#chapter 1 the blue cat

[blicksenstails]

Yodis. He’s cool with mice. Remember that!

[astroellies]

imgonnagetyouback (chapter 1)

prologue here!

ellie williams x reader

moving somewhere new was never easy. especially in the apocalypse. and especially when you think your crush despises you.

warnings! cat’s the cause of all the problems whoops. ellie and reader are 18ish/young adults. loser reader. a bit of loser ellie. miscommunication trope. useless lesbians. slight rivals to lovers. enemies to lovers(?). mention of reader wearing a skirt but it’s just a nod to the song. canon typical violence. probably ooc ellie.

a/n this took me soooo long post i’m so sorry ahaha. hopefully it was worth the wait!

PRESENT DAY

you had spent the past year and a half proving to ellie that you were not into her…by besting her in everything.

it wasn’t intentional really. with no one to daydream over you focused on the community in jackson. you applied yourself during farming rotations, made efforts to attend community events, you even helped maria and the council to govern the town.

what you didn’t know was that it drove ellie fucking insane. she thought you were cute when they found you, shy and sweet. maybe she couldn’t admit it to herself but she felt the need to protect you. she wanted to have a relationship with you, she didn’t care if it was romantic or platonic (maybe some guilty piece of her hoped for the former) but out of the blue you shut her out. and on top of it, you had to be better than her at everything.

you always took down the first infected on group patrols. you helped maria and tommy plan town dances. you volunteered more than scheduled to work with the animals and in the greenhouses. you showed newcomers around town. you even got along with joel. it made her crazy.

but she couldn’t find it in herself to hate you. not when you smiled when you placed the school children on your hip and pointed to the birds flying over jackson. or when you spun around on the dance floor with dina in that pretty lilac skirt. or when you talked to your horse as you led it back into the stables after patrol.

she didn’t understand why you had shut her out. you were still perfectly normal with everyone else.

it all made her feel crazy.

you on the other hand were thriving. with the exception of when you saw ellie. which was often. jackson’s population wasn’t very large.

so in your best effort to diminish your crush you ignored her your very best. you refused to make eye contact when you passed her on the street. you changed the subject when she came up in conversation. you avoided her like the plague. cat had made it a clear ellie was uncomfortable by you and you would not further embarrass yourself.

so when dina told you you were partnered with ellie for patrol all you could say was,

“no.”

“what do you mean no?”

“i’m not going on patrol with ellie.” you cross your arms over your chest and stand up from the tomatoes you were watering.

“well you don’t really have a choice. joel got called for some construction thing and she can’t go alone.”

“why can’t you or jesse go? you guys are like her best friends.”

“because we’re on kitchen duty, no offense but you and ellie are both shit cooks. why are you being so weird about this?”

“i’m not being weird, dee.” you let your arms drop to your sides, feeling a bit too confrontational. dina knew to avoid the topic of ellie around you after you shut down her teasing countless times.

“i’m sorry, tommy asked for you specifically. you guys are going to be on a challenging route and you’re the best shot jackson has. you know how joel is when it comes to ellie’s safety.”

you sigh, you were not winning this—no matter what you said, “when do we leave?”

dina checks her watch, “in ten.”

you scoff halfheartedly and make your way home to collect your things.

when you get to the stables ellie has already mounted shimmer. her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s fighting with a piece that keeps drifting into her eyes. she looks nice, her forest green henley offsets her hair in a way that makes it looks even more auburn. you shake your head. no you wouldn’t do this, not while you were on patrol with her.

you grab your usual horse and saddle up.

“looks like we’re partners today.” ellie says, turning shimmer towards you, trying to start up a conversation. was she mocking you?

“yep.” you say and look towards jesse who’s ready to go on his usual patrol spiel. trying very hard to ignore her presence.

from the corner of your eye you see ellie’s face twitch.

the two of you set off on your route, long awkward silences are only broken up by even more awkward conversations.

“should we stop in this house?” “yeah.”

“you still have ammo?” “yeah, you?” “yep.”

“we should stop in the office building up ahead. joel told me the last couple patrols haven’t checked it.” ellie’s turning her head to you, here eyes catch in the sun. they turn light and olive.

“kay.” you nod.

you hop off your horse and before you can tie it to an old bike rack ellie is grabbing the reigns from you. “i got it. there’s a stream a couple hundred yards east, we may as well let them drink while we work.”

when she’s done tying the horses you point to the wide open main doors, bloody footprints lead inside. “keep an eye out, looks like some infected wandered in since the last patrols.”

she nods and pulls her handgun from the holster on her thigh.

she steps in front of you, so she’d entire the building first.

“ellie y’know i was put on this patrol to keep you safe. what are you doing?”

“eh, i rather i get bit than you.”

you sigh, “don’t say things like that. neither of us can get bit.”

the first floor of the building is clear so the two of you make your way to the second floor. it’s much more disheveled than the first, spinning chairs and paper strewn across the floor. was this from outbreak day? or from something else?

screeching comes from a hallway closet. the two of you turn.

“are they in the closet?” you whisper to ellie.

“the fuck? sounds like it.”

you approach the closet, “i’ll open the door you get them?”

“yeah, okay.”

you position yourself so that the door acts like a shield and slowly open it. two runners make their way out and ellie comes up behind one, stabbing it in the neck. she’s busy on the next one when something comes up behind you.

you don’t have time to register what’s happening before you’re shoved to the ground, accidentally slamming the closet door on your way down. what the fuck. all you can see above you is rotted skin and snapping teeth.

you push the infected back enough to see what it is. stalker. in the struggle to the ground you dropped your gun. it sat just out of reach above your head.

your arms are burning from trying to push the infected off of you. you can’t see ellie but imagine that in the commotion the remaining runner jumped her. maybe she’ll let the stalker get you and get rid of you for good. she could make it seem like an accident.

you were so royally fucked. just when you feel your arms giving out, a shot rings and the stalker drops on top of you.

you’re stunned for a moment. you had your fair share of run ins with infected but never this close, never close enough you could feel their nails in your skin.

you manage to find the strength the shove the infected off of you and are half sitting before ellie is at your side. you feel liquid trickling down your face and you realize you’re covered in the stalker’s blood.

her eyes are wide, “are you hurt?” she’s pulling you to your feet and scanning you for cuts and bite marks. your ears are still ringing from the bang of her gun.

you feel dazed and scared, “i…i don’t think so.”

she pulls a cloth from her bag and wipes your face. you snap back to reality and push her away.

“i’m fine.” how could she act like this? hate you and be so kind and gentle with you.

she looks a little confused, “are you sure? that was close…i…if you need a minute we can take a break.”

“i’m fine, ellie. we should go before more find us.” you get up and stomp your way out of the building.

“right.”

you two get back to your horses. you pull a rag from your own bag and slash it with water, doing your best to clean the blood and bits of zombie brains off of your face. you’re still shaken from the close encounter.

patrol goes on like usual, you make your way through the woods, following the path made by other patrollers. you’re looking through a pair of binoculars at the countryside when you heard ellie sigh.

“shit.”

the bridge over the river in front of you has completely collapsed. well at least it didn’t give out while you two were on it.

“what d’you want to do?” you ask.

“uhm,” she looks around, “i think there’s a town a mile or two south. maybe there’s another bridge there? it’s probably overdue for a sweep anyways.”

“yeah, okay.” you nod. you seriously fucking hope that it’s quiet, you don’t think you can deal with more infected today.

the hike is nasty, what were once roads were now rubble and weeds. it took nearly an hour to travel the two miles.

the town is as equally run down. the few houses that are still standing are covered in vines and look to be on the brink of collapse. there is a bridge, however.

ellie gives you a cocky smile, “told you.” cute, you think before you can stop yourself.

“you’re just going to walk across it? what if it gives out like the other one?” you ask, keeping you and your horse a safe distance away from the bridge.

“eh, it’s probably fine.” she’s already moving her horse across it.

“ellie!” you say, over annunciating the uh noise at the end. what the hell. if joel and tommy wanted you on patrol with ellie to protect her and she dies from falling into a fucking river you were so dead.

but she makes it across and yells from the other side “c’mon!” her tone is playful, like she’s daring you to walk across it.

you sigh and reluctantly step onto the bridge. surprisingly and thankful it holds. when you reach the other side she’s smirking again.

“told you it would work.”

“good thing. what if it broke while one of us was on it?”

“c’mon i wouldn’t let you get hurt.” she playful taps your thigh with the back of her hand. your legs tingle all the way down to your toes and you feel heat rush to your face.

you feel stunned for a moment. that felt flirty. was it flirty? no i couldn’t have been.

“we should keep going.” you steer your horse away so she can’t see your reaction.

“okay.”

forest surrounds you, thick and unkept. it’s unlike the patrol routes your used to, it reminds you of your time with your parents on your journey to jackson.

“do you know what’s on this side of this bridge?” you’re in front of her but not really leading, just trying to put some space between the two of you. if she touched you again you think you might explode.

“not really, not this far south.” you hear her voice get closer and her horse speed up pace.

“okay, then let’s head back north.”

heading back north turned out to be easier said than done. the two of you make an attempt to follow the river but thick, overgrown bushes and vines stop you. so you walk into another into another town and discover why the first bridge was broken.

“does this feel off to you?” ellie asks.

“what do you mean?”

“i dunno like i just have a bad feeling.”

you shake your head. and you thought you were paranoid.

you’re heading toward’s the town’s main road, when you turn the corner onto the street you see it. infected bodies litter the street. it’s like a fucking bloodbath. they must have gotten into an altercation with an animal of some sort. from the tracks leading away from the town your bet is wolves.

“ellie…”

“hm?” she’s hasn’t yet made it to the turn yet.

when she rounds it all she can say is, “holy fuck.” she pulls out her hand gun from her holster and you mirror her.

she looks at you, “we need to get out here.”

before you can nod in agreement you hear the click, click, click followed by a screech behind you.

you shoot before you can think. you take the clicker down but as it falls screeches sound from the houses and stores.

“fuck.” is all you can say before ellie is yelling at you to run. once she sees you bolt past her she’s hot on your heels.

your horse must recognize the danger because she’s hauling ass like you’ve never seen before.

“where do we go?” you yell, you dare to glance behind you infected at all stages are right on your and ellie’s ass.

“i don’t know! i’m following you!” great, you think. joel was definitely going to kill you.

higher ground is all your can think. it’d wear the infected out to climb a mountain. it would wear your horse out too.

you make your way towards the ski resorts. as your horse gallops you here shots behind you, ellie must be firing blindly at the infected. a waste of bullets, you think.

by the time you make it to one of the cabins the horde has mostly subsided, killed from the run up the hill or distracted by other prey.

you find a lodge with a garage to store the horses in, while you work on getting the door open ellie picks off some of the more persistent infected that followed you.

“here! i got it.” you say and tuck your horse inside. ellie is just behind you and when she gets inside she slams the garage door down.

“we have terrible luck.” she laughs in disbelief. “two bad run ins in a day, that’s got to be like a record or something.”

you know she’s trying to lighten the mood but you can’t take it, “we should make sure this place is secure. the horde dissipated but infected will be all over the mountain and i’m almost out of ammo.”

she just looks at you for a moment before she checks her guns, “yeah, me too.”

you’re stuck here, you realize. alone, for god knows how long with ellie williams. ellie was right, you have terrible fucking luck.

the next half an hour is spent finding and securing all the possible exits of the home. the lodge was in almost perfect condition, it looked to be nearly untouched since the outbreak. you’re working on barricading the back door when ellie wanders in from the kitchen.

“check this out, they still have a shit ton of food from pre-outbreak.” she’s holding up cans in her hands.

“why haven’t we raided the cabins before?” you take one of the cans from her, ravioli.

she shrugs, “joel told me rich people would vacation here in the winter, i guess since the outbreak happened in september we figured they’d be empty?”

“that’s dumb. when we can get out of here we should bring a crew back, gather supplies.”

“mmm, always thinking.” she was definitely teasing you. but it didn’t feel mean, just point fun at you.

you scoff, “whatever,” you feel heat rush to her face and you don’t want her to see so you turn, “i’m going to see if there’s any firewood laying around.”

that evening for dinner you eat 25 year old canned ravioli. it’s actually not that bad and ellie told you that joel used to cook it for her all the time.

“it’s getting late, we should head to bed.” you gather blankets ellie found in one of the bedrooms and making a makeshift bed on the floor.

“you take the couch.” ellie juts her chin in the direction of the sofa.

you hesitate for a moment. today as been so fucking weird, you were attacked by infected and ellie was being kind to you.

“you sure? i-”

“i wouldn’t have offered if i didn’t mean it.”

“okay. thanks…thank you.”

you doze off, ellie on the floor, the fire keeping the two of you warm.

the next morning when you wake up ellie is using your binoculars to scope out the mountain.

“hey,” you say, sitting up, “how’s it lookin’?”

ellie jumps a bit, like she almost forgot you were there, she’s so cute, “uhm, better, i think that if you’re up for it we could make it back to jackson. the infected are pretty sparse so we’d just have to be careful to avoid them.”

“yeah, okay.” you’re nodding and getting off the couch. “i’ll go grab my pack.”

when you and ellie finish grabbing your things you head to the garage.

as she’s raising the door her shirt lifts to reveal some of her middle, before you can drool all over yourself you see the distinct indentions of a bite mark.

“oh my god.” you whisper.

“what? what’s wrong?” she turns around to face you.

“you…you’re- you got bit.” you point at her abdomen. she was bit. she was going to die and it was your fault. there was no saving her. it wasn’t a bullet wound or gash that could heal with time. ellie would turn and it was your fault.

“fuck.” she says more to herself than you, then, “hey, it’s okay.”

you feel like the breath was sucked from your lungs and you’re trying to blink away your tears before they fall. she was going to die. ellie was going to die.

she walks to you, until she’s in your space. her hands are firm on your biceps, she says your name. “listen. it’s going to be okay.”

“no, no you’re bit. you’re infected.” maybe it should scare you that she was touching you. if it was any other situation your belly would be doing flips but right now you just feel sick.

ellie squeezes her eyes close like she’s contemplating something then blurts out, “i’m immune, i’m not going to die.”

what?

she takes her hands off your shoulders and pulls the sleeve of her right arm up. was she seriously showing you her tatttoo right now?

“i got bit here, when i was fourteen. i never turned. i’ve breathed spores and never turned. i’m going to be okay.” she’s talking slowly, like she’s explaining something to a child.

your breathing is still raged, “what? what do you mean immune that’s impossible?” you shake your head.

“i don’t know i just am.” she’s quiet for a moment before she says, “you can’t tell anyone, though. joel, tommy, and maria are the only people that know. no one else knows.”

her eyes bore into your own, wide and mossy green. “i’m serious.”

you nod, “okay.”

what was happening? she’s immune, what does that even really, truly mean? how many bite marks does she have hidden beneath her clothes?

she steps back and laughs, “maybe i should have gotten bit in front of you sooner, you actually gave a shit about me just now.”

“what?”

“what d’you mean what? you’ve been pretending like i don’t exist basically since we found you.”

“that’s not true.” does she seriously not remember?

“yeah it is, you hang out with jesse and dina all the time and you don’t even acknowledge me when you see me in town.” her tone isn’t mean but it hurts. it hurts that she doesn’t remember.

“because you hate me.” you say, it’s quieter than you wanted. “i had a silly crush and it made you uncomfortable.”

“what?” she shakes her head.

you’re embarrassed to be admitting this out loud. “you obviously don’t like me, you sent your fucking girlfriend to essentially tell me to stop having a crush on you.”

“what?” she repeats, but it’s softer this time.

“you don’t remember? it was the spring after i came to jackson, at the bonfire? cat told me to leave you alone.” how could she have forgotten this? did it really mean that little to her?

“fucking cat.” she whispers under her breath, then, “i would never have told her to do that.”

“well you did, ellie. do you know how embarrassing that was? i’m brand new here and the cute girl’s girlfriend is telling me to fuck off because i’m acting creepy.” you cross your arms over your chest.

“no i didn’t. i had no idea she said anything. why would i ever do that?”

“i don’t know, ellie.” you say exasperated, “i’ve been trying to figure that out. but it made sense, i mean you have the perfect life out here. you’re well respected in town, you’re good at what you do, you have a friend group that adores you; you even managed to find a girlfriend that’s obsessed with you in the fucking apocalypse. and i come in and i ruin it. i’m quiet and i linger in the backgrounds of your hangouts. i’m the weird kid that liked you and you didn’t want me bothering you anymore.”

she’s quiet, her chest rising fast like it was the day you two met. this time though her eyes are flickering between your eyes and mouth.

before you can comprehend what she’s doing she’s grabbed your face and is kissing you. despite the intensity from the rest of her body, her lips are gentle against your own. your hands find her forearms and gently push her away.

you pull far enough away to see her face. you’re both panting like dogs. ellie’s eyes were wide like she herself was surprised she did that. you’re still deciding whether to ask her why the fuck she did that or kiss her back when you hear a voice.

some calls your name, and then “ellie?” and the two of you are breaking apart but not moving. still too stunned from what just happened.

dina.

you hear hooves pounding into the ground then dina getting off her horse. “are you two in there?”

she’s finishing lifting the half open garage door before she gets a response.

“oh my god. are you two okay?” she’s rushing over to you and taking your head in her hands like ellie did moments ago. she moves your head side to side, looking for damage. when she doesn’t find any she moves to ellie, repeating the motion.

“yeah, we’re fine, dee.” ellie gently pulls dina’s hand away from her face and looks at you. she swallows hard. how was she feeling right now? embarrassed? regretful? excited? you really needed to talk to her, alone.

another set of hooves and jesse is appearing. he joins the three of you in the garage.

“how’d you guys find us?” ellie looks to him.

“we saw the horde from the gates. they dissipated pretty fast and we saw the smoke from your fire this morning. we went out after you.” jesse says.

“we should get back to town and send out for joel, he went out last night looking for you and was up again this morning before any other patrollers could go out.” dina chimes in.

ellie nods, “yeah.”

“what the hell happened?” jesse is heading back towards his horse.

“we got stuck cutting across the river in a different spot than usual. we were thinking the infected took down the usual one and with our luck we ran into them on our way to the next checkpoint.” you needed to go home and take a bath. and think about anything but ellie. or maybe just about ellie.

the trek back to jackson is awkward, not the same cold awkwardness that you and ellie had shared on patrol. this was full of longing, you hoped jesse and dina couldn’t sense the change.

once the initial greetings subsided you led your horse back into the stables.

you were working on taking her saddle off when ellie walked to her stall, “that was crazy, huh?” you didn’t know if she was talking about the horde or confessing her immunity or your kiss.

“uhm, yeah.” you turn to face her, thankful for the stall door separate you.

“can we talk?” she rubs her tattooed hand on the back of her neck.

“i…i have to help maria set up for the dance tonight.” you look down at your boots and rub the toe of one into the ground.

“right. yeah.” she shakes her head, “i forgot that was tonight.”

“i’ll see you there?” you ask.

“yeah i’ll be there.”

TAGLIST @vahnilla @liztreez @yasmilks @cinnamqnbuns @hyperbabes @daughterofthemoons-stuff @leeidk87 @robinphobia @monki-nat @elliesfavwife @culuvr

[pitlanepeach]

From Eden | The Epilogue (8/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Mentions of agoraphobia + severe social anxiety. Seasonal Depressive Episodes. So much fluff it’ll rot your teeth. Time skips.

Notes — Not the longest, but I think that it's perfect. You have all shown this fic so much love. Thank you, I hope this ending does their story justice — Peach x

liked by oscarpiastri, hattiepiastri, landonorris, and 102,374 others

bookishgoldie surrounded by so much love

view all comments

user1 henry is like HELL NAH MOM TAKE ME BACK INSIDE RIGHT NOW😭

bookishgoldie he actually loves being outdoors!!!! until he sees people and/or other cats

user03 the texts😌😌😌 ur faves could never

user63 CAN WE HAVE A SEQUEL UPDATE PLS??????

bookishgoldie 😉

user17 are you going to be at the GP this weekend?

user91 she hasn’t been to any of the last 3 😕

bookishgoldie just because you haven’t seen me, doesn’t mean im not there!!🫶 been having a hard time lately so ive just been hiding from the cameras

user91 feel better soon francesca❤️

user60 bf oscar crumbs…. IKTR

user76 you might actually be the prettiest girl in the world. like your HAIR????????

oscarpiastri glad those are the texts you decided to post and not the ones a little further down 👍🏻

bookishgoldie OSCAR

oscarpiastri 🧡

user75 god this feels like watching my parents flirt🤧

user33 new vlog soon? ♥ by bookishgoldie

—

Things always got a little harder to deal with in the winter.

Cold weather, dark, shorter days. 

Oscar, gone more than he was home, spending more time in England than Monaco, preparing for the new season at the MTC. 

Katie arrived after Christmas with sacks full of presents and the intention to stay for as long as she was welcome.

And Francesca let herself struggle.

She didn’t mask it or push it down. She let herself sleep in. Let herself cry into the collar of Oscar’s hoodies. Let Katie wrap her up in blankets and feed her shitty microwavable pasta. She let herself feel the heavy days without guilt.

And then spring came, slow and golden. The sea looked blue again. Henry sat at the window for hours, purring in the warmth.

Francesca curled up in the corner of the sofa, a half-drunk cup of tea resting on the armrest. Oscar stretched out beside her, hair damp from the shower, an arm slung loosely over her shins.

