#but I did learn it! it took a lot more active learning time though before I could make like...usable stuff

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! Thank you so much for recommending scratch for the kidlet I used to babysit who wants to learn to code. He's started playing with it and he loves it! Do you have any recommendations for any supplemental materials I could give him? Like books or guides or something?

[madschiavelique]

Hi dear, how are you?, could you write an imagine onde reader mentioning offhand how much she would love a whole family. Four, maybe six children? Girls and boys split right down the middle, but the second Miguel hears this (maybe the reader is on the phone, or talking to lyla. or someone at HQ) and Miguel loses his mind

1) Miguel can't help himself and he would grab you and put you on the mattress for a very long time...... or

2) torture himself for two weeks before telling her why he was avoiding her please.

HIHIHI BREEDING BARK BARK (sorry this took so long to write anon zehfrfgh i pulled an all nighter to make this one so also forgive me if there are some mistakes in this gksffgjgbf)

summary : miguel learns you want kids, a lot of kids, so he breeds you

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex - unprotected (be safe kids), breeding kink, soft!dom miguel, obsessive!miguel, no use of Y/N, fem!reader word count : 3,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash @haradasaya

Miguel was on his way to see you. He'd heard that you were back from your mission and that everything had gone well, so he'd come to get you to take you out for lunch.

He was taking advantage of the little free time he had to visit you, even though he would obviously pass this visit off as work-related in everyone's eyes. He had to always, always remain professional and keep everything under control so that everybody could do their bit.

"Six?!" asked Jess, the word choking in her throat.

Well, you were indeed back with Jess.

"Mhm, six," you affirmed as you both busied yourselves filing a report.

What were they talking about? He leaned against a wall. He knew it wasn't very polite to eavesdrop, but the word got around here. Most of society's building had cameras, and everything that was often said or done was recorded here.

He just wanted to listen to you, wondering if there were any topics of conversation that you weren't having with him and with the other spiders. Yes, he was manic, and probably a little too obsessive.

In any case, he wondered what you could have said to Jessica to make her exclaim like that.

"The more the merrier," you laughed softly.

"I hate this sentence so much," sighed Jess.

"Why so?" your voice was sincerely interrogative.

"In this context, it's really not my preferred idiom one might say," she replied as Miguel heard her tapping on a pad to enter more information.

What on earth could they be talking about? he wondered. What subject could suggest that six was far too high a number for Jess's judgement? He knew that Jess was an oragnised woman like himself, with a lot of tact and a fair amount of authority.

Was it perhaps a consecutive number of days doing an activity? Six days of marathon running might have been a bit much, but six days' holiday was never too much. He breathed in very softly, it had been years since he'd had time for such a thing. Did you want to take him on a holiday? If so, the number of days was inordinate. He would never be able to get away from his work for more than three days.

Maybe it was something else then. What was too much in Jess's mind with six?

Six empanadas perhaps? Miguel would obviously disagree. You can never have enough empanada for his taste. But Jess would probably disapprove.

Six... Six pets? It's true that having six pets might be a bit of an exaggeration, at least in Miguel's eyes of course.

Perhaps six books? No, that didn't make sense. Although Jess wasn't a huge reader, she did have a book in her hands from time to time.

So what was it? He was intrigued, that's for sure.

"You know, in my opinion, one kid is already way too much to handle," she sighed, "but six ? Nah, that's some good way of ending your life while still being alive."

But Miguel had barely heard the rest of the sentence, his mind having been caught by a single word: kid. He immediately froze, his heart skipping a beat.

Kid, like... children ? Like, actual human beings ? Small human beings ?

His eyes were wide, his mouth parted. No, he must not have heard correctly, although he dreamed that it was indeed that word that had been uttered.

"Why not? Surrounding ourselves with life is good," you said softly. "I'd love to see six little heads running around. I want three of each, three girls and three boys."

He wasn't mistaken: the discussion was really about the number of children you wanted. Six, he thought, six, six, the word echoing in his mind. He put both his hands on his hips, as if to hold on to something.

He pictured you, your rounded belly, stroking the hair of a child, your child, his child... both your children.

He swallowed, however, as another, immensely more tantalising vision took hold of his mind.

The vision of your cunt, glistening with your desire as from between its lips dripped little by little his own cum, his own seed leaking from you, your belly full of him...

It made his dick twitch for a hot second, and he couldn't remove that image, he didn't want to get rid of that image. The idea that your belly could be full of him, that he could breed you until he had no strength left was magnificent.

"What an egalitarian spirit," Jess noted wryly, "Well, it's all in order."

His thoughts were riveted on the image. He could almost hear in his own mind the sweet melody your moans would make as he came inside you again.

No, it was now impossible for him to think about anything else, he told himself that maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this. Except it's a well-known fact that if you tell someone not to think about something, they'll think about it.

He knew what breeding was, obviously, but what about you? Did you even have a clue what it was?

He tried to pull himself together, he had to either leave here or come towards you and pretend to come naturally. Would he be able to hold it together and act as if nothing had happened? Did he really have a choice in the matter after all? He breathed in, tightening his jaw as he decided to come towards you.

He walked purposefully, his usual grumpy face set surprisingly naturally as he advanced towards you.

"Ah, you're back," he sighed as if pleasantly surprised to see you both here, "how was the mission?"

"Excellent," Jess affirmed, "we've just finished the report, the anomaly has been taken care of as it should have been since we arrived."

He nodded, his serious face opening a control pad to check what she was saying and opening the file in question, pretending to read its contents. He had the impression that everywhere he looked the image came right back to him, on every tile, on every screen, everywhere in his mind.

"That's good work," he breathed.

"Damn right," nodded Jess. " Well, I'm off to join my own little demon, take care you two."

"See ya," you replied as she headed for the exit.

He wondered by what superhuman strength he managed to remain unwavering and stoic.

You moved closer to him, hugging his back and comforting yourself in the embrace.

"How was your day?" you asked, squeezing him in your arms.

Unwavering and stoic, Miguel, you have to remain unwavering and stoic.

You put your hands on his body, and with one touch his concentration was simply wiped out.

He turned to you, smiling a strange, uncertain smile as he stroked your hair, a little tense.

"You know how it is, just a lot of work," but his eyes were watching yours strangely, a flash of a vision where they were filled with desire looking back at him.

You studied him for a moment, noticing how distracted he seemed, his eyes looking at you in a strange way. You could feel a kind of desire there, a kind of longing, but you couldn't work out what it was.

"Is... everything alright?"

He shuddered, obviously his little show wasn't going to last much longer. He broke away from your embrace, he couldn't keep looking at you like that.

"Hey," you said softly, "you know you can tell me everything, right?"

Could I tell you this ? he wondered. He looked at you for a moment, another flash of you all moaning and covered in hickeys and marks on your body as you breathed his name. He looked away, closing his eyes in the hopes the flashes would stop.

"I'm afraid I cannot speak about this..."

But how he wanted to speak about this, to tell you how much he wanted to fuck you until you were full of him, until the only thing present in your mouth was his name and how much he wanted to see the sight of your round belly.

But you wouldn't listen to his silence. So you walked over to him and took his hand.

"Miguel, look at me. you asked, and he looked at you, his visions mingling with the reality where you were looking at him, worried. "Tell me."

He sighed. He couldn't run away from his ideas forever, run away from these images that he wanted to see in reality and not just in his mind. He wanted to raise his idea from the theoretical to the practical, and it was with an almost guilty breath that he admitted:

"I want to breed you."

There was a slight silence, his eyes plunged into yours, desperate to know what you were thinking. But above all he was met with confusion.

"What's breeding?" You had an idea of the term, usually used animalistically for the subject of... reproduction and maintenance of species. But just to be on the safe side with Miguel, you preferred to ask him anyway.

His lungs swelled like sails, did he really have to go through this?

"Why don't you ask Lyla what it is?" he suggested.

"Because I want to hear it from you, with your words" you assured him, your tone a mixture of strictness and curiosity.

He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek, slightly afraid of your reaction. You were practically hanging on his every word, waiting for him to explain.

"Breeding is... the act of a male and a female animal having sex, also known as mating, to reproduce..." he explained, pausing, "and procreate."

Your eyes widened slightly, and the possibility that he had overheard your previous conversation with Jess came to mind. All the same, you looked at him almost inscrutably, and he couldn't work out what you were thinking.

But now that the words had been said, he could no longer hide, no, he no longer had to hide. His thoughts were finally out, burning on his skin and lips.

He moved forward a little more, his gaze suddenly darkened by the desires he was no longer hiding.

"I want to fill you up with my cum and make sure you get pregnant."

Your lips were parted, your surprised eyes looking into his, black with desire and longing. A silence filled the air, both your hearts beating loudly in both your bodies. Miguel waited for an answer, unaware of the warm cloud that had settled in your lower belly.

He chuckled a little, an understanding smile gracing his lips as he said:

"See, your silence tells me enoug-"

"Breed me," you cut him off.

He stopped moving immediately, the statement immobilising him just like when he had understood what you and Jess were talking about.

Had his mind and his fantasies come together to play tricks on him? Or had you actually agreed with what he'd just said?

"What?" he said, his pronunciation almost slurred as he turned his attention to your next words.

"Breed me, Miguel" you repeated, determined as you swallowed in anticipation. "I want to carry you... in me."

The gleam in his eyes was almost predatory, but after all, wasn't that the very essence of breeding? The raw nature of it, the bestiality, the quenching of the oldest instinct that ever was.

You only had time to see his eyes turn red as he lunged for your lips, kissing you with his mouth wide open as your teeth almost clashed and he attacked your tongue.

The power with which he kissed you made you take a step backwards, but you weren't going anywhere, because Miguel immediately placed his hand in the small of your back to make sure he had you close to him.

He let out grunts between kisses, his hunger for your skin lengthening his canines as they brushed almost dangerously against your tongue.

Then he lifted you in one swift movement, placing you on his shoulder as he headed for the door leading to his quarters, his impatience growing faster than ever. You bit your lip, already swollen from his kisses, his hand gripping your thigh firmly as he led you to the bed.

He laid you down, following every movement of your body as he kissed you again. He stood back for a moment, watching your body.

"Do you have sentimental value for your suit?"

"What?" you asked, confused by the sudden question.

"Just answer," he asked through clenched teeth.

"I mean it's old but I can live withou-"

You hadn't even finished your sentence when he ripped off your suit with an ease that sent shivers down your spine, ripping the fabric covering your cunt, tearing your panties and throwing all the rags into the rest of the room.

"No questions about the sentimental value of my underwear?" you laugh lightly.

"I'll get you some new ones," he breathed, a carnivorous sneer inhabiting his lips, "I'll take great care in chosing them."

You swallowed as he kissed your neck, nestling in and marking your skin with thirst. He straightened to kiss your lips, and whispered against them:

"Turn over, get down on your elbows and knees".

You complied, his instructions increasing the size of the cloud of heat in your belly. You placed your folded arms flat on the sheets, your knees slightly apart.

"Lift your hips for me, nena," he commanded in a tone as soft as cotton.

You listened, arching your back as you lifted your hips, your ass gloriously up just for him to fuck. He swallowed, his hand coming to grip one of your buttocks and pulling it apart, pressing it between his fingers and gripping your skin full hand.

"Already so good and wet for me," he mused, one of his fingers passing between your folds.

Of course you were already wet, the way he had introduced the concept to you making you all fuzzy and warm in your belly. You'd never been against the idea of Miguel being a bit more violent, and to be honest you were excited by the idea of him being so from now on.

Once he'd coated himself sufficiently, he pushed one finger into you, soft moans falling from your lips filling the room. He added another one, and your lust was growing by the second. You were getting impatient too, but you couldn't help noticing that Miguel simply couldn't wait any longer.

Miguel was always very keen about taking his time, preparing you well apart from the few moments when one of you needed a quicky, but here eagerness was getting the better of him, and above all his most instinctive desires buried deep inside him had taken the reigns of all his actions.

The thought of him being in you through your core made him feel so drunk on you. These ideas had already been marinating in his mind for a while, it had only taken this conversation between you and Jess to flip the switch. And he observed in adoration, seeing you like this, underneath him with your much smaller frame, sitting up and ready to take him.

"Hands behind your back."

His orders became more and more urgent, his tone wavering with envy. It was impossible for him to formulate a whole sentence.

So you laid your face on the sheets, cheek pressed to your side as you brought your hands behind your back, joining your wrists together like you were imagining yourself handcuffed. You shivered as his hand, whose fingers had previously been inside you, reached out from between your folds and took both your wrists at the same time, locking them in this embrace. His hand was obviously big enough to hold both your wrists together and prevent you from breaking free from his grip.

He had locked you completely.

He had blocked out any possibility of you making a move other than squirming around him. Miguel would never tire of this control, this hold he had over you right now. You were his, nobody else's, and he would let eveybody know this by fucking his seed into you and get as many babies as you wanted.

That's when you felt the head of his dick coating itself with your juices, preparing to burry himself into you. You couldn't see Miguel like this, but you could hear him. Dark growls vibrated in his throat, deeper than you'd ever heard them before, and it felt intimidating.

He thrust, pushing his tip into you, and you let out a groan of relief that sank into the fabric of the sheets. You breathed softly, letting Miguel's thick, long cock sink into you. No matter how many times you had done it, taken him like that, you still couldn't get used to it.

His lower belly finally touched the skin of your ass, his dick deep inside you. And you felt him pressing against your stomach. You knew that if you brought one of your hands to your stomach, you'd feel the shape of his cock against your skin.

He was so deep in you, an almost bestial growl escaped him as he slowly began to pull back before thrusting in hard.

You let out a little cry of surprise and pleasure that echoed around the room, and he repeated the same gesture. He kept bearing down on you until he touched your slick on his lower belly and pulling away, pushing back in the next second until it'd touch his balls.

Your body was burning, unable to do anything but arch your back more and groan. Your hands were gripping the void, and the impossibility of finding a foothold in all this was making you feel out of control. But you were enjoying the sensations he was giving you, and so was he.

He listened to the symphony of your voice as he picked up the pace, the feeling of your gummy walls wrapping all tight and warm around him was absolute perfection to him.

He knew it wouldn't be long before his first cum would hit, but he needn't have worried. Miguel could go on for a long, long time, and he just hoped that you could keep up, although he had no doubt that his best girl would live up to his expectations.

He could no longer string a sentence together properly, the words he was trying to whisper as he sank deep inside you coming out as if chewed up by his long fangs.

He grunted, his rhythm and the tilt of your two bodies giving you both exceptional sensations. The knot in your stomach tightened, threatening to burst as Miguel came closer.

And the world stopped spinning for a second.

You came together, your walls closing spasmodically around him as you felt him spill into you. Because that's what you wanted, right ? That's the one thing you desired, and he was going to give it to you entirely.

He pulled out, just for the pleasure of seeing the work he had so long dreamed of seeing. And the satisfaction was superb, his white creamy cum slowly pouring out of your wet cunt, still pulsing with desire.

A dark laugh rose from his throat as he sank back into you and you let out a startled moan. He lowered himself, his lips pressing against your ear.

"I hope you thought of six names."

It would be a long, long night.

[mellosdrawings]

What's that? I finally took the time to make an actual character sheet for my Yuusona?

Yuu

17 years old, 1st year

They/them, probably on the aro/ace spectrum though they never really thought about it (they do get weird when people show interest in them)

Half Japanese half french

Probably has some flavor of AuDHD

Back home: Before they were kidnapped forcefully moved to Twisted Wonderland, they were the main caretaker of four younger siblings while their parents were busy working. One of their main worry now is whether their siblings are doing alright without them. Their deepest wish is to at least be able to phone call their family to reassure them that they are ok.

Personality: They usually prefer to stand to the side and observe rather than talk and engage with others. They tend to be very prudent with their actions, up until their patience runs out. They're actually pretty perceptive and great at reading others, they just keep everything to themself without realizing.

They make up their absence of magic with their fists and wits. People tend to underestimate them due to their size and quiet demeanor, but they can be vicious and ruthless when push comes to shove. They are not very expressive physically.

At school: Yuu has a terrible focus so they struggle a lot, even when the subject interests them. They are very fond of History of Magic but also hates it because learning a whole world's history in a few months only is a nightmare and a half. They also hate flying with a passion since they are scared of heights. If they could choose a club, Yuu would go for photography and/or filming.

At Ramshackle: Yuu cleans the dorm as a past time, it keeps their body moving while they're thinking about what problem they currently have. They hate cooking though, so when the cafeteria isn't accessible they try to cram themselves in whichever dorm will have them to enjoy someone else's cooking. They aren't very time savvy so they and Grim keep leaving late in the mornings.

Relationships (with Housewardens/OB)

Yuu has a soft spot for Riddle. Unless it's some rule they find completely nonsensical they tend to do whatever Riddle asks. Whenever Yuu comes to class with a clean uniform, it's because Riddle was around to correct their appearance.

Yuu and Leona's relationship is peak siblinghood. Once Yuu figures out that Leona won't act on (half of) his threats, it's over for him. He's one of the first Yuu comes to when they have a problem.

Yuu and Azul regularly try to outsmart each other. At first their interest with Azul is very transactional since he can help with everything Crowley can't be bothered to do (ie give Yuu an actual legal presence in this world) but since they have somewhat similar mindsets they end up getting along very well.

Yuu values Kalim's presence a lot. He's one of the rare pure hearted people at school so Yuu doesn't have to be hyper vigilant around him. It's a breath of fresh air. He is a bit too active for Yuu though, so they tire very fast around him.

"It takes one liar to know another" would be Jamil and Yuu's relationship starter. They had weird vibes from each other from the very start but Jamil did end up underestimating Yuu. Yuu is obsessed with Jamil's hair and regularly takes pictures of him.

Yuu is kinda scared of Vil (in a good way). If they were a tad more outgoing they'd be asking Vil to pose for their camera 24/7. Instead they quietly worship him.

If Yuu could, they'd adopt Idia (and Ortho). Yuu tends to miss their siblings all the time so they get a bit emotional around them both.

Yuu loves to observe Malleus. He's some kind of very strange entity that they can't get enough of and they don't understand half of what he talks about which tickles their curiosity a lot.

Yuu treats Grim like their own cat and plushie. They hold him in their arm as much as possible (until Grim gets tired of it and wanders off somewhere else) because it reassures them. They do fight a lot, a bit like siblings, but they also look out for the other all the time. Yuu sometimes agree to cook for Grim despite hating it.

Relationships (the less fun kind):

Since they're in a world they don't know with students who try to kill them every couple months, Yuu is very defensive in how they approach relationships. Everything starts as transactional and about how "useful" someone can be to keep around. They try to keep even the people they don't really get along with close for this reason.

They are actually very emotional (despite not showing it) so their heart takes precedence over their brain eventually. Despite not being particularly proactive they do go out of their way to help the ones they're close to.

[natewriteslol]

Hiii! I read your works alot because it's one of the active twst writers I see (I'm a dead writer myself LMAO)

Savanaclaw, riddle and Azul with a reader who's cheery and often bouncing with optimism that always has the mind boggling stories to tell. What do you mean that they literally man handed a lion because it won't stop messing around? What do you mean they were in a pit full of scorpions because they accidentally rolled down a hill? What do you mean they literally escaped a real decapitation (hinting towards Riddle LMAO) because he put one spoon full of herbs instead of a teaspoon? Like— they could go on forever! And the thing is, they have evidence of it.

Thank youuu 🫶🫶🫶🫶

A/N: Thank u so much I've been trying to stay on top of writing but it can get so hard!! But I really do try to keep this fandom alive w some goodies, anyways I'll stop yapping heres

Savanaclaw, Azul, and Riddle with a cheery, adventurous Reader!

Leona:

He didn't exactly always question your storytelling before he got to get to know you as he would rather spend time sleeping. But it seemed like literally everyone was captivated by your latest entertaining experience.

As you guys' relationship grew, it got to the point where he couldn't ignore you dropping an insane piece of lore about yourself.

"Yeah, I was accidentally poisoned before-"

"What did you just say-"

"It's okay though, the gnome did apologize and I got my stomach pumped but everything is all good!"

He makes sure to keep an eye out on you, and honestly your stories are the main thing that keep him awake during the day especially because they're real. And although it may seem he's nonchalant when you message him about where you're at, Leona always makes sure to respond as he does care.

Jack:

As your first friend at NRC and protector kinda, he would get paranoid when you would sometimes disappear. However at first Jack believed you were an independent person, and wasn't up to any nefarious activity.

Until you came back with a gorgon head in a brown sack where he was studying in the autobiography section in the library talking about that you accidentally defeated it.

He screamed in terror upon seeing the thing, causing for him to be shushed completely by offended students. But he could not care less due to the sliced head within the sack, however he quickly took you both outside and you being you didn't exactly see the problem in this situation.

Once you where in an open area near NRC's well he began to question you.

"Why-? A-And how? Why are you like this, do you know how much danger you were in?!"

"To answer all your questions in order, 1. I got lost and she had a huge problem with me, 2. I got scared and ran with my eyes closed with the sword and BOOM, just clean off, and yes I know I was in a lot of danger and I'm very sorry for not responding to your calls."

He was way too scared for both you and himself to respond and learned his lesson to keep an eye on you more.

Ruggie:

Ruggie always told you that he was a "see it to believe it" type person and he was never really believing your wild tales you would tell even if you came back with a little souvenir. He always just assumed you were pulling his leg for a bit.

Until he texted you one day over Magicam, since it was a slow day at the Savannaclaw dorm. Only for you to reply with a video, making him click on it not knowing what he should expect.

Queue you to being in an extremely angry dragon's mouth,

"Hey Ruuggieee! I'll get back to you later since I'm in a pickle right now, but I promise I'll call you when I'm done!"

