking on security gigs or military contracts before joining S.T.A.R.S. when she went off to college, he definitely called way too often to check on her.
Life of the party (kinda?) – Before everything went to hell, Chris was actually more sociable. He enjoyed going out for drinks with his S.T.A.R.S. teammates, cracking jokes with Barry and Joseph, and teasing Jill about being too serious. He wasn’t exactly wild, but he had an easy-going charm that made him well-liked.
Adrenaline junkie – Even his early days, Chris had a habit of throwing himself into danger. He loved high-risk activities: skydiving, rock climbing, motorcycle racing. He was that guy who thought nothing of jumping out of a helicopter for fun.
Terrible cook – The man could survive in extreme conditions but could not cook to save his life. He either ate out a lot or relied on MREs way more than he should have. Claire probably tried to teach him, but he never really got the hand of it.
Post-trauma Chris (post-spencer mansion, post-Raccoon city, BSAA days & beyond) (Basically, after Resident evil 1 and progressively worsening after the tragedies in Code Veronica, RE5, RE6 ect…)
Burden of leadership – After losing countless teammates and friends, Chris became more of a hardened leader. He still had a deep sense of responsibility, but it weighed on him differently. Instead of reckless optimism, his hero complex became almost self-destructive. He constantly put himself in harm’s way, believing it was his duty to bear the burden.
PTSD & Survivor’s guilt – No matter how many missions he completes, how many bioweapons he destroys, he never feels like he’s done enough. The ghosts of spencer mansion, Raccoon city and Kijuju haunt him. He likely has nightmares about the people he couldn’t save, whether it’s his fallen S.T.A.R.S. teammates, Piers Nivans, or even enemies like Wesker, who embodied the fight he could never truly escape.
Alcohol as a coping mechanism – During his darker moments (RE6 timeline especially), Chris turned to alcohol to numb the pain. He never let it affect him in the field, but when he was alone? He drank to forget. This was especially bad after losing Piers, Chris went completely off the grid, drowning in guilt before being pulled back into the fight.
More closed off, less playful – The guy who used to joke around and enjoy team outings became more distant over time. He still cracks the occasional dry joke, but his humour became darker and rarer. Only people like Jill or Claire could get a real laugh out of him.
Still a protective big brother – Even after everything, Claire remains one of the few people who can get through to him. He still worries about her constantly but tries not to smother her (she absolutely calls him out when he does). He keeps tabs on her work with TerraSave, sometimes anonymously ensuring her safety.
Military precision, almost to a fault – By the time of the BSAA, Chris became even more disciplined, almost machine-like. He planned missions meticulously, trained obsessively, and pushed his body to the absolute limit. He knew that one mistake could cost lives, and he refuses to let that happen again.
Aging warhorse mentality – By the later games, Chris is exhausted. He knows he’s getting older, he knows he can’t keep doing this forever, but he doesn’t know how to stop. Retirement isn’t an option in his mind, he believes the fight won’t end until he’s dead. (Or until someone, like Claire or Jill, convince him otherwise.)
Still has a good heart – Even after everything, Chris never lost his core. He still fights for the innocent, still risks his life to stop bioweapons from spreading, and still believes in doing the right thing. He’s just a lot more battered, bruised, and wary than he used to be.
#chris redfield#chris redfield x reader#resident evil#chris redfield resident evil#chris redfield x you#re6#resident evil 6#re6 chris#chris redfield imagine#daddy chris redfield#resident evil 5#re5 chris#re5#Chris Redfield head canon#headcanon#headcanon Chris Redfield#resident evil chris#re8 chris redfield#re8 village#re8#resident evil village
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The Fall – Y/N’s POV
Wally Cark x fem!reader
Star-crossed lovers Masterlist
~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~ ☆ ♡ ° ~
The days blurred together.
Since Wally’s death, it felt like time had become something cruel—stretching endlessly while slipping through my fingers all at once. Every morning was the same: waking up exhausted, dragging myself to school, forcing myself through classes like a ghost haunting the halls, and retreating to my storage room the moment I could.
But even that wasn’t helping anymore.