Their bodies were tired, but their faces were soft — content, a little dazed, totally at peace.

There was music playing faintly from a speaker in the kitchen. The balcony doors were open. The scent of jasmine drifted in with the breeze.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

Then, without opening her eyes, Francesca whispered, “I think I’m ready.”

Oscar turned his head, brushing his nose against her knee. “You sure?”

She opened her eyes. Looked at him. Smiled. “Yeah.” 

— 

The wedding wasn’t extravagant.

They’d talked about a big one — at home in Monaco, or away in Lake Como, with flower arches and string quartets and draped silk. 

But in the end, the choice was easy.

A coastal garden just outside Melbourne. A warm autumn breeze. Less than fifty guests. A white dress with long sleeves and lace along the hem. A charcoal grey suit with a crooked boutonnière that Oscar kept fiddling with until Logan smacked his hand away.

Katie cried the entire time. Her mascara was streaked halfway down her cheeks by the time Francesca walked down the aisle — Max, seated beside her in an unusually well-fitted suit, held her hand tightly, leaning in to whisper something that made her laugh through her tears. Henry had a bow tie and a seat in the front row, though he spent most of the ceremony asleep in Zac’s lap.

Oscar didn’t stop smiling. Not once.

He cried when she reached him. Not dramatically — just soft, silent tears. 

Their vows were simple. Sweet. (“I’ll never stop choosing you,” he’d said, thumb brushing her knuckles as his voice caught. “In every version of life, in every timeline — it’s always you.”)

After the ceremony, they danced barefoot under fairy lights. They kissed for too long during dinner. Katie gave a toast that quickly turned into a roast, full of sharp jabs and softer edges, the kind only a best friend could get away with. Mark cried during the father-daughter dance — harder than he had the day Francesca first asked him to step in for her absent father. Lando caught the bouquet.

And when the music quieted and the guests thinned, they stayed. Just the two of them. Sitting on the edge of the dance floor, champagne in one hand and her heels dangling from the other.

“You happy, baby?” Oscar asked, nose against her temple.

Francesca leaned into him, her lips brushing the line of his jaw. “Yeah.”

They didn’t rush off on any kind of honeymoon. There was a race two weeks later. It didn’t matter. Wherever they went, Monaco, London, Melbourne, a grid in the middle of nowhere; they had each other.

And that was more than enough.

— 

There were tiny shoes by the front door — worn at the toes, one toppled over like it had been abandoned mid-adventure. A toddler-sized karting suit swayed gently on the balcony, its colours faded slightly from the sun, dancing on the breeze like a memory.

Inside, the apartment held a hush, the kind that settled in the late afternoon when the world was between moments. Oscar was gone — somewhere fast and loud and far away — and her baby girl slept soundly, curled in a bassinet adjacent to Francesca’s desk. 

Francesca sat in front of her computer, bathed in soft light, her fingers moving slowly across the keys. A new manuscript sat on the screen. This one was different. Quieter. Gentler. Woven with the kind of love that had grown slowly over time, deep-rooted and certain. Her tea, long forgotten, sat cold beside her.

Sunlight spilled across the floor, golden and drowsy, stretching toward an old pet bed in the corner. Henry lay there, curled up in a patch of warmth, his ginger fur dulled with age. Curled beside him, a kitten — all fluff and white — snored in perfect harmony, their bodies forming a sleepy, tangled mess.

A quiet rustle, the creak of little feet on hardwood.

Francesca paused, fingertips hovering above her keyboard.

From the living room, the low hum of the television drifted in. The race broadcast, crowd noise swelling like waves. And then, clearer than anything else, a small, delighted voice rang out, “Daddy!”

She was smiling even before she pushed up from her desk. That voice, high and sweet and excited, cut through the stillness like some kind of magic. 

Her little boy was standing in front of the TV, one hand pressed against the screen where Oscar’s face was displayed. His curls were rumpled from sleep, cheeks still flushed, tiny fingers smudging the corner of the screen as if touching his father would bring him closer. 

Francesca leaned in the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, her heart full. 

The race commentary carried on in the background, and her little boy bounced on his toes. 

Her gaze drifted to the balcony, to where the tiny karting suit hung in the breeze; the sleeves smudged with stains, the knees scuffed from victory. It was so small that just looking at it made her chest ache. 

Her little boy had won his first race a week ago. The youngest in his category. Sharp in the corners. Smooth on the throttle. Brave.

It was in his blood.

His father, now a three-time world champion, had scooped him up in the pit lane like he was the one who’d just won a title, not the other way around.

Generational, they called it.

Her little boy caught sight of her in his peripheral and beamed. All toothy grin and sun-kissed cheeks. Without hesitation, he ran to her, arms outstretched. She bent to meet him halfway, grunting softly as she lifted him onto her hip.

He wrapped himself around her neck, squeezing her tight. 

He didn’t have to win races to be held like this. Didn’t need to be the best or the brightest or the bravest. He didn’t have to earn a single inch of her love.

It was already his. Always would be.

She kissed the side of his head, inhaling the familiar scent of sun and sugar and something impossibly sweet.

“You hungry, darling?” she whispered into his hair.

He nodded. “Toast, please. With jam.”

“Coming right up.” She gave him another squeeze before setting him down gently. “You wanna stay and watch daddy?”

He nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling as he twisted his head around to watch the TV screen, where Oscar was currently navigating through an interview.

She carried him over to the couch, his small weight settled against her side as she tucked the quilt around him, the soft fabric a cocoon of warmth and comfort. He curled into it, content and safe.

She took a few steps toward the kitchen, paused, then pulled out her phone and took a photo. 

— 

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar 

Francesca 

*insert photo* 

Oscar 

Thank you

Needed that

Love you

Francesca 

Love you <3

— 

The sun was low in the sky. Francesca sat on a pink towel, legs stretched out, toes buried in the cooling grains. Beside her, Oscar lay propped up on one elbow, his eyes half-lidded as he watched their son dart across the shore, chasing a scuttling crab with wild delight. Their daughter sat nearby, deeply engrossed in her sprawling sandcastle mansion, occasionally glancing up to make sure her parents were still there, still watching.

Oscar shifted slightly, pushing up onto both elbows now, his brows knitting as he stared out at the horizon. 

Francesca moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “What’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice soft, knowing.

He shook his head a little, a half-smile pulling at his lips. “Just... thinking.”

She raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just watched the sun dip lower. Then, finally, his voice low and sure, he said, “I think it’s time.”

She frowned, confused. “Time for what? To head back? It’s still early.”

Oscar sat up properly now, brushing sand off his palms. He looked at her — really looked at her — and the air between them seemed to hold its breath. He dragged a hand through his hair, fingers lingering at the back of his neck, before resting his gaze on her again. “Time to retire.”

Francesca’s heart stumbled. “Retire?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the sea breeze. “What do you mean?”

He let out a long breath, turning his attention back to their children. Their son let out a triumphant laugh, clutching an empty bucket in one hand, while their daughter patted the top of her castle with precise, serious little chubby fingers.

“Five world titles,” Oscar said. “I’ve done it. I’ve done more than I ever dreamed of. And I’m proud of that. But I think… I don’t need the next ten. I just want this.” His voice softened. “You. Them. No more risks. No more being away. I want to be here.”

Francesca’s chest ached. She’d thought about this moment before — hoped for it, in secret. But he was still so young, only thirty-two. He could have gone on for years. He could’ve shattered more records, chased more championships.

But he didn’t want that anymore.

He wanted to come home.

She smiled, even as her eyes stung. Her lips trembled slightly as she asked, “You’re sure?”

Oscar reached for her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering at her jaw with a kind of reverence that made her breath hitch. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything, ‘Cesca.”

Her hand covered his, grounding herself in the moment, in him. “Okay,” she said, voice thick with emotion. “Okay.”

— 

Laughter rang from the garden just beyond; a bright, bubbling sound that tugged a soft smile from Francesca as she stood on the back porch, watching.

Katie was kneeling in the grass, a crown of daisies crooked on her head, her arms raised in mock defeat as Francesca’s daughter tackled her around the middle with giggles. Her son cheered his sister on from the sidelines, face smudged with dirt, holding a water gun like a trophy.

“You little shits,” Katie cackled, falling onto her back with theatrical drama, arms splayed wide as the children climbed over her triumphantly.

Francesca laughed. She stepped out into the sun, barefoot on warm stone. “You’ve completely lost control of them,” she called out.

“Excuse me,” Katie said, sitting up with a toddler’s arms wrapped around her neck. “I am their queen, thank you very much. This is just… a temporary coup.”

Francesca sat beside them in the grass, brushing a hand over her daughter’s hair as the little girl nestled into Katie’s lap. 

“I hope you know,” Francesca said eventually, softly, “You’re their aunt, but you’re also my sister. The first real family I ever had.”

Katie looked over at her, blinking fast. “Christ, Fran, don’t go saying stuff like that, I’m trying to maintain my badass aunt image.”

Francesca smiled, eyes shimmering. “Too late. You’re a daisy-crowned queen now. Fully compromised.”

Katie laughed, leaning over to bump their shoulders together. “Love you too, dummy.”

— 

Students bustled around them, dragging suitcases, clutching dorm keys, hugging parents goodbye. It was a flurry of new beginnings and tender goodbyes.

Francesca stood just off the main building, one hand loosely curled around her husband’s, the other pressed gently to her sternum, like she was trying to hold herself together from the inside out. Their daughter was walking away with her new roommate at her side, after their teary goodbye’s had drawn to an end.

Oscar watched her with quiet pride, his thumb brushing the back of Francesca’s hand when their daughter turned and waved — eyes bright, a little glassy, but shining with something solid and sure.

“She’ll be fine,” he said softly.

Francesca nodded, though her throat was tight. “I know.”

They lingered, neither of them ready to break the moment. It felt impossibly full — their daughter stepping into her future, their son already chasing his at breakneck speed, halfway across the world, poised to win the F2 title, just a year after securing the F3 championship.

Francesca exhaled a breath that trembled at the edges, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe all of this started in my tiny London flat.”

Oscar leaned in, pressed a kiss to her temple, and let his forehead rest against hers, warm and steady. “We built a whole life out of that flat.”

They stood together, quiet. Proud of everything they'd managed to create. Two lives made with care. A family grown with love.

“Ready to go?” Oscar asked his wife gently.

Francesca smiled, her heart full. “Yeah. Let’s go see our boy win his second championship.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Masterpost and Prologue

dead on main fic, intro + four chapters.

Summary: The Red Hood starts off his righteous campaign with a lot of nerve but no legal identification that will let him behind the wheel of a car. Public transportation really doesn't have the panache he needs to start off as a fearsome crime lord, so he needs a driver. He finds Danny Fenton, a grungly college student trying not to be noticed by any government agencies or vigilantes.

to subscribe to this post, on mobile open the notes and click the bell on the upper right hand corner of the post. on desktop, open the notes at the bottom and press the bell on the right edge of the notes.

Links will be added to chapter list as the story posts. Chapter one will go up on July 14th. Updates are approximately every other day.

LINKS/ chapter count

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

prologue

“No, Habibi,” Talia said calmly into the phone. “I will not falsify you an American non-commercial driver's license for motor vehicles. If you cannot prove yourself to Gotham without American motor vehicle operating permissions, you will never prove yourself. Rise above this challenge.” Talia covered the phone for a second but he could hear her talking to someone else about tile options.

“It's an unnecessary challenge,” Jason argued, doing his level best not to let his tone go up. It was undignified to whine. He was a man now. “The important parts of the challenge are the tactical planning and the skills.”

Talia sounded like she was filing her nails. “Tactically plan to take the bus. Or walk. Walking is free and healthy.” 

Jason made an indignant sound but she mercilessly hung up. The worst! She made the top three of his worst mother figures, easily.

“She's just doing this so I can't go drinking.” He scowled into the air. “I don't even want to!” His voice broke mid whine, which was an insult to add to all the injuries visited upon him by the cruel whims of women who weren't even his legal guardian. He was an adult in most countries!

The worst part was that Talia didn't care about underage drinking. She just didn't want to hear shit about enabling him from Bruce when he eventually figured out that Jason was alive, 19, and in Gotham. His passport claimed he was 21 because it had to for him to travel alone, but she knew damn well no one used their passport as ID in bars. 

He couldn't just go get a license. Jason sulked viciously and threw himself into fixing his plans to accommodate for this. 

He was legally dead and living under a fake name. If he tried to sign up for the driving exam, it'd be too much scrutiny on his paperwork. But he was not taking the bus around as a crime lord. It lacked panache. More importantly, it didn't go where he wanted it to go.

Fine. He didn't need her help. He didn't need anyone's help. He just needed to download Uber. 

That was how Jason wound up wiping a mob lieutenant’s blood off of his hand onto his pants so that he could use the guy's touch screen phone. Victor Woodward's account put in a request for a ride to the Gotham police headquarters. He killed time kicking ass in all the Words with Friends games that Victor had ongoing, which was really gonna surprise anyone who normally played with that boob. Victor’s last ever play was ‘cat,’ for fuck’s sake.

A few minutes later, a skinny teenager pulled up in his clanker and opened the door. Jason put on a smile and hefted his duffle bag a little higher on his shoulder. 

“Hi! Victor?” The guy, Danny, waved his phone at Jason.

“That's me!” Jason lied breezily. “Can I put this in the trunk?” 

“Go for it.” Danny popped the trunk open from inside the car. He watched Jason with his big blue doe eyes.

For an instant, Jason thought that Danny might have seen something. Paranoia reared up. Was there blood visible? Was it easy to tell that the shapes in the bag were heads?”

The moment passed. Danny cleared his throat and whipped his face forwards again. “Normally I say to sit in the backseat, but I'm not sure that's enough room for your legs. Either is fine.” 

Jason got in the car and let satisfaction wash over his body as the weirdly timid kid pulled them out into traffic at a snail’s pace. Whatever. They wouldn’t get stopped for a traffic violation when the driver was cautious.

He’d done it. His debut as the terrifying Red Hood, hunter of the wicked and bane of the Batman, was launched. And he didn’t need a license to do it.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 1/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : none

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 1 :

London was bone-cold in the way only January could be. The streets sparkled beneath thin veils of frost, and breath puffed into the air like ghosts. Pastel skies bled into charcoal as evening settled, and the city—like always—buzzed with life beneath layers of scarves and city noise. 

Ariana stood outside the dimly lit entrance of the private members' club, her arms folded tightly against her chest, breath trembling as it left her lips. Her coat—cashmere, camel-colored, and belted neatly at the waist—hugged her frame with disciplined elegance. The streetlights cast a silver sheen over her dark hair, which was pinned in a low chignon, rebellious strands curling against her cheeks. Her heels were impractical for this weather, but they matched her quiet grace: poised, pointed, prepared. 

She hated being late. Even more than that—she hated being out of place. 

"You're late too ?" The voice came from behind her, smug and accented, sharp enough to make her spine stiffen. 

She turned, slowly. 

The man who stood there was all swagger wrapped in a North Face puffer and casual arrogance. Messy brown curls peeked from beneath a black beanie, and his eyes—icy blue-green and unapologetically amused—swept over her with the easy confidence of someone used to being looked at. 

“Excuse me?” Ariana asked, her French accent melting into her voice like warmed sugar, "do we know each other?" 

"Not yet." He extended a gloved hand. "Lando." 

She looked at his hand. Then at him. Then back at the door. 

She did not shake it. 

He laughed, not offended. “Alright. Tough crowd.” 

The door opened behind her, and warm light and louder voices spilled out. 

“Ariana! You made it!” The voice belonged to Maya—her friend, who’d dragged her to this gathering. “Come in, come in, it’s freezing. Oh—Lando, you’re here too.” 

So, he was part of the friend group too. 

Ariana entered the club, she peeled off her coat inside, revealing a slate-blue wrap dress. Not flashy, but impossible to miss. 

Lando followed, slower, watching her like someone flipping pages of a book they didn’t expect to like but couldn’t put down. 

The club was intimate, lit with golden chandeliers and velvet booths. The music wasn’t subtle, bass flirting at the edges of conversation. 

Ariana sat stiffly beside Maya, her back straight, her hands in her lap. She observed quietly as friends passed around cocktails and stories. She smiled politely, nodded at the right moments. But she wasn’t one of them. They were loud, unfiltered. Comfortable in their chaos. 

Across from her, Lando sprawled on a couch like it was his throne. One arm hooked over the back, the other swirling a whiskey glass he hadn’t touched. He kept looking at her, like she was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t solve. 

“You don’t talk much, do you?” he finally said, mid-conversation lull, loud enough that others chuckled. 

Ariana looked up slowly. “I talk when I have something worth saying.” 

He raised a brow. “And nothing here’s worth it?” 

“Not yet.” 

There was a moment—brief, almost imperceptible—where something flickered in his eyes. A spark of amusement… or challenge. 

“I think you’re just scared.” 

“And I think you’re not used to people not liking you,” she countered, voice soft but razor-sharp. 

The table quieted. 

Lando tilted his head. Then he smiled. Not the cocky kind. Something else. “Fair enough.” 

Later, the group splintered. Maya dragged Ariana toward the bar, and Lando disappeared with someone toward the back. Ariana let out a slow breath, resting one elbow against the polished wood, eyes scanning the room. 

This wasn’t her scene. She could feel her muscles coiling with the need to return to something structured and quieter. 

“You don’t drink?” 

She turned. Lando was back, empty-handed now. His curls damp from the cold air outside again, like he’d stepped out for a moment to breathe. 

“Rarely,” she replied. 

“You’re hard to read.” 

“You’re easy.” 

He barked a laugh. “Touché.” 

Ariana wasn’t sure why she said it. Or why it felt strangely satisfying to say aloud. 

But something was happening here. Not flirtation. Not exactly. 

A friction. A friction that left her pulse uneasy and her skin warmer than it should’ve been. 

“I don’t get it,” he said, leaning in slightly. “You act like you hate this place, but you came.” 

“I came for Maya. She thinks I should meet new people.” 

“And?” 

She looked at him, then away. “I’ve met someone.” 

He smiled. “Let me guess. Opinionated. Loud. Annoying.” 

A pause. 

Ariana met his eyes fully. “Yes.” 

Their eyes locked—blue to blue, wild storm to still water. The music swelled in the background as time folded inward. 

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world slowed. Ther were no longer music or people dancing around them. 

Just her breath. His eyes. And the kind of tension that doesn’t snap—it simmers. 

Later that night, Ariana walked back to her flat alone, the city buzzing softly in the background. She replayed the encounter in her head, dissecting every gesture, every line. 

She didn’t like him. That much she was certain of. Yet something inside her when thinking about their encounter.

A few days after while the London’s December sun hung low and pale in the sky, turning the frost on the cobblestones into glitter, Lando adjusted his coat, stuffing his gloved hands deeper into the pockets as he waited outside a boutique, bored while Max tried to choose a gift for his sister inside. 

Pietra stood nearby, sipping on a to-go oat milk latte from a corner café. “You know,” she said between sips, “this would go faster if men actually planned before shopping.” 

Lando smirked, distracted. “You mean like making a list?” 

“Yes, or asking questions. Being observant. Like, oh, my sister mentioned she liked this brand.” She shook her head dramatically. “But no. Let’s just drag the whole squad through Mayfair and hope for divine inspiration.” 

The rest of the group—some of the Quadrant team floated between shops, their bags multiplying by the minute. It was noisy, easy, full of the kind of camaraderie that made winter bearable. 

Then Lando saw her. 

Across the street. Just past the Chanel display window. 

She didn’t walk like everyone else. 

That was the first thing he noticed. 

There was a grace to her steps—measured, light, like she’d learned to move in a world that required silence. She wore a black skirt that floated just above her knees, black heeled boots, and a soft pink sweater. Her hair was down this time—long, glossy, dark—and tied with a velvet ribbon in a soft bow at the back of her head.. 

She looked like something out of a painting. Or a poem. Or a memory that didn’t quite belong to him. 

Ariana 

He hadn’t forgotten her. Not for a second. Not since the night at the club. 

And she looked even more… real now, which somehow made her more impossible to reach. 

She paused near the silk scarves display just inside the glass, tilting her head to examine the arrangement. Her profile turned, and even through the window, he could see the faint shadow of her lashes, the way her lips parted slightly in thought. She reached for a soft ivory scarf, lifting it with both hands like it was something fragile and rare. 

“Lando.” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Lando,” Pietra repeated, stepping into his line of sight. 

“Hm?” 

She turned, following his gaze. 

And saw her. 

“Well,” she whispered, “helloooo again.” 

Max appeared at that moment, bags in hand. “Alright, got it. Can we—why do you two look like you’ve seen a ghost?” 

“Not a ghost,” Pietra said, her voice lilting with amusement. “More like someone haunting a certain someone’s brain.” 

Max squinted through the glass. “Wait—isn’t that the girl from the club?” 

Lando gave a short nod, his eyes not leaving her. “Yeah.” 

“Wow,” Max said. “She’s… not what I expected.” 

“She’s beautiful,” Pietra murmured, watching the girl in the window. “She looks like she belongs in some old French movie.” 

“She’s not really the type who goes clubbing, is she?” Max asked. 

Lando shrugged, looking mildly annoyed. “I don’t know. I don’t know her.” 

“You want to ?” Pietra grinned. 