He nearly passed out upon the sight because what in all of the sevens' names doing inside of that deadly beast. The beast man ended up walking to Ignihyde to possibly get Idia to track your location based on your I.P address, only for his phone to ring just as he was about to blab about what happened.

It was you!

He quickly picked up his phone to hear your excited voice blaring on the phone, "I told you I would call you back! Anyways, come over to my house I have something to show you."

You ended up bringing home a dragon's tooth and treasure and while Ruggie was overjoyed, he reprimanded you for being irresponsible.

But he wouldn't mind it too much if you brought back goodies like this just make sure to let him know so he could tag along.

Azul:

You were running late to a meeting about mending a contract between students he scammed. Since you know him quite well and is a good friend of his, the students thought your kind hearted nature could persuade him out of binding them to the Monstro Lounge for an entire semester.

He written in a small font on the contract that if you were over 15 minutes late, you would be unable to host this meeting and the deal would be off completely. The white haired boy glanced at the clock as the time ticked and he would have his own free work force.

Until you had to come 30 seconds from it being called off completely out of breath.

"Sorry Azul! But I got you a little present from the desert," you said dropping down in your seat and digging through this brown sack.

The ancient golden scarab of the Hot Sands.

"Is that-"

"The golden scarab included with the jewel eyes? Yup and I did it all by myself!" You said, extremely proud of yourself.

"Do you understand the value of what you have in your hand? And what were you doing all the way out there by yourself I just talked to you a day ago and that is damn near a 5 day journey?"

"I did this since I did the calculations and about an 1/4 of the wages that the students owe you is in the value of this jewel bug here. So if I split the riches with you, will you let them go?"

You did all of this for some measly students you knew in passing? How could you jeopardize yourself like that?

But he at the same time, respected you greatly and for your trouble and kind heart.

However, he told you to not go anywhere without telling him.

And no of course it's not because he cares about you and was scared once you told him where you went...of course not...

Riddle:

Is the first person who noticed you were gone because he likes to keep tabs on his friends. He didn't know what to expect but the red head just believed you were busy.

So, Riddle decided to shoot you a text as everyone was hanging out in the Heartslabyul dorm and he really wanted to see you.

'Good afternoon, Y/N please feel free to stop by the Heartslabyul dorm. Your company is very appreciated :)'

You quickly texted back, 'Hey Riddle! I'm gonna swing by with a surprise ;D'

He smiled at his phone, unknowing as to what you were going to bring by. Thinking you might bring by muffins or a sweet treat as such.

Not the sword of Excalibur.

You opened the door, bursting in loudly with the enormous sword slung on your back as Grim carried two sacks of gold. Everyone was completely flabbergasted, as the sword had been known to be a mythological thing not yet proven like the fountain of youth.

But there it was on your back as you grinned.

Turned out you picked up your first job at an exploration company and they sent you on a death wish mission to get this damn sword. And in contrary to what everyone believed would be the outcome, you succeeded and retrieved the artifact.

Unfortunately for you, you ended up being scolded for about two hours straight for being completely irresponsible by Riddle with some chime ins from your friends.

He admired your intense tenacity and bravery, but Riddle was super worried about you whenever you take on a quest. He forced you to have a partner whenever you go on missions and call him every time you reached an important point to make sure you were alive and safe.

"So... you really do care about me-"

"By the great seven- YES ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU COULD'VE GOTTEN KILLED IN THAT DAMN ENCHANTED FOREST-"

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 2'627

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, Implied forced relationship, Implied captivity, Toxic relationship, Possessiveness, Invasion of personal space, Non-consensual touching.

Additional Notes: Do be kind, I have not written for this man before and find him exceedingly difficult.

Every week at the Hotel, there was something new Charlie had planned.

Trust exercises. Ice breakers. Activities meant to bring everybody closer together as a group. To try and get people to open up and show a side of vulnerability that - she believed - would help sinners take one step closer to salvation.

Most of them were awkward, and a lot of them never went as planned. A fact she realized and, after a near mental breakdown, had her promptly take advice from Vaggie and agree to try something different.

The task was very simple compared to the previous activities. She requested everybody to think about redemption and what it meant to them.

Thinking about the definition itself took little to no effort.

Redemption (noun): The action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil.

But it was clear that Charlie wanted more than just a quote from the dictionary. She wanted residents of the Hotel to mull over it while looking deep down into themselves so they could share their stance on the matter later on.

That was the tricky part.

From how you saw it, “saving yourself” from sin was easy enough to accomplish. ‘Just don’t be a dick and avoid the bad shit.’ was the first thought that came to mind, but where you hit a snag was based on what Charlie had shared about Heaven. According to her, even so much as breathing in Hell was enough to solidify your place in the inferno, yet she made it clear that actively resisting sin wasn’t something to go unrecognized.

It took a lot of effort, energy, and courage to do so, and it was hard to disagree even if Heaven didn’t see it that way.

Error was a bit harder. In your opinion, nobody could be saved from that, at least not entirely. Eventually, inevitably, you or someone else would do something wrong, it was just a matter of degree. It could be something as minor as bumping into somebody by accident or as major as Angel relapsing for what felt like the hundredth time, but it would happen and it was only a matter of time.

Charlie did bring up a rather good point, though. Apologizing when you realized you had done something wrong was the best thing someone could do, and it was the first step in the right direction.

You had to give her credit where it was due for that.

But evil was a different matter entirely.

Evil lurked everywhere in Hell. Across every street, around every corner, evil was out in the open for everyone to bear witness and see. None of it was hidden. None of it was meant to be hidden.

What would be the point? You and every other sinner were already in Hell - and many would argue that hiding it would be counterintuitive to being there in the first place.

Charlie tried to plead the case that everyone had good in them. A good that could be tweezed out if given the right chance, and the right environment, which the Hotel was perfect for.

You wish you could agree.

Evil was in the hotel itself, not that Charlie was fully willing to see it.

You believed she was careless there. Little Miss Bleeding Heart wanted to see the best in people, and by god did you ever want to know what it was like to see through such rose-tinted glasses, but you knew you never could. Not in this place.

Stepping a foot into the building was the worst thing you’d ever done because it showed you just how wrong you were about evil being so out in the open. It still had the ability to lurk, something you learned the moment you shook hands with Alastor.

You could see it on his face upon meeting him for the first time - the way Alastor’s perpetual grin widened upon seeing the goosebumps that lined your arms when he clasped your hand in his. No comment was ever made on the matter, but the way his lips peeled back to reveal the black of his gums before he pressed a brief kiss to your knuckles said enough.

Something utterly sinister reeked from him in a manner you couldn’t describe, so you took your own advice and applied the same thing you did when it came to sin.

Avoidance. As much as you could, at least.

Some moments were easier than others. The distinct metallic clack of Alastor’s microphone against the floor combined with a surge of radio static usually bought enough time for you to make whatever excuse you needed in order to leave before he arrived.

Other times you weren’t so lucky, and Charlie’s group meetings were usually to blame in that regard.

At first, you made a great deal of effort to put as much distance between yourself and the Radio Demon as you could, which worked for a time. Unfortunately, Alastor caught onto what you were doing much faster than you would’ve liked.

He reveled in it. You knew he did. After a while you had the gnawing suspicion he was purposefully going out of his way to make you as uncomfortable as possible for his own entertainment. You saw no other reason as to why he’d consistently move so close to you that you could literally feel him breathing down your neck.

Lately, he had adopted the skin-crawling habit of locking eyes with you the moment you stepped foot in the room and patting the seat beside him - reserved specifically for you. Accepting the gesture felt like swallowing nails, but being openly rude to Alastor was something that you knew better than to do.

Instead, you began to find excuses for skipping the meetings entirely and have Angel or Husker fill you in later, which was exactly what you were doing now.

“To be honest I wasn’t payin’ much attention,” Angel said while he scrolled through his phone, resting his chin in his upper left hand while his lower right swirled alcohol around in a glass. “Was the kind of thing that could’ve been sent in an email.”

You traced your finger around the rim of your own glass, its contents untouched. “Still, I want to know what I missed.”

“He’s right, it wasn’t anything special,” Husker replied, slinging a cloth over his shoulder from behind the bar. “Same old bullshit about salvation with a new coat of paint on top.”

A pang went through your chest, but you pushed it down. “So nothing new?”

Angel scoffed and looked up from his phone. “Trust me, dollface, you did yourself a favor.” He downed the rest of his drink in one go. “What were you doing anyways?”

“You know…” You replied with a shrug, glancing down. “I went out.”

Angel smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Out?”

“Yeah.” You tapped your nails against the edge of the glass. “Things were feeling a little claustrophobic, so I went out for some air.”

Husker made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I know how you feel, kid. This place is a mess.”

Angel tilted his head, placing his phone down on the bar and leaning forward a bit. “So where’d you go? Anywhere fun?”

“Where indeed~.”

All your movements went rigid. After a few seconds, you slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder to see Alastor standing barely a foot away from you, staring down at you with a tight, closed-lipped smile. You hadn’t heard him coming in the slightest, which you immediately could tell was intentional.

Whether he’d used his shadow or had actually stalked up behind you wasn’t something you wanted to think about, and if Angel or Husker picked up on the immediate tension, neither of them said anything about it.

“Hey, Smiles.” Angel greeted with his usual flirtation, placing the elbows of his upper arms on the bartop as he turned to face Alastor. “Fancy a drink? You look a little stiff” He gave Alastor a very long once over, “and I’ll have you know I know a few ways I can help relieve some… tension.” 

Alastor’s lips curled back to reveal his teeth, the muscle in his cheek spasming for a moment.

Mentally you were kissing Angel on the cheek for the save as you slowly picked your coat up off the bar and slipped it on, concealing the goosebumps already present on your skin. Husker gave you a glance from the side and gave a very slight shake of his head, silently advising you against your unspoken desire to leave.

“I assure you, such a thing is never going to happen.~”

“You sure?” Angel rested his lower right arm on his hip. “I have a few tricks that can loosen you up.”

The leather in Alastor’s gloves audibly squeaked as his grip tightened around the staff of his microphone and his attention immediately shifted back to you, ignoring Angel entirely.

“My dear,” His voice dripped with such a saccharine sweetness it made you feel sick, “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Fewer combinations of words could instill such a unique feeling of encroaching dread all at once, but you refused to let it show as you nodded and turned your body on the bar stool to face him fully; waiting for him to say the first word.

His eye twitched ever so slightly.

“Privately.”

That made you swallow.

“Sure.” You slid off the bar stool, doing your best not to appear as reluctant as you felt.

“Lovely.~” He said, promptly turning on his heel and walking towards the staircase - expecting you to follow.

You glanced back towards Husker and Angel, each giving you looks of grim sympathy and confusion respectively before you took a deep breath and forced one foot in front of the other, following Alastor up the steps.

You thought he would talk along the way. Engage in some form of idle chit-chat where he’d be pulling the strings, or even hum along to the countless jazz tunes that he played in the halls over the Hotel’s sound system.

But no such music played and he remained silent. A few minutes into the walk you gathered enough courage to glance up at him and found his eyes locked straight forward, not even sparing you so much as a glance.

You averted your gaze, the hem of your sleeves suddenly the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen.

Eventually, he came to a stop, and he held out the end of his microphone to prevent you from going any further down the hallway.

“Here we are!” Rather than producing a key from his coat, a green flash emanated from the lock when he placed his hand on the handle and opened the door.

He all but leered at you as he gave a small bow that didn’t feel genuine in the slightest.

“After you.~”

Like the alleged gentleman he was, Alastor held the door open for you, eyes never leaving your form as you walked inside his suite.

The smell of dampness and soil hit you immediately.

Alastor’s suite wasn’t the worst thing you’d seen in Hell by a mile, however, it was still eerie beyond words. The skeletons that hung along the walls and mantlepiece of his fireplace became less complete and increasingly disorganized as they led further into the room - which itself gave way to a swamp-like environment halfway through. Undoubtedly a result of whatever hoodoo, voodoo bullshit he was capable of, and while it still wasn’t the worst you’d seen, it served its purpose thoroughly.

It creeped the shit out of you.

“Now, then.” Alastor clicked the door shut, his body half-facing yours as his hand still lingered on the doorknob. “I'm sure you have a good explanation for what you’ve been doing.~”

The immediate dryness in your throat was hard to ignore. You knew what he was talking about, and you knew that he knew, but you still attempted to buy some time as you tried to figure out what to do.

You cleared your throat. “I was just catching up with Angel and Husk-”

He chuckled, the sound like that of a radio shifting stations. “Don’t be coy.” His head turned towards you with a sickening, ossified crackle that bent his neck in a manner that made your stomach lurch. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I’d like to know why.”

Fuck.

“I haven’t.” Lying to Alastor was a mistake, but you still decided to risk it since it wasn’t entirely false. “There’s just been a lot on my mind recently.”

“Hmm.” Interest and something much worse flickered behind his eyes as he faced you fully with another crack of his vertebrae. “Such as~?”

You shook your head, looking away from him. “That’s private.”

There was a quick flash of red, and the tip of his microphone turned your face back towards him - the cool metal of the edge digging into the skin of your cheek. You had to bite back a grimace.

“Not when it concerns me.” His tone was sharp, a stark contrast to the faux politeness he was putting on before. He kept the tip of his microphone where it was to prevent your eyes from looking anywhere but him. “And trust me darling, when it comes to you, everything concerns me.”

His words twisted in your gut. “...I’m not sure what you mean.”

Alastor tutted, his smile widening once more. “Don’t be stupid, darling, it’s unbecoming of you.” The way he said it was patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “You know precisely what I mean, so I’m going to ask again, as much as I hate repeating myself.~”

Cool metal was replaced with the warmth of his hand as he tilted your head up and brought his face frighteningly close to yours.

“Why are you keeping yourself from me?”

It was an odd sensation. Being backed into a corner, both metaphorically and physically. A frightening one that all but yanked on your instincts to do whatever it meant to get the fuck out of there, but you knew that was the worst thing you could do.

Alastor was a predator, a creature designed to prey on those he deemed weaker, and turning your back on a predator would almost certainly trigger a series of events that would not bode well for you.

So you did the next worst thing.

You told him the truth.

“Because I can see you.” The words felt wrong to say out loud. “I can see you for what you are, I can feel the absolute malevolence that radiates off you in waves, and it’s suffocating.”

Saying any more was a horrendous idea, but you couldn’t help but add one last thing.

“And if I want any chance at leaving this god-forsaken place, I can’t be around you.”

The silence that stretched on afterward was deafening.

Mentally, you were bracing yourself. Alastor had killed people for far less, and you expected nothing different for saying something so daring to his face.

You could see it too, the anger that simmered underneath his gaze. You expected the red of his sclera to flash black and his antlers to extend with his body in a grotesque display before you were ripped to pieces while he laughed.

What you didn’t expect was for his eyes to narrow into slits and his expression shift into one that was far more genuine than you wanted it to be, and it was then you knew that being saved from this kind of evil was never going to happen.

“Oh, my dear, you don’t need to worry about something silly like that.” Alastor all but cooed.

“After all, what makes you think I’d ever let you leave?~”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FOUR

04 : BEGINNINGS

CHPT. SUM. : beginning new things is always fun. getting to know your sons, them finally being able to experience having a loving mother, sirius going to school, and you planning for everything that was yet to come so that everyone gets to the happy ending they deserve. 

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; orion being a bad father ; original walburga being a nuisance ; reader being an amazing mother and an amazing cook ; regulus has food preferences ; brotherhood between sirius and regulus ; marauders spotted in the wild ; sirius and regulus being precious babies ; reader disrespecting walburga ; mentions of infertility ; mentions of divorce ; lots of future planning

← PREV. 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) | SERIES M.LIST

9th August 1971 

It, surprisingly, took very little to get past Orion on the topic of changing Sirius and Regulus’ private tutors. However, when you truly looked at his workaholic tendencies, your initial surprise should have been the more startling reaction — of course, he wouldn’t care, he’s too fixated on the happenings with his position on the Wizengamot to be aware of much else, discounting the protective wards he put up around the property. Nevertheless, it was good news for you and your boys. Finally, they would be getting more suitable tutors, who catered to their learning needs in a more digestible way. You had only recently sent out the notice, though, so you don’t expect many replies to be coming in soon. Your only wish was to have fallen into this universe sooner, that way you would have had more time with Sirius before he left to attend Hogwarts as a first year. 

Walburga didn’t have a formal occupation other than monitor her boys so having Sirius leave for his first year would mean less work for her and, subsequently, you. However, it’s not as if she needed the money; she’s the matriarch of an incredibly privileged family, meaning that her financial worries are close to non-existent. Both, the affluent family fortune and her lack of professional ambitions have you stumped, it’s something you’re not used to at all. Perhaps that’s why she’s so obsessed with control and the activity of her two sons; it’s not healthy and you don’t even want to attempt to understand what she was thinking—

“Of course you won’t!” Walburga snarls from the depths of your consciousness, her tone dripping with malice and a hint of something sinister. “I don’t expect someone who failed at becoming a mother to understand the right and true tribulations of bringing up children,” 

“…how did you know that?” you ask aloud, no longer satisfied with simply trying to call for the bitch - Walburga’s - attention in your head. She didn’t seem to want to reply, which only made your blood boil; her prolonged silence, the trigger to releasing your rapidly escalating rage.  How dare she?! How dare she strike you where it hurts the most, only to turn completely unresponsive when you demand answers, “Answer me!”  Thick tensions fill the room when she does not answer, the silence suffocating and poisonous. Taking a slow, deep breath, you engage control over your anxious heart and trembling hands once more. 

Work. You need work. Something to focus on so that you don’t dwell on memories that will only bring you heartache. It worked before so it’ll work for you now. It had worked so well, in fact, that you were able to build an empire out of it, perhaps you could replicate the same results this time. 

“Screw you then, ugly pig, I have more important matters to attend to anyway,” pulling out a drawer, you scatter your notes across the desk and move with fretful fever but, also, enthusiasm above them. No matter the change of environment, you can always trust in your habits to push you forward. Walburga mainly worked on keeping the boys in line as the official matriarch of the Black household but that’s all her world revolved around, she had no hobbies or any close friends other than her relatives whom she communicated with, somewhat, regularly. With a guilty ache in your chest, you kept a gradually growing stack of letters in the bottom-most drawer of the hard oak desk, not yet knowing how to respond to people you barely knew. However, you suppose their relations to a character like Walburaga make it slightly easier to ignore their communications. The affiliation doesn’t warrant your precious time. If you could send a passive-aggressive email, you might be more willing, but the extended process of having to write out the letters and then send them via owl wasn’t worthwhile. 

The priority on your list of important affairs is ensuring your boys’ happy and safe future. Sirius will not have to choose between Regulus and his friends, he will not suffer being blasted off the family tree, he will not have to be ashamed of his family, he will not have to witness his close friend’s death through another’s betrayal, and he will not be forced to go to Azkaban. Similarly, Regulus will not have to suffer Sirius abandoning him, he will not have to face his prejudicial parents alone, he will not be forced into getting the dark mark, he will not have to make the sacrifice he had to make at such a young age, he will not die a miserable and lonely death, and he will not be forgotten! You will make sure of it. 

Coming into the world as a Harry Potter and Marauders fan, you’re well-equipped with all the knowledge required to make the right decisions. The only problem is that the Marauders era has been a largely vague timeline that most of the fandom filled in for themselves so you’ll have to tread carefully. This will require meticulous planning, a steady rise to power and a conglomeration of useful allies to help set your plans into motion. Modern-day knowledge and business etiquette will serve you well here. You’ve survived toxic work environments, won in the race to riches, and dealt with all manner of manipulative, sexist swine you could ever think to encounter. If you play your cards right, you’re sure to win. 

“As if a muggle like you could conquer the wizarding world!” Walburga finally makes her appearance once again. And, of course, it’s for the sake of belittling you whilst making your head throb painfully from her distasteful screeches. 

“Shut up,” you hiss unapologetically, resisting the urge to smirk, “Unlike you, I know the future—” breathing the words aloud brings a blaring, singular thought to the front of your mind. The vision you witnessed at the Owl Emporium replays in your head once more…

How in the world did Walburga know about the biting habit of Sirius’ future owl?… 

Several moments pass achingly slow as you anticipate the aggravating screeching of Walburga to return. When no such wailing occurs or interrupts your train of thought, your mind immediately begins to spiral. 

How could Walburga remember being at the Emporium, shopping for Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts when she had yet to go shopping with him in the first place? They couldn’t have already gone, right? Orion would have said something if they were being inefficient enough to go a second time. That or the boys would have definitely made some comment… 

This felt like an urgent matter that needed your immediate attention but you had to prioritise other things for now. It’s not like the original Walburga was going to give you the answers you needed so it wasn’t any use pressing on the matter. It’s best to turn your focus and efforts elsewhere. Peering back at your scattered notes, you raise your newly acquired wand and utter the crafting spell you had learned recently. 

“Libeligare,” As you wave your wand over the desk, activity springs forth. In a flurry of animated pages and whistling currents in the air, your disordered notes compile themselves appropriately before binding themselves into a fresh notebook. It doesn’t have a hard cover and you debate on transfiguring a decorative letter set piece into one but think against it. This will do nicely for the moment. 

Finally, all your detailed plans are in one place. 

10th August 1971 

With nothing better to do and desperate for a decent meal, you address the home-cooked meals situation. Every dish served at the Black household was so unappetising and bland, that you couldn’t believe that the family was one of the most influential and richest families to exist in the wizarding world. You’re beginning to believe that the Blacks were the type of family to indulge in unpalatable spreads with the reasoning that they refuse to eat the same meals as those lesser than them. How childish. Even in your city-centre penthouse, you ordered take-out frequently and ate ordinary home-cooked meals that were comforting and warm. The memories make you compare all the meals you’ve had in Grimmauld Place and blanch abhorrently. This wouldn’t do, especially for your growing boys. They need to be well-fed so that they grow up healthy and strong. 