I'd started spending more time there than anywhere else, curled up against the cold walls, pressing Wally’s old jacket against my face just to remember what he smelled like. Some days, I swore I could still hear his laugh in the empty hallways, a phantom echo of something I could never get back.
And now, months later, I was just tired.
I didn’t know why I'd come to practice today. Maybe because Claire kept asking me, maybe because I thought if I just moved for a while, I'd feel something again.
It was the same routine, the same cheers, the same stifling weight pressing down on my chest. I went through the motions, clapping when I was supposed to, calling out counts, but my heart wasn’t in it. Nothing was.
“Alright, last pyramid before we break,” Claire called, clapping her hands. “Let’s make it solid, people.”
I barely heard her.
I moved into position, forcing myself to focus as the girls around me adjusted. The base cheerleaders braced themselves, and I watched as the flyer—a petite sophomore—climbed up, her arms steady, her balance sure.
Just like it had been a hundred times before.
Just like it always was.
Then, something went wrong.
Maybe someone lost their footing, maybe the timing was off—I would never really know. But in an instant, the flyer wobbled at the top of the stunt, her arms pinwheeling, her body tilting at the wrong angle—
And then she fell.
I didn’t have time to react, barely even had time to think.
One second, I was standing there, blinking up at the girl—
The next, everything went black.
---
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the gym floor.
At first, everything was hazy. The fluorescent lights above flickered strangely, like they weren’t quite real, and the air felt colder than it had any right to be.
Then I noticed the people standing around me.
My breath caught in my throat.
Two people I didn't recognize, a teacher and a student.
And one person I did. Wally.
My heart stopped, and suddenly, I was awake.
I scrambled up, sitting bolt upright, my breath coming in fast, shallow gasps.
Wally knelt beside me, his face unreadable, but his eyes—God, his eyes.
“Hey, it's okay. It's okay, baby,” he said softly.
The sound of his voice—his actual voice—sent a tremor through me.
My hands shook as I looked at him, at the boy I had spent months grieving, at the boy I had lost.
My boy
“…Wally?”
His throat bobbed, but he nodded. “Yeah. I’m here.”
Tears burned at the edges of my vision. “But—” I looked around wildly, my head spinning. “But I—I was at practice. The flyer—she fell, and then—”
I stopped.
My stomach dropped.
Wally didn’t say anything.
Neither did the other two people.
The others exchanged a look, but Wally was the one who spoke. “Baby, breathe.”
My breath caught in my throat.
It took me a second to remember—cheer practice, the last pyramid, the flyer losing balance—
And then the fall.
I swallowed hard. “But I—I was just there. I should be—” I looked at Wally again, my voice almost pleading. “I should be fine.”
His throat bobbed. “I know.”
The weight of it settled in my chest.
I wasn’t.
I was here.
Just like him.
Just like them.
A sharp breath left my lungs, and I shook my head again, running my hands over my arms like that would somehow make this real. “This doesn’t make sense. This can’t be happening.”
Wally took a step forward, slow, careful. “I know it’s a lot.”
“A lot?” A broken laugh left my lips. “I—” I swallowed, pressing a hand to my forehead. “I don’t know what to do.”
Wally hesitated for half a second before reaching out, his fingers brushing mine. When I didn’t pull away, he took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”
I let out a slow, unsteady breath, staring down at where his hand covered mine. His touch was warm, familiar, grounding.
It didn’t fix anything.
But it helped.
“I was just starting to feel… normal again,” I admitted quietly. “Or at least something close to it.” I swallowed hard. “And now—” His thumb gently rubbed away a tear from my cheek.
“You don’t have to go through this alone.”
I looked up at him.
His gaze was steady, reassuring. Real.
For months, I had spent every day aching for just a second more with him, just a moment where he was still here, where he hadn’t been ripped away from me.
And now, somehow, impossibly—he was.
Not in the way I wanted.
Not in the way I would’ve chosen.
But still.
I squeezed his hand, exhaling shakily. “…Okay.”
A small, knowing smile crossed his lips. “Okay.”
For the first time since I woke up, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I wouldn’t have to figure this out alone.