“I talked to her for five minutes,” he said, a little too fast. “Barely.” 

“Exactly,” Pietra replied, already stepping off the curb. “Time to fix that.” 

“No, Pietra—don’t—!” 

But she was already weaving through traffic with the confidence of someone used to getting her way. 

Lando groaned. “She’s going to scare her off.” 

Inside the store, Ariana had just finished folding the scarf back when she felt the presence beside her. 

“Hi there!” came a bright voice. 

She turned slowly. 

A woman smiled at her like they were old friends. 

“I promise I’m not crazy,” she said quickly. “I saw you the other night. At that club. With Lando.” 

Ariana’s expression froze for half a second. Her hands dropped away from the scarf. 

“I’m Pietra,” the woman continued, offering her hand with a little flourish. “We’re actually just shopping with some friends. Lando’s outside with Max and the rest of the group.” 

Ariana shook her hand politely. “Nice to meet you.” 

“So,” Pietra went on, eyes flicking over Ariana’s outfit approvingly, “we were thinking of grabbing some drinks afterward. It’s just down the street—warm, chill vibe. You should come with.” 

Ariana’s eyes flicked toward the window, where she could now see Lando—standing awkwardly near the entrance, half-hidden behind a pillar, pretending he wasn’t watching them. 

Something in her expression shifted. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, gently but firmly. “I’m not one of Lando’s friends.” 

“Oh, come on—” 

“I barely know him,” she added, voice still quiet but now edged with finality. “And I don’t go for drinks with strangers.” 

There it was. The clean, cold line of refusal. Not cruel, but distant. Like a door closed with careful hands. 

Pietra blinked. “Okay, wow. You’re serious.” 

Ariana offered a soft smile. “Yes.” 

Then she nodded once, turned, and walked away—her heels clicking softly against the marble floor, ribbon swaying behind her like the tail end of a breath. 

Outside, Pietra returned with a smirk and a story. 

“She said no,” she announced. 

Max’s jaw dropped. “What?” 

“She said, and I quote, ‘I’m not one of Lando’s friends. I barely know him. And I don’t go for drinks with strangers.’” Pietra mimicked Ariana’s soft, deliberate tone with exaggerated drama. “It was cold.” 

The group howled. 

Lando exhaled through his nose, jaw clenched as he watched Ariana walk further down the street, blending into the crowd like she’d never been there at all. 

Max laughed. “Mate. Brutal.” 

Pietra nudged him. “You’ve officially been humbled.” 

“She doesn’t even know who I am,” Lando muttered. 

“Maybe that’s why she said no.” 

All evening, the teasing followed him like confetti stuck in his collar. 

But none of them noticed the way Lando went quiet near the end. Not sulking—just thoughtful. Like something had shaken loose in him. Like something important had been said, and not just to his ego. 

He couldn’t stop replaying it. 

I barely know him. I don’t go for drinks with strangers. 

Ariana wasn’t cruel. 

She was careful. 

And somehow, that made her more impossible to forget. 

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

[moonwatcher2005]

Did I save you or did you save me

Neglected batsis reader x black butler kitties

Chapter 1

The door softly closes behind Y/N, and little droplets of water drip from both her and the box. Quietly, she sets the box down, not caring that the floor has been dirtied, and takes off her jacket that had shielded the cats from the relentless rain and wind. While Y/N hangs up her soaking wet jacket and disappears into a room to get a change of clothes, a black cat bravely jumps out of the box another black cat with yellow eyes follows. Cautiously, they explore the place, sniffing at some furniture and getting a feeling of the new environment.

CATS POV:

“My lord, this place seems to be safe.” Sebastian settles down on the floor, his tail swinging leisurely across the floor

“Yes, it indeed seems to be safe, for now ” Sebastian quickly side-eyed his seemingly archnemesis before exclaiming with a quite venomous voice.

“Tch Spider. . . “ Claude returns the sentiment with a “ Crow,” both acknowledging his existence while wishing for his violent death.

“Sebastian! Get me out of here! I'm soaking wet!” a smaller cat exclaimed.

“OH, me too, Bassy!”

“Grell, shut up.”

“Claude, I'm cold and hungry!” whined another one.

Claude lets out a tired sigh before jumping in the box again to retrieve his future lunch.

“Yes, my lord,” Mused Sebastian while following his rival.

After a while of trying to grab the smaller cats in a way that truly did not befit an earl like Ciel Phantomhive or Alois Trancy, they explored the space and eventually discovered the living room in which they curiously roamed about, while still soaking wet, mind you.

“Where did the girl go?” asked Ciel

Just as Sebastian was about to answer the tiny lord, a door opened and a pair of hurried footsteps crossed the flat, and the girl once again came into view. Her hair was wet, and she wearing a new change of clothes that weren't soaked, carrying in her hands a large white towel.

“Heheheh this is going to be interesting . . .”

Y/N POV:

What am I doing? Taking a dozen street cats when I have no idea how to keep a pet. Well, whatever I already took them in, even I am not that cruel to throw them out again.

I think to myself while searching for a towel. After successfully acquiring one, I return to the living room searching for the cats who have, by now, left the box.

They're going to dirty the whole place up like this. Sigh, if I don't clean this up, Alfred will kill me.

I froze. Even now I'm still thinking about them. A chuckle left my lips.

“I was about to join the other side, and yet I still have to clean up. Life sure was a joke. I stood there for a while, pitiying myself, while I could feel the curious looks from the cats.

One last deep sigh leaves my soul, and my eyes lock, or at least I think they do, with a grey and white Norwegian forest cat that for some reason had bangs covering its eyes.

“Hm, you're all soaking wet and dirty, yet you still casually roam around in my home? How rude,” I crouch down in front of the cat and stare at it. The cat simply tilts its head and meows at me. I blink, remembering why I got the towel in the first place, and I start making use of it and wrapping the towel around the grey cat. The other cats look at me, the two black ones, one with red brown eyes and the other with yellowish eyes. There were two smaller cats, most likely still kittens one a russian blue, which had one eye closed, and the other one a blond ragdoll kitten. Amongst them, a red cat stood out, surrounding it were two more cats who shared the same eye color as the red furred cat. Green and yellow orbs stare back at me.

“Follow me, you’re all dirty,” I commanded. I turned around and walked into the bathroom.

These cats aren't quite normal. I told them to follow, and they did. Did they understand me? Maybe they're worried for their little friend, but... the cat with the red and the one with yellow eyes... they're analyzing me, studying me like a person would

I focus back on the task, hand.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy.

I shake my head and place the grey cat in the bathtub. I turn around and grab the others with the matching eye colors. As I turn to get the blue kitten, I find myself struggling quite a lot. Seems like this one didn't appreciate being grabbed by a giant stranger.

“Stop struggling already, I'm trying to help” I proclaim, annoyed.

“Meow.” suddenly the kitten stopped stuggling after the red-eyed one intervined, and I wasfinallyy able to place the kitten into the tub with the others.

“Seems like you have a better grip on this one than I do.” I picked the red-eyed one up and mustered it for a while.

I stare into the cat's eyes and can't help but feel like the cat is analyzing me once again.

“You have pretty eyes...” My thoughts are interrupted by the very same cat that occupied them with a meow. I place the cat into the tub andfinallyy put the last two cats in the tub. Meanwhile, the ragdoll seemed to be quite pleased by the physical contact the other black cat with the yellow eyes seemed to be indifferent to me.

I take the shower head and turn on the water, making sure that the water is lukewarm, not too cold, and not too hot. Making quick work of rinsing the cats from the dirt while struggling with some more than others.

After all the cats were squeaky clean, I used the hairdryer at a low setting to dry their fur. The Red cat seemed to be especially pleased by this. I tried to use this opportunity to try to check the grey cat's eye colo,r but miserably failed to do so as it seemed to evade all of my attempts. After all of them were dry, I wraped them up in blankets and carried them into the living room and let them settle on the couch.

“I hope you guys are warmer now. Either way, it must be a lot more comfortable than the box I found you guys in.” The cats seemed to be communicating with each other when I realized that they needed names.

Can't go around just calling them by their physical appearance.

“You guys need names. I'm getting sick of having to call you guys by your fur color.”

I point at the grey cat, “You'll be Ivory, the blue one will be Blueberry.” Blueberry looked like I just offended his entire bloodline.

“The red one will be cherry,” Cherry looked pleased once again.

“Red eyes will be Ambrose and yellow eyes . . . I'll just call you gold, I guess I m not that great with names . . .” Gold was judging me while Ambrose smirked at him “ right . . . the overly affectionate ragdoll can be cinnamon roll. I remember this one girl in my class who named her ragdoll cat that so guessthat's fine.” Cinnamon meowed at me and nibbled at my fingers playfully. I scratch his head while I look at the two last remaining ones and take a better look at them. One of them was a tuxedo cat which ironically fit his serious aura, and the other one was a calico cat. “ Tuxeda cat . . . you remind me of my butler Alfred, but more serious. Unfortunately, Alfred the cat already exists . . . Edmund? How about that?” he blinked at me and let out a small meow.

“And at last we have the calico,” he starts to meow loudly as if he's complaining about being the last one to be named. I groan

“Ugh, my creativity is running out, and I'm tired, “ he meows louder.

“My god, calm down How about Jasper? I don't care if you like it or not you are Jasper from now on” as he was about to complain i hold his mouth shut.

“No complaining, I'm tired. If it wasn't for you cats, I would have been in a completely different place by now, but whatever. Guess I'll go get food. “Jasper was offended by my lack of care and started meowing up a storm as I got up and walked toward the kitchen to get some food for them.

“If I give you food, will you leave me alone ?” I ask as I put the plate with my leftovers of beef steak down

Note: Ciel is Blueberry, Sebastian is Ambrose, Grell is cherry, Undertaker is ivory, William is Edmund, Knox is Jasper, and Aois is cinnamon. Claude is gold.

When should I turn them back into humans? Anything specific you guys want to see happening? Also, romantic interests for reader?

[shinigamigloss]

lazuli

✎ two years since the night Leon left you, and today is Leon’s 23rd birthday (yes yes yes!! part two of bye bye baby blue <3)

cw: emotional hurt / comfort, angst, grief, second chances, hallucinations, post-traumatic stress, unreliable narrator, and one more chapter to go! (written with leon in mind in the opening scene of re4r) word count: 2.5k and tagging some lovely people here: @preeyas-world + @carmendanny2 + @senawashere

⌕ part 1 ┃looking for a playlist while reading?

You have been, for a while, in the habit of mingling with the gloom and the rain – either your ally or your persistent nemesis.

Ever since the night of September 30th, you’ve been suspended in an ambivalent state. Insomnia and carmine question marks prowled in the depths of your mind.

The trouble is that your memory, like your very dreams, has grown weary of storing the minute remnants of Leon.

So long has it been since you’d last seen or heard from him that sometimes, even when all alone – or in the midst of friends and interim ‘lovers’ – you’d find yourself searching for him in the measly details of your apartment.

And the flat was a big, bare space.

The bedroom had become a strange void. The lonely, withered corner of the mattress felt too wide on its own. You were very small in that perfect bed, and yet so enormous – like some foolish victim of Procrustes, who should have been cut and reshaped to fit, just to feel whole again.

There were also certain days when you’d find yourself evading people's and coworkers’ probing questions as though skirting bullets.

Queries about the boy you were once engaged to, back in your hometown, would venture into your private matters like razor-edged knives through gauze. Mercifully, the silence that followed a lethargic ‘we broke up’ – spoken to eyes dilating with anticipation – came as ephemeral as the flight of a butterfly.

Friends, relatives, and colleagues soon learned how to retreat into the safety of their own routines, folding away their curiosity like a letter that needn’t be read in the first place.

Many more years rolled by, yet not once did he answer the letters of penitence you sent.

---

Time only ever flies, and all you ever do is wander through the decay of memory.

There begins the first stage of separation, ringing your doorbell.

Recognizing his absence, you suffer the lesions and tears of a once-treasured love, now gathering only grayish dust. All you’ve got left is a proper heartache, followed by sundry seasons of naked solitude.

Nightmares precede a mosaic of nights and intricate dreams that can no longer be manually captured. Phase two comes out of the blue.

You sell the apartment on some peripheral morning, donate what little remains of Leon’s belongings to a local orphanage, pawn the ring that once mattered, cut your hair shorter than ever before, and leave the shelter with a cat.

So, it happens. Leon is no more.

Blessed by the passage of seasons, you grow inured to this new state of reality. A Leon-less life, if you will.

April arrives, bearing its recognizable heat.

It’s a crisp morning with the aroma of damp earth and tentative blossoms. The cemetery is deserted, save for the distant whistling of the brisk wind through the rows and lines of stonework. You still stall around.

There are very many names written on the tombstones.

A bouquet of lazuli-pigmented forget-me-nots in your hand, the petals evanish glum beneath your grip. Always the same flowers. He would’ve liked them, you suppose. A pretty blue had always been his hue.

You once read it with a lump lodged in your chest: the contents of a frosty letter sent by the department. At the bottom, a single signature. No words of clarification. No remission.

Nothing but a grave and a date: September 30th, 1998. The date of the ice-cold night he stormed out of the house you two nursed.

Your fingers splay out to touch the name carved in stone.

Leon S. Kennedy.

Crouching next to the epitaph, you sow your flowers beside him, ritualistically so.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper aloud, although you’re not sure if your hushing has even left your throat. It’s all a misguided venture as it is.

Two whole years. So easy to count. So hard to go through.

And yet, for some odd reason, you never believed that he was truly gone. Not ever, not so much for the sensitive elements of a moment in space.

It may be your mechanism that’s playing a backstage trick on you. Perhaps science has another name for it: a molecular aversion to recognition, a chemical romance with escapism.

Does it matter, and to whom?

Such is the viscosity of your staircase of thought that you barely register the voice beside you, even the second time it demands attention.

“Dying. It’s so strange,” the voice intones, neutral and dry.

What an absurd observation. Who even says that?

No, wait.

Who dares to say that?

Why should anyone seek a stranger’s take on the great hard knocks?

Much as this puts you in a tailspin, you decide not to look up and face the man talking to you. There are weeds growing underneath Leon’s tombstone, and you pluck them out in lieu of bothering yourself.

“Strange or not, it’s the most real thing there is,” you mouth all the while.

“No kidding,” the man carries a glimmer of amusement in his phrasing.

Quietness creeps in between you. The April chill mingles with drifting dust motes from spring blossoms. The stranger, patient and hollow-eyed, waits for you to finish tending the grave.

“Who is this Leon guy again?” he asks.

Why prod, and to what end?

It’s his words, his calm, his stillness – all coalesce into one terminal voltage, a shock so searing that it rends your very composure.

You turn, face twisted into the sourish form it identifies itself with.

He looks back at you. An unfazed kind of smile touches his lips.

It could be right then – that moment when your world collapses in on itself. Your knees give a gross shake. The reflection of the man in your eyes dilates your pupils enormously.

“Hi, love,” he greets heartily, and you blink at the dead.

No dream has ever felt as visceral on the skin as it does now. No dream until today: the middle of April, the twentieth of the month. Leon’s 23rd birthday.

Tearful, as if bullying your brain, which signals your twitching lower lip to halt. A blue color rudely paints the flesh as you worry it.

Love? What love? How come love?

Leon holds out his hand, but you don’t so much as flinch.

He stands there, breathless and tall, as if Hades had granted a day-pass for the dead men.

You’re still falling through the dented tunnel of disbelief, allowing reality to make its grand entrance into the spectacle.

“You’re dead,” you lock your jaw.

His helping hand comes to naught. On your own, you get back on your feet.

“I’ve got no time for this anyway.” You wear an overly stern expression and gesticulate awkwardly to be entirely convincing. Cast out the unwanted from your vision.

Leon sighs in the wake of this. His brows crease with something sedated, whilst the downward curve of his mouth speaks of a telltale concern.

He looks devastating.

His clothes (all dark and ink blue, tailored well to his physique) are disheveled and distinctly perfumed with the pleasant tang of his cologne in the breezy, pollen-laden air around him.

“Maybe I was dead,” there’s a bounce in his voice.

Does he ever hear the things he speaks? How completely impertinent can he be?

“Don’t give me that shit,” you blurt out the first thing that lights up in your thoughts.

“What shit, exactly?” Leon exhorts you to give voice.

“This. Shit. This and that.”

Your gaze wanders to him. The patches of the past on his skin remind you of young bruises: yellow, pallid, and rimmed with green.

He’s as in your sleepless visions: cynical and, above all, blinkered. Maybe if you looked at him from a good angle, you could feasibly see the riverscapes of the things he had been up to. Pity you can’t do such a trick in a million dreams.

“Hmm,” is the most Leon says.

Hot reds pump through your veins. You tell yourself that if you only close your eyes, all should be well. 

So, you close your eyes, reopen them, hoping to be taken all the way back to the earthly population of your dull, mean world. 

“That won’t be at all necessary, sweetheart.” Endearment escapes him through a habitual slip of the tongue. 

Fuck. 

“No, it’s absolutely necessary,” you counter sharply. 

“It’s not.” 

“Why won’t you shut the hell up?” 

In that little snippet of the reunion scenario, the cooling affection of his hand falls from your shoulder and lingers in the palm of your hand. 

“Can’t,” Leon says calmly. “I found you once. I’m not just going to leave you. Not like this.” 

Your lover assumes the shape of your sightline the minute you blink into existence. A larger Leon, with a face marred by the lines of tiredness. Longer hair that has faded to a shade of silken gold. Mocha once fondled his crown, but no longer. 

What your eyes behold is not the sum of what your heart already knows. 

“Bullshit,” your teeth kiss the bottom of your lip; Leon curls his fingers about yours, as if you might slip away from his hold. 

“You can’t be real,” you breathe in deeply, “this has happened before. Happens all the time. You just walk in, piss me off, and walk out.” 

“I’m here anyway,” he returns in a controlled intonation, lest he wake the world around you. 

“I had to come back for you.” 

He brings your hand to the right side of his face. No other layer of skin has felt so genuine since flesh forgot tenderness and, instead, digested the mechanics of sex. 

Cautiously, you take a small step. The gravel underfoot crunches listlessly away. 

“This is a hallucination. That’s all it is. Side effect.” You shake off a chill first. 

“The doctor told me.” You go quiet then. 

Rubbing his chin with a gloved hand, Leon adopts the barest of attitudes. 

“If I were your imagination, I would have a better way in. And what doctor are you—” 

“Stop talking! It is not funny.” 

The admonition strikes a jarring chord. A privilege, even after all these years, to have known him well enough to catch that flicker of mortification sparking briefly across his face. 

This sting – not so readily trivialized. It hurts still. 

He needs to see what an impossibly starless path you’ve meandered since his omission. 

“They said you were dead. You were buried.” You broach the matter; he’s already marrow-deep in your gaze. 

The buried aren’t meant to return, and it’s to the banshee’s dismay that the living should witness what has already died. It’s the rule, is it not? 

Leon’s stare glaciates to shades of electric blues. 

“You think I wanted this?” His question fractures like the snap of a twig at his feet. 

Impulsively, he closes in on you, one more step into your orbit. That’s his vivid tint shimmering in your irises. 

“I was protecting you,” he talks trash under his breath. 

(Classic.)

“By dying?” 

“No,” he rasps, “by staying dead.” 

“Oh, my God! Of course you did. Played the hero as always. Well, Clark Kent, where might your glasses be?” Sarcasm gushes from your tongue, and with good reason. 

How utterly vulgar you can be when you want to be. 

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it really that damn hard to put your trust in me?” he gnashes his teeth. 

“Funny, I remember how you gladly dumped me that night.” 

“That’s the part you know!” 

“And that’s more than enough to hate you!” 

Leon teeters and flutters an eyelid, gobsmacked in the most graphic condition possible. 

The air chokes the soul. Pinpricks of raindrops splatter in the heart of a moment of whirlwind daze. Dappled on his shoulders and dripping on his face, a drizzle catches on his lashes like the dew on cast iron. 

Hell, Leon’s everything aches: his cadence, his posture. His hand twitches in an attempt to gloss something indecipherable and unspeakable. You no longer listen to him. 

Against all sense, you come one step to the fore. You desperately need to be sure he’s the genuine article. 

Halfway through his sentence – “If I had stayed, they would’ve—” your mouth collides with his. Teeth knock. 

There’s no precision to it. No poetry written into the pell-mell kisses. No. It’s rather an open wound under the gelid water. 

His lips are mist-tinged and piteous, but just a touch belated. Yet as your hands reach for his collar and fist the sodden fabric, something inside him gives way. His breath betrays him. Mouth softens, and the kiss burrows deeper with a distant clap of thunder in the sky. 

His fingers clamber up to frame your mizzle-kissed face. Flesh and heat and bone. Salt too. 

He feels it all in the precious jostle of a millisecond into the present. 

At last, the skin honors the color of his touch. 

“I fucked up real bad. Shit, sweetheart. I lost you.” He leans close to you then, severing the kiss. 

His eyes twinkle like they’ve been washed in the storm and then reddened in the incandescent flames. 

You trace a cool hand along the faint arch of his jawline, newly chiseled since the last time your lips connected with his. 

To draw him closer to you is to abrogate every wound that is still healing. 

To pull away would be to abandon the part of you that has never stopped waiting. 

Oh, but this is no fantasy; gone is the brutal game born from the illicit marriage of chimera and sorrow. 