“Mistress!” Kreacher shrieks behind you, making you jump and spin around all at once. The hunched-over house elf dashes through the kitchen space clumsily and with much vigour, he pulls painfully at his drooping ears as his eyes bulge out from seeing you, his mistress, the matriarch, in the kitchen cooking! Without magic! 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Kreacher,” you chuckle softly and turn back to your food prep, “I’m just trying to cook an easy breakfast for my boys,” if you could truly have it your way then you would cook enough only for you and your two darling sons to eat. Orion would have to sort his own plate. But you’re not divorced yet so you suppose this is a compromise you’ll have to make. 

“I-It is not mistress’ job, let Kreacher do it—!” the house elf, reaches forward to take the kitchen utensils from you but you’re too swift. 

“I want to cook the food Kreacher,” you argue and continue pottering about the kitchen as if it was just another Tuesday morning, all while Kreacher follows you around helplessly. He’s clearly stuck between letting you have your way or forcing you to let him cook instead. Both felt wrong in different ways considering his position as the house elf, and he was brought to a standstill. The poor guy looked ready to throw himself off a cliff from the indecision and panic.  

Having sympathy for the elf, you call to him over your shoulder, “Kreacher can you please pass me the eggs?” this feels like a good even ground to dance on. Soon enough you’ll be teaching Kreacher how to finally relax. Kreacher appeared happy to finally be doing something but as soon as he hesitantly handed over the eggs, he was back to being anxious all over again. Even though you are the matriarch of the household, you supposed you’ll have to share the kitchen with a very distressed house elf for the foreseeable future. 

For the rest of the morning, you’ve asked Kreacher to help you with crisping up the beacon, cleaning the mushrooms, opening up the can of beans, toasting the bread and laying out the table. No more tasteless, boring porridge for breakfast with no toppings, today you’re serving a Full English. Admiring the spread, you thank Kreacher for his assistance before undoing your apron and putting the finishing touches to the dining table just as the rest of the family make it down for breakfast. 

“What is all this?” Orion asks in slight surprise when catching sight of breakfast for the day, “Is today very important?”

“No,” nonchalance keeps your tone controlled just as your precious babies walk through the door and hop into their designated seats at the table, one more enthusiastic than the other, “I’m just tired of plain old porridge every day,”

“Porridge is delicious,” Orion defends.

“Every day?” from the look in his eyes, you don’t know whether or not you’ve bested him so turn a serene smile his way instead, “I can always ask Kreacher to make you porridge if you really want,” 

Orion takes a moment to observe the full, vibrant plate of bacon, toast, grilled tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, sausages, black pudding, scrambled eggs and beans. If he takes any longer to play indecisive, the food will get cold and your precious babies are waiting on his dainty, princess-ass to make a decision— can you hurry the fuck up?! you want to scream at him. Every meal is started after his first bite (the pretentious, narcissistic douche) so he needs to make up his mind quickly or else you’ll lose yours waiting around! 

“…it’ll be a waste, this will do,” he finally picks up his knife and fork to begin eating and you have to reign yourself in before you roll your eyes too noticeably at his conceited behaviour. Your babies behave better than him. The prick! 

Turning to your boys, you observe Sirius and Regulus digging into their own meals before finally taking a bite out of yours. It felt good to see their eyes light up like that, especially Sirius’ — it makes you want to giggle at how obviously he had been wanting to devour his beans and toast the instant he laid eyes on them. 

Breakfast continues pleasantly as everyone enjoys their meal until you begin to notice some peculiar movement in the corner of your eye. You try to be as subtle as you can, considering the uncommon calm that has fallen over the dining table; it isn’t usually this comfortable around the table so you wanted to preserve the ambience as much as possible. The source of your curious gaze was Sirius and Regulus. 

Covertly, Regulus sneaks spoonfuls of his scrambled eggs onto Sirius’ plate, who proceeds to eat up his younger brother’s share as quickly as possible. Regulus was doing this willingly despite this morning’s breakfast being the first appetising meal he’s had yet. It won’t be the last either. However, from the way Sirius is scarfing down the food whilst trying to remain as silent as possible, it wouldn’t be surprising if Sirius eventually suffers from a stomachache later on. You wonder what could be the matter with the scrambled eggs. Was the seasoning off? Kreacher helped taste test every element of the meal and gave his stellar praise for your unrealised culinary skills so you’re more than a bit confused at the scene. After swallowing all remnants of food in your mouth, you gently raise a question. 

“Regulus?” your youngest freezes up immediately, making your brows furrow but still, you continue in a soft voice, “What’s wrong?” Deep in your chest, you feel your heart clench in worry at the deer-in-headlights expression plastered across Regulus’ cherubic face. 

You are met with only silence, “do you not like your eggs, darling?” you try meeting your youngest’s eyes but he’s terrified to even face your direction. Instead, he’s firmly steered his gaze down to his lap and keeps it there, frozen in place. 

There’s a slam of the table and everyone stiffens. At the head, Orion stares disapprovingly at Regulus, who begins to tremble like a leaf, “How rude!” the patriarch spits with such force and bite that his saliva lands halfway down the lengthy dining table. He’s so scandalised by his son’s behaviour that the cold from his freezing gaze drops the temperature in the room lower than it already is. “How many times have we talked about this Regulus? Finish your plate at once or else it’ll be the last meal you eat today!”

“He’s not being rude!” you counter, flying out of your seat and making your way to Regulus, “And he shouldn’t be forced to eat something he doesn’t like nor punished harshly for disliking something,” Crouching down, you position yourself to block Orion from Regulus’ line of sight despite his frightened doe-eyes remaining transfixed on his lap. His small hands are turned into small, knuckle-white fists, gripping fiercely at the fabric of his trousers. A paralysed statue of fear incarnate, your little boy doesn’t deserve this! If you could ‘Avada Kedavra’ Orion’s pathetic, prissy ass, you would in a heartbeat. 

From your peripheral, you notice how Sirius had placed a comforting hand over one of Regulus’ closed fists and the sight made your heart bloom with pride and joy — seeing how well they take care of each other was so heartwarming. “Tell me what’s wrong, Reg…I promise I won’t get mad,” you make sure to keep your voice in a low whisper so that only your son can hear but also loud enough that Orion’s distant grumbling is disguised. 

“Do you not like eggs?” your prompting remains gentle and patient, hoping for a fraction of understanding. That’s all you really want. 

Sensing no antagonistic feeling in your tone, Regulus finally wills himself to speak, although barely audible from insecurity, “I….I don’t like scrambled eggs…”

“No? What about them don’t you like?”

"They feel weird in my mouth, I don’t like chewing them,” he explains shyly, his confession dripping with shame. His grey eyes look into your own remorsefully and, before he can utter an apology, he is stopped by the shaking of your head.

Smiling warmly, you pat his small hand and voice your reassurance, “That’s a reasonable preference to have. Do you not like the texture?” Regulus nods in confirmation as his small, tense shoulders slowly ease up, “Do you not like eggs at all or do you like them cooked in a particular way?” 

Regulus’ eyes widen with surprise. Never before had his mother been so attentive to his preferences like this. On the contrary, His mother was always the first to make him feel embarrassed for his picky tendencies when it came to food, especially over dishes that make him lose his appetite entirely, oysters and shellfish being the main culprit. He really didn’t like them at all. Many times, they were the appetiser to multiple-course meals hosted by pureblood, elitist wizarding families so Walburga was determined to season her son’s palettes early on in life. It was good etiquette to eat such foods and to know how to eat them properly. If he didn’t display appropriate dinner etiquette at the table then he is lesser, he is unworthy of the Black family name and blood running through his veins, he is unbecoming of his heritage, he is a disgrace— 

“I can cook eggs in many other ways,” you suggest thoughtfully, voice remaining soft and comforting, “I can fry them for you? Or I can boil them? Do you like your yolk runny or firm?” 

Regulus, spurred on by your softly placed questions feels the corners of his lips tug upwards, “fried eggs, please…”

His innocuous answer makes you beam, “with a runny or firm yolk, darling?”

“Runny, please,” Regulus finds your bright expression infectious and begins to smile a little wider too. Over the slope of his little brother’s small shoulders, Sirius is grinning from ear to ear; finally, Regulus isn’t going to be forced to eat something he doesn’t enjoy. The elation makes Sirius’ chest swell as his heart pinches slightly at the memory of his little brother retching up the contents of his stomach in the bathroom. Those disastrous, past meals started badly and they ended badly too. Peering at you with smiling eyes, Sirius knows that he won’t need to worry about that any more. 

“Of course, right away," you’re eager to leave and fix up Regulus’ plate but you also worry about leaving him with Orion at the dinner table; your husband wasn’t too pleased with Regulus having preferences — the pretentious prick could choke on his food and die for all you cared, “how about we go to the kitchen together?” you offer smoothly as you begin to stand, “that way, you can watch me cook and make sure I do them just the way you like it,” smiling brightly, Regulus nods and easily offers his hand for you to hold, “Siri, would you like to come?” if one brother was coming with you so was the other.  

“Yes please!” Sirius happily walks to the kitchen, hand-in-hand with Regulus, whose other hand is fully wrapped up in your own. 

From the head of the table, Orion stares with his mouth agape at what he had just been a witness to. What was happening to his wife?! 

11th August 1971 

Sirius and Regulus stand by the fireplace, waving off their newly appointed private tutor as they floo away before eagerly making their way to your home office. Usually, their session catch-ups would make the two freeze up and drag their feet along the plush carpets of their family’s proud home but not now. Ever since your irregular activities leading up to your fainting spell and subsequent switch in demeanour, they’ve felt safer and happier at home. But only around you, their father still frightened them. The patriarch’s grey eyes swirled with a mounting turbulence that they would greatly prefer to avoid so they quickly make themselves scarce around him but not around their mother. Not anymore.

“I can’t wait to show Mother my cursive practice,” Regulus has a skip in his step as he walks beside his older brother, who beams at him proudly. 

“Yeah, you’re getting really good at that Reggie,” Sirius praises, a slightly envious tone edging into his words, but it all remained playful, “say, how do you do your swirls so good?”

“Practise!” 

Sirius rolls his eyes at his younger brother’s cheek, “There has to be a secret to it that I don’t know about,” Regulus only giggles at his older brother’s shortcomings. This had been a rare happiness to experience at 12 Grimmauld Place but, gradually, it was becoming common between the two brothers. Suddenly the walls weren’t so drab, the furniture not as boring and the decorations not as hauntingly placed. The atmosphere was much brighter as sunlight always seemed to pour magnanimously in from the windows.

“Sorry Siri,” from Regulus’ free-flowing, tuneful words, he isn’t sorry at all but Sirius can never will up any hatred for his younger brother. They’ve been through it all together and now that their recent joys were also being shared, of course, they would partake in harmless teasing — teasing that was usually frowned upon by their mother but was no longer a worry. They can’t remember the last time their mother frowned — the two greatly prefer this new version of their mother’s expressions much more.

As they approach your office door, the brothers’ footfalls quicken and they barely catch themselves from bursting through the door without knocking. But not before they catch sight of your figure through the crack of the doorway. Curious about your activity, Sirius hushes his younger brother softly and holds him back so that he can lean forward to observe your figure closely. Inspired by his older brother’s nosiness, Regulus leans forward also and the two peer at you through the doorway crack. 

You’re not at your desk but are, instead, seated on the plush, cushioned seats of the emerald sofa placed in front of your desk. Black robes and other familiar attire are piled up beside you on one side while the other gradually assembles the neatly folded aftermath of your sewing…embroidery? Was there even a difference? Nevertheless, you had a needle and thread in hand without your wand or the use of magic in sight!

“Mother’s sewing your name tags herself,” Regulus concludes in a whisper following a muted gasp of surprise. 

Sirius’ eyes widen ever so slightly, “and she’s not using magic…” he doesn’t know how skilled you are at sewing but Sirius doesn’t care, the gesture alone is enough to make his chest swell. Even his face began to warm up from the heat climbing up his neck as it tried reaching his ears. 

“…do you think she’ll sew my name tags too? When I start my first year, I mean…” Regulus asks shyly, the clear insecurity in his timid voice making Sirius slightly defensive. 

“Of course, she will,” he huffs before grinning widely, “and if we tear up our uniform ‘accidentally’ I’m sure she’ll sew those up herself too!” Regulus doesn’t know whether he likes or dislikes his brother’s train of thought but smiles anyway; he’s just happy thinking about his mother paying as much attention and care to his first-year robes too. He can’t wait until he starts attending Hogwarts as well. 

Finally willing themselves to stop eavesdropping and return to their earlier task, Sirius and Regulus straighten their posture before knocking on the heavy wooden door. They don’t have to wait terribly long for an answering call to grant their entrance. 

“Come in,” you set your tools aside and smile when the door reveals your babies stepping into your office, “hello, my darlings,” from your periphery, you spot the time on the clock face and jump into conversation with them, “how was your tutoring session? Did you like your new tutor?” 

“Yeah!” the two answer simultaneously and with the same amount of enthusiasm — it makes you smile with content. Happiness looks good on them; their characters shine brighter and their faces are more child-like. They’re honestly the cutest little boys you’ve ever seen and now they’re your sons to love and protect.  

“That’s wonderful news,” you open your arms for each of them to jump into, “Tell me all about it,” you’re just about to magic away the robes and sewing equipment so that they can sit beside you but not before you spot Sirius inspecting your handiwork, “I’m afraid I’m not the best seamstress,” your confession comes out bashfully, “I should have had Madam Malkins sew the tags on for me—”

“No!—” Sirius interrupts, looking almost offended that you would consider such a thing, “I like your sewing,” you raise a brow and, together with Regulus, inspect your uneven, treasure map trail of stitches before turning to the eldest brother once more. 

“Are you sure, darling?”

“Yeah, only you can do the stitching on my uniform, no one else,” his firm answer makes your embarrassed expression melt into a warm smile.

“Alright then,”

“Thank you, Mother,” he gives you another hug that you happily return. 

“You’re welcome, my dear,”

Looking over your plans, you sigh in restrained frustration. This is going to be a little hard. Yes, you know what to do but it’s all about recruiting the right people, trustworthy people and ones who are right for the role you’re choosing to give them. There’s a lot on your plate too, with your most urgent goal being divorce. You’re convinced that it isn’t going to be easy, considering the controversies that will surround the separation of a prominent wizarding house. The laws surrounding marriage, divorce and custody at this time are also largely unknown to you. Thankfully, you’ve had the privilege of living in a modern ‘muggle’ society where marriage and custody laws were pretty equal and fair. Perhaps there’s a book you can read up on about these things. For now, it’s a safe bet to say that custody will favour Orion as a man in the 1970s — it’s better to over-prepare than be underprepared for any outcome. 

Despite the importance of this particular undertaking, you’ll have to wait until both, Sirius and Regulus, are attending Hogwarts to commence the divorce proceedings. You don’t want your boys to be front-row witnesses nor do you want them to rollercoaster through the typical, rough emotions of children caught up in their parents’ divorce. You’ve been through that already… and you barely made it out on the other side. You’re an adult and they’re just children; if you can protect them from the brunt of it, you will.

A stray thought pushes forward into your consciousness — it would be too optimistic to confidently wager on the boys siding with you. Although under abusive parenting, children are very loyal and you’re benefiting from that loyalty now; even though Walburga was incredibly cruel to her sons, they were still eager to give you a chance as soon as you took over and began treating them kindly. You need to be cautious. The silver lining of it all is that you’ll, at least, have some time to prepare affluently before starting the separation process. That, on its own, however, will require another bout of planning.  

Saving Regulus is another priority on your list. That requires getting rid of the Horcruxes and killing off snake-faced Voldy but you don’t want to be too hands-on with that, especially because you’re not very adept at casting spells yet — there’ll be more experienced and more willing people (Aurors) who would be able to handle this type of mission. All you have to do is pull the right strings and connect with the right people. Eyeing another task on your list, you spot a small connection and smirk to yourself. The nib of your quill dips into a pot of ink and bridges two of your obligations. 

“This could be quite beneficial on both ends,” if you play your cards right…

Making some more careful notes, you gradually begin to piece everything together. But then there’s the issue of Sirius being sent to Azkaban. It’s healthy to have faith in yourself but if someone’s life and wellbeing are in danger, especially if it’s your son’s, you need to have a second, third and fourth plan at the ready. There needs to be a second, third and fourth plan for Regulus as well. Luck and misfortune will always have some influence on the dice you roll, there will never be an exception to that. You’ve learned this enough times in your previous life already, not just in business but everything else too. 

Your quill stops and rests beside your plans as the cogs in your brain turn with more purpose. Sirius still needs to become an animagus and Regulus needs to learn how to be a strong enough swimmer so that he can cast a spell to repel the Inferi. It would be beneficial if they both become well-equipped in duelling. That’ll require your lack of interference (maybe even your support) until Sirius’ fifth year, getting Regulus sorted with swimming lessons and encouraging both on their Defence Against the Dark Arts skills. You make a quick note of both solutions and their reasoning before linking both back to your list of obligations. 

The progress you’re making with these intervention plans is making headway. You just hope that you won’t tip the scales too far so that what little control you currently have slips right through your fingers and you’ll be left floundering. 

20th August 1971

You’ve fully taken over the cooking for all meals and your boys are looking much healthier. It warms your heart every time you see them happily eating your cooking, it was hard work keeping up with the pantry inventory, planning meals and catering to their individual tastes but it was good work that filled your heart with so much content, you hardly felt the fatigue creeping into your bones. 

Regulus isn’t a picky eater, he simply has a preference for some foods over others. He doesn’t like his eggs scrambled, only fried and with a runny yolk; he can’t stomach oysters or shellfish; he doesn’t like pulp in his juice and he’d rather eat a raw onion than have any trace of offal trimmings in his food. 

Sirius can practically eat anything and does so healthily, however, he’s more of a savoury person, leaving Regulus to own the sweet tooth palette by himself. Both adore cheese and you often create mini charcuterie boards for them to snack on. It was so adorable. There was plenty of time on your schedule to assign towards aesthetic food presentation so you’ve mastered the creation of salami roses. You’ve also found that Sirius prefers caramelised onion chutney to go with his mature cheeses whilst Regulus goes for a sweeter fig chutney. 

Currently, you were making them their own mini charcuterie boards. Both were displayed on a circular board with their favourite chutney at the very centre, held in a small ceramic container. And, with decorative prowess, you place their selection of meats, cheeses, crackers and grapes around it. 

“Do they look good Kreacher?” the house elf peers over the countertop surface and gives an affirming nod with a barely noticeable smile. 

“The young masters will be very happy, Mistress,” helpfully he suggests bringing the carefully prepared boards and crust-less finger sandwiches up to the boys’ study room for you but you shake your head. 

“Thank you, Kreacher, but I think I’ll bring up the food this time,” you’ve met their new private tutor several times already but she was always so tense around you; you’re determined to improve her impression through some good old exposure therapy. “Please prepare some tea and bring it up as soon as you’re done,” with your wand and a softly uttered ‘locomotor charcuterie boards and sandwiches’, the items lift into the air just slightly and you begin to move them out of the kitchen. 

“What tea should Kreacher be brewin’ this noon, Mistress?” 

“Oolong would be lovely today. Be sure to brew some Earl grey for Orion too but deliver the Oolong to us first please,” Kreacher’s struggles with your utterance of the polite ‘please’ persists but he continues with his set tasks regardless. The hunched-over house elf has noticed you’ve been prioritising the young masters much more than Orion recently; whenever you want to do something thoughtful, you always think of your sons first. Only last minute do you finally remember your workaholic husband and leave the snack preparations for Kreacher to fulfil and deliver alone. It’s a peculiar shift in attention, the wrinkled elf admits, but seeing his young master Regulus so happy, he doesn’t complain. Kreacher also admits that he’s growing a slight, mutual fondness for the elder Black brother, the two share in their love for Regulus and loyalty to you; now they’ve become friendly acquaintances. The house elf is a little happier and much more willing than ever before to stay loyal to his mistress and young masters’ sides. And Master Orion too, of course.   

Making your way up the stairs, the pretentious cow stuck in your head makes her presence known with inconsequential complaints.

“You’re spoiling those boys far too much!” Walburga shrieks and immediately makes your temples pound, “Sirius and Regulus don’t need this much attention, if you continue this they’re going to grow up soft and weak and unable to carry on the Black family name with the proper dignity and class!” For the sake of avoiding the horrid healing potion Kreacher’s having you consume after every fainting spell, you’ve been training yourself to build up as much resistance to her incessantly obnoxious yapping as much as possible — you’re getting there but you still need some practise. Currently, you are traversing the stairs so you’re taking every step with extra caution.

“Bitches should be seen and not heard,” her confounded gasp doesn’t escape you, “so kindly shut the fuck up,” the sarcastic cheerfulness in your tone makes her gasp once more and, like a coward, makes herself scarce. It seems as though you’ve gotten better at shutting the shrew up but she has yet to acclimatise herself to your shameless disrespect towards her.  Hopefully, she never gets used to your comments; it’s always such a pleasure being able to render her utterly speechless. 

With a pleased smile, you give a soft knock on the boys’ study room before entering. The boys gasp happily as soon as they see the levitating charcuterie boards and the plateful of crust-less sandwiches float closer and closer. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I think you all deserve a lunch break,” the boys cheer and happily dig in while you face their tutor with a small smile, “please feel free to have as many sandwiches as you want, we have plenty on offer,” her smile is hesitant and slightly trembles under your hold so she’s quick to look away and fix her focus onto the plate of sandwiches — her own, personal reprieve from having to interact with you.