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Middle of the Night | Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader | Ch. 1: My House of Stone

Summary: The year is 2025. When you move into Bridgerton House as its new curator, you don’t expect to fall in love with Benedict—a charming, enigmatic artist who seems to belong to another time. But as your connection deepens, the house begins to whisper its secrets, and you uncover a devastating truth: Benedict died over two centuries ago. Bound to the estate by betrayal and an unfinished life, he is forever thirty, a love you can touch but never truly hold. And when the past finally catches up with him, you must face an impossible choice. Pairing(s): Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Rating: M Warnings: modern!AU, paranormal!AU, ghosts, hauntings, major character death, paranormal romance, angst, whump, descriptions of violence, death/dying, grief, trauma Crosspost: AO3, do not repost my fics anywhere! A/N: Here is Chapter 1 of a fic I cannot stop thinking about. I haven't felt this passionate about writing a multi-chapter fic in years. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to my beta @monaskydancer <3 SERIES MASTERLIST
“This is Bridgerton House.”
The taxi driver's loud voice snapped you out of your half-asleep daze in the backseat. You jolted upright, your mind still groggy and fuzzy, and ran a hand through your messy hair, attempting to tame it back into place.
"Thanks," you mumbled, rifling through your purse for a tip. You handed it over through the center console and quickly pushed open the door.
When you stepped outside, your gaze immediately fixated on the imposing and elegant structure towering before you. The red brick walls were lovingly adorned with wisteria vines, exactly as they appeared in the photographs. It was clear that the Bridgerton Foundation had poured their heart into nurturing those vines, letting them thrive and blossom year after year. Nearby, a plaque adorned with a delicate bee and an ornate, swirling 'B' was affixed to a metal stand beside the green door, its weathered paint peeling and chipping away.
As you lifted your eyes to the towering structure, a flicker at the edge of your sight snagged your attention. It seemed as though a pair of eyes were fixed upon you from one of the distant windows. But, as you inhaled sharply and tried to focus, they disappeared.
‘Seriously? Calm down, y/n. It was a trick of the light, or maybe a curtain that caught a breeze. Think rationally - you cannot walk into this house paranoid,’ Your inner monologue rambled on.
The cab driver placed your bags beside you, drawing you back to reality, and carefully lowered the cat carrier next to them. The bulk of your belongings had already been shipped from your old apartment —a modest collection, since your new place came furnished. The idea of settling in seemed doable; as long as you had your smartphone, your espresso machine, and Mr. Darcy, you figured everything would be just fine.
Just then Claire Watts, the CEO of the Bridgerton Foundation stepped out of the front door. As a proud descendant of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, her gait seemed to echo the legacy of her esteemed lineage. She wore a tailored camel coat that highlighted her slim figure, with a fitted turtleneck underneath and a chic black pencil skirt. A sparkling, jewel-encrusted bee-shaped brooch added a touch of flair to her outfit. Every detail of her look was perfect, with nothing out of place.
You suddenly cringed at your clothing choices, wishing you could magically switch out of your sweatshirt, leggings, and Crocs like Cinderella prepping for the ball. Luckily, you had remembered to refresh your deodorant after touching down at Heathrow.
She sauntered down the sidewalk towards you. "Y/n! Welcome! It's so great to meet you face-to-face finally," she said, reaching out for a handshake.
You grinned, "It's good to meet you, too. I'm super excited to check out the house in person, and to be here, of course.”
Claire smiled softly, her eyes drifting to the pile of your luggage at her feet. "There's no elevator in Bridgerton House, I'm afraid," she said, a hint of apology in her voice.
"Oh no, that's okay!" You chuckled, adjusting the strap of your shoulder bag. You reached down and picked up Mr. Darcy's carrier and hoisted one of your suitcases. "I'll just have to make a few trips, I guess."
Claire shook her head, her expression turning determined. "Oh, no, that's okay. I'll help you."
"And here are your quarters," Claire announced, her hand firmly pressing against the door, which creaked in complaint as it swung open. The wooden door unveiled a medium-sized room, bathed in the glow of the afternoon sun filtering through large windows. A queen-sized bed stood proudly in the center, its quilt neatly folded at the foot. Against one wall there was a polished dark oak desk paired with a matching dresser.