He’s real. 

What a way to get a hit in. What a kiss. 

Like the first breath after drowning, it’s a lovely but cold blue sinkhole. Takes much to last. 

“Oh, God,” you breathe through lips bitten raw. “The letters… they… god. No way.” 

A shallow draft of wind punches through your lungs. You come to a stop. 

“They said… ‘Leon was like this and like that. Very brave, and—” 

Beautiful cursive on blank paper – robotic condolences from men and women in polished shoes – flare up behind your eyes like credits ticking down within the frame of a movie’s swan song. 

Something feels out of sync. 

“Sweetheart, I can’t really understand you when you’re like this.” Leon holds you by the arms with a kind of makeshift smile in some strange sort of shape. 

(Or it’s your fallibility playing mind games again and against you.) 

“Do you also feel the ground moving, or is it just—” 

Your knees give out as if you’re an archaic scaffold. A marionette whose cords have been snapped. 

Leon catches you in the nick of time – but only just. 

Your sepia-tinted filter, already bleeding at the margins, begins to blur his features. 

Leon’s flustered shock hangs above until his visage is brush-stroked in a moonless black. 

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.82)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The first beach day of the season prompts both You and Tae to talk through some of your sadness. This time, you do something about it. "You’re so gentle. I don’t think you understand it.”

Tags: Trans! Tae, Dysphoria, talks of jealousy and love, top surgery/boob jobs, medical talk, talk of weight gain, body insecurity, body dysmorphia, crack, attempts at humor boobs, fingering, mild dirty talk, voyeurism, Talks of depression, mention of seizures but no seizures today, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, talk of marriage and wedding rings, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of past self-harm, mentions of ptsd, scars, this is the beach episode that all anime's have,

W/c: 20.6k

A/n: wow! this is the chapter that officially pushes us up and over the 1million words mark of this story! i hope that everyone has enjoyed the ride so far, it feels so satisfying to get to the end of tae's arc after all this time <3 i really enjoyed writing this even if it took me a bit longer to get here. please tell me what you think of it and if you like it lol.

Previous part- Masterlist - First part

Summer comes, polishing its rusty claws.

It’s easy to feel daunted by the change in season, it always makes you feel like you’re running out of time. But change doesn’t always bring bad things. Scary Things? Sure. But alot of change is necessary, even if it's scary at first.

The date is June 1, and the change in weather is welcome. An early warm spell sends the pack scrambling to set up the outdoor furniture, cutting up watermelon after watermelon and strawberry over strawberry.

Jimin gifts Tae a new outdoor settee with a thick pink cushion and woven rattan back, dotted with swans and flowers. You and Tae tear through your sundress collection and keep your favorites on rotation. matching most days and color cordinating. You wear yellow on monday and pink on wednesday. Sometimes when Namjoon asks, you wear blue.

Hobi's sprouts come up on the windowsill and Yoongi makes him a set of four raised garden beds out front for green onions and parsley. the tomatoes that are green and small now will get a little out of control by the end of the summer.

Sort of like the roses. They heap over the rock wall. Wild and untamed and beautiful. Hobi can't bear the idea of cutting them back or even propping them up with a trellis.

But Picking the flowers for you and Tae however- that is something that Hobi can stomach.

Jungkook is perpetually empty from the nest from the hours of 6am to 9am. Intent on using as much sunlight as possible to take his ridiculous 12-mile runs. Sometimes when he feels like going slow, you go with him. He has this stupid dream of running a 5k with you (and you are unfortunately prone to indulging his stupid dreams). Even if he spends half of your morning walks teasing you for your slow pace.

You can only run like 50 feet without getting too out of breath to continue. But every day you go a little farther. Run a little longer. change is funny like that- it creeps up on you.

"Did Yoongi's mating mark make you like- more like a cat?"

"That's a really nice way of calling me lazy" you tease. Jungkook just grins. Both of your hands are sweaty and swinging between you. You have too many questions for him. “Why do you even like running anyway? Why do you want to run with me? Wouldn't it be faster if you went alone? You could run a marathon like tomorrow if you wanted.”

“Yeah, but it would be different if it was with you and I ran my first marathon when I was 20 before I even met Jimin and Tae. They're fun but only if you do it with a ton of people.” he looks down at your feet.

"When those wear out we should get matching sneakers."

"Can mine be pink?"

"Only if mine are purple."

"Deal."

When you do leave with Jungkook you always come home to Namjoon sitting on the front porch reclining in Tae's pink settee, reading and sipping his coffee. The curious chickadees twittering around you a gentle giant of a pack alpha.

Namjoon’s hair has started to go truly salt and pepper. Probably from the stress of the last year. You try to count them all one evening sprawled in the living room, spirited away playing on the TV, Namjoon on the floor sitting between your legs. He lets out a groan and tells you to stop when you get to 100.

“We could always dye it you know? You don’t need to go grey if you don’t want to. Jimin's pink for Christ's sake-” Jimin had perked up from the dining room chair, fresh dye dotting his hairline like the roses dot the rock wall outside. (And most of the windowsills since Hobi likes to pick the roses and bring them inside.)

"Yeah hyung, go pink with me! you're practically a blank canvas" Tae hums from behind Jimin, smiling down at him as she mixes a fresh bowl full of fuchsia.

Namjoon peers at the back of his head with the handheld mirror. He catches your love-struck look as you gently thread your fingers through his nape, your soft smile.

“No. It's okay.” He says. Contemplative. Even though you tell him that Tae dyes her hair so much that she has no idea when she’s going to go grey or if she’ll even ever really notice.

(Jin shaves Namjoon's hair later that week, going short for the heat and summer. And you and Jimin perpetually rub his spiky short hair, a bit obsessed with how sensory it is until he tells you to stop).

But this is how summer with the pack goes. Warm nights spent at your favorite spot and hamburgers and French fries. There are people to call, and things to orchestrate. Jin’s been going a little insane since quitting his job with the FBI, and the warm weather only makes him more prone to fussing. You hardly survived the post-heat spring cleaning.

More than once this spring Jin has demanded that Jungkook actually be hosed down outside after one of his runs turned him muddy and sweaty. Sometimes, Jin does the same with Hobi if he gets particularly grimy taming the garden. The veggies and the Roses. The walks and slow evenings. Life with the pack goes like this; a little lazy, a little busy chasing everyone around and keeping it together.

The garden grows. The sweet lemony lemony-smelling French doubles fill the yard with their scent and Red David Austins dot the fence in the corner like red stars. White fragrant French cups drape up and over the stone.

Hobi likes to pick them in the early morning, right as he has his first cup of coffee. Someone else is inside is getting you yours, or maybe you and Tae are changing for the pack's beach day. You both looked sleepy and draped all over each other when Hobi last saw you. Trailing after Jin who was already griping about the UV index as he and Tae led you in the direction of the dressing room to pick out your bikini for the day.

His careful fingers are mindful of thorns as he snips them free of the bush. A morning dove coos in the middle of the cul de sack, and Noodle meows from around his ankles guarding the alpha’s coffee (and occasionally sneaking sips. Especially if Hobi's used half and half). His baby blue cup rests in the grass slightly overgrown because Hobi is ever mindful of the pollinators.

He has a few blooms in his hands, mainly the pink ones. Hobi offers one to Noodle, crouching on creaky knees, letting the cat smell. Pushing his whiskers past the first row of petals. Purring loudly.

“What do you say Nu? Should we head inside and see if the girls like them?”

The door creaks and Hobi's coffee cup dangles from one pinky, empty. Three brightly colored beach bags wait by the door clogging the doorway and stopping Hobi from being able to open it all the way. They're piled high with towels, chip bags, and enough sunscreen to cover a small parking lot. Your and Tae's dresses are draped over the back of the couch, colorful and long patchwork spilling half onto the floor. A river of multi-colored floral squares.

Hobi can be forgiven for not immediately realizing what he’s watching.

You’re up on the counter and the bikini you wear is small, a bit too small. The red string at the back tied in a bow. One of Tae's hands tangle in it. Winding the red strand over her knuckles, back and forth between her fingers. Your bare back and your dimples are on display- distracting Hobi from what’s going on at your front. 

There’s just a lot of skin on display is all, and not much clothes. Hobi can handle it. Like a gentleman.  He restrains his imagination. Reminding himself that he's allowed to look, that he's not being creepy. But still- he's a little happy that Tae seems to be too busy whispering something to you from between your legs to notice Hobi's eyes trailing up your back.  

She's got one hand on your hip, digging into the alluring cleft where hip meets torso, the other concealed by your bodies.

You’d think he’d be used to it- you and Tae lounging around in little to nothing. Tae's gauzy collection of night dresses, or your spread of mini sleep shorts- but the mini bikini seems extra extra mini today. The thread-narrow straps and small red triangles do little to conceal your body and how it swells. 

Your milk had tapered off after the first few weeks of your heat but the swelling has been slow to go down.  That coupled with a little bit of post-heat indulgence and doting has left your body round and supple in a way that the alphas just devour. Hobi knows you've complained more than once about the newfound back aches and the new stretch marks and he sympathizes he really does but-

But fuck.

You sort of look like something off the cover of one of those vintage Playboy magazines that Tae pretends she likes for 'aesthetic reasons'. Not that Hobi judges. Hobi understands why tae's a little obsessed with them. Your chest is sort of a wet dream.

The whole pack is a lot obsessed with them.

Hobi thinks you're just kissing until You tip your head back and moan, and he almost trips over the corner of the carpet.

“Oh? You're-” Hobi's throat goes dry.

Tae picks her head up from where it was buried in your hair and laughs. Showing her canines, eyes bright and mischievous.

Her hand keeps moving between your thighs. When you try to close your legs, Tae's other hand grabs your knee and pushes them open. She does it like she hardly notices you squirming away or your sudden shyness.

Your scar shines silvery. Hobi hardly notices it. Eyes flicking down to it, to where tae grips your hip, fingers dimpling. Hardly catching the half-frantic glance you send over your shoulder at him. Caught.

Tae bites into the skin of your shoulder, so quick that Hobi almost misses it, directing your attention back to her with a jolt. It's a light correction, a playful one. There are other bruises and evidence of the pack's loving on your body too, a hickey under your jaw that hobi's pretty sure is from him. Others on the inside of your thighs from Jimin, And even more along the line of the bikini.

Jungkook has this funny habit of leaving bruises in the shape of a heart. Tilting his neck so that his hickeys make a pattern.

It's nothing Hobi hasn't seen before. This kind of thing is sort of routine for the pack. Yesterday he found Jungkook and Yoongi fucking in the sunroom, and the morning before that Hobi walked in on Jimin and Namjoon in the upstairs bathroom having some sort of staring match as Jin showered. Both of them hard and pretending they weren't.

And the day before that Tae had walked in on you and Hobi and Yoongi being…a little bit ridiculous on the front porch. Doing some all too public heavy petting that the pack alpha and pack omega would surely disapprove of if they found out.

It's not the first time Hobi has kept your secrets.

The last time Hobi saw Tae finger you, you were at the kitchen table (three mornings ago) but Hobi can't say it's not a welcome surprise. Your squirming is all you can do to keep the pack's pawing at bay when you're like this.

Tae grins, Drinking in Hobi's blush like it's strawberry lemonade. She doesn’t slow her pace at all. Two fingers or three? Her hand works in between your tights as you sag against her front, boneless. Giving in to the fact that you have an audience and Tae doesn't have any plans of stopping. Her wrist crooks to find the angle that makes your toes curl and Hobi sees it on your face the moment she finds that little spot that makes you clench extra hard.

Upstairs, Jungkook laughs loudly. Someone or something crashes into a door or a wall hard enough to make the windows in the kitchen rattle. Probably Jimin and Jungkook chasing each other around, zoomies that are sure to get worse when they get to the beach.

“Guys” Jin’s stressed tone sounds and Namjoon’s deep baritone says something in response. Too low to hear. Distracting the pack omega so that the pups can be pups. Who knows where Yoongi is, probably tightening down a screw or a loose nail or something.

Hobi smirks, kicking a hip up against the counter after refilling his coffee. Settling in to watch. The roses are forgotten about, discarded on the counter where they glimmer, going withy.

Hobi sips his coffee. Making eye contact with you over Tae's shoulder. And you blush furiously at the blatant way his eyes flicker from your face to your chest to between your legs.

"Do you-" you breathe heavily, cheek resting against Tae's arm, scrambling to paw at her hand when she crooks her fingers a little deeper, petting insistently in and in. Your bikini bottom is pushed to the side, leaving a little trickle of slick on the counter. The dewy and delicious parts of you are hardly hidden by Tae's wrist. A delighted growl-pur builds in Hobi's chest at the sight.

"Do you have to watch?" Your voice goes breath as Tae changes the angle of her hand and you throw your head back, but Hobi doesn't even blink.

"I'm quite enjoying my view thank you very much." He teases. "a settling?" He asks, taking in your dazed expression and the way you cling to her.

"Hole check." Tae quips, her tone vaguely endeared, like Jin's hole checks aren't the pack's favorite form of entertainment when it comes to teasing you and keeping you settled. Hobi's seen you get them just about everywhere; in the shower, bent over the arm of the couch. Or jin's favorite- sprawled over his lap in the nest before bed, usually post knotting.

You hiccup and paw at her wrist, but she just keeps going.

Tae growls, deep and pleased. There must be something with her instincts today, something setting her on edge. Maybe it's just the sight of you in that itty bitty bikini, a size too small for your new healthy body that spills out around its edges. Fuck- girls are so-

Hobi's grip goes white-knuckled on his coffee, and Tae shifts to the side so that Hobi can see. You duck forward into her chest overwhelmed nuzzling the faint fat there. You want to suck. To keep something in your mouth to keep the moans at bay.

You’d woken up a little bit soft-minded, a little bit more laconic than usual. Yoongi wrapped around your shoulders and Jungkook nuzzling somewhere around your stomach. No one was too surprised that it had been hard to wake you up.

It’s no wonder that Tae- usually more prone to being riled up by you in omegspace, had taken the way you’d trailed after her as something of an invitation.

You’re not wearing one of your bikini no- Hobi is intimately familiar with those (on account of how much you’ve both used the upstairs hot tub this spring) this red one is Tae's. Normally that wouldn’t be an issue but-

Tae's chest is not the same size as yours, especially not after your heat- whereas this bikini fits Tae perfectly- on you- it’s a little small.

Hobi can’t stop looking at your sternum, can't stop looking at you. the rest of the day is going to be torture. everything about you distracts him- the chub at the side of the red triangles, that freckle between your chest- all of it.

Tae grins at him like she knows and that's why she chose it, her cheek resting on the top of your head, smiling gently like she’s not knuckle deep in your pussy. Your bikini bottom is pushed to the side darkening to a faint maroon.

Her hand keeps moving, nudging sweet little sounds from you. Her hands are glossy to the knuckle and you know you’re leaking onto the kitchen counter (not that it hasn’t seen worse) you bury your nose in her throat, and let out these little huffs, and tae's hand slips under the side of your bikini to feel the flutter of your heart.

or just feel you up a bit. Her squeezes are appreciative and surprisingly tender.

Ah, fuck.

Hobi crosses his arms and sips at his coffee. You make eye contact with him and then shy away, hiding your moans in Tae's shoulder. Tae's bikini is dotted with small flowers, white on top and pink on the bottom.

Her chestnut hair is extra curly- Hobi doesn’t know why she bothered with the rollers when any effort that she puts into her hair will be damaged by the salt water later but still. It spills over her shoulders in pretty waves. She’s still wearing a clip at the nape of her neck, Hobi darts forward to take it out as you let out high-pitched ‘ah- ah- ah's

“Yah guys! Not in the kitchen! We eat here.” Jin already has a healthy glob of sunscreen covering both his cheeks, depositing yet another beach bag by the front with a loud and uncermous thud as he catches sight of what you and tae and now hobi are doing in the kitchen.

You can tell by the brief glance you cast over Tae's shoulder that he was planning on hassling you to get some sunscreen on too, a task now forgotten.

Tae cocks an eyebrow at Jin, and her fingering goes a little stronger, she picks up one of your legs hips splaying wider, showng jin too. "Yeah? I eat here too."

Jin huffs, half laughing. Hobi snorts into his coffee. "You're unbelievable."

“Just one sec, she’s almost there.”

You hide your face in Tae's shoulder, blushing furiously at the casual way she says it, all but pawing at her. Your fingers dig into her arm, the delicate bracelets on her wrists jingle and she crooks her fingers right there.

“You’re just gonna stand there? Your bathing suit is still upstairs?”

Tae grins at Hobi, pressing her thumb against your clit in the way that makes you squeal. All but ignoring your predicament. Hobi knows you like it when your pleasure is treated as routine, as something casual. Hardly worth mentioning or acting up over. They could make you cum over breakfast and then in the car and it would just be taking care of you. they'd decide and you'd take it. 

“And what? Miss the show?”

Jin sighs and forces you to untuck your head from her shoulder. "you have until she cums before I make you go upstairs and change baby."

"But-"

"No buts." you bite your lip to keep your moans at bay. Eyes dazed and foggy, completely small underneath their attention. “Pretty little thing,” Jin comments, eyes dark. Tae's hips shift ever so slightly. Like she’s supremely aware of the pack omega so close behind her.  And Jin’s hand crests your knee and your ankle, holding you open so that Tae can continue.

“Close your eyes pup,” You moan through it, Jin spreading a generous layer of sunscreen on your cheeks as Tae's hand works, turning your bathing suit dewy, wet, and messy.

You whine, high-pitched quiet. Jimin trips over the carpet in the main room same as Hobi, eyes flicking from Tae's hands to you then back again. “Oh, I- oh”

Hobi takes another swallow of his coffee, "yeah, oh" Hobi watches Jimin's eyes flicker from your pussy, to the wet countertop below.

Jimin's been being…a bit weird about your slick since your heat. A little bit less likely to reach out to you, to touch you. Like he’s too mindful of his own desires (or of triggering an early rut, Jimin is sort of due for one just like Hobi- he can feel it, an itch under his skin sometimes that threatens to build). But still unable to stop the almost magnetic draw to you in the evenings when the night falls and the hours grow slow.

He hasn’t exactly been obsessed with your pussy since your heat, but to say there's have barely been a 2-day span where Jimin hasn’t sought you out would be true. There's hardly been an evening that he hasn’t folded himself close in the nest and shuffled up behind you. Needy and a bit hard already at just the thought of asking. It's hard to pretend like he hasn’t sat next to you at every available opportunity. That Jimin hasn't trailed behind you and Tae or closed the door to the library room when Tae decides she needs some 'personal reenactment' for a chapter in her book.

Hobi doesn't blame Jimin for being pussy whipped. Hell- all of them are a little obsessed with it. He's heard Namjoon and Jin talking about it, late at night when they think no one is awake.

"The doctor did say that we should be careful. About her slick and us alpha's."

"Do you think they could get like- dependant on it?"

"I think it's only an issue if the pup says it is." Jin had snorted, and the sound of lips connecting had slightly woken Hobi from sleep. Wet and messy kisses getting messier by the second.

"If Minnie wants help, he'll come to us."

Hobi sort of wonders if this is like that, if Tae is like that with you, either addicted or dependent on it and that's why she's fingering you on the kitchen counter. Watching as you paw at Tae's wrist as it starts to become too much, moaning against her throat as she stalwartly continues to rub up against the spongy part of you.

Hobi could tell you the exact moment that she tips you over the edge. Fingers reaching just a bit deeper in almost a petting motion. Hobi laughs, and your squirming goes a little overstimulated, trying to pull back, gripping Tae's wrist with a choked-off moan. But Tae won't stop until you actually start to tremble.

Your body seizes and then relaxes, and you cling to her, sighing, burying your face in her neck to hide from the others who shuffle around the kitchen. Yoongi barely pauses to dot a kiss on your forehead before he gets the cut-up watermelon out of the freezer and asks Jimin to carry the cooler up from the basement. The others continue to chatter.

"Did you grab the lemonade?"

"Yes!" Jungkook bounces around the kitchen, already with so much energy even though he's had no caffeine.

"And the liquid iv?"

"Yes hyung- yes, come on- the tide is changing and I wanna make sure we have high tide for body surfing-"

"Wait Yoongi- could you check the oil in Hobi's car-" 

"I checked it two days ago." Hobi puts his empty coffee cup in the sink.

"Before or after you and the pup took it out? I know how you drive baby."

That makes Hobi blush, it’s as gentle of a scolding as Jin is capable of giving, "Hyung-"

"Go change pup."

Hobi sighs and follows the pack omega's instructions. Tae keeps her fingers inside of you until you’ve had the chance to come down all the way, until your breathing has gone heavy and you blink up at her, feeling a little hazy. She grins and kisses you on the nose. She takes her fingers out with a faint squelch, wiping them on a kitchen towel before she gently puts your bikini back in place. You whine and squirm.

Namjoon comes down the stairs, nostrils flaring, looking up at you and Tae, you’re a bit debauched, but Jin continues rubbing sunscreen onto your cheeks, switching to Tae's after a second. “Are you guys ugh- ready to go?”

Tae shuffles away with a lazy grin. You blink at her like you're half surprised that she's left you alone on the counter. She asks for it, and Jimin hands her both of your dresses, she pulls her dress over her head and sets yours on the counter.