Peony Knight. She’s an incredibly timid individual who seems to be in her element only when teaching children rather than in the company of said children’s adult parents — she has yet to look you in the eye for an extended period. Her head is an organised plight of feathery, strawberry-blonde hair and her eyes are a pair of opal pendants, so brilliantly blue but incandescent with a kaleidoscope of other jewel colours. Her resume was astounding but her family wasn’t very notable so you could only imagine her surprise when she received your response to her application with a test run of her skills. It was important to you that she comes from an uncommon house and family, you didn’t want to draw too much attention over switching tutors. At her tutoring trial run, she started very shaky but eventually found her confidence when focusing on your two boys rather than your lurking figure from the corner of the study. She was a good runner-up and quickly became the perfect choice when your boys showed favour towards her – the other candidates appeared to have been more affected by your presence in the room and taught the way they thought you wanted them to. 

“She’s nice and patient,” Regulus commented when you went to him after her trial lesson. 

“I like the way she explains things,” Sirius added beside him. 

That was all you needed to hire her as their private tutor. Peony’s timidity of you as an authority figure played in her favour very well.  

Hidden within a thick pile of stacked parchments and a small mountain of miscellaneous scrolls, you found Walburga’s carefully curated curriculum for the boys and handed it over to Peony. Walburga would know better than you what would be useful for her sons to learn. However, you were surprised at the amount of ‘muggle’ topics on her curated list. Admittedly, you were only expecting foundational wizarding lessons maybe on wands or classic pureblood etiquette so your shock was justified. Walburga’s reaction, however, wasn’t.  

“I teach them proper pureblood etiquette myself, you useless girl! And how can I expect my sons to grow up well if they aren’t taught the basics?! They’ll be able to advance as better wizards of the Black family that way. Moreover, muggles stick to and remain in the basics so don’t get smug with me, you filthy mud-blood!” Walburga screeched without restraint and with much offence after your initial revelation, leading to another fainting spell — the disgusting bitch…

In addition to Peony’s private tutoring, you’ve taken to providing your own private lessons to the boys, much to their surprise and slight hesitancy. However, as soon as you began the extended lessons after their usual morning session with Peony one day, they’ve since grown to love it. This didn’t happen every time, however, only on Tuesdays and Fridays. Today was one of those days, a Friday, and you’re so excited to see their reactions to what you have planned. 

Their schedules typically consist of Peony coming over a couple of hours before noon and she teaches them for two or three hours sessions every day except weekends. Mondays were for English language and literature (wizard and muggle), Tuesdays were for Economics, Numeracy and Financial literacy, Wednesdays were for French and Cursive handwriting practice, Thursdays were for muggle sciences (basic biology, physics and chemistry) and Fridays were for history and philosophy (wizard and muggle).

You reserve the fun lessons for your boys with yourself as their teacher. These were composed of lessons that typically challenged their problem-solving, creativity and other fundamental skills to set them up with a good foundation for school and life in general. This included fun puzzle-solving, art (in every medium the boys wanted), some written/scenario problem-solving and role-play scenarios. The first Friday you did this, you had the boys act out from rough, child-friendly scripts you drafted inspired by the Shakespearian play, Macbeth. It seemed like an innocuous lesson but you wanted to gauge their ethical understandings and reasonings. 

Throughout the scenes, you would spontaneously make them freeze frame to ask prompting questions that typically go along the lines of, ‘what would you do in this situation?’, ‘do think that was the right thing to do?’, and ‘why did you think your character did this even though they knew it was wrong?’. Both engaged very well with their own perspectives on the situation. 

At one point they got into a small argument that you needed to break up due to slightly differing standpoints on the scenario. It became slightly more heated than you expected but you were thankful for the opportunity to teach them how to communicate well with each other despite their differences. The lesson ended after that because tensions were still high and they were equally very stubborn about who should apologise first. 

It was going to take more than one lesson to be able to make them understand the rules and the importance of healthy communication, but that was to be expected. This was just the beginning so you’re hoping that if you stay consistent with fostering their ethical reasoning, communication and problem-solving skills, they will be able to remain brotherly despite their opposing Hogwarts houses. In the end, you made them apologise at the same time (to the count of three) and had them hug it out before telling them to say one thing they like about the other person. Evidently, they weren’t used to your new way of doing things and making amends but they (grumpily) did as they were told — and looked absolutely adorable doing it, their pouty faces were too much to bear! 

Approaching the two boys indulging in their individual charcuterie boards and occasionally exchanging bites of their share, you kneel between them and begin pleasant conversations about their current lesson. 

“Are you two having fun so far?” you could practically see Peony stiffen up like cement behind you, just from the telling gasp she lets out in the background. Being so high-strung isn’t going to be good for her health so you hope she gets used to your presence soon enough. You do feel slightly apologetic for her but she needs to know that people can change no matter how drastically. Hopefully, she takes this opportunity to grow some confidence in herself too. Someone so intelligent should walk with broader shoulders and a higher chin. 

“Yeah! Did you know Pythagoras had a cult?” Sirius was practically bouncing in his chair.

“No, he had a school of very intelligent mathematicians and musicians,” Regulus countered after swallowing his bite of cracker, cheese and grapes. 

Sirius rolls his eyes but immediately jumps into another topic, “he discovered the theory of pitch which is surprising coming from a guy who’s scared of beans,” he cracks himself up laughing at the statement.

Again, Regulus interjects in defence of the philosopher, “he wasn’t scared of beans,” the two brothers exchange narrowed stares, “He just believed that beans were the vessels for dead people’s souls and didn’t want to disrespect them by running through a bean field,” a small argument ensues but you don’t act, instead, you watch as a bystander in the hopes that your presence alone can keep them in check. If you ever feel the need to jump in at some point, you will. 

All too well, Sirius and Regulus remain aware of your lingering attendance to their quarrel and make the silent agreement to not escalate things too far. For a moment, they share a knowing look after briefly glancing your way and glaring at each other once again. You watch them huff and inhale a slow, shaky breath. They actively turn their voices down whilst continuing with their argument. It didn’t seem to go anywhere but both concluded it with less heat and more of a calm acknowledgement of each other’s differing sides. 

“Two people can have different opinions and still be friends. They only need to respect that the other person holds a different view and that it doesn’t make them a bad person,” they remembered your sage advice from their first extracurricular lesson with you. It was a massive shift in perspective to their growing minds and the impact it had on both of them was enough to permanently imprint the message into their heads.  

Unprompted, you lean forward and press a kiss to each of their foreheads, Sirius first and then Regulus, “I’m so proud of you two,” you watch as their cherubic cheeks flush an adorable, pink hue. Sirius scratches the back of his head bashfully whilst Regulus fiddles with his pen, both of them equally biting back a small smile from the praise, “you remembered what I taught you,” they look upon your elated smile with shy fulfilment as they nod slightly. “Another person’s opposing opinions might be something we don’t share or appreciate as much as they do but…” they lean forward ever so slightly, wanting to consciously heed your elaboration on the topic, “hearing or witnessing a different view will expand our perspective on the world and help us grow as people. We need to keep an open mind for these sorts of things because they can teach us so much. It might be hard to do sometimes, but I want to ask you two for a small favour,” they nod silently, not questioning or hesitating at your words, fully trusting in your sensible knowledge — their mother was always a brick wall when it came to the opinions of others, they couldn’t penetrate her, especially when it came to opposite views on blood purity so, to see her encouraging such undogmatic behaviour, is peculiar but in a strangely motivating way. They find that they want to do whatever it is that you want to ask them to do no matter what, “I want the two of you to try to understand the other side of any argument or opposite view. The world isn’t as black and white as we think it is. We have to try to be understanding and empathetic people. There may be reasons someone sees the world a certain way and even if we don’t agree or like their opinion, the least we can do is try to understand them. Just try. That’s all… that’s enough,”

It was a lot to take in and it was a lot to ask of such young minds that were still developing. But you weren’t asking for them to be perfect at it. All you want them to do is try.

“Alright, Mother,” Sirius nods with solid determination in his eyes. 

“Whatever you wish, Mother,” Regulus says at the same time, also glowing with resolve. 

Smiling happily, you bring them into a group hug, your arms easily curling around their small shoulders as you press another kiss to their temples, “you don’t have to be perfect, just try,“ you reiterate in a whisper, “I’m so proud of you, my darlings, you make mommy so happy,” you don’t see it but you feel their bright smiles press into your neck from either side as they return your embrace and nuzzle their faces into the junction of your neck and shoulders.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Their lesson ended a few minutes ago and, like routine, they wave off Peony at the living room fireplace while you set up the study with all the things you planned on having them do for the afternoon. You asked them if they wanted to take a break before your lesson but they said they were happy to begin right away. They were able to detect the sparkle of excitement in your eyes as you left after their lunch break and were now filled with the same eagerness to begin your lesson.

Setting up their table with tools, aprons and a protective mat warmed your heart. You had planned so many things to do with your future children in your original life, read so many books and attended so many talks, lectures and groups on how to be a good mother that your heart was finally able to heal the scars that resulted from the infertility diagnosis you were slammed with years ago. You felt like a failure, not only as a mother but as a woman to be told that. It wasn’t until you were able to recover from that debilitating news that you finally began to consider adoption. It took years and years and the building of a corporate empire to finally get to that point but then, you were doomed once more. At the centre of a collision in the busy city streets, you lost consciously accepting your fate only to end up here…it was all quite a blessing really. Now you have two beautiful sons to call your own and to love with all of your heart. As an added bonus, they’re also two of your favourite characters from the Harry Potter universe. 

You could barely contain your excitement when you heard a small knock at the door to the study. They were here. 

“Come in, darlings,”

Stepping into the room, Sirius and Regulus gasp in awe and begin jumping on the spot ever so slightly from feverish anticipation. In your outstretched hands were two small, grey aprons, one displaying Sirius’ name and the other Regulus’ along the upper seam of the apron’s breast pocket. Without being asked, they step up to their aprons and reach forward to put the article on themselves. As they do so,  you announce what you will be doing for the afternoon. 

“Clay sculptures?” Sirius almost squeals in excitement as Regulus bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“We’ve never done that before,” Regulus chimes as you kneel behind him to help with tying up his apron, eventually moving on to redo Sirius’ clumsy knot as well.

“It’ll be fun,” you giggle, “fun and messy,” Sirius appreciates the hint of mischief in your voice and rushes to take a seat at the table with Regulus toddling along close behind him. You take a seat too and begin to talk them through the little sculpting tools they have beside them, the small mountain of clay at their disposal and the use for the bowls of water within reach. 

Regulus is listening but he can’t help glimpsing down at his stitched-on name tag every few seconds or so. His chest feels warm and so so tight that he feels like he’s about to burst. You had hand-stitched his name tag onto the apron yourself. He recognised the inexperienced, inconsistent stitches but he thinks it’s the most beautiful display of embroidery he has ever seen. There’s also the revelation that Regulus didn’t need to wait to go to Hogwarts to know that you would be attentive enough to do the same thing for his clothes as you did to Sirius’. He feels special and he loves the affectionate attention you were giving him, all the motherly love he and his older brother had always dreamed of experiencing was finally happening, not only through kind words but in warm hugs, soft kisses and silent acts of service too. He feels a surge of wanting to do well in everything, from studying to writing to eating to sleeping — all of it! He’ll do well in all of it. He only wants to make you proud. 

“Let’s begin with rolling out a piece of our clay,” you start, encouraging them to get messy, keep their clay hydrated and not worry about the state of their tools because you’ll all be washing them at the end together. After that, you had them make little balls using their hands and then roll out one ball into a flat sheet using their small rolling pins. With another ball, you instructed them to attempt making it flat using their hands instead, which helped you explain that moving around the clay with their hands makes the clay easier to mould.  

“Have you two been learning about muggle sciences?” you gently ask as the two go about flattening their spheres a little more so that they can carve patterns into them using their small wooden tools. 

“Yeah, I like the one called physics,” Sirius grins, eyes still focused on his clay.

“Me too!” Regulus chimes and the two brothers grin at each other, which makes you smile. 

“That’s very good,” you nod, spotting an opportunity, “so where do you think the heat comes from when we roll out our clay?” 

“From our hands,” Sirius immediately answers. 

“That’s right, anything else?”

The question is open for the two of them but Regulus is the one who answers next, “From all the moving around,”

“Brilliant, my darlings,” you praise and they grin pridefully. 

“Now, can you name the types of energies those are called? If you’ve learned about them, that is,” The brothers look at each other before beginning to ponder separately. The silence draws on so you decide to give them a little help, “What are all the energies called?” They do just fine with regurgitating the ten different energy types and that seems to be enough to prompt Regulus. 

“The moving around is kinetic energy,”

Sirius jumps to answer as well, “and our hands transfer the thermal energy,”

“Good good!” you give them a small round of applause, which they bashfully smile at, “you two are so clever!… What did I hear about this ‘transferring’ of energy, Siri?” your question comes out in a nonchalant tone. 

“Peony says that energy is stored and transferred,” Sirius answers, “and that they sometimes turn into another type of energy,”

“I see,” you look down at your own clay spheres and sheets, “where is the thermal energy from my hands coming from?” once again, they’re silent, “I think this can link to biology, specifically our biology,” that gets the cogs in their brains turning again and you can’t help but coo at their adorable thinking faces. 

“It’s from…” Regulus begins, immediately catching both yours and Sirius’ undivided attention, your eyes equally encouraging him to continue with his answer, “It’s from the energy in our food,”

Eyes sparkling with delight, you prompt him once more, “And what energy is that called?”

“…Chemical!”

“Good job!” Sirius claps for his brother’s success and reaches up for a high five that Regulus happily hits and once again, they’re grinning at each other. 

“What about for the movement?” This was a trick question but your boys are clever so you have full faith in them. Regulus already answered his share so he silently backs out from the arena by looking up at Sirius who begins to ruminate. “…well the movement has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it?” you thoughtfully point out, beginning to play around with your clay and trying to look innocent about it despite it being a definite clue. 

“It comes from us!” Sirius explains and looks down to play around with his clay too. You stay silent as you let him think and reach the conclusion on his own but you’re already so so proud of their intelligent displays, “…so it’s the same answer, it’s also from chemical energy…” he seems unsure from his tone but the minute he looks up to meet your eyes, the smile on your lips and the applause from you and Regulus has him beaming. 

“My sons are so so clever! I’m very proud of you both!”

That was enough of that — you only remember so much from your younger science education — so you move on to teach them about hatching and being able to stick two pieces of clay together with a little bit of water in order to make a small box with no lid. Thankfully, that was the final thing you intended to teach them before letting them make their own creations. 

“Now, you can make whatever you want with your clay. After this, I’ll bake them so they become solid, and then, we can paint them together. If you run out of clay, just ask and I’ll get you some more,” the two buzzed in their seats from the excitement and you were just as eager to let them loose with their creativity. “You can also make more than one thing but limit yourself to just two or three, please. Also make sure that whatever you make suits a function, it can be anything at all; you can even get some ideas from this muggle book on clay crafting,” you present them with the children’s clay craft book and place it where they can easily reach, “don’t mind getting the edges dirty, as long as the main text and pictures aren’t too muddied up by clay, it’s fine. It’s supposed to get used earnestly anyway,” they smile at your proactive reassurance but only Regulus goes for the clay book while Sirius goes about making his desired creation right away. 

For a while, Sirius cannot decide what to actually make. His speediness into action makes his younger brother peer over at him anxiously quite a few times but his initial unease gradually fades when he realises his older brother keeps changing his mind, flattening a scarcely sculpted creation just as quickly as he begins a new one. You don’t want to interrupt their independent creative flows and get to work on something you’ve already planned to create, a modest gift for your darling boys. 

Some time goes by in silence before you call for Kreacher to play one of the vinyls you managed to buy from a record shop when out on errands to muggle London. You had bought several along with the gramophone at the shop. When you first bought it home, the boys were eager to find out what it was and spent a lot of time happily winding it up so that you could all listen to the records together. It would have been preferable to get the electrical one but it would have been useless in the predominantly magic-operated house.  

“Great choice, Kreacher,” you smile at the house elf who nods timidly by the gramophone and promptly disappears when he feels as though he is no longer needed. The Beatles’ Abbey Road album plays in the background as the soundtrack to your clay sculpting session for several songs-worth of minutes before you finally get up to independently ask the boys about what they had chosen to make. ‘Oh! Darling’ sings in the distant corner as you kneel beside Sirius and quietly ask about his creation and what its function would be. In a whisper, he replies without turning to look at you, far too focused on his creation to divert any significant attention from it.  

“I’m making plant pots,” he begins, his pink tongue slightly poking out of the corner of his mouth, “for the cooking herbs you said you wanted to grow in the kitchen, but I’m also making one for Reggie since he says he wants to grow a plant in his room,” after his nonchalant explanation, your heart soars. It would be a fair assessment to say that Regulus has spoken to him about exploring gardening. You didn’t know your youngest wanted to grow a green thumb but it was a pleasant surprise — you’ll see about taking him to a muggle plant shop soon, you don’t quite trust wizarding plants in the household. A succulent or mini cactus would be a good choice. 

Pressing a kiss onto Sirius’ cheek, you whisper a soft thank you and praise his thoughtfulness before moving on to Regulus. For a moment, the elder brother wishes he could grow out his hair so that you are less likely to notice his flushed cheeks and red-tipped ears. You also kneel by Regulus’ side to whisper the same questions about his creation. 

“I’m making a little jewellery dish for your rings and necklaces and earrings, Mother. And I’m also going to make one for Siri since he’ll be getting the family ring when he’s older. Sirius’ one is going to be star-shaped because he’s named after the brightest star and yours is going to be heart-shaped because…well…” Regulus can’t finish his sentence as his blush floods his entire face with heat. But he doesn’t need to finish his explanation, he’s said all you needed to hear to coo over his thoughtfulness and press a kiss to his cheek also. They’re such sweet boys. That bitch Walburga was blessed to have them and yet she mistreated them so much, they didn’t deserve any of that. Tender love and care is what they truly deserve and that will be your sole mission and life’s purpose for this existence. 

“What are you making, Mother?” Regulus asks unprompted when you finally sit back down by your humble creations again. The youngest’s question makes Sirius perk up and eye you with interest, his grey eyes flicking between you and the carefully shaped clay by your hands. 

“I’m making little star-shaped pendants for my little star boys,” smiling at their flustered expressions, you elaborate further, “I’m going to poke a hole near the top point so I can thread it through a chain and you can wear it as a necklace or a bracelet — you can choose,” you show them one with a carved ’S’ on it, “this one is for Siri,” next you present the one with an ‘R’ on it, “and this one is for Reggie,” they beam in happiness at the getting such a personalised gift from you and continue their clay projects with new-found vigour. 

It was relatively easy to create the small star pendants so, inspired by Regulus’ creations, you proceeded to craft minimalist ring bands, one each of you. Sirius’ you carved the same sort of archaic patterns as that of his wand, for Regulus, you did simple lines with an occasional dot and for yours, evenly placed mini daisies. At first, it was purely for making sure that Regulus didn’t feel left out from Sirius getting the family ring but, looking at your modest creations, your magnate mind begins to manifest an innovative idea you’re itching to begin. Your schedule is going to fill up very quickly and soon — there isn’t a chance that you’ll wait on this. 

1st September 1971

Today couldn’t have crept up on you quickly enough. One minute you were settling into a cosy routine with your darling sons and now you were sending the eldest away for wizarding boarding school. It was happening too fast and your heart was constantly breaking from being torn between freely letting him go and childishly begging him to stay so that you could spend as much time with him as possible. Even the novelty of rushing onto platform 9¾ through the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10 couldn’t keep the tears from filling your eyes. However, your unhappiness and woe were quickly wiped away when Sirius expressed muted sadness at the idea that his father was too busy to see him off to Hogwarts. That morning, try as you might you couldn’t convince Orion to be there for his son. The git was lucky Sirius had interrupted your argument to express his acceptance and neutrality over the situation or else you would have clocked the pretentious asshole’s jaw. You would be surprised if the hypothetical punch landed hard enough to dislocate both of his temporomandibular joints. He would be eating through a tube if it weren’t for your little boy’s interruption but you’ll be sure to sink your teeth into your git of a husband as soon as you get home. 

Regulus seems to be whispering something to his older brother as they share a hug of goodbye. There was plenty of time for Sirius to get onto the train - you made sure of that - and you promised to wave him off as the train left the station so none of you were in any rush to leave the other. You kindly smile down at their wholesome interaction, completely drawn in by their innocence and heartfelt brotherly love for each other. Their relationship was worth preserving and building up. You were once saddened by Sirius and Regulus’ torn apart brotherhood but now, you’ll be devastated if your sons ever broke their bond like in the movies and books. So distracted by your loveable sons’ endearing display, you miss the shocked looks you were receiving from fellow parents of other children who were also boarding to attend Hogwarts — they simply couldn’t believe it! 

Everyone knew the matriarch of the Black family. However, the very picture of her now was not what was to be expected. Rumours of her cold and unsympathetic disposition appeared as slanderous lies when they took in your warm smile and fond stare, looking solely upon your two sons. It was well-known amongst the wizarding community that the famous Black family’s eldest son, Sirius Black, would begin attending Hogwarts this year. They expected to see a conceited and substantially reserved display of the family by the platform but not… not this! This is something for the papers! Had the matriarch of the most ancient and noble house of Black always looked this beautiful and kind? Surely not!… But their eyes weren’t being deceived, they were seeing the truth! Many gasped and openly stared, thankfully hushed down by the nosiness of the platform, whilst others didn’t know how to interpret the display and opted to avert their eyes.

Around his small wrist, Sirius keeps your clay star pendant around his wrist, which had been painted a deep black per his request while the ’S’ is marked with metallic silver paint. He has such good taste for aesthetics despite his young age. Every day there was something new to be proud of him for, no matter how little. You love being a mother!