"You'll have full access to the bathroom down the hall," Clare continued, motioning towards the hallway. "It's fitted with a claw-foot tub, but be warned—the plumbing has a mind of its own and is overdue for another update." She hesitated before adding, "And you have a kitchen available, though it's situated on the opposite side of this wing."
"That’s all perfect. Thank you again for the tour.”
As you spoke, your nose suddenly tingled with an unexpected scent. It wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but it was reminiscent of aged leather, smoky and musty, like the inside of an old library. Confusion washed over you as the aroma shifted, morphing into the rich, earthy scent of tobacco, then transforming once more into the sharp, pungent tang of turpentine. You coughed lightly, your eyes watering as they tried to adjust to the sudden assault. It dawned on you that the paint on the walls might be quite aged, which could explain the turpentine.
"Oh, the smells," Claire offered you a knowing smile. "People complain of these smells that come and go. They’re harmless; the team and I think it is because of the ventilation system we’ve been trying to get set up," she explained.
You nodded, attempting to buy her words. "Right, right," you chuckled, stepping into your room.
‘Weird smells and messed-up electricity. It’s giving ‘Amityville Horror’, you thought as you chewed your bottom lip nervously.
"Well, it’s getting quite late," Claire mentioned, glancing at her Apple Watch. She sighed as a text message illuminated the small screen. "And I’ve got to take my daughter to her ballet class, and I have pilates during that, so…" Her voice trailed off.
"Of course, of course, go right ahead," you encouraged. "I’ll try to get the WiFi set up."
Claire nodded a hint of relief in her eyes. "Good luck. The electricity can be a bit unpredictable in here. Every time we try to set up the Internet, it goes haywire. We can’t figure it out. Maybe you can help us with that?" Her words lingered in the air as she typed out a message on her phone before dropping it into her large designer bag.
"Yeah! Totally," you replied with a bright smile, watching as Claire waved and turned to walk down the hallway. Her heels clicked against the floor, creating an echo that lingered even after she disappeared from view. Mr. Darcy meowed softly at your feet, weaving himself in graceful figure-eights around your legs. "Okay. Okay, I know, you need to eat," you said with a sigh.
Later that night, you laid curled up in bed with your dog-eared copy of Little Women nestled in your hands. The cover was faded and the spine was cracked, evidence of how many times you had read it. You had propped up your pillows just right, forming a cozy nest, and were snuggled under a pile of mismatched blankets. You never tired of following the March sisters' lives. You could probably recite entire passages from memory by now. With all the change swirling around you, having something so familiar and comforting felt needed.
Mr. Darcy was on your lap, his rhythmic purring vibrating through the fabric of your pajamas. Suddenly, a loud crash shattered the tranquility, as if someone had dropped a stack of plates in the kitchen. You jolted, sending your cat scrambling off your legs with a yowl. His fur bristled, but you had no energy to acknowledge him as your heart raced.
"Hello?" you called out. You got to your feet, hesitantly inching toward the door. You debated whether or not to grab your bedside lamp as a weapon. You chose your phone instead, flicking on the flashlight feature as you headed into the hallway.
Mr. Darcy darted under the bed. It was unlike him to be easily spooked, but you figured he was still adjusting to the new environment. You walked slowly down the hall, bypassing multiple sets of doors. In some ways, the house felt like a labyrinth.
You heard the floors creaking around you, the noise echoing ominously from the last room on the right. "Screw this," you muttered under your breath, shuffling forward hesitantly toward the door. Gathering some courage, you pushed it open, your hand frantically flipping on the light switch next to the wall, ready to confront an intruder. Instead, the room was empty, except for a window slightly ajar, letting in the soft night breeze.
"Of course, it was just the wind," you said out loud, relief evident in your voice as you switched off your phone flashlight.