“Hold on, one sec,” Tae fixes your bikini bottom, putting it back in place before dropping to one knee. Your hand goes into her hair, tugging and blushing furiously as she does. Trying to pull her back up as the whole pack watches her press a kiss over your pussy lips, the wet fabric of your bottom clinging to them, showing everything. Every ridge and dip.

Tae doesn't lick or nibble. She just kisses your wet spot and pops up onto her feet with a grin, hair bouncing,

“There we go, ready!”

~-~

It’s an uncommonly hot day for June. The seagulls turn slowly in a circle, like one big mobile buffered by the gentle ocean breeze. Even the screaming children feel quiet, dampened by the sound of the ocean waves roaring.

You almost bump into Jungkook as he helps unload the car, a brightly colored beach bag under either arm. Shirt already off and looking drippy and boyish in the summer sunshine, romantic looking in a way that only Jungkook can gring. He grins, his tousled hair just so before he ducks down to peck your forehead and dance around you.

You sway in the sunlight like a reed before toppling back into the passenger seat.

Hobi leans low, hands balanced on the hot metal roof of the car. Eyeing you over the rim of his dark sunglasses. A little worried. The others dart around both of you. Getting the bags, the cooler, the umbrella from the cars.

“You okay?” He asks and you fiddle with the ribbon on your sunhat, not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say after a second. You'd spent the whole car ride staring out the half-cracked window, eyelashes catching the wind. Hair going tangly until Tae leaned forward from the backseat to put it up for you in a claw clip.

The rendezvous earlier hadn't woken you up, not like they'd hoped, not at all. Hobi looks at you for another long moment before saying, “okay, I’m going to believe that until you tell me otherwise alright?”

“Alright.” You say, trying to convince yourself to smile. It’s easy when Hobi is looking at you like that. It's a nice day, you should enjoy it without worrying.

But the worry is hard to let go of.

Jin's endless chatter is the companion to your quiet. "Joonie- did we pack the watermelon? Did anyone see my SPF 70? Jungkook- do not run down the stairs, you remember what happened when you slipped and you skinned your knee? that goes the same for you too Hobi! Yoongi did you remember your sun top? Where did I put my sunglasses- thank you, baby.” Yoongi hands them over, dark hair glistening shiny, and healthy under the sun.

Tae wears a big pink sunhat and you wear a black one, sparing your shoulders from the sun, although they’ve been dotted and smeared with sunscreen too. Although the pack omega made each and every one of you line up for another layer of sunscreen and morning kisses before getting into the car you know today will leave you with tan lines no matter how many times Jin asks you to re-apply.

Especially when it comes to swimming.

The ocean hovers, stretching to the end of the world. The tide is still high but turning. A storm surge from a few days back has left even the waves aggressive at low tide. “Buddy system- Jungkook, you’re not allowed to go out on your-” Jungkook ignores Jin’s griping, dashing out into the hot sand. Jimin and Hobi and Tae hot on his heels.

The pack files down the steps, toting woven chairs and tasseled umbrellas, Yoongi’s face looks several shades lighter than normal from the sheer amount of sunscreen that he’s applied. He grumbles and hugs a big 2-gallon jug of water and lemon slices to his chest. But Jin is a professional. Each of them hold one fishing rod a peice, a small tackle box between the two of them is all that they need.

From the bottom of the steps, Namjoon waits.

He smiles up at you. You’re taking the steps slowly, one at a time in your squeaky plastic flip-flops hugging the big woven beach blanket to your chest. Jungkook Jimin and Hobi are already chasing each other across the sand, halfway to the ocean. You watch Jungkook dive, all but tackling Jimin up and over the dunes, Hobi valiantly comes to the other alpha’s rescue, but it’s no use, the three of them go rolling and tumbling. You can see the sand in Jungkook’s dark hair from here.

Namjoon smiles at you from the bottom steps, switching from holding the packs cooler with two hands to one, he offers you his hand wordlessly tugging the cooler behind him while you walk. Waiting for you to take off your flip-flops and hook them through his fingers so that you don't have to hold them.

Namjoon and you trail behind, the pack alpha going slow for you. Your hat nudges his shoulder. Yoongi and Jin walk a few paces ahead, bickering like an old married couple about the place you'll set up shop, matching rings on their fingers, bound between the two of them even if they’re both carrying too much. They still hold hands.

The rings are a new development, simple silver bands for the two of them, a tiny diamond on Jin's. You don’t know when it exactly started to come up in conversation (shortly after you'd drunkenly announced that you wanted to marry Tae maybe, although that was months ago at this point) but somewhere along the last 4 months, they've both started to wear them every day. One morning you’d woken up to Yoongi grumbling about ring sizes, that all the nitrogen from the day before was making his fingers feel too swollen for it.

You're hardly surprised.

They’re just testing it out, just making sure to see if they even like wearing them. Is it even a real marriage if they haven't filled out the paperwork and don't want to do anything like a ceremony? Does starting to wear rings even matter when Yoongi and Jin have already been semi-married in everything but paperwork for nearly all of their adult lives?

You’d known sort of from the beginning that Yoongi had always planned on marrying Jin, regardless of the mating mark. Maybe it would bother you more if you weren't fully planning on marrying Tae one day.

But with that you're going slow. Like today, you're in no rush.

Just like you plan on marrying Tae, just like you're sort of already mated to Hobi- regardless of the fact that you'll never bite him and he'll never be able to bite you. The feelings are still there.

You’d talked about it with Yoongi shortly after your heat. Alone, just the two of you cuddled up together late one night in the nesting pod after a bit of pack revelry. you can still hear everyone upstairs if you listen hard enough, spilling from the upstairs windows. The windows open to allow in a stray sun-warmed breeze. The weather shifting, the season changing and another summer is on its way.

"It feels like something I need to do before I finish the house. You know? Like it doesn't make sense to finish the house and not be married to Jin inside of it."

"This sort of feels like you're breaking up with me."

Yoongi had rushed to reassure you before he'd clocked your teasing expression. that really- you were just joking. he'd bent over you, and you'd put your foot flat to his stomach and pushed playful. A little tipsy, a little silly.

"Does that mean i can ask you out again if we're broken up?"

"Why don't you ask your husband first!"

It’s hard to believe that it’s been a full year since the pack moved in and yet, the empty champagne bottles on the floor linger gathering condensation. Tae had pushed you to celebrate it. The house is almost nearly complete too- there are only a dozen or so odd tasks that Yoongi has yet to do, picking a color for the exterior of the house being one of them.

They linger on the edge of his to-do list, so unimportant when it comes to the regular responsibilities of the pack beta. Like taking Jungkook to work, cooking dinner and doing the shopping, taking Noodle to his vet and grooming appointments, and picking Namjoon up after his night shifts (of which there are thankfully few).

And edit Tae's novel.

It’s almost complete but in need of serious serious review. She’d asked you first, but you’d read it, cried, and deemed it a complete masterpiece a welcome compliment but not exactly what she’d been looking for. Tae's sensitive heart cannot take much criticism, especially for something so close to her soul. But Yoongi and Jin are gentle enough.

Jimin, Namjoon, and Hobi had all asked to read it as well. And had whined and tried to barter when she told them that they'd need to wait to read the finished product.

You have a feeling that might have to do with the main character and the love interest. The love interest is a bit of all of them- although you confess you can’t read it without picturing Hobi or Jungkook in their slot.

But for today everything can wait. Editing books and chapters. Words and confessions. Everything can wait in the wake of a beach day. It's so rare that no one has to work, on a weekday no less. Jimin’s off from his bodyguarding, Jungkook doesn’t have another client or class scheduled until two days from now, and Namjoon’s next day of work isn’t until then either. You guess it’s just really you, Jin, Tae, and Yoongi who are regularly without anything to do these days.

Although that might be changing soon.

You’d submitted your application over a month ago, and yet, there has been nothing, no rejection or confirmation. No nothing. Although you’ve gone out and gotten the mail every morning without fail. Hobi is always reassuring you that there is still time, and that even if you don’t get in this cycle there’s always next semester.

Yeah, you’d taken his advice and applied for culinary school. You talk through it all the time, late at night on a drive, over lunch when you bring it to the flower shop after he forgets it at home again, after Jungkook's early morning walk/runs.

“As much as I hate to point it out but becoming a baker will mean that you’ll have to wake up like- really early every day. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

You’d whined and flopped down into the nest on top of Hobi, shuffling to the side to get your body all aligned up against the pack omega. Still Half-asleep, glasses askew, Yoongi already carrying three cups of coffee up the stairs, steaming good.

“I know- I know," Although the rest of the pack defaults to being encouraging, Hobi is the only one who asks questions like this. "I don’t know if I’m like- so focused on the results or that I just want to go to school in general but-"

He'd grinned at you. "You want it too bad for it to matter."

"Yeah…I think I do. Even if I don't even like do anything with it after. It would be nice to like- understand why I can't make a fucking souffle."

"You're the shame of the regimen."

"What do your superiors do with you." (Tae made you watch Pride and Prejudice again a week ago and you've been quoting it back and forth since then.)

Wanting something enough to try for it is strange for you. It feels strange to have a dream after so many years of straight survival. But the pack isn’t really hurting for money these days, what with your old penthouse sold to the highest bidder and the dizzying sum put into stocks and bonds that pay out at regular intervals.

It's more than enough to make your taxes and utilities and even have a good bit left over at the end of every month. You're not really involved with it, Jin and Yoongi handled all of it. The sale, the business with the realtor, and property in Manhattan always goes for a lot, even with a burnt-up top floor.

It's a strange thing, but you honestly don’t even have to think about money anymore. No one in the pack does.

Although that’s not what’s making you quiet.

Your slowness right now has nothing to do with your and Tae's rendezvous earlier. If anything, you might be worse if it wasn't for her. You have that vaguely disgruntled look that Jimin gets when he's overstimulated today. Like your skin isn't fitting right, or your hair is pressing in from all sides. It's not overstimulation- not exactly.

Your thoughts are still somewhere too slow for summertime. Dripping and melting slowly like ice cream. By the time you get over the hill, Hobi is wearing Tae's sunhat and Jimin is holding her flip-flops. Jungkook is walking backward several paces in front of them. Saying something that makes Jimin throw one of Tae's flip-flops at him.

Jungkook takes it and runs. Tae's pink sunhat goes fluttering in the breeze and the three of them chase after him until they drop their towels and bags in a spot that Jin and Yoongi deem alright enough and continue their pell-mell puppy tumble to the ocean, Tae's pink flipflop nearly gets taken by the sea but Jungkook dives for it.

"Help me set up the umbrella?" Yoongi asks, touching your arm gently. You nod, happy to have some shade in the bleeding sunlight. You hold it still while Jin fluffs out the beach blanket and Namjoon sets up the chairs, and when you're finished and Namjoon sits in the camping chair, Jin and Yoongi meander their way towards the shoreline, still holding hands both of them covered to the wrist.

"They look like a pair of grandmas."

Namjoon looks up at Yoongi and Jin and grins, "Yeah they do."

You plop down on the blanket just next to him and Namjoon raises an eyebrow at you. "Are you sure you don't want a chair?"

"I'm sure."

Namjoon spends a long moment looking at you, but you're not paying attention to him. You watch Jimin spin Tae in the sea spray, her dress twirling with him, she holds around his neck until he puts her down, pulling her dress over her shoulders too. Jimin runs it back to your things, grinning at you and ducking low to kiss your forehead then Joonie’s mouth.

You still watch Tae, mouth a little turned down as you watch her. taking in the way her shoulders hunch, the way she looks down at her body and then up at Jimin.

Joonie makes a noise and Jimin ruffles his buzz cut before darting back to Tae with a giggle. you watch tae straighten up before he gets back over to her. The pack alpha shakes his head. Tae has crossed her arms over her chest, but she’s still smiling at Jimin.

Tae has always been better than you are at pretending that nothing is wrong.

The ocean is speckled with people, brightly colored swimsuits, and beachballs. You’re glad you came on a weekday because there aren't too many people here. It's not crowded. From a distance, the Ferris wheel turns slow and when you listen you can almost hear the Jingle of the carousel mixing with the screech of the gulls.

You know that later there will be fried dough and milkshakes up on the pier and a walk on the boardwalk later. You should be more excited for that, you love fried dough and you’ve been meaning to try and make your own for the longest time.

Jin is quick to call Jungkook and Jimin back for more sunscreen and to take off his clothes before he gets them wet. Really he's getting a little ridiculous with it. Jungkook and Jimin strip the rest of their clothes until there's little left beyond a tiny red Speedo.

It causes more than a few groans. Your mate looks away, laughs, then looks back.  "Jungkook-" "Really Koo-"

"What? I wanted to match the pup!" That actually gets a laugh out of you. You touch his knee and Jungkook smiles down at you, winks, and bounds off in the direction of Tae and Jimin. 

Tae looks gorgeous running through the water, her hair quickly during dark from the salt water. Both of them tug your mate into the water when he dares to come too close and it's seconds before Yoongi sinks a Jungkook-shaped necklace wrapped around his shoulders to pull him to sea. Yoongi puts up a valiant fight you can hear his "yah!" from here.

Jimin isn’t far behind. Getting more than a few looks as he wets his hair and flips in back. You find it hard to look at Jimin and Tae actually. Flustered. Hobi is already 50 feet down the beach, head lowered to look for things that have washed up. Headphones barely visible at this distance. You didn’t want to walk down the beach today with him, too tired.

And it’s so hot.

You sigh, Namjoon is already flipping through his book (fiction for a change- probably one of Tae's recommendations if you had to guess from the ballgown on the front.) You watch as Hobi becomes a dot on the horizon.

You sort of wish that you’d gone with him after a few minutes. You alternate between watching him become smaller and smaller, and watching Tae, Jungkook, and Jimin roughhouse in the water while Yoongi and Jin stand in knee-high waves, keeping an eye on them and talking. Still holding hands. Mostly just making sure nothing happens.

You know the pack is always worried, always just a little bit extra watchful of Jungkook on beach days. It’s always a risk, having him go out and swim. But someone's always nearby. If anything happened, if he started having a seizure, the rest of the pack wouldn’t be that far away. He's never had a seizure in the water before but it's always a risk. Jungkook doesn't act like he's nervous whatsoever, pushing off from the bottom when the big waves come and diving where they break, cutting through the water like it's effortless.

You feel a little too tired to share in their worry today.

The pack has picked up on it of course, that there is something wrong with you today. That something is turning you quiet and a little bit grumpy. There are only so many forehead kisses and reassurances that they you can give before you sort of have to come to them for help. Tae at least had tried this morning. And while you hadn’t not enjoyed your rendezvous…

Namjoon opens up the cooler. Offering you a piece of watermelon. You decline it.

“Do you want some water?”

“No Joonie.” You cover your feet with sand. Wiggling your bright red toes up through it before covering them again.

"How about an ice cream?”

You snort. “It’s not even noon.” You find a little pink shell in the sand, sun-bleached, and you balance it on Namjoon's knee. The pack alpha watches you line it up with others you find searching through the sand. You'll show Hobi when he gets back.

“I won't tell Jin if you don't, we could walk and get some for everyone?” he offers. Folding his book to the side. Index finger keeping his place.

“They’d melt and I’m still full of breakfast.” Hobi had made French toast this morning, sticky and yummy and melty with how good it was. Your lips are stuck in a pout, and you school your expression into something neutral the second you realize.

Namjoon gets barely another paragraph under his belt before he's trying again. “Are you sure you don’t want to join the others in the water?”

“No Joonie,” You nudge his novel with your elbow, “Read your book.”

“We could get you some lemonade or something else from the boardwalk? It’s kind of hot out you know, you should be careful of heatstroke.”

“Joonie-”

“Pup.”

Namjoon folds his book in half again, raising an eyebrow at you. You know he’s asking you to tell you what’s wrong without actually doing it. An invitation if ever there was one.

The cool ocean breeze tickles your forehead comforting. “Do you wanna tell me why you’re a little grumpy this morning, or do you want me to wait until noon until I start to actually try and cheer you up?”

"You are cheering me up."

A look at your phone tells you noon is about 40 minutes away, and the temptation to wallow is there but-

You pull up the hem of your long skirt. Green and yellow and embroidered, Tae got it for you special just for today, it was wrapped in gauzy paper this morning at the end of the settee in the dressing room. One for herself already hanging in your shared closet. You like matching with Tae- you always do, but-

She looked so good in hers, and you couldn’t help but feel like it didn’t look the same on you- your legs too short and stubby, your arms, just a little too pudgy when you turn to the side. You don't pick yourself apart in the mirror nearly as bad as you used to. And it's stupid, because you know she probably thought the exact opposite about how it fit you. You’d seen it just briefly, the way that her eyes had fixated on your chest and then quickly looked away.

You don’t make Tae feel dysphoric often but you hate it when you do.

She'd noticed you noticing, and then in the best way she knew how she'd distracted you from your own feelings and let you know just how delectable she found you in your bikini and dragged you downstairs into the kitchen-

Ugh, today might be a good day if you could only get over it. You might be happy to spend it here, lounging with the pack alpha but it’s also a bad day too.

You kneed the sand with your feet. And Namjoon waits for you to speak, recognizing that you’re working through it. You bury your head in your knees, skin pressed to skin, holding around your calves tight.

"I thought I’d have more time, when the weather started to change and Tae and I started looking at bikinis. All of them were just so small and I’m so big now.”

“Pup, you’re perfect,” You can tell Namjoon means it.

“I know, I just want to feel more comfortable.” you say it like you don’t really believe it. Steamrolling past the pack alpha before he has a chance to argue with you. To pry. “I ordered a one-piece and I know that but-” you tug your knees to your chest, feet sandy, flipflops discarded. Pink. Tae's matching ones are a few sizes larger and not far, resting in the sand.

“But I also don’t want anyone to look at the scars on my back.”

A gull squawks and Jungkook giggles as he gets up on Jin's shoulders. tae is already perched on Jimin's, playing a game of chicken. An extra large wave hits them from the side and they both go tumbling. Laughing and falling into the salt water. Yoongi smiles from his spot with his fishing pole, screwing with his line and then Jin's, getting them set up. Namjoon drops his book to the side.

“Ah. So that’s what it is.”

“It doesn't bother me when you guys see them but-“

You look at the waves instead of at him. And you realize it honestly hadn’t occurred to him that that might be the reason why you’re nervous, why you’re off today. You hadn’t really realized it either, not until you caught Tae looking at them this morning and then Hobi.

You look at the ocean, and then back at Namjoon. He folds his book and puts it away. Beneath his big body, the beach chair creeks. You lay your head against the sun-bleached wood of the arm rest. His fingers naturally find themselves in your hairline, rubbing at your temple. You don’t know how he knew that you’ve got a headache but the relife is near instant.

“It’s not that I’m even that self-conscious of them.” You say after a moment. You don’t think about it at all when it’s just the pack when it’s just the eight of you. You don't feel nervous when you're walking around in a bra with Tae or in a bandeau and a pair of Jungkook’s sweats when he eventually badgers you into stretching in the sunroom. You never think about them when it's days like that.

“If anyone looks, I can tell them off for you.”

“No, you don’t need to, I just-” You watch a little kid and his friends toss a ball to each other, getting too close to the waves until it's swallowed by the seafoam, Jungkook is close to it. He gets it for them before it has a chance to get swept out for sea. They scream and crowd him. You get it- all little kids sort of love Jungkook.

“I don’t want anyone thinking that it’s you guys who did that to me, I don’t want anyone to look and wonder how it happened.”

You think of it, the scar, the sharpness of a knife, your face under Geumjae’s boot. It doesn’t bother you to remember it anymore. All the pain from it is so far away. But anger has a habit of sticking around.

“It doesn’t matter to me, if it matters to you, I understand, but I don’t care what strangers think about us, not anymore.” You feel warm at that, that the pack alpha doesn’t care about his reputation so long as you know who he is. The content of his heart and soul, or whatever.

“It matters to me just- I hate them, I hate having them.” You bury your hands in the sand to hide that they’re trembling and this time, when Namjoon passes you a slice of watermelon you take it from him.

"Come with me to get ice cream?"

"Did you only suggest it earlier because you wanted to get some?"

"Yeah," he admits, he gets up from the chair. Hand out, waiting.

You put your palm against his and he pulls you to your feet. "Okay, only if I can get mint chocolate."

His face goes sour, “pup-” you laugh and down the beach, Hobi picks his head up from looking down, pockets heavy with sea glass, listening to the sound of it on the wind and smiles.

Your hands stay like that, tangled together between the both of you. Now that you're talking about it, it's hard to stop.

“At first, I was so disgusted with myself that I’d let someone do that to me. You know I didn’t fight back until the end, not really, not until Yoongi.” Namjoon hums, and lets you vent. Let’s you talk it through as you walk up the steep steps. You know he knows all of this but you want to vent.

“I spent so long thinking I deserved it, wondering if I did, and trying to convince myself that I didn’t. I still don’t know if deserving has anything to do it. But after I stopped wondering, I just got angry.”

The sun beats down, burning the sand and bleaching the earth slowly, leaching the color out of everything, the seashells, Namjoon’s eyes, the grey strands in his hair. Everything. “I got angry at me, and then at him, and then at myself again because I couldn’t punish him.”

Your feet thump up onto the boardwalk, staccato. Namjoon pauses so you can put on your pink flip-flops. You know he doesn't want you to get splinters. “Do you still want to punish him?”

“No.”