“Oh darling, I’m going to miss you so so much. You must promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, don’t be scared about making friends,” you look him in the eye as you say so, combing your fingers through his hair and pushing away the curling locks from his forehead, “they’re going to love you just as much as I do,”

“Me too, Siri,” Regulus’ soft interjection brings out a mutual laugh from you and the eldest Black brother. Sirius brings Regulus into another hug that you are also brought into.

“And if they don’t like you then they can suffer having none of those mini pies I baked for you,” the two of you share a smirk and a wink. Sirius had requested some shelf-stable foods to bring such as his favourite chutney, jams and jerky, all homemade by you, especially for him. Of course, you didn’t say no. You even suggested bringing along something yummy for the train ride despite already providing him an allowance to spend on the trolley. 

“Regulus and I will write to you as often as we can so be on the lookout for our letters, okay?” he nods, eyes already sparkling from the anticipation and thought of receiving mail by owl solely for him. A letter addressed only to him, with his name on the envelope, and meant only for him to read — his feverish anticipation was to be expected. He couldn’t wait for his first letter. 

“I’ll write back just as much, promise!” 

“Good because if you don’t,” you scold playfully as Sirius bites back a cheeky giggle, “I’ll go to Hogwarts and demand a written letter back myself, I’ll bring Reggie with me too so that’s twice the heat you’ll be under young man, don’t forget,”

“Never,” Sirius whispers as he throws himself into your embrace once more. There’s never going to be enough hugging to satiate your aching heart, nor squash the sadness of watching your baby grow up too fast but, knowing the mischief and fun he’ll be getting up to, makes you almost giddy with excitement. You want to read all about it in his letters home! 

As much as you’d like to have said your farewells for longer, Sirius still needed to board and needed help with his luggage. Thankfully there were plenty of staff to help him lug it all around, which you smiled gratefully for. They seemed stunned by your courtesy but tipped their caps in acknowledgement and whispered a quick ‘thanks’ in return, regardless. 

Stepping back from the platform with Regulus at your side, the two of you try to follow Sirius along the train compartments as closely as you can until you finally see him settling into a box by himself. You wonder if he’ll be meeting his fellow marauders soon — god! You wish you could see them as adorable 11-year-old babies like your Sirius right now. 

Regulus toddles up to be closer to the window, opposed to the thought of separating from his brother and tries to hold one last conversation with Sirius as everyone waits for the train to depart. To hear him clearer, Sirius reaches up to open the window. Smiling at the pair fondly, you almost miss a heart-stopping sight. From your left peripheral, you spot an untameable mess of dark hair and round hazel eyes sparkling in jubilation, framed with an adorable pair of round glasses — you barely withhold your gasp of surprise. But all too soon, from your right, you glimpse a head of neatly trimmed but slightly grown-out brown hair, belonging to a rather spindly boy swamped under a cosy autumn-brown jumper. On his softly curving jaw is a light, nicking scar and when he turns his head ever so slightly, you see another more prominent scar marked across the pudge of his cheek. You’ve seen a wild, baby-ish James Potter and Remus Lupin. Almost all of the marauders were spotted getting onto the Hogwarts Express but do you even want to see the final member? No! Of course not! It was then that you noticed sandy-blonde hair weaving through the crowds of parents wishing their children farewell – a last-minute attempt at getting onto the train on time. Behind him, he is followed by a similarly blonde woman, his mother. Goodness, both share such startling similarities, both have curved edges to their silhouette, pink cheeks and sea-blue eyes. They looked like an adorable pair and you had to admit that Peter’s portly appearance made him incredibly endearing for his age. They looked like an ordinary, harmless mother-son pair, much like you and your boys…

A whistle pierces through the station and snaps you out of your daze. Finally turning back to your Sirius, your eyes tear up again for the umpteenth time that day. Regulus had rushed back to your side, clinging onto the long, black skirt of your dress with one hand as he used the other to wave goodbye. Silently, you mouth an ‘I love you’. He isn’t as surprised as when you whispered the same affection to him whilst still on the platform so he was able to mouth it back — ‘I love you too, Mother,’ — your heart pinches. Picking Regulus up, you sit him on the curve of your hip and wave Sirius off together. You see the slight shimmer of tears in Sirius’ eyes too just before the train moves too far and takes Sirius away with it. 

You miss him already.

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 05 : ... →

A/N : surprise! goodness, this was a really big chapter hehe~ i hope you darlings enjoyed the read! i also would like to gently remind everyone that i am no longer doing taglists but to be notified whenever i post something, please follow and turn on notifications for reblog side account: @thekqipond where i will be reblogging every new fic as soon as i post it! the reason i was able to post this chapter a month ahead of my official come-back in October was to test my taglist solution and the order of chapters i want to post by Christmas ;) i hope you enjoy!

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol switcharoo (pt4)

Stan x reader/ ford x reader

Summary: You journey into stanfords mind for the sake of the shack when you learn more than you probably should have

Warning: none Look, I'm trying to lay down more romance. The stakes are gonna get raised soon. We can't keep tiptoeing guys

Also sorry if it feels a little choppy and all over the place

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~

Stanford had been distant a lot more than you would like to have admitted over the past few weeks. Sure, you'd get the kids together, and all of you would hang out and have your own little adventures, but more often than not, you couldn't find him before you followed your new adopted great niece and nephew out the door for the next great adventure or activity for the summer.

You loved going out with them, taking them to lunch, or to shop Dipper even more recently, inviting you to monster hunt again. But when you weren't invited and the kids went on their own journey, you found the house was only quiet.

In the what seemed to be rare and far in-between days stan was with the three of you, you felt a great wave of peace wash over you. The four of you laughing in the car after narrowly escaping one of stans crazy ideas, sitting with him on the back porch, watching the kids run around.

You felt a buzz inside you when you sat next to him, watching him laugh at dippers water balloon hitting the ground without a pop. You loved your routine with him before the kids arrived. It seemed like that was becoming all you knew.

But the shack felt different with laughter filling it up. And if you realized it or not, those two kids were bringing you closer to Stanford when he hung around. You took a deep breath and scooted in closer to Stanford, his arm instinctively wrapped around the back of the couch, letting you fill as much space next to him as you wished.

"I can't believe this is my life now. I don't know what i did to deserve this." He said, looking down at you as you now watched the twins in the yard. "Everything happens for a reason, remember?"

"I guess so." His hand fell softly onto your shoulder, snuggling you closer. "Look out!" You and Stanford both jumped up as one of the water balloons landed where you were once sitting.

"Can't a guy get any peace around here!?" You laugh at him as he runs out into the yard demanding a balloon.

The feelings washed away, knowing he'd be hiding by tonight.

He was right, though. You couldn't believe this was your life as of right now.

"Y/n?"

You hummed in response as you cleaned dippers cut. "Would you say your feelings for Grunkle stan are...of the romantic kind?" Mable asked from right beside her brother her own adventure wounds needing to be rented too.

"Mable!" Dipper yelped, knocking her over with a nudge. You laughed out loud at her question. "Sorry..sorry." You cleared your throat. "Excuse me. Mable, what would make you ask something like that?"

"Oh c'moonnn as a love expert-"

"Your twelve-"

"I can see how you and grunkle stan look at eachother, you've been friends for years, and you've really never felt anything more than friendship for him?"

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought about her question. "I guess maybe a few years ago... but things were different back then, and I never knew how he felt about me. Besides, so much time has passed that I'm sure that old fart feels anything other than tired anymore." Mable jumped to her feet and smashed your cheeks together.

"Y/n it is my mission as a matchmaker and love expert of gravity falls. I make it my mission to get you and my grunkle together!"

"Mable, why do you even care? Grunkle stan has shown no interest in anything other than money since we've been here."

"Dippers got a point." You say pulling tables small hands from your face. "Besides, I'm not taking love advice from the girl who dated little Gideon not too long ago."

Mable's face grew red, and she pulled the neck of her sweater up. "Ugh, don't remind me." You chuckled again, refocusing the attention to the wounds on each kid as Dipper went back to explaining what had happened in the first place.

You'd gone the next few weeks thinking about mables question. Did you still have feelings for stanford?

It wasn't something you thought much about. You two just existed with eachother nothing ever really came out of it since you were young. Besides, you'd never make a move unless you knew his exact feeling for you. He'd been so secretive recently that the only way For that to happen, you'd have to get inside his mind to find anything like that out.

Of course that was almost impossible.

"Y/N THERES A LITTLE YELLOW GUY TRUING TO TAKE OVER STANS MIND WE NEED YOUR HELP DIPPERS GOING TO TAKE US IN THERE COME ON COME ON!"

Of course maybe you spoke to soon.

"Mable slow down! What's going on!?" You asked as she dragged you by the sleeve into the family room where Stanford sat sleeping.

"So like we saw little Gideon in the woods and poof a little yellow man appeared and he made a deal with him to go inside stans mind to get the code to the safe that Mr pines keeps the deed in." Soos explained in one long breath you could see his face Turing a strange shade of red and violet.

"Wha-"

"No time we need to go now before it's to late!" Mable cried before you could even think to ask for clarification or any follow up questions.

You followed along with what Dipper told you to do, and you watched as he read from an oddly familiar book.

You make a note to ask him about it later.

Your thoughts were cut off as dippers chanting got louder, and before you knew it, the world had melted away from you, and you were suddenly sitting in a patch of grey grass.

"Wow! This is stans mind?" Mable said, hopping up and looking at the grey landscape before you.

You pushed yourself and looked around jaw on the floor. "I've done some pretty crazy things in my day, but this is beyond me..."

"Thanks for coming along y/n!" Mable said.

"Of course! You know you can count on me for anything, kids."

"OK, we need to keep an eye out for the triangle guy." Dipper stated as you headed twoard the shack.

"Yea, look put for the triangle guy!" You jumped at the voice that appeared out if no were surprised to see it belonged to exactly what the kids and soos had said.

"It's him it's the guy!" Soos said in alarm pointing at the glowing shape.

"You leave our grunkles mind alone, you isosollies monster!" Mable shouted as she charged at him. "Mable!" You and Dipper shouted each holding out an arm to grab her.

You watched in horror as the triangle swallowed her up and waited a minute before spitting her back out into your arms.

"Stan's family, it's good to finally meet you! Some more than others!" He said, floating particularly close to you as he said so. You scowled at him and shielded Mable from him. "Names bill cipher."

"Get out of stans mind! You have no business here!" Dipper shouted.

"Trust me, kid! You're the only one who should be getting out of here your way over your heads." His one winked as he shot a finger gun twoard Dipper shooting ahole through him. "I'm gonna find that code and and you're not going to stop me!"

He flew away, leaving a triangle shape hole in the shack.

"We gotta get that code before that freak does." You said pausing to giggle as Mable reached her arm through the hole in dippers chest.

"Mable!" You coughed and put on a serious face. "Alright, kids...and soos.. let's go."

You lead the way into the shack of stans mind your eyes darting from door to door each labeled a different thing.

Fears, hopes, etc.

"Look! Stans memories!" Soos pointed out. You all ran into the hall watching memories play out all around you. "Quick, let's split up and cover more ground."

You turned to open a door but the mables' hand caught yours. "Look what I found!" She squealed with giddy. "You found the code? Already?" She shook her head and dragged you out down the memory hall and too a door with a heart carved into the wood. Signage warning against opening the door nearly covering every inch.

"What is this?" You asked the girl beside you. "Look for yourself." She lifted up a "get lost" sign to reveal the doors true label.

"Y/ns memories."

"Oh Mable I dunno...we should really be looking for the code."

"Oh, c'mon, you said it yourself that you never really knew what he felt for you it wouldn't hurt to look!"

"Yes, Mable, it would! the shack is at steak-"

Before you could continue, Mable had opened the door and pushed you in. "Face your fears y/n! Face your emotions!" She slammed the door shut on you. "Don't worry y/n we'll find the code before bill does, I'll come back for you when we do!"

you huffed and stood up dusting yourself off, this was ridicules you knew how Stanford felt about you you've known each other for what felt like your whole life. Besides you told Mable already if anything was to happen it would have by now. your hand grasped the door handle as you prepared to chase the twins and Soos down.

"Congratulations!" you heard a voice say from behind you. you turned to see one of the many doors cracked open. despite your better judgment to go after the kids you went straight for the door pulling it open. to see your wedding day.

well, your fake Vegas wedding. stan stood at the counter with the cashier in a dinky thrift shop on the outskirts of Vegas itself, waiting for you. "oh right..." you mumble to yourself watching your shared memory through Stans eyes.

"I'm sure you're very excited about the wedding." Stanford shrugged. "Trust me, I've been married a few times...this ain't nothing new for me." you frowned a little, you weren't sure why, you knew that's how he'd felt and it wasn't a real wedding. "Stanford! Look at this!!!" you yelled excitedly to him pushing open a dressing room curtain behind him.

you excitedly spun around in the wedding outfit you had picked out, you were so much younger, it suspired you too see yourself.

you watched Stanford's face flush upon seeing you his eyes fixated on you jaw almost on the floor. you didn't remember him looking at you like that. "wow you look...you look amazing!" he said rubbing the back of his neck trying to find the right words. you squealed in a pitch similar to the one Mable had done earlier before shutting the curtain again. "you were saying this wasn't something new?" the cashier asked raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"listen between you and me this whole Vegas wedding isn't anything new for me...they're corny, cheap and lousy all things y/n doesn't deserve any of that stuff, and I don't know why I'm telling you of all people, but I've known y/n for a while now the way she makes me feel isn't like how anyone has made me feel before I could never tell any of this too her, I've ruined to many relationships I could risk losing her in my life so try to act nonchalant about these types of thing, don't want to give myself away you know." the cashier stared at him unsure of how to react to all the information dumped onto him.

"here's 20 bucks to forget everything I said." he said sliding money across the counter.

you shut the door with a smile before looking down the long hallway. you crept over to another one. opening the door only to see a normal night you asleep on his shoulder as he continued to talk about the movie that was playing without realizing. it took him a whole monologue before realizing you had passed out. he leaned over careful not to wake you but enough to see you where sleeping.

he took a deep breath before talking some more. "Here goes nothing, y/n you've been with me through thick and thin when no one had my back you where there...I guess what I'm trying to say is y/n I...I think I have feeing's for you...you've made me an honest man in some ways...and.." you jumped upon hearing screaming.

"Oh no Kids!" you took off running swinging the door open and running down the hallway running past memories trying to find the kids. "Dipper!? Mable? Soos!?"

"Dipper!-"

"This here's a-"

"Stan Vac-"

"Stanley do something-" you could no longer hear the kids let alone see them in all the noise of Stanford's memories. you began running out of the memories hall in hopes you'd find them somewhere else. "Dipper!? Mab-" the wind was knocked out of you as you and dipper crashed right into each other. "Y/n! there you are!"

"Dipper you're ok! where is your sister and Soos!?"

"Bills got them! Don't worry I have a plan!" you followed dipper through Stanford's mind following his exact plan, you never even thought about what you could do in ones mind, flying and giant water guns didn't never even cross your mind.

"Hey one eye!" you and dipper grabbed bills attention as you floated up to his level neon colored squirt guns in hand. "WHAT!?"

"Dipper! Y/N! how are you doing that?"

"This is a mindscape you can do anything you imagine in here!" you explained."who told you that? dont liten to them!"

"ready dipper!?"

"ready y/n! aim and..."

"Fire!" you both shot your water guns at bills eye causing him to cry out in pain, you watched Mable conjure herself kitten fists and launched them at bill.

"Now think of a portal out of stans mind!" the four of you shut your eyes and all thought as hard as you could as a portal opened up under bill. "No No No wait! wait! wait! ENOUGH!"

you all flew back as the space around you was now a white void. "you know you're all a lot smarter than you look! I'll let you go for now, you might prove to be useful especially you y/n."

you scrunched your nose at him. "but remember there will come a day when everything you care about will change! until then I'll be watching you!"

there was a bright flash and he was gone. "well that wasn't ominous.." you said "we did it though! He left!" dipper cheered.

before you knew it Stan woke up and you were all wakening up in the Livingroom. and for a moment everything was normal again. "Ugh I had the weirdest dream." stan said rubbing his head. "You're ok!" you exclaimed running over to hug him and planting a quick kiss on his lips. his face heated up as you did so and before you knew it the kids had joined the hug.

a few hours later you'd gotten the kids to go to bed and found Stanford sitting on the back porch. "care for a drink?" you asked offering him a pitty cola he accepted with a smile. and you sat down next to him.

"where have you been?' you asked. a lot had happened today a lot that made you think things over and you decided to start there.

"what do you mean?" he asked with a chuckle. "I've been right here like i always have."

you shook your head. "Most days we can't find you, its been me and the kids or just me in the house, a lot has changed since those two came around most of its been for the better but i didn't think it would drive you away."

he frowned. "do you trust me?"

"Of course." you answered without hesitation.

"I've been working on something i cant tell you what but it's important. and I'll tell you what if it bothers you so much, I'll be around more." you smiled.

"good, I miss you." you said bumping into him.

you both chuckled and then there was a beat of silence you looked up at the sky and took a breath. "Stanford."

"Yea?"

"I think...we'll in light of some recent events...Stanford you mean the world to me."

"uh-oh is something wrong? why are you getting all sappy?"

you took another breath and exhaled all the words you were trying to say.

"Stanford pines I think I'm in love with you and I think you feel the same way about me!" you covered your mouth after you spilled it all. and he stared at you in shock. "Y/n...I uh..."

"I know this is random...buy. You know better late than never, right?"

stan stared at you in awe where your eyes sparkling in the starlight. was this really happening to him right now?

"Stanford?" you placed a hand over his when went silent. normally he would jump at an opportunity like this. sweep you off your feet. But as he stared at your hopeful eyes all he could do was wonder how much of what you felt was really for him, Stanley Pines and how much of it was for who you had believed him to be.

"Oh come on Grunkle stan! Take her on a date already!" Mables voice shouted from above you.

"Mable? what are you doing up!?" you shouted standing to your feet to look up at the twins practically hanging out their window. "yea c'mon Grunkle stan!" dipper agreed with his sister.

"Date! Date! date!" the two kids cheered into the night air.

"alright! alright!" stan said trying to shush them.

"y/n...would you do me the honors of going to dinner with me?" you laughed and his heart swelled at your answer. "Of course Stanford pines."

~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

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[fatuismooches]

a lesson in napping.

It was a beautiful day in Inazuma. The sun was shining brilliantly, not too hot either, just the perfect temperature, with a slight breeze to keep you cool. Perfect for doing nothing, best for relaxing and enjoying life. It was on days like these when your eyes began to droop much earlier than they should be. There was nothing wrong with that, of course. But Kabukimono was questioning why you were already slipping into the futon when it was so early into the day.

“[Name], what are you doing? Are you sick?” Kabukimono worried over your early retirement to bed.

“No, don’t worry, Kabukimono. I’m just going to sleep for a bit.”

“But… it’s not ‘bedtime’, yet, isn’t it?” You chuckled at his use of the new term you taught him.

“You’re right, it may not be bedtime… but it is naptime,” you replied, having to stifle a yawn, wanting nothing more than to just drag your lover under the sheets and just sleep already. “I’m feeling sleepy, so I’m just going to sleep for a little while. A nap,” you explained.

“Ah, ‘naptime’...” Kabukimono repeated. “So a lot of humans not only sleep during the night but during the day too?” The puppet was still learning about the concept of sleep. He did not need to sleep and found the idea of it fascinating. But before, when you left him to sleep by himself, you would be awoken by quiet sobs, and him curled into a ball. You wondered what he dreamed about that made him cry so much, but you never pushed for answers. But now that he lay on your chest whenever he dozed, it seemed that he was no longer plagued by those frightful dreams, at least not so frequently.

“Of course, Kabukimono,” you giggled. “Though most people here sleep during the night, there’s no set time on when a person should sleep. You can sleep whenever you want.” With that, you held your arms out, inviting him to come join you.

“Come here, my love. Why don’t you try it? Won’t you take a nap with me?” Immediately a smile grew on his face, happy to be invited to the activity. Kabukimono shyly slid under the blankets with you and then looked up at you with puppy eyes, hands close to his chest.

“Can you… can you hold me, please?” His cheeks grew to a faint red as he asked. The puppet loved affection but sometimes was scared to ask for it. He’d even get nervous while asking you to accompany him for simple things, leaning from foot to foot with hands behind his back. As if he thought you did not want to be in his presence.

Perhaps he had been rejected in the past, and that hurt his fragile heart.

But no matter, you were here to relieve all of his worries and make him feel wanted. You smiled in response and watched as Kabukimono’s face lit up. “Of course, dearest. Here, turn around,” the boy eagerly followed your instruction and softly giggled as his back pressed against your chest. He really loved being the little spoon.

You briefly thought back to the time when you first spooned him. It was a lovely experience, and he was a joy to hold. But you had felt playful at the time, and what better way to surprise him by tickling him? Your arms were in the best position for tickles too - snug around his middle.

Unfortunately, Kabukimono was not ticklish. The only thing you got out of it was a hot, embarrassed face while Kabukimono looked at you with a confused expression as to why your fingers were dancing around his tummy. It seemed like the puppet really didn’t have any weaknesses. At least not physical ones.

Quickly snapping out of that little memory, you took pleasure in the way Kabukimono was practically glowing in happiness. You wouldn’t have it any other way. It really felt like only the two of you existed in the world right now. Nothing else mattered.

“Good night, [Name]! Oh, I actually shouldn’t be saying that, right? Since it’s still daytime-” The puppet began to correct himself but you kissed him before he could continue, catching him off guard but he quickly reciprocated.

“How about ‘sweet dreams’?”

“Sweet dreams… I like that. Sweet dreams, [Name].”

“Sweet dreams to you as well, Kabukimono. Maybe we’ll have connected dreams, too.”

“Connected dreams? Is something like that even possible?”