As your eyes got used to the room's lighting, a feeling of awe hit you. The walls were adorned with incredible portraits. Faces from history gazed back at you, their tales woven through time, stretching over generations. You moved in for a closer look, feeling the coolness of the hardwood under your bare feet. You glanced up, absorbing the intricate details of each portrait. First, you focused on the portrait of a young brunette couple. You observed they were surrounded by seven children, not eight.
As the memory of the Bridgerton family history unfurled in your mind, you quickly connected the dots: the distinguished gentleman with the poised demeanor must be Viscount Edmund Bridgerton, and by his side, the graceful presence of Viscountess Violet Bridgerton. Edmund had passed away before their youngest, Hyacinth, was born, indicating this portrait was likely painted about two years prior. The cherubic infant in the painting was unmistakably Gregory, the family's second youngest.
Strolling through the gallery, your eyes danced over the various portraits lining the walls until one captured your attention. It depicted a young man exuding an air of refinement, his posture upright and his expression serene yet commanding. He was dressed impeccably in a high-collared white shirt, adorned with a finely tied baby blue cravat, and a tailored navy blue waistcoat. The painting was so expertly rendered that it seemed to breathe with life.
You leaned in closer to the painting, your gaze tracing the intricate interplay of light and shadow across his face. The artist had masterfully captured the sharp angles of his jawline and cheekbones, which stood in striking contrast to the gentle curve of his lips and the soft arch of his brows. His eyes, painted in a deep, almost mesmerizing shade of blue, seemed to lock onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The fullness of his lips was accentuated by a subtle hint of rosy pigment, suggesting a warmth that softened his otherwise cool demeanor. You couldn't help but let your eyes rest on those lips, lingering a moment longer than you had intended. Your gaze then drifted upwards, taking in his hair, deep brown strands that tumbled in a thick, slightly wild mane, as though his fingers had just tousled it.
As your fingertips brushed against the intricate patterns of the ornate frame, a tingle traveled down your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. You shivered slightly, reminding yourself that Bridgerton House’s heating and cooling system was still a work in progress, and attributed the sudden cold to the draftiness of the old mansion.
Leaning closer, you squinted at the small brass plaque affixed below the portrait.
"Benedict Charles Bridgerton, Born 1786, Died 1816," you read aloud. "You were only thirty," you murmured with a furrowed brow, half-expecting the painted eyes to blink in response.
The scent returned, a heady mix of tobacco, turpentine, and aged leather lingering in the air. You sniffed again, turning on your heel to pinpoint its source, your footsteps echoing in the silence. Just then, a faint creak resonated from the distant shadows of the hall. The sound sent your heart racing, and you stifled a scream when, without warning, the lights flickered out, plunging you into the suffocating blackness of the portrait hall.
series taglist: @monaskydancer @dorianellle @benophiepie @folkwh0relover13 @whatcjdidnext (message me to be added to the tag list!)
#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton fanfic#benedict bridgerton angst#benedict bridgerton image#bridgerton fanfiction#the bridgertons#bridgerton netflix#benedict bridgerton x y/n#paranormal romance#dark romance
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A brief essay of Sydcarmy breaking the old curses in Carmy’s life
There is something so beautiful about Carmy falling for someone that is such a honest person (sometimes even to her own detriment) as Syd is.
Carmy grow up being gaslighted by his abusive mother and his emotionally absent brother (that despite everything is probably the closest thing Carmy actually had to a parent). Even really important things like why his father left of what is the source of income of the family are trapped on in mistery. The stories Michael repeated to serve (what he thought) was his function as the glue of the family (that were all some bullshit), failing to be up front about his addiction and asking for help. The toxicity, the pain, the problems. Nothing is ever addressed or called for what it really is. Avoidance was the way to cope. Lying to themselves was the way to cope.
You can see this still affects Carmy, how he jumps every time someone seems to give him passive aggressive hints (and it’s something that is happening, even Nat does it regularly). He seems to be very vigilant as a kid of what he could do to upset people (also because people around him were not honest about the actual issues, so he thought every time mommy was angry it had to be something about him) and that’s probably why he was so shy.
And then there is Syd, she was just so earnest and transparent even if the beef was not the ambience that supports or celebrates people like that. They still reject Pete, which is kinda the extreme of this concept. I think they even hightailed it by making Pete a lawyer (yk the representation of black and white the law should be).