You realize how true it is, you really, don't think you want revenge anymore. “I just want to let go of all of it and start again, I just want it to not matter anymore. I don’t care about it and I’m not ashamed of what he did to me because that’s his shame to bear now. Even though he's dead."

"But I still don’t how to let it go. I still have the scars. I don’t want to hold onto all this rage and grief and fear anymore. I woke up angry, and I'm trying to let go of it, that's why I'm grumpy.”

Namjoon’s voice is so deep, that it’s almost hard to hear over the crash of the waves. “I don’t know how you let go of it, I don’t know how to grow. Change is of course natural and you can't avoid it- but I think healing is different for each person. Some people just need love and care, and some people need a fire lit underneath them. I won’t sell you a false promise because I don’t know if it’s possible for everyone to heal. Brains aren't like bodies.”

Namjoon pauses, and he glances at you tentatively, like he’s not sure he’s supposed to say what he wants to. The second you clock the look you want to know what he’s thinking. He must guess it from your face because he soldiers on.

“But you’re so gentle. I don’t think you understand it. you don't understand how rare it is, how special you are to have gone through so much and still be gentle. Your anger doesn't take that away. Not to me."

“Oh, uhm- thanks?”

"And I think if you weren’t healing, we’d know.” Namjoon still has the tacky feeling of sunscreen- probably from spreading it on Tae's shoulders. When he touches your cheek, tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. Eventually, you say,

“I don’t want anything about me to be violent anymore. I think I’ve earned it.”

“You have,” Namjoon says. You need it, the permission to be this way, permission to be peaceful after fighting for so long. There is no joy in this trying, there is no satisfaction in trying to get better if you can’t have peace.

So, what if life gets a little boring eventually? It's better than things being painful all the time. You have your coffee; you go to the beach with the people you love. What will the unblemished skin of your back feel like when the scars are gone?

You want to know. You realize it then, that you wish you didn't have them. That not having them would be easier. You want a new body, you want a new life, or maybe not a new one- But the same one just different, without all the pain and anguish and struggle.

When you look back at the pack, they’re nothing but dots among the ocean. Your heart pangs when you realize you can’t pick out Tae.

Namjoon squeezes your hand. “What are you worried about?”

“Tae's feeling dysphoric today, it’s kind of odd that we’re so in sync don't you think? I’m feeling like shit about my body and what’s been done to it, and she’s feeling like shit because hers won’t love her right.”

Namjoon tips his head. “I noticed. How do you think we could help?”

The pack alpha is asking you how to care for another member of your pack, and you wish you knew better how to say it. How to explain what tae needs. You feel so fragile today, you’re not sure you could help but- loving Tae is easy for you. Loving Tae has always felt like breathing.

“I don’t know. Probably just braid her hair and tell her she looks lovely. Support her. You’re good at doing that. You don’t need my help.”

Namjoon kicks at the boardwalk, “I wonder if it will ever not matter to her if she’ll ever truly reclaim her body and make it what she wants. Do you think she should stop trying? That she should stop wearing dresses, even if it never makes her feel the way she wants it to?”

“No, never, Tae should always try. I love her and I just want her to be okay.”

Namjoon takes your hand, turning it over tracing a scar on the back of your hand. It's a burn scar, one of the ones you gave yourself back when you wanted hurt because you didn’t know how to make everything stop hurting. It makes sense- in a recursive sort of way.

“Then I think you can try to let it go, and if it doesn’t work the first time or the second or the third you just try again. You can try, even if you think you’ll fail. If Tae deserves it then you deserve it too.”

“Sometimes all I want is a do-over, sometimes all I want is a new life. I've wasted so much time being sad-”

Namjoon drops your hand and then holds it out. Smiling brightly in that what that only the pack alpha can, dimples and all. His tone switches from serious to goofy so quick that it gives you whiplash “My name's Kim Namjoon, it's nice to meet you, what's yours?”

“Joonie.”

His eyes are teeming with mirth, the kind of goofiness that Namjoon only really has when he’s one-on-one. You won’t do him the disservice of thinking that he’s only this goofy with you. You know he acts this way with the others too.

But when it's all of you together Namjoon is always counting heads and bending down to tie loose shoelaces. He's not silly like this. He's your caretaker and your confidant, your pack alpha, and sort of your dad in the best kind of non-creepy way. You've learned alot from him over the last year, you've grown alot with him.

“I’m here with my pack, I think you’d really like them. Especially my girl, Tae.” He bumps his shoulder into yours and you giggle. He holds the door to the ice cream shop open for you with a faint jingle.

"Can I have your maraschino cherry?"

"Yeah. You can even eat the others too and I won't tell. I’m getting an extra sugar cone too."

"Deal." You don't end up getting mint ice cream at all, the strawberry gram cracker is too tempting for you. You're ladened with them when you're on your way back, the shop has these special little insulated cups to keep the ice cream cold, but it's still in danger of melting.

Namjoon is a little quieter, that might just be from the sheer amount of ice cream that both of you hold and the concentration it takes to avoid spilling it. You've got a strawberry milkshake for Tae, a peanut butter scoop and split for Jin, something with caramel for Yoongi that Namjoon thought he'd like, and fish-shaped samanco for Jimin and a chocolate covered banana for Jungkook. The whipped cream and cherries hardly make it off the boardwalk.

But you sense there's something more to it, that there is something more to Namjoon's quiet than simple concentration.

So, before you get back to the others you pause, sun beating down, ice-cream melting. "If you want to say something Joonie, just say it."

His eyes are heavy-lidded. "I know you doubt your progress, but you are getting better. I think with healing, it's either heal now, heal later, or heal never. And while I don't think you're wasting any time at all because healing isn't a waste, but-" Namjoon takes a deep breath, looking at you, unable to tear your eyes away,

"I'm really really glad you decided to heal now, because I get to spend a lot more time with you and I like spending time with you. I'll hash this out with you as many times as you need me too because I love you."

"Oh," you blink at him, at the sun, trying not to cry, pausing in the sand. Namjoon looks a little alarmed that you've stopped walking.

"The ice cream is melting."

You ignore him, you can’t pull him close because you’re holding too many ice creams. So you just demand "Come here." It takes a bit of juggling on his part but he leans down and kisses you. A bit of whipped cream ends up in the sand, but you'll just tell Jin that you ate his instead.

You already ate the cherry on top anyway.

"Oh! They're back!"

The pack is towling themselves off, with sandy bottoms and wet heads. You grin as Yoongi excitedly tells you that he's gotten 2 nibbles on his fishing rod, two! At this rate you'll be having fish for dinner. Even Jin has let himself be dunked, and you disseminate the ice cream to everyone with thank you side hugs and thank you kisses.

No one comments that all the cherries are missing.

Tae flops down next to you and then Jimin on the other side competing for the shade. "Oooh strawberry." "Can I try a spoonful of yours?" Jimin asks, then hums, eyeing it, "We can switch if you want Minnie." You offer before he can pout. "Oh, really? You don't care?" you shrug, you don't mind red bean. It sort of always reminds you of Yoongi and Jin since they like it so much. You trade back and forth and then.

"Hobi's back too!"

A smile stretches your face before you’ve even caught his scent in the air. When you look up Hobi has his hair held back by his sunglasses and his headphones are looped his neck. Pockets round and hands full, looking freckly already. "You didn't go far?"

"Yeah, got too hot" Hobi grins dropping to his knees on the beach blanket. "And besides I got a lot."

"Oh show!"

He dumps out his sea spoils while you lick ice cream off of your spoon and nibble at Jimin’s Samanco. Oohing and aahing over his chunks of glass and pretty shells. And he takes a nibble when you offer him one, but only a bite before he relents-

"It's so hot, I wanna go swim. You haven't been yet? Wanna come?" Your hands are sticky and your mouth goes dry. But before you can tell him no Namjoon is already taking off his shirt, jumping when Jungkook's hands get a little pinchy at the gentle chub around his waist. "Here, you can wear this-"

Oh, it's perfect. You take off your dress and you miss the heavy knowing glances between Jungkook and Jin and the hungry way Jimin's eyes flicker up from your waist to your face, the way that Tae can hardly look at you. Yoongi taps Jungkook on the shoulder when he reaches to squeeze and give you the same treatment Namjoon got, shaking his head imperceptibly. You have your back to it so you don't see.

You are this way; taken care of even when you are unaware of it and loved even when it is not seen. The pack knows that what you need today is not any more of that sort of attention. Tae gave you enough earlier. They watch, wink, and linger. Unseen by you. Does love matter any less if you don’t know it?

You put Namjoon's shirt on and it falls just below your hip. It's worn at the shoulders. A hole in the hem that Jimin hooks his finger into experimentally. Making a deep hum in his mouth around the sugar and sweet. The texture has passed your pickiest alpha's inspection. Perfect. No one asks why you feel the need to wear it or why Namjoon offers it up.

Jin immediately reaches for the tube of sunscreen and starts spreading it on Namjoon's shoulders, leaning against the pack alpha's back when he's done and resting his chin on the top of Namjoon's head.

Namjoon tilts his face up, pressing a quick kiss under Jin's jaw. Licking his lips and grimacing. "You taste like sunscreen hyung."

"I'm going to ignore that because when I'm fifty I'll be pretty and wrinkle and skin cancer free and you'll be even more grey." Namjoon turns, touches his hip fondly, and then glances to you.

“i'm sticky, I’ll come with.” Namjoon doesn't offer you the choice, he makes the decision for you and you're so thankful you don't know how to say it. You finish your ice creams and when Hobi takes your hand, you let him pull you up and into the water. You let him tug you until you're running the last few feet before you and the ocean collide. Cold, but just right, just what you need underneath the heat. Jungkook runs with you too, barreling through the waves.

Yoongi and Jin walk down to where there aren't many swimmers and more rocks, casting out their lines. Glimmering when they catch the light properly. Leures hurdling through the air to land with a plop.

The hem of Namjoon's shirt is just turning wet when he tells you. "You know, the human body and the sea have roughly the same salinity."

You don’t feel like that strong of a swimmer, at least not like Jungkook who cuts through the waves like it’s nothing. Like he's a part of the ocean, salinity or nothing. Namjoon is close behind, Hobi too, back to the waves, the red of his hair catching the sunlight. Tae comes in but goes back to the shore just as fast. Tossing her wet dark hair over her shoulder, ringing it out. And you know she’s probably going to want to do a hair mask later.  Jimin stands on the shore, watching you, waiting for Tae.

the sea foam glitters in the sun bobbing and tumbling, lost to the waves. A cold wave of water crashes against Namjoon’s back as he and Hobi lead you to deeper water until your feet just barely brush the bottom.

“Just kick pup. I've got you." You breathe, letting the water wash over you, ducking and closing your eyes, bracing yourself for it as it hits you. But Namjoon holds onto you so that when you rise up, you're still right next to him.

Something light and fast, silvery in the water slithers past you and you jump, clinging to him.

"Joonie! Joonie! Something slimy hit me! Namjoon!"

You cling to his shoulders and he laughs. His strong hand splays against your back. "It's just a fish!" Hobi calls.

"A fish! Where?" Jungkook dives, looking around under the water. Where did he even get goggles? You cling to Namjoon's front, his body warm in the cold water. "Do you wanna get out?" He asks, dimples curved.

"Yeah, just let me dunk." Namjoon holds onto you as you go under, keeping you steady. For a moment all you can feel is the pull of the ocean, the way that the tide is shifting, pulling you out to sea too. Namjoon's hands remain on your arm.

When you rise up there are fingers against your cheeks wiping away the water before it has a chance to get in your eyes. It's Hobi, holding you as you bob. You're so much shorter than them. They get to stand just before the break whereas you have to tread water.

They help you time it right but you manage to avoid getting tumbled by the next crashing wave and when you turn your back to the ocean, you spot them there.

Jimin and Tae stand by the edge of the ocean a good 20 feet from your umbrella. The roar of the waves is so loud that you can’t hear exactly what they’re saying. But you can see Tae's mouth move, the upset lilt to her smile that falters. The way Jimin’s lips are turned down as he says what he wants to say. Standing close the way that lovers do.

He says something then entwines their hands tentatively, like he’s not sure he should. His shoulders are already turning freckly under the sun, the same as Tae's. Like little bits of summer trapped there against their skin.

They have new freckles, you have new stretch marks, and Namjoon has new grey hairs. Your mouth turns down into a frown the longer you watch them.

You watch Jimin reach up and wipe at tae's cheek, watch it as he says something that makes her shoulders shake, that makes him pull her tight against his front.

Your white shirt speckled with sand. Still damp from the ocean water as you splash through the waves to get to them. Tae smiles at you before you get there, eyes glassy. She doesn't do anything to hide the fact that she's been crying just a little as you effortlessly fold yourself into her side Jimin's arm trapped under your ribs.

You watch her smile falter. She hasn't been crying too much, just a tear or two, And she leans down to peck your forehead. Her skin is hot to the touch. Warm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, quiet and know, it's somewhat of a lie. Jimin looks from you to her, and you sense some special small conversation going on like whatever they were talking about before you came over has been touched on just by you being there.

Tae looks down at you, biting her lip. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why?” Your hands go hard on her waist easily, because you hardly come up to Tae's sternum. You happen to know that she likes it when you grab her waist, but something that usually makes her squirm in a good way right now has no effect.

Maybe you respond too quick for her, because Tae looks at you under her lashes. “For this morning, did you-" did you not want it, did I misinterpret? Did I give you attention that you did not want? Would you tell me if I was loving you wrong?

Jimin squeezes her shoulder and you watch Tae brace herself for what you might say, “Tae,” you smile up at her, blushing just thinking about it, scent sweeting as you remember this morning. You can tell that both of them can smell it by the way that they straighten up and adjust their stance. Alphas.

"Tae I would have told you- I’m not- I’m not like that.” Anymore you don’t say.

Her dark hair is curling against her cheek, all of her salty and soggy. Tae looks like just wearing her bikini is making her ache. Like just standing here next to you is hurting. She sighs, Jimin loops his arms around her waist with you. His voice is deep and rough. “Tell her, you know she makes it better.” He mumbles the words against her shoulder.

“Minnie and I were talking about me getting a boob job. Since my boobs aren’t growing anymore, I've been at the max dose on my estrogen for like 3 months and there's still been no change."

You perk up a little at that, eyes bright. “Oh? That’s awesome, 10/10 should, totally agree.”

But the words don't soothe Tae, if anything, her shoulders just get closer to her ears as she hunches them making herself look and feel small. “But it’s expensive and it's like- not a necessary surgery like- it’s extra? Right? I can wear a push-up bra and inserts it’s not like-”

“Tae” you cut her off, and you can tell really this is what’s been bothering her. “Do you want it?” Tae looks down at you.

“Yes.”

“Would it make you feel better? Would it make you feel more girl?”

“Yes.”

You wipe away the wetness on her lash line with a thumb. “Then it’s not too much. What you need is never too much.”

"You wouldn't be like, nervous if I did?" You can tell that nervous isn't what she means.

"Maybe for your health but-" This isn't really helping, Tae is just getting more frustrated, her words failing her such a rare thing. You sigh, taking her hand in yours and you sense a little that none of this, none of Tae's anxiousness is about your approval. Not really.

She reaches down and fusses with her bikini and Jimin looks like he wants to say something. "What's got you so worried? Tae, what's wrong?"

Tae looks up at you and then back down. “But, I’m being so not a girls girl."

"Don't care, tell me."

"But are you sure?"

"Tae"

"Fuck pup, you look so good in yours and I just look- I feel gross. I feel all wrong and I look at you and sometimes it just- comparing myself to you isn't fair to you." Tae closes her eyes turning to Jimin, “Can I wear your shirt?”

Jimin has it off before she’s even really finished her sentence. His miles and miles of skin and muscles are even more alluring under the sun. His hair shimmers like it’s burnished gold underneath it too. Jimin is always sort of golden. He's always sort of stunning.

"I don't like feeling jealous of you. It doesn't feel good, it doesn't feel right. I’ve been mad at myself all morning for it" she tells you. And it sort of makes you want to laugh but in a good way.

“Tae, I’m jealous of you all the time.”

She looks up sharply, “really?”

“Yeah like, whenever you put your hair in rollers and you do the back perfect on the first try, or when you string words together or when you get out of bed and you put on your dresses and makeup like it’s nothing. I'm jealous of how much you want it. You make being a girl look effortless when it's given me nothing but trouble. And then I wander out of the nest room and I look like Adam Sandler half the time and you guys do a good job of pretending I look cute instead of like a gremlin.”

“You do look cute. You're a cute little gremlin.” Jimin says.

“You look like your sweaters are swallowing you.” Her tone is scandalized. Like she can't even believe you're saying that about yourself.

Jimin nods, “You just like being comfy like me. I like it when you're comfy especially when you wear Joonie’s worn clothing and it's like-” Jimin shivers happily and you laugh.

"That was like- so autistic of you Minnie."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I like it when you say how you’re feeling that way I know you’re not having grumpy alpha time.”

“You don’t have to call it that.”

“Well, I could go with ‘Jimin looks so overstimulated he looks like he’s gonna punch someone’ time but 'grumpy alpha time' sounds cuter.” Jimin is looking awfully red, and you suspect it has nothing to do with a potential sunburn.

Tae shakes her head, still sort of angry with herself, This might be the closest you've ever gotten to a fight. “It’s not the same, it’s not the same as me being jealous of your body and wishing it was mine.”

“Isn’t it? I’m jealous of the rest of the pack, even the boy stuff sometimes, like- You want boobs but half the time I’m just wondering if my life would have been easier if I was born a boy omega like Jungkook. It’s not the same as you, because it’s not a gender thing but a safety thing. But I’m jealous of him too, you know I can’t even run one single mile and he goes like 5 every morning and he always has energy.”

Jimin snorts, “Everyone’s a little bit jealous of Jungkook.”

“And Jin,” Tae adds, casting a glance over to where they’re both standing, both looking absurdly model esc. They’re both unfairly pretty even for omegas. You always feel a little too grubby if you think about it too hard, but you’re getting over it. In the same way, Tae will eventually get over this too. Namjoon was right earlier when he said that healing takes time, it's going to take Tae a while to heal from being born in the wrong body.

“My point is, does my feeling jealous over it mean I love Jungkook any less? Does that mean I hate him at all?”

“No, you love Jungkook.”

You hold your hand up, splaying, letting the silence pause and the realization dawn on her. “Then why does you wanting my boobs mean you have to feel guilty about it?” Her expression slowly crumples, and she goes from looking nervous to feeling guilty.

she's quiet for a few breathes, and when it's clear to you she's not going to say anything, you fess up.

“I ate the cherry off your ice cream earlier just so you know. I don't feel guilty about it at all and I will do it again, just fyi.”

A laugh forces its way out of Jimin's mouth, and even Tae can't resist a smile and a roll of her eyes.

Obsession and infatuation. Jealousy and love. It’s always been a bit of a tangle with you three. With you, Jimin, and Tae.

Some omegas that are a little too young- probably still in high school glance in Jimin's direction. You do not pull him closer, just pout. But Jimin only has eyes for Tae, and the way his eyes flicker down to yours tells you there’s nothing to fear.

“Oh, we know.” Jimin grins, “I think the only one who was upset about it was Kookie.”

Jungkook bounds over as if summoned by his name, looking gorgeous shaggy-haired, muscled arms rippling. “What are you guys talking about?”

“How jealous we are of you,” you say before Jimin or tae have the chance to. Tae blanches a little like she expects jungkook to be upset but Koo just shrugs.

“Big wop." He tugs on the hem of Joonie’s shirt. Almost pulling you off balance. "I wanna go body surfing again but Hyung’s say I can’t go alone- come with me?” He wraps his arms around your shoulders, dragging the last syllable and batting his eyes. It's too hard to say no to him.

You glance at Tae one final time and she sighs at you. Nods. “I’ll be alright. I just need to think more."

Bodysurfing turns out to be the most fun you've had in months, weeks, years maybe. Jungkook shows you how to do it. One second you feel like you're going to be tumbled in the wave and the next you're hurtling not through the ocean but over it. sliding across the water all the way from where they crash to the shore. Giggling and bubbling in the salt water. hair hanging lank over your face all messy.

“Did you see me!? i was going so fast!” You cry happily, picking yourself up off the wet sand, you'll probably have sand in unmentionable places later but you don't care. Yoongi is standing on his own.

Jin has disappeared somewhere no longer yoongi's shadow. both of their poles sit tip up in the sand. You hardly wait for him to respond before you're back in the water. Dashing back to where the waves are breaking.

“I did but! Be careful!”

The rest of the day passes like that. You walk down the beach with Hobi and find handfuls and handfuls of sea glass. You suntan with Tae (it's more just lounging) and ask Namjoon to read you snippets of his book while Hobi and Jungkook play volleyball. You go to the tide pools after, because Joonie wants to look for crabs.

It doesn't end all that well. It ends with your bloody finger, a fat seagull who is amazingly adept at snatching crabs out of thin air with a full belly thanks to you.

You swear you didn't mean to fling it, it just surprised you. You tell Namjoon as much as he sniffles and wraps a band-aid around your finger. Pierced through by a crab claw (it's nothing more than a paper cut). "I didn't mean to kill it, promise it just startled me."

The rest of the pack contains their snickers. And Namjoon's sniffles reignite. "It's fine, it's okay, it was a big crab anyway probably at the end of it's lifespan." 