“Sure is! Dreams are very, very powerful, love. Don’t forget that. Now hurry to dreamland, before we lose our sleepiness,” you finished, pecking him on the cheek for good measure. Kabukimono settled into the comfortable position once more at your words, comforted by the calm in and outs of your chest. His eyes fluttered shut, as his body succumbed to the surrounding warmth.

The deeply loved puppet soon drifted off, dreaming of a happy and beautiful future with you. You two even adopted a cat! It was a bit grumpy, but that was okay. It would come true, right? After all, if dreams were so powerful, they should become reality eventually.

Right?

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

[bayjaruchel]

Always

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Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Hiccup has a lot on his mind. You help him relax, in more ways than one. (3.6k) (originally posted on ao3)

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Whenever Hiccup was tired — either mentally or physically — he'd find you. 

It wasn't like you didn't spend time together when he was in good health, though. On the contrary, you saw him basically every day. After the whirlwind of events that involved him, a certain Night Fury, and the Red Death, you'd somehow been flung into a rapidly developing relationship. 

Sure, he was … Shy, at first. But also devastatingly sweet. Excruciatingly compassionate. Sometimes you wondered what you'd done to deserve him — correction, what you'd done to earn his perhaps years- long infatuation with you, which you learned about later. Honestly, you still didn't know. Whenever you tried asking, his prepubescent bashfulness roared back like a Thunderdrum. 

Not that you minded too much. It was still cute. 

Regardless, whenever you spent time together, it was usually pre-planned. Maybe you'd have lunch together. Maybe you'd go on long flights — dragons either flying in lazy overlapping figure-eights or shooting through the air, diving precariously to skim the surface of the ocean. The location or activity didn't matter much, as long as you were together. Sometimes, you'd just sit together on the high hills near his home and watch the sky. Still, all those things were proper dates, with proper times and proper locations. Hiccup rarely liked to intrude on your personal time. 

However, on occasion, he'd break that personal law of his. 

This was one of those certain occasions. 

He found you, already in your house due to the late hour. 

You could tell he'd been out flying, due to his ruffled appearance. Although his hair was always at least a little out of place, it wasn't normally this windswept without good reason. He'd shed his helmet, but not his armor; upon entering, though, he took off his vambraces and delicately placed them on the table nearest the door.

Automatically, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms around your upper back. When you returned his embrace, he practically melted into you, hair tickling your cheek where he'd tucked his head into your shoulder. Hiccup smelled faintly of the sea, and of dragons; it made you wonder just how far he'd gone. 

"Hey," he mumbled, muffled into your tunic. 

"Hey yourself." Turning just so, you pressed a kiss into his hair. "Something on your mind?" 

He backed away a little, raising his head to look at you, but didn't let go. He looked tired, shoulders slumped and eyes faintly shadowed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." 

Sounded tired, too. Frowning, you reached up to idly push a lock of auburn hair out of his face. He leaned subtly into your touch, seeking further the warmth of your hand on his skin. At your proximity to him, you could pick out the slight stubble he'd developed. Or his freckles, patterned like constellations across his cheeks and nose. His eyelashes were pretty, too, but he'd never understood why. 

"You didn't push Toothless too hard, did you? He's strong, I know, but even he can only take so much before having to rest." Fondly, you added, "he'd follow you to the ends of the Earth, that one." 

His eyes softened. "I know. But I swear I didn't wear him out — we only flew for so long before heading back." 

"Good." 

You looked at each other for a moment, smiling, before your hand found a familiar place on his cheek. 

"... Did something happen?" 

Hiccup's gaze darted off to the side, his expression fading back into one of weariness. 

"Yeah? I guess?" He paused, before glancing back at you. "I should've seen it coming, but, you know me — always blowing things out of proportion, at least by a little bit." Laughing weakly, he probably would've done one of his sardonic arm movements if he wasn't still holding you. Speaking of, his grip tightened, just a bit. 

"Long story short, my dad wants me to be his … successor." He winced. "Uh, he wants me to be the next chief." 

"Oh." 

You searched his expression and didn't find much of anything. "That's … " 

" … A lot," finished Hiccup, resigned. "Yeah, it's a lot." 

"A lot of … bad stuff?" 

Of course, anyone with two working eyes and a brain would be aware of the fact that Hiccup was very much not like his father. Stoick wasn't a bad man, even if he did have his faults — he and his son merely resembled two opposing elements, clashing and yet harmonizing at the same time. Where the current chief of the Hooligans was brash, all fire and aggression, Hiccup was anything but. He kept to himself most of the time, preferring to spend time alone with Toothless. 

You believed in him, and you always would — it was just that, if he needed to step up as a leader, you were worried about how he'd handle it. 

"Bad stuff, good stuff, just — stuff," he blustered, his voice rising in volume. "Honestly, I've been avoiding my dad. For the past day or so. I can't even look him in the eye without — without thinking about that . " Inhaling sharply, he slowly released his breath in an attempt to calm himself. 

It didn't seem to work. 

"I can't accept that responsibility." 

Quietly, you brushed aside his bangs again. "You haven't talked to him about it at all? He'd listen," you insisted. "He's not as closed-minded as he used to be." 

Hiccup's brow furrowed as he stepped back, arms falling back to his sides. "But he still wouldn't understand why. He'd be all— " Dropping his tone and puffing out his chest in a clear imitation of his father, he declared, "Son, it's only inevitable! You might as well step up while ye can! No use denyin' destiny!"  

You couldn't help but smirk. "Hey, you got his accent spot-on." 

"Why, thank you." He brightened for a moment, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Sometimes I wonder if I exaggerate it." 

"Maybe just a little." 

"Aw, man." Shaking his head solemnly, he humored you for a moment. But quickly, he was serious again. "Regardless of my expertise in the great, great field of accent imitation … " 

"He wouldn't understand that — all of those speeches, and planning, and running the village — it's second nature to him, at this point." Hiccup rolled his shoulders, averting his eyes from yours. "But for me — no, that's not me. I can't be the leader he thinks I'll be — I can't just slip into that role." Running one hand through his hair, he waved his other in a disjointed motion. "Being the pride of Berk doesn't mean I'll automatically become that strong, confident chief that's needed." 

"I guess what I'm trying to get at is that — I'm not him. And I never will be." Dropping his hands back to his sides, he turned his attention to the window. Outside, it was dark, but the sky was clear. A drowsy quiet had fallen upon Berk, a far cry from its usual liveliness. 

"And I never met my mother, so … what does that make me?" 

Finally, he met your eyes once more. Your heart ached for him. 

When you pulled him into another hug, he didn't resist. 

For a minute, you just stayed like that — wrapped around one another. And then, you broke the silence. 

"You don't have to be your father. Or your mother." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but you kept going. "I know you're still searching for yourself — who you are — but that's alright. People can change and grow over time, Hiccup. Even if they think they can't." You gently traced circles over his back. "Even if you think you can't." 

His breath was unsteady as he exhaled. 

When he spoke, he sounded vulnerable. 

"Do you think that … I could be a good chief?" 

You didn't hesitate before responding. "Of course I do. Maybe you're not ready right now, but when you are, you'll be the strong leader that Berk needs." Another kiss, pressed to his temple. "I just know it." 

Hiccup sighed deeply, relaxing more into your arms. For a guy as tall and lanky as he was, he had no problem with making himself smaller in your presence. You had a feeling he even preferred it that way. 

"What would I do without you, huh?" 

Tenderly, he cupped your face. 

You couldn't help but tease him, though. 

"Wallow in your own despair, maybe." Leaning in slowly, you gave him a look. "Well, more than usual."

He smiled, eyes crinkling up at the corners. "Ouch." 

Still, he met you halfway. His lips were a little chapped, maybe, but other than that you had no complaints. As your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer, his hands fell to your waist with a gentle but firm grip. He tasted very faintly of honey. 

It was all very sweet — pun not intended — and you didn't stop it when the kiss deepened. He hummed contentedly, just before you parted; both breathing heavier than you had been before. It was only a brief moment, a brief pause --  and then his lips were on yours again. Passionately, not hungrily. He'd never been a taker. Always a giver. 

Inches from you, after you parted for maybe the seventh or eighth time — you weren't quite keeping count— he murmured something, breathlessly. 

"Can we take this to bed?" He looked at you with nearly half-lidded eyes, and then added a quiet "please?"

"If you want to," you answered, softly. 

"Very much," was his reply, followed by another dizzying kiss. 

His armor and various articles of gear were soon discarded into a small pile, leaving him in just his dark green tunic, pants, and other assorted under-layers. 

At first, he'd been a bit awkward concerning his prosthetic. Insecure. But now, after climbing onto the mattress with you, he deftly removed it and put it to the side with a dull clunk . It didn't come up often as an issue, anyway — after a fair bit of messing around, trying to find positions that wouldn't cause him to lose his balance and topple over, you'd adapted quite easily. 

Right now, you weren't even moving at a speed that could possibly make him fall over. 

He settled back onto the pillows as you hovered over him. Then, you leaned down to continue what you'd started. His hands settled somewhere on your back — he made a small noise as your tongue slipped into his mouth. Warm and longing, he pulled you impossibly closer, craving the feeling of your body pressed against his. 

Soon, his hands snaked below your tunic, seeking out your skin. You giggled, a little — his fingers were always cold after a flight — but they would warm up. In the meantime, you'd help him warm up, too. 

Hiccup shivered, almost imperceptibly, as your lips found his neck for a moment. Indulgently, you nibbled once, playfully, and his breath hitched. But he didn't let you continue much longer, and soon you were back to kissing him where he wanted you most. This was exactly how he liked it best; slow and steady, with no rush to completion. 

A short while later: you almost missed his words, soft as they were. You felt his calloused fingertips tracing patterns on your back all the while. 

"Can I take this off?" He asked, close enough that you could almost feel his lips shaping the syllables. 

You whispered a quiet affirmative. 

The cool air was fresh on your skin, goosebumps temporarily rippling across the newly-bare areas, but he soothed them. A kiss on your shoulder, your collarbone, just above your chest area, and then — your breath escaped in a shudder as his lips found one of your nipples, a hot contrast to the otherwise crisp temperature. After a cheeky, parting nip, he gave the other the same attention. His eyes slid shut after you let out a small, shaky sigh. 

Eventually, you helped him out of his tunic as well, covering the same ground as he had with your lips. His freckles weren't just limited to his face — they were all over his body, pretty much; some on his lean torso, some on his arms, others on his thighs, and even one or two on certain other areas — but you'd get to that later. 

He twitched slightly when you thumbed over his bony hips, his hand resting somewhere between the back and top of your head as you kissed a trail from one shoulder, down to just above his waistband, and then back to the other shoulder. Similarly to the map he was making of the world outside Berk, you enjoyed plotting out the routes between the occasional scar or mole. One jagged mark near his navel, from a bad fall into a thornbush. A couple of assorted scratches here and there from more recent events. You paid attention to each and every one. 

You looked at him, from where you rested near his chest, your own chest resting on his flat abdomen. He met your gaze — green eyes filled with nothing except pure adoration. 

When you moved upwards, kissing him again, he reciprocated eagerly. 

It wasn't long until your previously unhurried kisses grew heated. Hot. Heavy. You felt your face warm as you became aware of your desire — having started out subtle, only a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, but now nearly throbbing, tipping into desperation —

—it seemed he felt the same, as he returned what you were giving him enthusiastically. Even though you were pressed up against him again, his hands returning to your chest before sliding down to grip your waist — it wasn't enough, you were determined to take every low moan and high gasp he released—

Hiccup suddenly broke the kiss, nearly panting

You looked at him quizzically, after instinctively chasing his lips — you were about to ask if he was alright, but he spoke first.  

"Can we— " Catching his breath, he quickly continued. "—switch? Positions, I mean." 

"Oh." It only took you a millisecond to understand what he wanted.

You smiled. "Oh. Sure." 

Rolling off of him, it was your turn to lay back. He helped you shimmy out of your trousers — as he slid them down your legs, he paused to press a kiss just above your knee — before tossing your pants on the floor, where they joined the other abandoned clothes. You didn't care much for wrinkles at a time like this. He never cared for wrinkles, period. 

A pillow, most likely homemade, was slid underneath your hips. Hiccup had always liked every part of you, you were well aware of it. However, he seemed to enjoy your thighs the most; he especially enjoyed being between them. 

His thumbs found your inner thighs, gently drawing them apart as he made himself comfortable on his stomach. 

"Okay?" As he glanced up at you, you could pick out his eyelashes once again. 

"Yeah," you breathed. 

At the first touch of his lips, close to where you wanted them most, you shivered. 

He was patient again, drawing nearer and nearer to your sex — he wasn't the type to leave marks but also wasn't completely adverse to a little nipping. Nonetheless, he was gentle all the while, soothing whichever places he graced with his teeth with more open-mouthed kisses. 

You were tense with anticipation by the time he finally, finally licked a broad stripe up your cunt. 

Vividly, you still remembered the first time he'd eaten you out. What he completely lacked in experience, he made up for with sheer enthusiasm and a nearly all-consuming need to please — now, he still possessed that same enthusiasm, but instead of clumsy kisses and clueless, unskilled lapping, he knew exactly what to do. Hands reaching to cup at the backs of your thighs, he let out a muffled, quiet groan that sent wonderful vibrations dancing up your spine. 

He kept up a steady, firm rhythm, eyes fluttering shut again as he busied himself with his task at hand — his tongue working at your folds, flicking up to tease your clit, delving inside your cunt —  you were growing wetter by the passing minute. He practically worshiped you, and you were a grateful recipient, a grateful deity to a devout follower. 

Your legs trembled as you gradually approached the peak you needed so much. When his lips closed around your sensitive apex and sucked, gently — your hips instinctively twitched upwards, and you couldn't help the sound that tumbled from your mouth in response. 

One calloused finger easily slipped inside you, immediately crooking upwards towards your stomach, searching. It didn't take long for you to adjust, and after your whispered pleas, he added another, both massaging at the spot that made you sigh and gasp. All the while, he lavished attention on your clit with his tongue, occasionally letting out soft, nearly inaudible moans of his own. 

Even though you couldn't quite see it from your position, his hips shifted against the mattress, seeking just enough relief to take his mind off of his own arousal. But the other, rather large percentage of his attention was still focused on pleasing you — on making you come, trembling, onto his tongue as you had many times before. 

Speaking of time — you were unaware of just how much of it passed, but eventually, you felt the familiar coil tightening, warmth pooling low in your abdomen. He must've known, too, because that was precisely when he began doubling his efforts; his fingers prodding insistently in a come hither motion, while he pressed sloppy kisses to your clit, thumbing over the nub with the same already-occupied hand. 

Your back arched upwards, towards his mouth. Flushed and quivering, you nearly choked on a gasp. "Hic—" 

That was the most warning you could give, before you clenched down on his fingers, hips jerking as you came. Letting out a series of short, nearly wanton exclamations, you let your head sink back further into the pillows as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You saw stars for a split second, winking brightly behind your eyelids. 

He kept working at you until the aftershocks had faded, fingers sliding out of you with an almost filthy wet noise. 

You were still panting, face hot, as he absentmindedly popped them into his mouth, tongue swirling around his digits — eyes already heavy-lidded, they shut for a moment at your taste. After you returned to Earth, you drew him in for a kiss, not minding the slight tanginess. If anything, it made you want him more. 

Upon glancing downward, you could easily see the distinct evidence of Hiccup's desire, straining at his pants. 

His breath escaped in a hiss when you leisurely palmed him. 

Soon, you'd switched positions again, and you hovered just above his needy cock as he shifted back to lean on the headboard. 

You were still slick and loose from earlier, so with only a little bit of a stretch, you sank down on him, taking him inside your still-sensitive cunt; the sensations almost bordering on too much, but perfectly so. His face screwed up once he was fully hilted in your heat, and he paused to adjust himself, breath escaping in quick, high-pitched pants. It wasn't anything new — he was always already beyond worked up after eating you out. 

"Good?" You asked, after giving him a few seconds. 

"Yeahyeah yeah," he replied in a single breath, hands squeezing your hips, careful not to grip too tight — "gods , you're warm, mmh— " 

Slowly, you rocked. His grip tightened the tiniest bit. He didn't push you to go faster at all, or harder, letting you ride him at your own pace — but this wasn't for your pleasure. It was your turn to give and his to take. And so, you gave, brushing over his nipples and biting at the spots that always made him lose control. More and more moans fell from his lips, growing in volume and pitch —

He was begging, quietly, breathlessly. You captured his mouth again, biting his bottom lip, making him squirm. His cock twitched inside you, filling you up just right, as if his body was shaped by divine hands to perfectly fit yours —

You watched, reverently, when he finally reached his own ecstasy — you'd pulled him out, given him a couple of firm pumps — his voice cracked on a final, unrestrained whine as his release splattered across his stomach, thick and warm on your palm. It didn't matter how many times you'd witnessed him come — each time, he looked beautiful. 

His breath slowed, the dazedness fading from his expression. His hands loosened on your hips before he finally looked up at you, still considerably flushed. 

"That … " He swallowed. "Was that, uh … Fine?" 

You almost broke into a fit of giggles, but prevented it before it could happen by kissing him instead. Hiccup was perhaps a bit clumsy, but you didn't mind in the slightest. When you parted, you lingered — neither wanting to move just yet, feeling languid in the afterglow. 

"Yes, it was fine," you echoed. His nose wrinkled at your teasing tone, but he couldn't suppress his lopsided smile. A quick peck on your cheek, and then he was back to leaning on the pillows. 

"I'm glad it was fine." 

The sensation of cooling ejaculate was only bearable for a short amount of time, so eventually you did move to clean up. The wet towel was a little cold on your skin, and he thought so too, but it was all in the service of somewhat-proper hygiene. 

Thankfully, the cold failed to slip through the combination of your blankets and Hiccup — which was and had always been a very effective combination. 

You slipped into a comfortable slumber like that — both cozy and sated. He wasn't tense in the slightest as he held you, his chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat against your bare back. 

He always fell asleep before you. 

You hoped his dreams consisted of lovely things, always. 

[moody-alcoholic]

Special Delivery Service

Chapter 12 - The Trip

18+ MDNI explicit content.

Summary: Simon x reader, 3.7k words. A trip up to Manchester to stop some terrorists, at least you get to spend time with Simon.

CW: 18+ MDNI explicit content. Smut, sexy times, grinding, oral (f receiving) slight over stimulation, PiV sex, crying during sex, description of weapons.

Previous - masterlist - Next

Enjoy <3

The drive up to Manchester was long, it felt longer then it was supposed to be. You didn’t mind though it meant you and Simon got to spend a lot of uninterrupted time together. 

“When was the last time you were back in Manchester?” You ask. 

“8 months.” Simon says. 

“What made you keep the flat?” 

“Don’t know, I didn’t want to get rid of it.” He says shrugging.

“What made you leave the army?” You ask. You’ve not talked with him much about his time in the military, but now he’s back to active duty it feels like you should learn more. 

“Price was getting old and he would have never quit. It would take an injury to bench him. I couldn’t let that happen. When our time was coming to re-enlist I pitched another idea to him.” He explains. 

“It was that easy?” You ask.

“Fuck no,” he laughs. “It took Johnny getting shot to convince him. Mission went south he almost got killed. He was in a coma for a week.” You look at him, his expression has changed, he looks sad.

You’re surprised Johnny hasn’t said anything with the way he loves to talk. Maybe it was a sensitive subject, maybe you would bring it up to him at some point. Get his side of the story.

“It’s nice that you all stuck together.” You say. He looks at you a smiles. 

“Yeah, I guess so. It wouldn’t have felt right not being together.” He says, you can hear a hint of something in his voice. His hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter and you decide to change the subject.

“So you’re like John’s deputy?” You ask. He laughs.

“Something like that, he beat me to the captain promotion by a week.” Simon says, you can hear the humour in his voice.

“Really?” You ask, creasing your eyebrows. 

“No, I never wanted to be a captain, too much responsibility.” He says. 

“Johnny said he wanted to be a captain.” You say, remembering a conversation you had last night. 

“Oh yeah?” Simon asks he turns to look at you and you nod. He chuckles. 

“Captain MacTavish. Christ.” 

“I think it has a nice ring to it.” You chuckle. 

“Yeah, next time you see him you should give it ago see how he reacts.” Simon laughs. Maybe you will. You’ve always enjoyed how Simon and Johnny seem to always find a way to wind each other up. You let Simon talk the rest of the drive. Telling you about the people he’s met, the places he’s been. It makes you jealous in a way thinking about all the cool things he’s managed to do. Maybe you could do it join the army, you’d never thought about it before. You feel like you’d be too old now besides you’re not sure how Simon would feel he did leave after all. 

It’s almost dark when you make it to the city. Simon’s flat is in the city centre, it’s a modern looking apartment building with private parking. He’s already on the phone ordering food from his favourite pizza place before you make it into the flat. The place is nice, open plan, bar the bathroom and bedroom, with a balcony. It reminds you of your place, small but functional. 

“Make yourself at home,” he says going to open the balcony door to let some air in. 

“The food will be here soon.” He’s not wrong you barely have time to change into your PJ’s before the doorbell rings. The pizza smells and looks amazing, he was right it was really good. You take it over to the couch and after he changes into something more comfortable he joins you.

You snuggle up against him letting him explain what’s happening in the football game. It’s nice you almost forget why you’re here and the fact he will be leaving tomorrow. He said he’ll be back every night but you know he can’t control it. He has to do what he has to do, even if that means you won’t see him for days on end. 

“Simon, you’ll stay safe right.” You say as you rub his stomach. 

“‘Cause I will, I’ll be back every night I promise.” He says kissing the top of your head. You smile and relax letting yourself believe it.