This family tends to swipe things under the rug until there is an explosion.
(This is not me blaming them for Michael’s death, but his depression and addiction were festered in that house, in those dynamics)
That scene in fishes when he tried to convey to Michael that he felt ignored and abandoned by him and Michael just dismissed it? Carmy really doesn’t seem to be able to distinguish honesty from fakeness, maybe because he desperately wants it to be true.
This is also the reason why I think he hadn’t picked up on some of Claire’s toxic tactics where they were getting to know each other “you own me” “say that again” “I will let the Faks to beat you up”. I think Claire is putting a nice girl facade and he is eating it up (so is everyone else).
His anxiety on the other hand may be his instincts ticking up. If she is so much peace, why his anxiety seems to be around (and even created) in their most intimate moments (he remembering their love making scene, and when they were talking about traumatic experiences and Claire admitted to malpractice)?
This man really doesn’t have much self assurance or boundaries. I imagine he developed the anger outbursts despite himself as a way to defend himself (and mirroring the behaviors around him)
And then there is Syd, she says out loud what she wants or needs even if the environment around her may challenge her. She has not lied to Carmy or assumed anything of him even when at this point she had every reason to do so. She could have given up on him since s2, stop communicating all together and being passive aggressive as the rest of the crew in s3,
Idk, I even wonder if the reason he doesn’t admit he has feelings for her is because what he is feeling cannot be love, because, for him, love is supposed to be half good half bad, that you have to give parts of your dignity to be loved, that your loved ones may manipulate you or lie to you “because they love you so much”
But of course, Syd is not like that.
The scene of them in the back of the restaurant is so special for me because of this. They talked. They were honest. They made compromises and amendments. I don’t think he had much of this growing up
“I love you” was love but a knife at the same time, because it was used to paint over wounds that were still fresh, without ever addressing the issue that were causing it.
And I know in s3 Syd is at fault too, she really cannot stand in front of Carmy and put a stop on the madness yet and I wonder what may give her the courage to do so. While carmy was frozen, it felt like Syd was paddling desperately in dark waters and managing to sink deeper the more she fight it.
This was kinda the most intriguing element of Syd’s character for me recently, how she is super aware of what she wants and how she feels but seems equally incapable of going against whatever flow she is trapped in. She could have seen Sheridan Road was not stable. But she ran into it full speed until it burned. She could have left the beef at one sight of the toxicity. She had reasons to leave every season.
In that sense she also mirrors Carmy. The difference between these two is that carmy keeps doing the same thing hoping for a different result because he thinks the toxic way is the only way (of being a chef, to be the best). He sees toxic as good/professional/justifiable, even only subconsciously. While Syd is capable of seeing the toxicity for what it is. She knows what to do to fix it. Is lot like she id afraid to implement change it, that’s why she got here in the first place.
Idk what it is that terrifies her so much. Maybe she is subconsciously is afraid of her own truths? Maybe she is afraid of the person she will be in the other side of this equation. Is there something that happened in the past (maybe her mother’s death) that left her feeling like a broken doll, an incomplete equation, afraid of her own voice? Maybe she (subconsciously) doesn’t want to go full intent into the right direction just so she doesn’t have to find out if she really has what it takes to do this?
Whatever it is, if she is the one that can see the toxicity and react to it, (because everyone else is still trapped in it) then I believe Syd completing her arc could be the catalyst for all the other elements of the story to fall in order, for better or worse.
#my ramblings#I love how this show breaks my brain#sydcarmy#the bear#sydney adamu#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#the bear meta#carmy x sydney#carmy the bear#sydney x carmy
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My fav yuri couples / ships <3
(In no particular order)
No one asked for it but I'm bored and wanna do it, you guys can give me ideas for lists to talk about like that in the future too.