Jin disappears, but when he comes back, he's toting several pizza boxes and a liter of soda. Jungkook shows you how to feed your crusts to the seagulls without them biting your fingers. And Jin also brings back a big big bowl of maraschino cherries from the same ice cream parlor as earlier. Red and bright like mini suns.

"I had a feeling you might want more." he teases, but you don't respond with anything more than "I do!"

Jin makes everyone grab one first, but after, he lets you have the rest.

~-~

At home, Tae gently lifts Namjoon's shirt over your head, the house is so noisy- as it often is whenever the whole pack is moving about, in the kitchen Jin and Yoongi are fixing dinner, still in their own perfect little bubble. Two fish already filleted in the sink.

Jungkook is half slumped against the wall, already in the shower. Turning wetter and wetter under the spray, groaning low, “god I love the sting when hot water hits my sunburn.” jimin pinches at that sunburn. there's alot of that going on, pinching.

“You’re such a fucking masochist.”

“Shut up”, he says with a smile. “I've never spanked you before.” He licks his lips, “soon.”

Tae huffs and pulls herself over to him, sudzing up his hair. Jungkook is the only one truly nude. Tae is still wearing her bottoms and so is minnie. You linger. Still in your bikini, a little resistant to getting wet again but working up to it. Jungkook goes to give her tan lines a pinch and you watch her brace herself.

You grab his hands before he has the option too. Your shower with them isn't sexual. Not this one. Not when you're all so sun tired from the day you had at the beach. You're gonna sleep so well later, your whole body aches from body surfing and you have a scrape on your hip that namjoon had frowned at earlier but you don't even care you had so much fun today.

your hands tangle with Jungkook's, "Be careful with her, she's delicate."

"Why? What's going on?" he glances from you to her.

“Tae wants to get a boob job and She's feeling sensitive about her body today,” Tae says nothing, looking from you to Jungkook, measuring his response.

"Oh? Sweet. thanks for letting me know." Tae makes an affronted noise in her throat.

You talk. Back and forth about it. “Are you sure you don’t just like- want it for us? Cuz dang I love boobs-" It’s a fair question, even if it does come off wrong. tae doesn't take it personally, shaking her head.

"It's not like that, i'm just tired of waking up in the morning and not having them, i just- i want to be done with the dysphoria. it's such a pain feeling like this all the time, but what if i like- don't like them? what if thats not going to fix it? and boob jobs are like- so expensive too." Jimin hardly responds with more than a hum. He's been a little bit less verbal than usual since you got home- but no one comments on it, no one prods him to speak.

Namjoon steps into the bathroom, hips swiveling. It's absurdly attractive- the way that Namjoon moves in his body. Leaning down to take off his bathing suit, he's got sand in them, but you don't mind because you also have sand in your bottoms too.

“82 percent of women express satisfaction with their boob job. I looked it up.”

Tae looks surprised then stricken, “you did?”

“Yeah, I wanted to know in case you ever asked for it.” Tae goes quiet, looking at Namjoon over your shoulder. You can feel the string of your bikini digging into your skin. The slight chub under your arms and around your middle. The place where you go soft. You reach behind your back, undoing it. jimin beats you too it, pulling at the string.

"i've got it."

“Oh Joonie- you’ve got tan lines.” He almost trips when he looks up and sees you topless, actually does stumble. He does have tan lines, rimming his hips, cutting across his hip bones. Tae giggles and traces along them. (If Namjoon's cock jumps a little at the touch, no one hassles him for it, you're all too sun tired for sex).

"Are you asking for it? A boob job? Is that something you want?"

"Yes."

“Oh!” Namjoon's eyebrows shoot up, and he glances from her face down to her chest, and then your face down to yours. Going red from ear to ear like he's imagining it. Namjoon scratches at the back of his head, you can hear the sand flop onto the tile floor. Tae takes your bikini and hangs it over the glass door where it drips. Namjoon clears his throat and Tae looks at him.

“Do you want me to make you an appointment on the same day as the pups?"

“What? Are you planning on getting a boob job too?” Tae cups your chest in her hands, and it’s not necessarily sexual, not even when you wrap your arms around her neck. and tug her close enough that your chests squish together.

“No, not that just-” You peck her lips, and she’s already starting to smell better.

“Just the scars, I want them gone. I got all in my head about it and Joonie helped me earlier.”

“Really?” Tae says, glancing from Namjoon to Jimin to Jungkook to you. the boys look a little dazed, a little love-struck as you reach for her bikini straps and paw at them. Namjoon takes it when you hand it to him and hangs it over the glass next to yours. You like it when it's like this, your warm body pressed to her body.

“Yeah- I got all in my head about it too.”

“Our boys are kind of good at fixing that, aren’t they?” You giggle and start to suds her up. Namjoon and Jimin grumble at the teasing, but join in.

~-~

Everything moves fairly quickly for Tae.

Maybe it only happens so fast because having a doctor for a pack alpha makes shit get done, or because Namjoon and Jin have sort of been planning for this for the last few months. It's been in their back pocket and they've been making measurements and taking down names of good doctors since just after Tae came out.

They’re funny like that. Always planning how to make sure the pack has everything they need. Everything that they could possibly want.

It's like that with your scars too.

The pack all insist on coming for her consultation. The room is full, Jungkook has to sit on Yoongi's lap because there isn't a seat for him. You and Tae are knit close together and you stubbornly refuse to let go of her hand with Jimin on the other side.

It had gone well, well enough that Tae had looked up at the doctor, a kind omegan woman in her 50s. All ready with pre-release forms and the final quote. She comes highly recommended, Namjoon even looked over her case files and gave her his stamp of approval.

She specializes in reconstructive surgery, and for some reason, Tae likes that. She likes the idea that she's not adding but restoring her body to what it should be. What it should have been in the first place.

(Tae doesn't believe in God, not anymore. But a small voice whispers in her head about it. About divinity and mistakes. People say God doesn't make mistakes, but if we are made in God's image, then God must also have an awkward phase. She must also make her mistakes; like cancer in children and what happened to you. Like Jungkook's seizures and women like Tae. It's okay to revise a little. To scribble out and rewrite the lines.)

“You mean I don’t have to like, prove it?”

The pack had gone still at the question, scents anxious and stressed, your hand on hers tighter. Readying yourself to whisk her out of here if the answer isn't to your standards.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Just getting here is enough. And besides, I believe you.”

I believe you. It’s strange how 3 words can make you feel so much. Can have such an effect on you. There is a lump in Tae's throat just thinking about it. It's on repeat in her head over and over again, I believe you, I believe you, I believe you. In this moment I exist, in this moment I am believed.

it's silly, because the pack has always believed Tae. she's had proof of that belief in the little things like the omega's putting more pink in the nest and how Yoongi made tae a whole dressing room, and the new pink plates in the kitchen. Your endless trying with her, even when you were too tired to try with everything else. Everything in the house is pink because it's Tae's favorite color. Everything is pink because it makes her happy.

But it feels different to hear it from someone new. Tae doesn’t have to talk about the dysphoria if she doesn’t want to to this doctor. She doesn't have to talk about it at all. About passing and expectations.

She only talks about it with you, only with your heads close under a big sheet. A pillow fort just for two. The light of mid-morning, or the Christmas lights above blocked out. Counting down the days with lipstick in the corner of the vanity mirror. 21 days. 17. 11.

9 days to go for her, and only 2 days to go for you.

There has been a new addition to your vanity too. Pretty delicate packages. Rose-scented tissue paper and golden ribbons, Chanel and Versace and even something called la Perla that you are incredibly unfamiliar with.

Tae always blushes and pushes them into the back of her closet, but not before taking them out of their packages.

The lingerie is Pastel pink, Deep purple, buttery orange, delicate white lace, something almost bridal. Every single color of the rainbow and then some. She's gotten one set every day since the beach day, she's pretty sure Jimin ordered the first one on the drive home.

“Jiminie- you don’t have to spend all of your money on me, and I don't even know what size I'm going to be yet. I know you don’t make as much now, it’s alright, I don’t need all of this." You’d simply clicked your tongue and leveled Tae with a look that was not to be debated or questioned.

“He’s not spending all of his money; he’s spending all of my money. And a bit of Namjoon’s. and Yoongi actually got you that one, not Jimin. I helped him pick it out. ” Yoongi's choice is so feminine it almost makes Tae cry. Pink ribbons and yellow ruffles. Matching garters and buttery soft stockings.

You've never minded being frivolous if it means making Tae happy, making Tae happy is a priceless expense. Paying for her top surgery had been a no-brainer, not something you even had to think twice about or discuss with Yoongi in any overt terms. Like the expenses for the house that come out of the account that you and Yoongi share, the account that receives the dividends from your stocks.

Huh, stocks. You never thought you'd have those.

By halfway through the month, you’re sitting in the upstairs dressing room with Namjoon, Hobi, Jimin, Jungkook, and Yoongi draped across each other and the settee in the corner by the window and the door that leads to the deck outside.

There's so much weight on the settee that the legs creek. A very large tray with Jelly silicone implants sit on the vanity. They're only samples. Tae has to return them after she decides. 

Tae is having trouble choosing. Naturally- the pack put in their two cents. It's easy to be casual about it, to talk about C cups and D cups and even double D cups.

But what started out as trying to help her decide exactly which tits to get has turned into everyone getting drunk and dumb. Has turned into the boys trying on those bras and putting the implants inside. The general ridiculousness in the room might have something to do with the 5 (yes 5) bottles of fancier-than-normal champagne discarded and empty around the room.

Namjoon puts a stop to it when Jungkook throws the largest one and hits Hobi square in the stomach. The resounding 'thwap' is almost loud enough that it makes you flinch.

“Wait, are these the ones that are modeled after yours?” Jungkook asks, Yoongi says something into your ear that makes you flush and giggle, and when Hobi tries to come close onto the settee you put your socked foot against his chest and push.

Hobi catches your ankle and fiddles with your sock, thigh high, white, knit. sliding his hand up your calf and tickling under your knee. "It's hard to believe they're like that big"

"Imagine how I feel Jungkook, it feels like carrying around mellons not lemons."

Jungkook scoots to the edge of the settee, "let me try them on." It’s stupid and you feel like a bunch of boys playing with water balloons but Tae doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, she's more comfortable when you're goofy about it. You're just deciding what tit's she's going to have for the rest of her life, no big deal. It's no big deal at all.

Tae is sort of freaking out about it, which is why you're drinking and trying to get her to lighten up. Emphasis on trying.

Tae had asked for implants that would give her a similar side profile and cleavage to yours. But truthfully, after she tried them on… she's going to go with something just ever so slightly smaller and more conical.

You honestly didn’t know there were so many different types of implants or so many different shapes and feels. But this choice matters. She’ll only choose this once so she wants to make the right choice.

The ones your size simply hadn’t looked right when it came to her shoulders- made her look too wide up top.

There's one pair, your pick, that looks a little bit more perky than the ones she initially wanted to go with. And while you understand wanting a natural result…

The horny side of you is sort of winning out. But you are 4 glasses of champagne deep, your judgment is a little impaired.

“We can do back exercises! So that you won’t get rounded shoulders!” Jungkook had excitedly commented when Tae had confessed she was just a little bit worried about how much the ones modeled after yours might weigh on her back.

By midnight, the champagne is gone and Seokjin is mostly asleep. Asleep enough that Jimin’s attention is divided. Earlier there was a moment, Tae wearing them and the lingerie, standing between Jimin’s legs, his arms around her waist, eye level with the implants shoved into one of those bra’s. “Go on tell me they’re too big.”

Jimin had hummed, looking down at them then up at Tae, “will they make you happy?”

“Yes but-”

“Tae, will they make you happy? Yes or no?”

Shifting from foot to foot, eyes flicking down to them, then to the mirror. “Yes but-“

“No buts” he’d said, which had led to you and Jungkook doing a chorus of “butts butts butts!” Sing a song and ridiculous.

Namjoon did try and twerk. Emphasis on try.

“Should we take a vote?”

“It feels like we should take a vote.”

“Okay, but the pup gets two because she actually knows what it’s like to have big boobs.”

You do, your votes written out on scraps of that rose-scented tissue paper. “Jungkook- don’t you dare put down the big ones.”

“But then they’ll match-”

It feels good to do it this way. To help her make a choice that would probably make Tae's head spin, cry, and melt down over choosing the right one. She got close to having a melt down earlier but It's all goofy and silly and light like this. Maybe even the hard things are easy if you're doing them with the right people.

Tomorrow they’ll order the implants, and on Friday Tae will have to get up very very early. She will not eat breakfast, will be driven to the hospital by Jin and Namjoon, and Jimin. You’ll tag along for moral support with Yoongi in a separate car and Hobi and Jungkook will follow later because there’s no real reason why she’ll need all of you there.

The surgery will take Tae around 3 hours, by mid-day she’ll be in post-op and by evening she’ll be home. You get the ground floor bedroom all set up because Tae will be too dizzy to manage the stairs. A bright pink nest with a minimal border so that Tae can get in and out without straining her abdominal muscles too much.

You know to expect bruising, to expect her to be out of it from the anesthesia first and then the drugs. Namjoon will be the only one to sleep in the nest with Tae, although Jin won’t be far and Jimin will eventually decide to sleep on the floor around midnight. Just to make sure she doesn't have to get up for anything.

You'll be buzzing up and down the steps several times through the night to check on Tae, everyone else will too. You, Yoongi, and Jungkook are going to go to the store tomorrow to get some recovery foods to help her heal faster.

You put your slips of paper, your votes into the largest bra that Jimin's gifted Tae. You get your two votes, and everyone else gets one. Yoongi cranes his neck to see what you're writing downand you shove at his shoulder playfully.

"No peaking!”

~-~

The pleather gurney is cold beneath your knees as you gently lift yourself onto it, trying not to be nervous. Trying not to be afraid as you lie on your stomach. A breeze makes you shiver through the open back of your hospital gown, bare underneath.

You're cold everywhere, although the numbing cream has already taken effect, carefully smeared over the sensitive scared skin of your lower back by Yoongi. As gentle as ever, rough fingertips rub over skin that will burn in just a few minutes.

He wears stupid small glasses to the side now, designed to block out the light from the laser that will scrape away your scar tissue. He wears lemon yellow ones whereas Jin wears black, and to your side, Namjoon wears red ones- all to protect them as they watch over you. You'd had a good moment of laughter earlier when you'd realized just how ridiculous it made them all look. But any levity in the situation has dissipated now.

Now, you're just nervous.

“It will probably take more than one session to see the results you want, but complete and total removal is definitely possible if you're good with your aftercare.”

The doctor had warned you before you’d started, "she will be. We'll make sure of it" Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi had all promised. And you believe them, there is scar cream and a special oil and even a compression vest for later, similar to the one that Tae will wear for her surgery in 4 days' time.

You’ve spent sleepless night after sleepless night talking through it with Namjoon, with Yoongi, with Jin. They’ve all been supportive. It’s all happened relatively quickly- same as Tae's surgery. The second that you’d given Namjoon and Jin the all-clear that you wanted to go through with the plastic surgery to reduce the appearance of the scar on your back they’d expedited the process and gotten you in contact with a world-renowned plastic surgeon who works at Namjoon’s hospital.

He's not the same plastic surgeon working on Tae, no- this one is a specialist in scars, in burns, in places that have been kissed by pain in a way that no skin should ever be. You think he might understand it. The way that you tremble when you get onto the gurney. He's seen the scars, had seen them during the consultation. He had asked very very politely and as gently as possible Whether they were 'situational' wounds or self-inflicted. 

"I've been married- Widowed actually." Had been your only reply.

The doctor hadn't looked at your face, gloved fingers testing the skin around the scar to see how much it stretched. You felt a little weird about having your back end bare to another man, but with Namjoon there and Yoongi and Hobi too, it had felt a lot less nerve-wracking. You can tell from the flex of his jaw that Yoongi is about to step in when the doctor says one word. after a moment. After he's pieced together what you're implying.

"Good."

Good. This is a good thing; this is a thing that you want to do. The wrath might never leave you; you might never stop being angry about what was done to you. But you can at least keep it from your body and let the pain become a memory and not an imprint. You will not let your body become a place of pain again. All scars are temporary, you're just expediting the process.

Heal now, heal later, or heal never.

You’d woken up this morning with Hobi and Jungkook blanketing you on either side, Tae's long-manicured fingers scratching at your scalp. Stomach uncomfortably empty for a change because they’d told you to fast before your procedure. Bot that you’ll need to go under general anesthesia like Tae. But sometimes laser therapy can make people get sick.

You’d woken to the sound of them taking through it. Something like “I’m going to get her a cake anyway.”

“You should make her one Hobi, you know she likes it when things are homemade."

The hum of your best friend against your front had felt like the ripple of a river. Hobi's deep voice- the one that only comes out after he’s been in deep sleep for a while is always so soothing. “I guess I made you that boob cake with her didn’t I huh-"

They say something to each other, softer, laughter petering off. trying to be quiet and let you sleep but sort of failing. The sound of slow kissing joins the coo of mourning doves and Jungkook feeding Noodle downstairs. He's come back from his run early to make sure he can see you off.

“We can both- yeah?”

You’d been happy to doze until Yoongi’s hand had joined Tae's on your cheek, slowly picking you up off of Hobi's shoulder. Tucking your messy hair away from your face.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, but it’s time.”

You’d fussed only a little. Only the pre-requisite amount to get a bit of babying (a necessary medicine, as important as the numbing cream) before allowing Tae and Yoongi to pull you out of the nest. putting on loose clothing that can easily be taken off and put back on.

You wanted to get this done before Tae and her top surgery and you want to meet the new version of her with the new version of you. It feels good that both of you are going through this change, this healing together.

Next week. Next week Tae will have boobs, next week she'll look whole and beautiful and so so pretty. She'll look exactly as she wants to look and you can hardly wait to see. To meet that version of her as the new version of you.

You still haven’t decided if there are any other scars on your body that you’d like to get rid of. Maybe the one under your chin- that's the only one that's so visible or as the one on your lower back. Or maybe the ones on the inside of your thighs. Those are so faint, too faint to matter. Too faint to hurt in a way that’s not purely psychological. Not like your back that you can feel when you turn wrong.

Your heart is in your throat as Namjoon helps you onto the gurney, wearing surgical gloves. The doctor behind him already has black-out goggles on his head. There is a pair that Namjoon hands you for you to wear. Jin and Yoongi stand back, wedding rings catching the light. Jimin is a faint presence outside the door, a shadow looming, protective instead of threatening.

“It’s going to smell pretty horrible, but the lidocaine should block most of the pain."

Namjoon does the honors of unlooping the back of your surgical gown and revealing your scars for the last time.

Worthless. But not for long. Worthless once, but not anymore.

You nod, “Okay.” You hear the clatter of the plastic machine against each the floor. The roll of the wheels on the linoleum as they wheel the machine over to you. Two technicians adjust it and the doctor clicks away at the computer before he grabs the wand and fiddles with the settings.

“The first pulse is going to come in just a second. I'll count down to three.  Are you ready?” You nod and try to relax, untensing your muscles and your body.

This pain, you can handle. This pain, you welcome.

Namjoon’s hold on your hand tightens, the doctor counts, and the light flashes.

~-~

Tae will also have scars. But not like yours. Not like stitches. They'll be like growing pains and stretch marks. Like her heart making room.

The surgeon has done a good job, but when Namjoon unwraps her gauze. You see the bloody stitches and whine. 50 of them under the edge of her generous curve, small nipples also taped over still. There's a fair amount of swelling- making them look larger but-

Yoongi's hands slip on the mirror as he holds it up for Tae, holding it at a tilt so that Tae can see. It's the next morning after her surgery, and you blink as you look at them. behind you, hobi bites on one nuckle.

“Oh my god.”

Jimin's face is flaming. He looks at the ceeling. "That bad?" tae slurs, head tipping limply to one side, her eyelashes fluttering, "Why are you all looking at me like that? How are my lemons?"

"Delicious." you say, at the same moment Jimin says, "breathtaking."

"I don't want anyone to juice them, they're mine, my lemons" tae pouts. Hobi holds his mouth trying not to laugh as yoongi chuckles. jin whipes her hair back from her sweaty forhead.

"Oh my god you are so high."

“No one can touch them.” Namjoon warns, looking at everyone in warning. "Promise me. No pawing. You cannot touch them when you're not sterile."

You let out an upset whine, “Joonie, just a kiss” Tae smiles from the bed, gently, tired. She's barely awake. It's the same bed that you and Yoongi used to share, this used to be your bedroom before you moved upstairs.

“Pup, It's non-negotiable” You pull up the straps on her billowing night dress and cuddle up next to her, sniffling and peaking at them while he wipes them down gently with gauze. Tae can't feel anything through the painkillers, but Namjoon's wipe comes away rusty and red.

You rest your head against her shoulder where bruises spread like ink as Namjoon works to clean them and her. The smell of blood doesn't bother you. You tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear and Tae murmurs quietly- eyes still closed that she could use some skincare.

Doing it for her is a reverent act, rubbing it across her cheek the bridge of her nose. When she remembers to open her eyes, she smiles dopily.

“Drugs are so so goooooood.” the pack laughs, yours jiggles the bed and Hobi shakes his head from the doorway. Tae furrows her eyebrows at Jimin.

"You're so pretty."

"I know, you were saying that in the car." Jimin is ever patient with her.

"Do you wanna like, be my boyfriend or something? I feel like we should kiss."