——————————  

It’s early when Simon leaves the next morning rushing out the door at almost 6am. He says he’ll pick food up on the way home for dinner. You kiss him still sleepy as he says goodbye insisting you stay in bed and go back to sleep. You didn't think you would be able to after he left thinking you would be too emotional and worried, but as soon as the front door clicks closed and your head hits the pillows you’re out like a light. 

You wake a few hours later and realise Simon has nothing in the house not even teabags. You get dressed and head out to the store taking the spare key he left for you on the kitchen counter. You get the basics, not too much though since you don’t know how long you’ll be staying. The rest of the day does seem to go slower maybe it’s the nerves of not know what he’s doing or how much danger he’s in. Maybe it’s just the fact you’re getting a bit sick of daytime TV. 

He texts you around 3 telling you he’ll be late and to order food for yourself. You’re disappointed but you expected it, you order food and something for him too in case he forgets to eat, or pick something up on the way home. You binge watch some drama show while you watch the sunset, checking your phone what feels like every 5 seconds.

By 9pm you’re exhausted and upset you’re going to bed without him. You strip reaching into his bag and throwing on one of his shirts. At least it smells like him. You stay away watching the clock tick on the bedside table, before you know it you’re asleep.

Its late when you hear Simon come back, you look over at the clock it’s past midnight. You reach over pulling a blanket off the chair and wrapping it round your shoulders. You out the room, you see him in the kitchen opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He slams the fridge letting out a long breath. 

“Hey,” You say, he turns to look at you as he opens the bottle. 

“Rough day?” He leaves the kitchen flopping down on the sofa. 

“Go back to bed.” He says sighing, rubbing his forehead. You ignore him going to sit next to him. He smells of smoke. You lean up against him resting your arm over his stomach.

“Want to talk about it?” You ask. He leans over putting the bottle on the coffee table. 

“It’s just a frustrating part of the job, lots of red tape, bureaucracy.” He sighs. 

“Waiting for orders?” You ask. 

“Yeah, waiting for orders.” He repeats. You can hear the frustration in his voice. You move your hand up his chest then to his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb as you pull his lips to yours. His hand finds your thigh and you’re already melting into his kiss. You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the change of scenery, maybe it’s the fact you got further then you’ve ever been before last night.

You don’t care you shut the feelings out as warmth travels through your body. Before you psych yourself out you swing your leg over his legs straddling him. He scoots down the sofa letting your hips rock against him until you feel his cock harden. His hands work up your top, lips still locked on you as the kiss becomes a sloppy mess, too much tongue too fast. 

“I want you so bad.” You say, you’re almost begging but you mean it, you want to feel him on you, in you. His mouth runs down your neck sucking on the soft skin leaving his mark. 

“I know you do, you have me. All of me.” He says looking back up at you. You smile leaning back in to kiss him again. You let him unclasp your bra pulling on the hem of your shirt as you let him take it off over your head. His hands work up to your breasts, cupping them in his hands. 

“Gorgeous,” he breathes before his lips lock round one of your nipples. You stop grinding against him feeling his cock twitch as his tongue flicks your nipple sending vibrations straight down to your desperate cunt. You are desperate for the first time you feel an ache between your legs like never before.

Last night you got a taste and it felt amazing now all you want to do is chase that feeling. He’s moaning on you as your hands run up the back of his neck and through his hair. You’re moaning too, your hips betraying you and grinding up against him again. 

“Baby, you’re soaking through my pants.” He says pulling his mouth off your nipple. 

“I’m sorry,” you say as you stop grinding.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He says his hands coming up to your face making you look in his eyes. 

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” he says, his hands falling down to your hips. You lean back trying to move your legs but he stops you gripping your ass and pulling you in his arms as he stands up. You let out a yelp wrapping your hands round his neck as he carries you into the bedroom. You smile as he gently places you down on the bed kneeling over you. You drop your arms from his neck as he kisses you. It feels good and you let your hands grip his waist. 

“I love you Simon.” 

“I love you too.” He replies kissing you on the cheek quickly before standing up between your knees pulling his shirt over his head. His muscles look bigger in the dark the light coming through the window highlighting each mark on his body. He bends over you again kissing your lips slowly. 

“Let me look after you.” He says his voice low, breath hot against your ear. You don’t know how to respond instead just let yourself enjoy his touch on your body as he slides down to take your underwear off. You hold your breath as he pulls you to the edge of the bed slightly. He kneels down your legs resting on his shoulders as he kisses your thighs. You feel his mouth working its way up, slowly. Before you know it his hot tongue parts your folds. He pauses for a second almost trying to see if it’s too much.

It’s not, and before you know it his tongue is thrust against your entrance. You know you’re wet enough when he lets his tongue get coated in your slick dragging it up to your clit pressing those tight little circles you’re used to.

His hands run up your thighs gripping your hips pulling you deeper into his mouth. It feels amazing, almost too good. You want to cum, his mouth sucking on your clit lapping up your juices as you squirm in his grip. You don’t remember the last time you’ve cum from someone just using their mouth but it’s happening faster then you can think.  

His name leaves your lips as your hand reaches down to grab his hair. He doesn’t stop riding you through the orgasm even as your thighs tighten around his head. You’re panting, your brain not quite comprehending what just happened as you come down from the high. His tongue makes one last brush of your clit making your body shake from overstimulation. 

“You okay?” He asks coming back up to meet your face, his fingers brush your cheeks.

“That was amazing.” You say smiling at him in the dim light. You see him smile back his lips still coated in your juices. He kisses you quickly and you taste yourself on him, it’s sweet and thick. 

“Want to stop?” He asks. You could stop, be satisfied with your orgasm and fall asleep right now. No. You want more, you need more, you want to feel him inside of you. You shake your head. 

“Okay,” he says standing up between your legs. 

“I’ll just be a sec.” You watch as he disappears out the room. You just lay there waiting for a few seconds before he’s back again. You see the glint of something in his hand as he steps in front of you again. He reaches down pulling his pants and boxers off. You lay there propped up on your elbows as you see his cock resting against his stomach.

You’re watching in awe as he strokes it pressing on the tip with his thumb smothering the bead of precum down his length. He lets out a moan as he rips a condom packet open with his free hand and mouth. You watch as he pulls it down his thick, leaking cock. This is it, it’s happening. You have to be brave, you can do this. 

“I’ll take it slow.” He says bending over you using one of his hands to press against your entrance. You expect to feel him push his fingers inside you but instead they’re replaced with the head of his cock. He leans over you, one hand guiding himself into you the other holding himself up. 

“You ready?” He asks his tip still teasing you. 

“Yeah,” you breathe as you wrap your hands round his neck. His hand guides himself inside slowly, he’s watching you, eyes darting round your face. It feels like the air is forced out your lungs as his cock fills you up. He’s big, thick, you gasp as he presses himself fully inside you. 

“Simon-” his name leaving your lips as he holds himself inside you. 

“You okay?” He asks his free hand wrapping around the back of your neck. 

“Yeah, just need a sec, you’re big.” You say forcing yourself to relax as he twitches inside you. 

“Christ love, keep talking like that and I won’t be able to last.” You look up at the smile on his lips. He leans down and kisses you, its a nice kiss, a deep kiss his tongue exploring your mouth as he gently starts to thrust his hips. He takes it slow pulling his lips away from you to read your reaction. He feels good, your hands moved from his neck down his back and you feel his muscles tightening as they work driving him deep inside you. Your back arches as he picks up the pace, you feel full, he’s hitting a spot deep inside you you didn’t know existed.

Every moan he makes is like music to your ears making your pussy flutter round him which just makes him trust harder, you thought it would hurt, or feel wrong but it doesn’t. It feels so right, his hand on the back of your neck, his little kisses he plants on your lips and nose. You mind is quiet just here in the moment with him, it feels good, almost too good. Your breath catches in your throat mid moan as the tears spill down your cheeks. He immediately feels the change in your body language stopping and looking down at you. 

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks, his hand coming from the back of your head to stroke your cheek. 

“I- I don’t know.” You sniffle feeling embarrassed, but you smile to let him know you’re okay.

“Want me to stop?” You shake your head, bringing one of your hands up to brush the tears away. 

“I just need a second.” You say sniffling. You can do this, you’ve got this far. 

“You’re doing so well.” He says leaning down to kiss you another deep kiss that you let yourself get lost in. Distracting you from the tears as he works his tongue in your mouth. His movements start again his hips bucking into you quickly chasing up to the speed he was at before. Somehow it feels better then before the thrusts longer and deeper, his moans hot in your ear. 

“Simon-” you breathe running your fingers down his back you feel goosebumps rise on his skin. It’s like your breath is being taken away with each smash against your cervix. 

“Baby you feel amazing.” He says, the praise makes your heart flutter you’ve never had praise during sex before. You swallow the lump, blinking the tears away, you’re pretty sure if he saw you crying again he would stop. You don’t want to stop it feels too good and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge. You relax as much as you can letting the waves of pleasure wash over you. Your mind blank gripping onto the man you love as he pants in your ear. You don’t try and stop it when you get close his name leaving your lips, nails digging into his back. 

“It’s okay baby, cum for me.” He breathes in your ear. His voice is low sending shivers up your spine as you clench around him. 

“Thats it, good girl.” It’s what you needed to hear you don’t know why your brain is a foggy mess as you climax. You almost miss the fact that he’s coming too as your back arches, his thrusts slowing. He’s breathing into your neck planting little kisses telling you how well you did as he throbs inside you waiting till your panting has stopped before gently pulling out of you. It makes you feel almost empty, you lay there waiting for your heart rate to normalise, enjoying the sensations still lingering in your body. 

“You okay?” He asks, you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at him as he stands naked at the end of the bed. 

“Yeah, I love you.” You smile at him. 

“I love you too.” He leans down to kiss you. 

“Want to take a shower?” He asks. 

“Together?” 

“If you want.” He says chuckling, he holds his hands out for you and you take them letting him help you off the bed. He warps his arm around you as he takes you into the bathroom. You get in the shower adjusting the water so it’s nice and warm. A few seconds later he steps in behind you. His arms wrap round your you and you sink into his embrace. He washes your body meticulously going over each part like he can’t touch it enough. You stroke his chest asking about his scars. Some he tells you about, others he just kisses you instead.

You could fall asleep in his arm right there, the room steaming up, his hands gently moving round your body. You let out a sigh into his chest as he turns the water off helping you out the shower. You reach over grabbing a towel for him and one for yourself. The walk to the bedroom turns into another sloppy make out session as you try not to trip over each others feet. You’re too tired and blissed out to care as you finish drying up searching for a clean pair of underwear. He hands you back the shirt you had on before and you pull it on and climb into bed. He climbs in next to you pulling you up against his chest. You close your eyes breathing him in as he kisses your forehead. 

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispers as he pulls the duvet over you both. You smile relaxing into his arms. You mumble in response, letting his arms squeeze you. 

“Thank you.” You say, words slurring as you fight to stay away, wanting to enjoy his touch for as long as possible.

“Shhh, just sleep.” He says, his hand running down your back. You listen to him pressing your head up against his chest so you can hear his heart beating. 

  ——————————  

The sound of Simon’s phone ringing pulls you out of your amazing dream. A dream where you and Simon got to spend as much time together as possible. You feel him move his warm hands off you as he reaches over to answer it. You hear the one sided conversation as you turn over to wrap your arms round him. 

“Already?” You ask as he puts the phone down, nuzzling your head into his neck.  

“I know I’m sorry.” He sitting up in the bed making you drop your arms. You sigh looking over at your phone which needs charging. 

“Do you have a charger?” You ask as he gets up leaving the room.

“There should be a spare charger in the bedside table.” He calls from the living room. You go over and open the drawer. Your heart stops for a second as you see the charger laying next to a pistol. You curse at yourself you should be used to this by now. He’s soldier, probably has many more stashed away. You get the charger and close the drawer, your hands shaking like you’ve just witnessed something you should not have seen. The weapon reminded you of the one your ex had. Sleek and black, like the ones you’ve seen in action movies. 

“I’ll be back earlier tonight.” He says sticking his head round the door. He’s already dressed. You smile at him, he comes over leaning down to kiss you. 

“I love you,” he says. “So much.” 

“I love you too.” You reply, he strokes your cheek as his phone starts ringing in his pocket again. He curses under his breath and rushes out to leave. 

“See you later.” He calls as you hear the door close. You look back at the bedside table opening it again slightly to see the gun. It’s not as scary as it first looked. You think back to the house in Paris when you let them get away with bugging the place. You had nothing to defend yourself with, it was the right thing to do. Your rational brain tells you. If you had a gun though the situation would have been different.

You reach in taking it out. It’s heavy, the metal cold in your hands. You have no idea what you’re doing just turning it over looking at each part. Your hands are shaking as you press the trigger but it doesn’t move. You frown looking where the mag should go. It’s empty. A deep fear rises in you. You pulled the trigger on a gun. It makes you feel sick you put it back in the drawer closing it up. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t tell Simon about this he’ll take it away.

You want to keep it, have something you can use to keep yourself safe. You don’t know why it makes you feel powerful but it does. You reach over plugging your phone in and open the browser. Guess today you were going to learn how to fire a gun. 

Next

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[bambi-kinos]

I have been thinking about this ask since I got it and as to the question of why John treated people the way he did, especially Paul. My take on this situation is that John Lennon was not allowed to grow up by the environment and people he was surrounded by and so he could not envision the future consequences of his actions the way that the average adult can. This with the addition of his constant drug use (which in all likelihood left him with significant brain damage) meant that he could not function the way an adult should.

John actually did have periods of emotional growth where he looked inward, changed, and tried to do better. These moments took place before he got famous, when he was faced with adversity and he rose to meet it.

IMO Hamburg 1960 was such a time. John partied, he found new pills to take, he experimented with kissing and shagging men, he discovered transgender people (and shagged them), and had a lot of ups and downs with his boyfriend(s) and his group. It is easy to dismiss this as mindless hedonism but as a retired hedonist myself (though I never pushed as hard as John did) I will tell you: hedonism can lead to introspection and self knowledge. John really pushed it to its limits and he almost lost Paul because of it but I think the Great Unknown that happened in Hamburg pushed John to actively change. He cleaned himself up a bit especially once Stuart left to be with Astrid. Once he came back to Liverpool (after enduring the trauma of his bandmates being ripped from him, yet another violent separation that no doubt would have left him in an emotional tailspin) he rested, hooked up with Cynthia, and then went looking for Paul knowing that he needed him to make this band thing work. Like, John spent a few weeks in his bedroom not speaking to anyone once he went home. He didn't want to be seen, he wanted to sleep and eat hot food, and think. He was considering whether he should continue with the band or not, if this was really worth it. Which implies there was a precarious moment where John was thinking of just ending The Beatles. He decided that the plan still had merit, ran into George, and then went to fetch Paul. A few months of light groveling and nagging later, Paul was his again. John committed to The Beatles and therefore committed to Paul. Paris was the culmination of this change and John's reward for putting in the work, and from what we can gather, Paul made every inch worth John's while.

The Beatlemania years leading up to Sgt. Pepper and psychedelia. This was period is more like 1961-1965 Shea Stadium. From here it was an upward climb and subsequently the most intense period of his relationship with Paul. I don't think this was just youthful enthusiasm and the flush of a new relationship, I think John was learning and growing as a person thanks to this adversity. He bonded even closer to Paul which resulted in their intimacy deepening; John's songwriting matured and culminated in "Ticket to Ride" which is a brutal self evaluation of his own faults and how he drives his loved ones away from him. You don't write a song like "Ticket to Ride" because you have no idea what it's like for your lover to get fed up with your moodiness and leave you. John was much more self aware than he's given credit for. This continued onward, them thinking they've reached the summit only to find there's a new height to climb. John said something to the effect of "I saw the top of the mountain" as a result of the first Shea concert. (They would do a second Shea concert in 1966.) That was when he realized that The Beatles were it and that they were not vacating the number one spot any time soon. What else was there to strive for?

And I think after that, a lot of John's emotional development kind of...stopped. Or was held up. Or slowed down to a snail's pace, whichever you prefer. The LSD had a hand in this, tripping constantly takes a lot out of you. Yesterday played its part, John emotionally retreated out of fear of losing Paul (which of course ensured that he lost Paul forever). Success becomes your enemy sometimes; John had so much success that he no longer had to face adversity, no longer had to grow because everything he wanted was on tap. As someone somewhere said, fame ruined the Beatles in this way.

That's the crux of it, I think. He just stopped maturing. It was childish the way he slagged off Paul -- not just Paul but other people as well. Sean said that John spent the rest of his life apologizing to everyone he ran into because of Lennon Remembers, which implies he burned a lot of bridges with that one. John had a habit of doing that and his fame as a Beatle enabled him to do it without consequences. No one was willing to stand up to him so he didn't get to learn a pattern of "don't do this or else this will happen." He was mentally damaged from his drug usage and I also wonder if he had a genuine learning disability of some kind because he simply could not make the connection between cause/effect: "If I do X then Y might happen so I shouldn't do X." His mother was not a drug user like John but she exhibited many of the same behaviors he did. Namely the "inability to visualize consequences" thing.

John did care about Paul, especially when it was starting out. I think the love was pure then because his mental aesthetic of who and what Paul was had not yet been distorted. John knew who Paul was, he knew who John Lennon was, they were in love and everything was possible.

But then John's untreated mental illness begins to take its toll, he's self medicating with drugs which does more harm than good, his mental aesthetic of Paul distorts more and more because Paul will not let him in. The media did this to John too, all of them reporting on how cool Paul was and how amazing Yesterday is and John is shitting himself internally because he can feel the split already forming between them musically. John is unable to stop himself from manipulating Paul in response, which is a bad move because Paul is the ultimate contrarian and bolts in response. Which sends John into deeper panic etc. And oh yes, the entire world is watching them while this happens and nitpicking their every move. We live in the age of social media, we know what this is like.

Over time that love became mixed in with anger and resentment. John could not tell fantasy from reality. He did what he always does and he imagined something, tricked himself into believing it, and then got mad about something that didn't exist. If he did reach out to Paul then Paul responded badly, which understandably devastated John's feelings.

When you show someone your real feelings and they dismiss you or trivialize your vulnerability because they want to Win At Being Right...your relationship crumbles with that person. A common bug in Paul's relationships is that he needs to Win At Being Right even at the expense of people loving him. We don't know this for sure but I'm convinced he did this to John plenty of times. Frankly, a relationship cannot survive that behavior. Lack of mutual respect kills marriages all the time. I absolutely believe that Paul disrespected John and trivialized his feelings (even if by accident) and that this caused John to become bitter over time since Paul took him for granted. Who wouldn't become bitter under those circumstances?

This is how they got into the "fuck you/no, please, fuck you/no no no fuck YOU/I absolutely insist, you must go fuck yourself" cycle. Which John really just expanded on during the 1970s with his bitching about Paul, it was just another level of the "fuck you bitch" cycle that started between them with Yesterday. And John's immaturity and brain damage from drug usage and his inability to understand consequences meant that he didn't fully comprehend what he was doing. He didn't want to think that Paul was vulnerable because Paul had rejected John's vulnerability. He didn't want to imagine he was hurting Paul deeply because Paul had hurt him deeply. He wanted revenge on Paul more than he wanted to keep his relationship with Paul because he thought Paul wouldn't be too damaged by it. I think John had gotten comfortable with the idea that no matter what he threw at Paul, Paul would not only survive it but that he'd rub John's face in it. I don't think John ever considered the idea that he could actually succeed in what he was doing, he never imagined that he would actually win the argument and that he would damage Paul's image and John's relationship with Paul forever. That sense of "I'll lose no matter what" enabled him to act out however he wanted because it wasn't like any of it would matter anyway, right? Paul can survive anything. He's invincible.

Right?

John did love Paul, I believe that. I think he loved Paul deeply and sincerely. I think if he actually understood what Paul was thinking and feeling then John would have changed tactics immediately or even stopped what he was doing. But John's drug usage, years of slights and disrespect from Paul, being unable to visualize consequences, and immaturity caused him to act out in a childish way. He stopped listening to Paul and started listening to his resentments and grudges. Lashing out at Paul was the only outlet he had and John didn't know how to do anything else. He had no incentive to learn otherwise and grow up, deal with Paul on adult terms.

Funnily enough I think it's actually losing George that finally set something into motion inside John. Like, George cut John off, an extremely big deal. In my neck of the woods its called "severing" and its probably the most difficult thing you can possibly do with any sort of relationship. George ignored John; he cut John out of his autobiography; he stopped talking to John; he did not mention him in public. He knew this was the most brutal punishment he could devise for John Lennon and it worked. John wrote "lost" by George's name in the word association game. John went too far bitching about Bob Dylan and not apologizing for hanging George out to dry. George had enough and did the right thing. He severed his relationship with John because John was toxic and dragged George down. Of all the people in John's life, George is the one who willingly served consequences to John when he was surrounded by enablers and errand boys.

That, more than anything, seems to be what set John on the back foot. I sincerely believe that George cutting him off forced John to do some introspection and that is part of what he was doing in the Dakota after Sean was born. Asking himself what he did to make George cut him off; and then John slowly started to grow and mature again. Because you see, George provided what Paul couldn't: he gave John adversity to meet, which forced John to grow as a person. And so we got the song "Woman" which is not just about the women in John's life but is also a letter to all the people he hurt with his thoughtlessness and immaturity, where he finally starts taking responsibility for his actions:

I can hardly express, My mixed emotion at my thoughtlessness, After all I'm forever in your debt,

I will try to express, My inner feelings and thankfulness, For showing me the meaning of success,

hold me close to your heart, However distant don't keep us apart, After all it is written in the stars,

please let me explain, I never meant to cause you sorrow or pain, So let me tell you again and again and again,

It's on par with "Ticket to Ride" and "I Know, I Know" in John showing introspection and discussing his own flaws. Something that he notably was not doing during his peak "fuck you Paul" era.