Gonna make more parts too <3
Rae and Claire (I'm in Love with the Villainess) (Canon)

My thoughts: Okay so I absolutely adore everything about this series like manga and anime and light novels are all so good <3 It even defeated my ultimate yuri series which is Bloom Into You and that's something. So of course Rae and Claire with their amazing and such an interesting relationship had to make a list here. I don't know why but something about them just fills me with warmth. The way Claire goes from absolutely not being able to stand Rae to falling in love completely is just so 🤌 Dare I say my fav yuri relationship 💖
Sorawo and Toriko (Urasekai Picnic) (Canon)

My thoughts: With my last posts no one should be surprised at the next pair because COME ON GUYS, they're the lesbians we need but never deserved fr... I love everything about them, girlfriends who are accomplices and explore a world with monsters and other fucked up shit while being absolutely gay and protective of each other. I adore them <3
Yuu and Touko (Bloom Into You) (Canon)

My thoughts: My first ever fav yuri (Can't believe Rae and Claire beat them though-) for a reason. Everything about this was perfect for me, characters, plot and just the writing in general. Yuu and Touko's relationship with each other kept me entertained for the whole anime and then manga. I don't know what to say except that I love them <3
Adachi and Shimamura (Adachi to Shimamura) (Canon)
My thoughts: THEM. I just think they're so cute and that's all. And I know a lot of people are gonna come and say "Omg Vex Shimamura doesn't care about Adachi like that, she's such an annoying person-" Shut up because I do not tolerate Shimamura slander on this blog. Girl went through a lot but she cares about and loves Adachi. "The end of her life was the end of mine" bitch stop I'm sobbing, if that ain't love then I don't know what is.
Mitsuki and Aya (The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy at All) (Canon)

My thoughts: Obviously I HAD TO add my green lesbians here. Mitsuki and Aya are the syrup to my pancakes and I'm so serious. Don't you guys just love it when two girls bond over shared interests and fall in love? Yeah me too 🙂↕️ If you need some serotonin then just read it, trust me guys.
Himari and Yori (Whisper Me a Love Song) (Canon)

My thoughts: Himari and Yori are so 💖 I've been reading this manga since it first came out in 2019 and my feelings towards them never change. In every chapter they're just so cute and their relationship is just adorable and I just love them <3
Aki and Shiho (Whisper Me a Love Song) (Canon)

My thoughts: Since we're on topic of Whisper Me a Love Song, since the first time we got introduced to their relation I WAS HOOKED. Everything about them was just so interesting and their storyline only highlighted their love later on. Plus I think both Shiho and Aki deserve to be happy after everything so I'm happy they're girlfriends.
Kumiko x Reina (Hibike! Euphonium) (Not Canon)

My thoughts: It physically hurt me to put not canon there because why? 😔 Honestly when I first started watching this show I thought they're so into each other until my brother spoiled me that they're indeed NOT into each other like that. Still in my heart they're girlfriends no matter what. No one will ever tell me there was absolutely nothing between them. I'm obsessed with them.
Chika x You (Love Live Sunshine) (Not Canon)

My thoughts: All of you Love Live stans may criticize me for talking about them first since "There's so much more better Love Live ships-" No. Nuh uh. Chika and You are my absolute fav ship in all of Love Live for some reason that I can't explain. They're just so cute and I may be a sucker for childhood friends trope in anime 🫠 The whole jealousy moment in the anime was feeding me too much and now it's showing fruits of it (Me being absolutely OBSESSED)
Ayumu x Yuu (Love Live Nijigasaki) (Not Canon)

My thoughts: Since we're on the topic of the childhood friends trope, obviously Ayumu and Yuu couldn't be missing from any part of this list. They're just so good together that it's shocking. Ayumu going yandere whenever a girl is close to Yuu and Yuu being absolute women charmer being surrounded by girls in the club is giving me life. They're just absolute adorable together and with them I'm absolutely sure they ended up together somewhere in the future.
#vex talks#rae x claire#i'm in love with the villainess#sorawo x toriko#urasekai picnic#yuu x touko#bloom into you#adachi x shimamura#adachi to shimamura#mitsuki x aya#a guy she was interested in wasn't a guy at all#himari x yori#aki x shiho#whisper me a love song#kumiko x reina#hibike euphonium#chika x you#ayumu x yuu#love live
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