John loved Paul but also resented him due to their circumstances. He wanted to hurt Paul but didn't think he could actually do so because his mental aesthetic of Paul was so viciously distorted. He dehumanized Paul by putting him on a pedestal, made him an object John could degrade at a moment's notice to make himself feel better. You can do that to objects without consequences; when you do it to people, you get pushback.

Losing George and Paul keeping him at a distance for years is what made John finally realize that he had hurt them and that he could hurt them to the point that he would never see them again. It took years of self examination for John to come to this realization which indicates how disordered and muddy his thinking was.

[hotnbloodied]

Petite!Yan X Reader

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

TW: implied stalking, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, murder(not of reader), slight gore(?). <let me know if I missed anything>

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

Your laugh was his drug, he loved listening to you laugh. That glowing round face on that adorable plush body of yours. If it was up to him he’d want to keep himself wrapped around you forever but you two were just friends. (For now.) He was always made fun of for liking the cuter things in life, Sanrio, pastels and frills. His home town was small and everyone basically knew everyone, that’s why he went to a big university but making friends was never easy when one has been an outcast for so long.

It wasn’t until his second semester that he met you. When he chose to join a club as a way to make friends, you were also a part of it and you were really clumsy as he was soon to find out. It started when everyone was making cakes, as it was the theme for this week's activity and everyone was given the choice of trying to do it from scratch or using box mix. This wasn’t Petite!Yan’s first rodeo in baking so he started doing what he liked such as sifting the flour and beating the eggs.

He noticed you right when you opened the box cake mix and just dumped all the contents you were holding at shoulder length into a bowl that was on the counter. Causing the powder to fly everywhere and only some of the box cake mix to enter the bowl. It was extra hard to have not noticed you since you were stationed right beside him which led to the aforementioned powder that didn't land in the bowl, to get all over his station, coating his ingredients and part apron to be dusted with your cake mix.

You profusely apologize to him and try your best to explain through your flushed expression that you’ve never cooked or baked before. He laughed (when was the last time he did that?) and assured you it was okay, in fact, he thought it would be a good idea to help you through the step by step of everything. By the end of it all he had his adorably decorated cake that looks like it could have come from Pinterest and your cake, that looked like what you’d expect from someone learning.

After that experience you and him talked more outside of the club, he learned that you were sociable unlike him so you introduced your friends to him which he greatly appreciated but even though this was what he wanted, why did he still feel so empty? His heart tinged every time you laughed with someone else and his mood sours when he sees you smile at someone else. (It should be all his.)

In his pursuit to find ways to spend as much time with you as he could he found out that all the food that you eat was prepackaged food from the store since you couldn’t cook to save yourself. He took it upon himself to make sure you ate home cooked food regularly by making you lunches, not only that, he convinced you to let him teach you some basic cooking skills, adding to the time the two of you spent together where he could bask in your presence. On top of also the time he spent with you with the friend group at school.

During the week, the friend group would all convene at someone’s house, usually whoever was the one offering, and study together. That's if you and Petite!Yan didn’t have cooking club that day. Then afterward you and Petite!Yan would eat dinner together. During the weekend you went on shopping trips with Petite!Yan since you commented that you liked his style a lot and wanted to dress more like him (which unintentionally added fuel to his delusional fire.)

Petite!Yan couldn’t help but fall into the rhythm of monopolizing your time. But it came to a head one day when the friend group saw someone new, a tall boy with an edgy feel to him. PetiteYan’s alarm bells started ringing when he noticed the pink dusting your face when you talked to the boy and how the new boy seemed extra soft around you. (Petite!Yanisn’t delusional! He’s got the weeks of observation notes of you to prove that something is up!) Slowly, to his dismay, your wardrobe which was on the cuter side (thanks to him!) changed slowly to adopt more black clothes and edgier fashion.

Not only that, you were spending more alone time with the boy, when you used to spend it with him! This boy was a bad influence on you. He had to bring you back to his– the light side, before it was too late! But he needed to be smart about this. One day, when he saw that the boy was alone he realized that it was now or never before walking up to him. Petite!Yan told him that you were looking for him and could bring him over to where you were. Only for Petite!Yan to bring him to a secluded area and tasering him before tying his body up and dragging him to the trunk of his car and driving to the woods. Petite!Yan wasn’t the strongest but he was running on pure adrenaline. Before the boy could wake up, Petite!Yan took out a large knife that he kept exactly for an occasion like this and sliced the boys’ throat causing a terrible gurgling sound to escape his mouth. The sound was gross, so much so that Petie!Yan couldn't bare to listen to it. To end his misery faster than the boys, he jammed the knife into the boy's chest, aiming for the heart and getting frustrated every time he struck the ribs instead. Killing someone was harder, and messier than he had thought it would be, who knew?

By the end of the stabbing spree Petite!Yan looked at his deed, clothes and skin drenched in blood. Petite!Yan’s work wasn’t done but he was surprised with how he felt at this moment, he honestly thought he would be panicking more. But all he had on his mind was what came next in this plan and how he would have you all to himself again. He took the shovel from his car and started to dig, deep enough to his satisfaction. Climbing out of the hole he checked the boy for a pulse, when he felt none he shoved the body into the hole before covering it up with dirt again. By the time that Petite!Yangot home, he was exhausted and collapsed on his bed. 

Days turned into weeks, everyone was wondering where the boy was. His family came forward and pleaded on the news. The friend group was devastated, which especially included you. Petite!Yan hated seeing you like this, but took up the role of your comfort provider without a moment's hesitation. Making sure you still ate, drank and showered regularly. The study group disbanded for now and you didn’t feel up to going to the cooking club but Petite!Yan still came over to check in on you. You might not know it now, but his tactic of comforting you was working. He was becoming the rock that held your life together in this trying time, making sure you still had food in your stomach and giving you a space to talk about your mental state openly with him. Eventually, he’ll have you in his grasp fully. He was willing to play the long game, because once you are his, you are never escaping.

[merbear25]

Hey Mer! I've been reading more on Tumblr lately and I've really been enjoying your work. I was wondering if you could write something for a trans reader (ftm) x the cross guild members (Croc, Buggy, Mihawk)?

Maybe the reader works at the guild, one of Buggy's men maybe, and the piece would be the boys navigating asking the reader out for the first time, and the reader feels like he has to reveal that he's trans?

If you aren't comfortable/feel out of your depth, no worries ✨

Hey, Logan!! Thank you for such lovely words. It truly means a lot to know you enjoy my writing. I’m totally fine with writing requests like this, so thank you for sending it in! I got a boost of inspo with Buggy’s part for some reason.😂 I hope I did your request justice and you like what I’ve written for you. 💜💜

CW: trans male reader, coming out to them, fluff

Them asking you out (Cross Guild)

Mihawk

Having first been introduced to you within the workplace, he didn’t really think much of you. He saw this business as something that should remain as such, meaning you were kept on the backburner of his subconscious, though he kept the flame under you burning ever so dimly, allowing you to burn an unforgettable image of yourself in him.

The flame of interest started small for him, burning brighter and hotter as each day passed. With time feeling as if it were standing still when you were around, it dawned on him that he had genuine feelings for you.

However, just because he was sure he had these feelings didn’t mean he was confident they’d be reciprocated. Before fully pursuing you as a romantic interest, he deemed it necessary to observe and learn more about you to get a good reading on how you felt about him.

During one of the quiet moments you spent together engrossed in your own activities, he looked over at you as if wondering what he was about to admit would put you off wanting to be around him anymore. That being said, he took this pleasant time you were sharing to give you a glimpse of what you meant to him.

“Would you care to join me for dinner one night?”

With excitement dancing in your eyes, it was slowly eaten away at. You could feel your heart starting to ache from a creeping fear, one that could very well lead to your heart getting broken. The weight of the situation was apparent by the worry you held on your face.

Not knowing what was troubling you, he gave you a gentle reminder that you were under no obligation to accept his offer, “Don’t feel as if you have to say ‘yes’ to please me.”

Although his voice was kind and supportive, it felt like a dagger nonetheless. You didn’t want him to think you weren’t interested, so you gave him an explanation.

“It’s not that,” you began. “I just think you should know that I’m trans.” With so much feeling at stake, the moment of silence between you telling him and him responding was deafening.

“I appreciate you telling me, but with all do respect that doesn’t make a difference. You’re still you at the end of the day.”

Even with maintaining that stoic demeanor, his delivery alluded to the affection he had for you rising within him.

“So, will you be joining me for dinner?”

With a sigh of relief you gladly accepted.

Crocodile

A man that many feared but few actually knew—that was the way he liked keeping it. But when that sad excuse of a business partner introduced you to him, that may have been the first time he thought Buggy had made a good choice.

Though the moments you were around each other were scarce at the beginning, he gradually requested your assistance more and more often. You were admittedly nervous to be spending so much one-on-one time with him, but as time passed and you both got used to the idea of being around each other, things felt less precarious for you. 

Despite your nerves becoming more at ease, his were doing the opposite. Those walls he’d put were beginning to crumble, letting a sinking feeling settle in his chest. When he sat alone, he pondered the marvel of the effect you had on him. “Would it be worth it? Telling you that he’d come to have feelings for you?” He asked himself. Putting his cigar out, he came to his decision.

The next day came with tension in the air, which was his doing. After mulling over the right approach and weighing the pros and cons of confessing, now it was time to put his guarded heart on the line.

“There’s a nice restaurant not far from here. I’m going there on Saturday if you care to join me.”

The invitation was purposefully left ambiguous and open-ended, so as to maintain some sense of control over the outcome.

Such a request took you off guard; you stood there for a moment like a deer in headlights, making his cheeks prickle with a blush from the rising embarrassment.

“Forget it.” He was quick to retract his offer.

“No, I-I want to, it’s just…” When he cocked his eyebrow at you, the reason you gave was far from anything he was expecting. “I’m trans and I just didn’t really know how to tell you.”

It felt as if he was staring into your soul before finally responding with a slightly cold, “You had me worrying over something like that? That doesn’t matter to me.”

In spite of his icy exterior, his offer still stood, which you happily took him up on.

Buggy

When he first hired you, it was partly out of desperation. You seemed competent enough to help him maneuver through a lot of the mess he always found himself in. You were clever and fun to be around, not to mention cute. That final thought slipped past him so suddenly that he hadn’t even noticed his fondness for you growing over the time you’d been working there. 

With all the hours you spent together, it was no wonder he was growing attached to you. He felt at a crossroads: wanting to see where the path with you would take him, while the other was muddied from doubt of you returning his feelings.

However cautious he felt about approaching you, his feet carried him to you. When you noticed him idly standing in the doorway, he buried the real reason for him being there.

“I just came here to make sure you were keeping up with your work,” he said with feigned confidence as he pretended to examine the job you’d done.

He knew that you were the only one who could see through that mask of his, but seeing as he only put that mask on when he was hiding something, you asked him gently, “There isn’t anything else you came to ask me?”

His heart skipped a beat and his eyes locked on yours, proving your hunch. “Well, I just think you’ve been slacking a bit and came to do some quality checks.” Despite the stance he took, his voice was shaky.

“And I…I thought I would,” he cleared his throat. “I thought I’d ask you out.”

When your immediate response wasn’t over the moon with joy, he backpedaled. “Nah, you know what? I don’t want to. It’d be too much trouble come to think of it.”

It was all happening so quickly that you barely had a chance to digest the situation. With him brushing off all your stuttering attempts to talk to him, the sentence, “I’m trans and that’s why I hesitated,” poured out of your mouth.

He turned on his heel to look at you, firstly to see if you were playing some kind of weird joke on him, and secondly if you were serious to think he’d reject you for that.

“I don’t care about that,” he huffed.

Watching the color come back to your face and the light in your eyes return made him acknowledge the vulnerability he felt around you—the way you made him feel like no one else could. Once you gave him the answer he was hoping for, things seemed just a tad less scary.

[thefaiao]

Do you remember what hooked you on the LISA series? It's a decently impactful set of games so I'm curious as to why you've created so many drawings from it

A great question. I don't think I can answer this with absolute precision, but I'll try. I'll begin explaining how exactly I first got into drawing LISA, and we'll work from there to the reason I believe I am still compelled to draw more of it.

I first played and finished LISA at the end of 2016. I was decently active at that point, but hadn't garnered much attention to my drawings. I had made a Hotline Miami post that had gotten decently popular, and a few Yogscast(1)(2)(3) drawings that also did decently well, but overall nothing super noteworthy. Most Yog fans at the time weren't into what I liked mainly, which was Shadow of Israphel.

I was immature at the time, so had a hard time connecting with people in fandoms. Not to mention, I was a Brasilian in a sea of Americans and Europeans. You'd be surprised how hard it was to relate with people in that setting, but I tried here and there.

I felt pretty strongly about the HM post though, since it felt like a great personal achievement. I felt a drawing I had a clear vision for had achieved what I set out to do with it. Seeing how much people liked it, it was pretty magical when you've never had a post "do well".

Anyway, people were hopping out of tumblr and onto twitter, and I did as well. Twitter, despite everything, sort of puts you way closer to other people. Your reply to someone important is very visible and hard to ignore. It was a type of equalizer. There I had gotten to get my drawings actually seen and shared by Austin, the guy who made the LISA games.

Having had my drawings shared and recognized that way had a strong impact on me, and I even got to talk with an artist I really looked up to at the time, Maren, who had also gotten into LISA. She had done art for SBFP and TF2, so it felt surreal to me to be acknowledged by someone like that. Up to that point I really felt like more of a passive observer to everything.

In 2014 I finished high-school, and 2015 I spent the whole year learning how to draw better. I tried so hard that I ended up dissociating, a very scary emotion, that I didn't even know was a thing at the time. It felt like all that time and effort was starting to pay off, and that there was a way forward here.

First I posted sketches, and the passion I had for the game and motivation from the recognition led me to put a lot more effort than usual into my drawings. I ended up making these, which got really popular, it was very validating.

So because of all that I kept drawing. I'll be honest, a lot of the time I just wanted to get even more of the attention of these weird new cool popular friends that were paying attention to me for some reason. I was very lonely at the time. I think I stayed lonely for a long time after too.

But eventually people move on, as is normal with fandoms. I didn't really feel my passion for drawing and LISA die out though. I had started a massive LISA art project at the time, that took me 5 long years, and also was more focused in college, where I did Game Design.

Drawing wise, eventually I branched out to other RPGmaker games, but LISA was very easy to draw. It was sort of a home-base for me. Something I could come back to when I was uncertain.

I think Urasawa put it quite well, with Billy Bat:

Drawing the same characters over and over is extremely rewarding, and a great way to reflect on your progress so far. I suppose it's meditative, but that's not quite the right word. It's very fun and constructive, and people can also keep track of your progress through that. I did the same with OFF characters, a game I had drawn way before all this.

Of course, I had a lot of issues because of how things developed. I related a lot of my self-worth with the validation I received from people online, and I still do, to an extent...

When I started taking the game I'm making, Meanderer, more seriously, and started living alone, posting anything felt awful. I didn't have the energy for bombastic posts, or the time spent developing the way I draw the characters like I did for LISA, that is, with ease and style. It felt very humiliating, but I understand it was a warped view of things.

It was a long and depressing time in my life, but it taught me a few important lessons, and made me sort of re-evaluate how I engage with "online" overall. But I still liked drawing LISA throughout all of this, I almost felt ashamed of it to a certain point.

All of this isn't to say I didn't love the game itself. It wasn't all just context. I really, really love LISA. It drove me to sobbing tears, which I don't think another game has gotten out of me. It's a fantastic game, that really showed what fresh things you could do with the medium. When I played it I'm not sure I fully understood how much I loved games.

I just grew up with the characters of LISA. Maybe not in my adolescence, but definitely in my adulthood, and with my art. These characters help me orient myself, understand my limits. And it's damn fun to get better at drawing them. Even just a character on an empty blank canvas, with only black and white lines. It's the most fun in the whole world.

To finish it off, I have a general philosophy of not republishing drawings. So whenever I want to do a LISA post I have to draw a LISA post. Just keep drawing and drawing. Don't get hung up on one drawing or idolize one thing you did. Keep making things. It doesn't have to make sense. Just keep drawing.

(There was a power outage while writing this and I had to retype this whole damn post by the way. Appreciate it!)

[marinettesaltprompts]

Not sure if you're still active, but here's a 'prompt':

Maribat, but without the wish-fulfillment:

The bats-family comes to Paris, and the usual Maribat stuff happens. Shadowmoth is found, Lila gets revealed, Marinette gets to castigate her friends to the bone beofre dimissing them as vile people beneath her notice and Adrien gets summarily replaced because Plagg's Miraculous is apparently Ladybug's engagement ring and Damian is "just better". To top it all off, Marinette is taken under Batman's wing, and without an active threat in Paris leaves for Gotham.

It's not what she expected.

She realises the true depths of human cruelty without the insanity of Akumatisation to hide behind,

She gets to learn what it's like to be the last person to know plans because SHE'S not the one calling the shots anymore, indeed: she's the most junior person int eh chain of command. She's the one who has to shut and obey when push come to shove, and get excluded from decisions that effect her and information that she should have but Batman keeps locked up under "need to know". And she's not on the list.

Because why would she be? She was the child who struggled to find Shadowmoth while she had a box of magical superweapons- including one that could give her any power she asked of it- when it took Batman his Robins maybe a week at most to do the same with conventional methods.

She even finds out that Batman has a dozen contingencies in place to take the box and Miraculous from her if she goes rogue. Based on information he's accumulated from her while she spent time under his roof and trained to impress him.

Oh, and to add salt to the wound: Damian makes it clear that he doesn't consider her his equal. Guardian or not. Certainly not someone he's going to take orders from, or someone he's interested in romantically for that matter. It takes more than a reasonably attractive face and talent for magical devices to interest Damian Wayne; and beyond those things what's exceptional about Marinette Dupain-Cheng compared to the other potential love interests he already had?

Did it occur to her that he might already be in a relationship before she gave him the ring? Because it seems like she's committing the same sin that Adrien Agreste once did in assuming the bearers of Destruction and Creation have some special destiny to be together.

(Adrien could tell her how that works out).

So now Marinette's stuck in a new, far less friendly city, speaking a foreign language and in a home filled with strangers she impulsively threw her old life away to be with. And she has to live with it because of how she burned her bridges.

Great Post! You put a lot of thought into the prompt, and the idea of Ladybug being brought into a situation where she's way in over her head and not instantly the main person in charge (just because she holds a powerful set of magical earrings) actually sounds great! Though that itself could be its own fanfic idea.

I myself am not personally fond of the Maribat part of the fandom or the idea of even mentioning it, given that it and the the idea of Marinette and Damian ever being a thing represents everything bad about the salty part of the fandom, especially from people who likely never read any actual DC comic involving Damian.

However, I do appreciate how you deconstructed the idea of not only Damian instantly being Marinette's love interest, but also how Marinette meeting the Batfamily would instantly make her part of it or even their favorite, since neither of those would likely ever happen given the dark and gritty nature of Batman comics contrasting with the light and generally perfect world of Miraculous.

I mean, the idea of Marinette relating in any way to the BatFam would be ridiculous in canon, considering her generally perfect and happy family life in comparison to everyone in the BatFam differing flavors of trauma. By comparison, Lila being a bitch or her friends not believing her seems mundane by comparison.

Anyways, love the post!

[charmedreincarnation]

Mayaaaa! I have been stalking you @lotusmi @multiversebaddie @blushydior and someone else I forgot their tag, I think they deactivated 😞 for a long time and you guys helped me so much 😝😝but I am sending this to you because u r the most active right now I believe but I got into the void state and shifted Using these blogs !

You guys all like Neville and say work on faith so I used lotus detailed posts, she’s an angel! And same with multi, I used her faith and Neville posts and combined with what I learned from lotus without over consuming since that’s a problem in the community. Then I used your intention reprogramming method I saw in your lucid guide and focused on faith and no methods! Just intention and it worked faster and more easy than any other method I tried for months. I did everything from meditations to Sunni method to 10k affirmation challenge to the Bambi challenge and nothing worked better than faith, neville, and intent.

I also used blushydior/Bambi’s @rosellesworkshop and @fleurx post to help create better habits for myself instead of crying but not doing anything. Sometimes all it takes is aesthetics to motivate you to stop crying and get off your lazy bum and get your dream life !!! I’m so angry it took me this long and 8 blogs to decide I was tired of my life and I deserve better. But I got here 😙 that’s all that matters

I manifested and revised

being 22, to 17 again because I lost my childhood to abuse but I still wanna be a grown

Become a successful drop-shipper and having a six figure stream of income. I have been broke forever so I’m going to get more and I’m so estatic to soon be a multi millionaire at 18

I’m going to start modeling and received an email from img modeling company that they are happy to have me in their agency

Desired face and body. Think Bella Hadid’s body but Taylor hills face but with my own twist because I wanted to be original

Acceptance to Columbia even though before the void state I failed high school and was definitely about to flunk out of college

Good self concept to makeup for all the times I’ve been broken and knocked down. I will never feel like that again

Perfect family, which was damn dysfunctional before the void

Dream apartment. My dad bought me an apartment in New York for college and it’s 6k a month but he payed the first year off and is giving me an allowance of 15k a month

Being a nepo baby and revised my treacherous past that I will never acknowledge again. It’s the soft princess life from now on forward

Also reading @voidsuccess encouraged me a lot because I promised myself I would stop at nothing to become the next post. I’m so happy I can say I committed to myself and promise 😇😇

Omg idk how I missed this earlier this is amazing! Yes girl periodt 💅 keeping it simple fun and easy will always benefit you at the end. And I’m also obsessed with all the users you tagged as well congrats 🎉 you deserve this and moreee 😭😭

I think this is my current fav success story wtf this is amazing. Ty for telling us your method bb, and periodt on the easy princess soft life !! literally same it’s what we deserve 💗