"Tae, we've been dating for twelve years."

"Oh! nice, I should tell Jimin."

"I am Jimin."

"No you're not. Your name's noodle cuz you're little." Jimin sighs trying to keep his smile at bay.

jin kicks hobi and jungkook out of the room for laughing too loudly and you shuffle closer to her. barely keeping your laughter hidden.

You kiss her cheek, the apple of it where her skin goes round and full and pink. “I’m sure the drugs feel amazing.” Your voice goes husky as you look at her, and when her hand tangles with yours. You notice that her nails have gone chipped. you'll fix that for her later.

Tae flutters in and out of consciousness for the first-day post-op. By noon- most of the good drugs have worn off. Movement means pain, but there is always someone there to help her move, change her clothes, or help her to the bathroom (even if that part is significantly unglamorous). Noodle rests in the crook of her knee, purring loudly.

There is cool water directed to her lips, guiding her to sip, then a soft kiss. When she asks for a pen and paper the pack calembour gives it to her. To brush her hair, to pat her skin dry, to praise her, and tell her how well she did. Apparently, she was a stellar patient. She's not sure why Namjoon says it like that. Like it took more energy to just lie there than actually doing the surgery but-

Tae's hand moves sloppy, and her words are half unintelligible but this is what she writes on the paper:

Cage or no cage. We are both birds. Wingless or not. Me a chicken, you a penguin looking at the sky no longer flightless when we close our eyes.

Jimin’s scent blooms close, happy and vanilla goodness. The smell of reading old books at nighttime is comforting and familiar. Tae's heart beats a little faster. Namjoon huffs with his stethoscope and listens some more- laughing lightly when Tae opens her eyes and looks up at him, heart pumping quicker. He zips up her compression vest, to help with the swelling and buttons up her shirt, one of Yoongi's warm flannels. The same one that the pack trades back and forth.

She closes her eyes and you take the notebook and pencil from her before it can clatter onto the floor. Jimin kisses one eyelid and then the other. Murmuring something softly to you at her elbow. Kissing you too- judging from the way that the bed dips as he leans over. The light is turned low and honey.

Tae doesn’t really feel it, the weight or the pain of the incisions or anything really, just a bit of nausea when Namjoon asks and she thinks about it. She turns down the crackers and the toast that Jin offers.

She breathes in, feeling her body move with air. There is no weight to them, the lump of her chest. Compressed close to her body by a surgical vest to minimize inflammation. Honestly, she feels a little lighter if anything. Something like a string poised to snap that is no longer wound around her ribcage and aching heart. No longer suffocating.

She hasn’t even seen them yet; she shouldn’t be able to feel a difference already. But somehow when she closes her eyes, she can tell it’s different. That she’s different. A good sort of change.

It’s a slow healing process, Tae can’t get up or get out of bed for a few days, can do little more but sleep and eat and listen to Namjoon read her favorite books to her in his deep voice when she gets too dizzy to read on her own. Watching bad television and every single Studio Ghibli movie that ever did exist.

She can’t even do so much as put on her own shirts- although the pack is there to help with literally all of it. Buttoning a shirt over her fresh bandages, Jin kisses up her midline the same way she seen him do to you. Namjoon cleans her drains and Tae asks for perfume for once. Her Rosey cinnamon scent has stayed foggy with sickness and stress. Almost dewy damp.

You understand, the skin on your lower back is pealing and smells so ewey. You still can't sleep on your back.

It takes her 3 days before she can lift her arms above her head without pulling her stitches and manages to convince Namjoon and Jimin that she’s well enough to eat dinner like normal at the dining room table.

She sits with you on the outdoor furniture in the morning and eats watermelon. There’s only so much editing and staying yes to the dress that she can handle. The others herd her back to bed any time she looks the least bit uncomfortable or in pain.

Everyone is good, everyone is perfectly well-behaved, you don’t get handsy you don’t even paw at her to look when Namjoon undoes the compression vest. Although there is a moment when Namjoon stands back with the surgical gloves and blushes from his collar bones to his ear. "You need to wear this for the next three weeks, you can only take it off when you shower okay? And be gentle, the skin is so tender."

By day five she can dress herself, and she can't sleep any longer that to 5am when jungkook starts moving around for his walk, rousing you gently. She’s going stir crazy enough that you’re very very happy to take her with you on your morning walk.

Going extra extra slow. By the time you’re home the rest of the pack is in a bit of a tizzy trying to find her, Jimin wrenches open the door at the sound of your steps on the stairs.

Both you and Tae chagrined, Jungkook smiling a little too wide at Jimin’s generally disheveled appearance. Hair all a mess, scent acrid with panic.

“We went on a walk.”

Jimin’s eyes narrow, “where?”

“Around the block. Tae woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep.”

“You have fun?” "Yes." "Are your stitches torn?" "No" "You're not bleeding anywhere?" "No."

He wipes down his hair, behind him. Yoongi looks similarly off-kilter, buttons mismatched on his flannel. Rubbing his eyes. “Hobi's making breakfast.”

"Oh? Pancakes?"

"Boob-shaped ones!" He calls from inside.

Everyone is a little protective of Tae, a little possessive too.

By Wednesday of the next week, Namjoon goes to work and you drag Yoongi and Jin out for a little bit of shopping for nesting materials. Jimin has to go back to work too. She'll be fine on her own for a few hours. She can get dressed all right by herself. But Namjoon and Jimin have their ringers on and she's got a day's worth of snacks already pre-wrapped in the fridge.

Jimin and Tae had a moment earlier, helping her get dressed, smiling, looking up at her face and then back down, cheeks slowly going red. "hey my eyes are up here."

"I know," his fingers are gentle as they stroke down her midline. looking at them.

"They suit you, they look so nice and soft. They look so- you." Jimin's voice is rough and Tae's is too, but there are kisses and soft words.

"I'm so glad you told me, you're so brave. I'll never not be proud of you. I'm so glad you tried to be you. I'll never not be thankful that I got to meet the real version of you and got to fall in love all over again."

there's more, but i'll save that for them. Their little secret. Tae is sort of crying when Jimin's done, but he just wipes her tears away gently and lets her cry. The last of it goes away with that. The last of the tension. The dysphoria that will become a distant memory.

Tae hasn't really seen them yet. They're covered with the compression vest almost all the time. She's been sitting too much. Reading and editing and writing because she can at least use her hands. The brief glance she'd gotten at the bloody stitches had sort of freaked her out. But everyone has been so appreciative. You especially.

Hobi has another wedding to do the flowers for and Jungkook has his Wednesday kickboxing classes. The house is quiet and Noodle naps in a puddle of sunlight in the living room. The air conditioning hums and Tae is home, alone, for the first time.

She spent the morning waking up slowly, forehead kissed, waist held, but when the house gets silent, she steals away upstairs. Take the steps slowly, one at a time. going as fast as she's able. Aiming for the dressing room.

Her body is still a bit sore. A little tender, it's only been a week- and it's going to take her another week before she can really move around like she used to. But Namjoon took her stitches out at the kitchen table last night. And the slide of thread through the skin was only a little bit gross, a little bit nauseating.

The weight of her chest is welcome, but hard to get used too- she feels like she’s a little off balance as she teeters up the stairs. but she was warned about this, she knows to take it slow and adjust to her new center of gravity. Going up the stairs one at a time. patiently waiting for her body to stop hurting.

Tae steals away to the side of the room that contains your dresses and a spilling over set of drawers that hold your and Tae's lingerie collection (let's be honest, most of it belongs to Tae.)

Somehow, most of Jimin's gifts had actually been in the right size. It's soulmate magic maybe, or perhaps just good intuition that had him picking out the right cup and band size. Most of them are unlined anyways.

A lot of them are new and hers but a few of them are yours and old, your workout bras and old bralettes. If she’s not careful she still catches you wearing the same bras and underwear greying with age. The type of thing that's gone worn and brings back affectionate memories of the first time you and her ever did your makeup in the library room downstairs.

The little book box of makeup that once held her soul and kept it hidden away now sits open on the top shelf just above her head. The inside of it is filled with costume jewelry, fake pearls, and glittering Swarovski chokers.

Tae gets a stool so she can reach for it.

What Tae reaches for isn’t anything that you or Jimin have bought. It's small enough that she had almost forgotten about it (and you’ve probably forgotten about it too). But the bralette is thin and flimsy at the bottom of the book box. Made of cheap plastic fabric, white and gauzy mesh dotted with small yellow daisies. The first bra she ever bought and the only one she ever bought for herself.

It's not even really a bra, but a bralette.

Tae unzips her compression vest with shaky fingers.

Tae remembers you looking at it the first time you ever did your makeup together, the crinkle of the plastic as you touched it. A realization dawning on your face that you hadn't voiced. But you'd used 'she' pronouns for her pretty soon after that. And Tae had always know, that seeing this was the moment you realized, that was the moment it started to feel real for her too. Not just some stupid dream.

Tae puts it on quickly, hissing when she feels her sensitive new skin touched. The band digs into her skin uncomfortable, the fabric brushing over her sensitive nipples.

It will take some getting used to. She’s careful to close her eyes before she sees herself in the mirror, careful not to spoil it for herself. She wanted her real first look to be like this, alone. Just herself and her body.

It might be a little too early to wear this and yet, she keeps her eyes closed as she maneuvers herself in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling mirror over by the settee. Almost tripping over your pj's discarded on the floor as she goes. Her eyes are still closed when her fingers touch the cold glass, and she stands in front of it properly, gripping either side so hard that the gold filigree edge digs into her skin.

later tonight there will be dress up and dress down. it will feel like the most natural thing in the world and tae will realize that although they're new to her, her boobs have always felt like they were there. There will be no more dysphoria, no more clawing at her throat when she takes off her shirt or puts on a dress.

Your hands will hold around her waist as she tries on each and every one of her dresses to see how she looks in them now. The blue dress from the first day at the thrift store, the one you wore for your first date, every dress, even the ones with the puffy skirts that Jimin got for her after she came out. The ballgowns and corsets and lingerie.

Tae is going to try on all of it. You're going to do her makeup and when you're finished, both of you will be covered in kiss marks from your belly button up. It won't even be sexual it will just feel like love.

You're going to take so many photos that you'll fill up your camera roll and ask for yoongi's phone instead. They'll be half boudoir and half not. Pictures of the two of you in each and every one of those new bras and underwear, photos of tae in this pose and that pose. Kisses on her cleavage and even lower.

She's going to not be able to take her eyes off of them in the mirror but the feeling of them squishing into your front when you hug will be something else entirely. You might have a second photoshoot just for you- a gift maybe for the rest of the pack, you and Tae bare. One chest pressed to another, nothing between the two of you.

Tae will be a bit obsessed with them, will be a little bit proud of them. they'll be perfect.

She's perfect.

But that's for later. Right now, Tae takes a deep breath and opens her eyes.

~-~

Notes:

-sometimes i worry that i'm starting every chapter of bily the same way and while i know i started the letter to my dead cat this way, i hope this is the fist chapter of bily i've started with the line of summer polishing it's rusty claws. Because thats what i'm refrencing, my old cat, i miss her every day. Barely a day goes by that i don't miss her. we're planting cat nip over her grave this summer. i think hobi probably does the same when noodle dies.

-90% certain that namjoon is reading one of the Bridgerton books when they’re at the beach, I love the idea of him being like “don’t fall for it Penelope, make him work for it” when it comes to pollin you know? Like namjoon would be so cute and so so into it.

-Okay but??? I actually got emotional thinking about noodle and Hobi smelling flowers together. You’re telling me noodle went from living in a 2 x 2 cage to having his own garden and 8 humans that love him 🥺 stop I just know he’s so happy. I’ve also decided that noodle is 8 years old. I think that feels like the right age for him.-

-Not to be unintentionally soft but I think the act of putting on sunscreen for someone else might but the most drawn out act of loving there is, when jin does it he’s taking care of the packs future health, a sort of daily effort that shows the investment and that he’s invested in their health for a long time :( I personally think it’s a very soft way of loving.

-i feel like at one point in the future hobi and the m/c actually do try doing oral sex on each other but it's way way too much of a trigger for both of them- hobi especially with pussy, that he tries it once and decides he doesn't want too do it for trauma reasons and both of them are so very cool with it. especially because all of the other alpha's do eat her out fairly regularly and jungkook loves sucking cock so- one thing i like about the bily pack is that they're all so sexually active that everyone gets what they need without hose needs imposing on any of the other packmates.

-the part where hobi and the m/c are like "you're the shame of the regimine.", "what do your suprieriors do with you." is a quote from the 1996 pride and prejudice movie, in my mind i think it's one of their inside jokes with tae too! hopefully people get it.

-yoongi is so cute telling her that he got a nibble on his bait like- i can just picture him being so excited and gummy smiling at her when he sees her. i feel like yoongi might be a tiny bit unaware that she's having a bad day, but their relationship is more equal this way when he's not like- hingeing his entire self worth on weather or not she's okay. i think about them post and pre moonbyul and i think this is one of their diffrences post moonbyul

-i think that the conversation that tae and jimin where having before the m/c walked up went something like this. "i feel like this morning, she might not have wanted it but she didn't tell me." "you should ask her before you ruminate on it any more." "i know i know, it's just hard." "thats not what has you upset today though, you're blaming yourself for that for a reason." "don't tell on me," "i'm not, i just know you." "i don't look good today and it's stupid, it's stupid to be upset about it when the pup- when jungkook- it's stupid to worry about how i look when there's so much going on." "it's not stupid, not when it's you." "i feel like if i hadn't been jealous this morning, i might have noticed that she wasn't into it." "tae, you still don't know if she was even upset." or something like that.

-i know it's silly, but i absolutely love the part where the m/c tells tae she ate her cherry and she's remorseless about it. like thats so /her/ she has such a personality to her you know? i don't think she'll ever be a true reader insert.

-I did not mention namjoon's dick in the shower scene because i knew i would get side tracked if i did.

-the line of 'i believe you' is because clover told me that this last time she visited and honestly, i don't think anyone's ever believed me before. it was the first time anyone told me that they belived me. like- someone /belives/ me??? how wild is that???? i know she loves bily more than anyone and i wanted to make sure i put bits of her in this story too. i haven't told her it will be in here but i hope she reads it and knows its from her without even having to read the notes. i sorta wanted to send her this chapter of bily early because she was sick but i also! wanted it to be perfect and a good surprise <3

-this might be an unpopular opinion but i think tae looks the best in yellow.

-i helped a trans friend of mine remove their boobs in 2020 so i'm hoping that getting a boob job is a similar process/recovery time. they told us the surgery would only last 2-3 hours but we where there for 18 because of pre and post op.

-the drug section where tae is being dumb was a last minute addition- i hope people think it's funny as opposed to thinking it's stupid.

-i actually got really emotional writing that ending i hope...i hope one day being trans won't be so scary. i hope each and every trans person gets a moment like tae's a moment where they love their body and love themselves as much as they love the people around them. i hope your body loves you back. i hope you never stop trying or dreaming.

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 2

No. 1 Party Anthem

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 2/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,294  masterlist

Currently playing: No. 1 Party Anthem by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

        Sirius Black was not a somber man. He was known for being loud, rambunctious, insufferable, incorrigible. His voice echoed and his eyes shone when he laughed. He did not wallow nor turn gloomy. He had suffered too much in his life for that. But you had turned his life blue. Your absence left a hole in his heart. It had been three months. Three arduous months of a game of cat and mouse. You avoided him at any cost, clinging off of your boyfriend's arm more often than not. Sirius seemed to always be searching for you. 

He felt the rush of adrenaline as he finished his drink in one gulp, it had tasted horribly bitter at the beginning of the night. Now he couldn't taste it at all. He had been on the prowl the whole night. For you, just to catch a peek of you would be enough. To hear your laughter would soothe his growing anxiety and the paranoia that you were out of his life for good. He'd do anything for a glimpse of you. He wondered if you had come and left already. The thought settled in his heart like a pile of rocks. 

Sirius could feel the beat of the music in his chest it overpowered the beat of his own heart and the ringing in his ears wouldn't stop. Between the lights on the floor and the sweat that seemed to permeate the walls. He felt like he was searching for his soul, tumbling between people, staring too hard to see if it was you through the darkness. It kept slipping from his fingers. You kept slipping. 

He hated this point of getting drunk. He hated the way he knew there was no way back from this threshold. No matter how much water he drank or bread Peter fed him there was no way back. He hated that he still had the itch to get more because he might as well be completely pissed. He'd feel sick regardless. He felt his heart beating in his ears as he finally laid eyes on you. A cigarette hanging from your lips even indoors. You had been smoking a lot more. He had found and monitored the pile of cigarette butts in a corner of the astronomy tower. The only trace of you he could ever find these days.

He wondered if you were happy.

The fun-colored drink in your hand swished and swirled as you laughed, the blond gripping your hip. He could see James across from you, laughing and chatting spiritedly. No doubt recounting some dumb story, Lily shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. They had finally gotten together. Or so he thought. He felt like a terrible friend. He couldn't think straight. He caught James's eye, he hoped he'd come get him. 

Sirius felt like his feet were slowly being cemented into the ground. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, the only grounding force as the mass of people around him overtook his senses. 

"Let's go Padfoot, you need a walk," Remus whispered into his ear, worry seeping through his skin, his demeanor. Sirius felt the beat and the melancholic lyrics that were starting to resonate through the charmed speakers clutched his heart with an iron grip. He shook his head furiously, he couldn't go. Not when he had just found you. Just when he had finally seen the light. It had been like catching a glimpse of a star in the middle of a stormy night. 

"Come on Moony-" Sirius moaned out, his eyes barely open, barely registering the scarred boy's figure. "Before she's gone before the moments gone-"

Remus dragged Sirius away regardless. He wasn't going to be making much sense if he spoke to you anyway. Remus felt bad, sometimes he'd hear Sirius mumble your name in his sleep. It was fleeting and slurred but after the third time it happened, his wand illuminating only the page of the book he was reading, Remus knew it was indeed your name. 

The Ravenclaw common room entrance was directly connected to a staircase, Sirius's head lulled to the side colliding with Remus's shoulder. Neither of them dared actually to go down the stairs. 

"Up, come on pads,” Remus finally got Sirius upright but turned as the door opened once again, the chatter and music from inside spilling into the hall briefly.

"Is he good?" James shut the door behind him,

"I'm doing great Prongs I just need a smoke," Sirius had wandered over to the small stone window, breathing in the fresh night air. He briefly thought of throwing up. 

Remus sighed offering Sirius a cigarette, rolling his eyes as James's lips resembled an 'o' in surprise. 

"I thought we were all collectively quitting?" James put out his hand, fingertips tingling with excitement. Lily didn't like it. James had quit way before they got together anyway.

One wouldn't kill him. Remus placed it on his palm. 

"Where's Wormtail?" Sirius turned to look at the two other men, a, now lit, cigarette hanging from each of their lips.

"Last I saw, chatting up Dorcas Meadowes," James chuckled as he blew out some smoke,

"I reckon he doesn't know she's a wee lesbian" Remus mumbled from between his cigarette

The other two broke out in a roar of laughter, they loved Peter dearly but he could be a bit clueless sometimes. 

"Marls is going to kill him," James clutched his stomach as he laughed. Sirius threw his head back as he continued to laugh, his forearms supporting him as they leaned on the window ledge. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes as he continued to laugh. The world still spun around him. But the sound of his friend’s laughter grounded him. He hadn't felt like this in a while. 

As they all calmed down again, snorts and chuckles still bouncing every so often, they continued to take drags of smoke. 

"What's been going on with you lately?" James's voice was low, a heavier tone than the one that usually laced his tone. Brows furrowed in concern and his free hand was tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Remus stomped out his cig with his chucks, crossing his arms as he looked in between the two other men. He could feel the air become thick, as Sirius mulled over the question and continued to hang his head out the window, letting the air blow at his short curls. They reached a little under cheekbones now, he was relieved.

Remus felt his knit sweater was going to suffocate him. 

James thought of repeating his question.

"Is she happy?" Sirius finally broke the silence, taking the last drag of his cig before he also stomped it out. The ashes and the rocky floor grinding under his heavy boot. He was starting to regret wearing only a black shirt to cover his torso, the short sleeves had been cuffed and he could feel the cold night air pick at the skin of his arms. 

"I don't think it's fair for you to question that," James mumbled. He loved Sirius. He did. He was his brother, his closest confidant. He’d been trying to convince him to run away and stay with him. His mother had a room prepared already. He'd do anything for the boy. 

But brothers or not. Sirius was a fool. He had been for a while now. He could see the look on Sirius’s face. The look of love.

“Do you think it’s too late-“ 

“That’s even more unfair,” Remus thought of lighting a second cigarette. He didn’t.

”I need a drink,” Sirius stood upright again, his forearms marked and itched with the stamp of the edge of the window. 

Before either Remus or James could deny Sirius his itch, the door to the Ravenclaw common room opened again, this time with Peter stumbling out.

”Did we know Dorcas was a lesbian?” 

-

You didn't care that Sirius was ignoring you. You didn't care that he never glanced your way, or that he left when you came. You didn't care that you had seen a girl coming out of their dorm two weeks ago. You didn't care about him. You had a boyfriend now, a boy who cared about you and made you smile and blush. Someone who wanted you for more than just sex. Jacob was sweet, he brought you daisies and taffy. Even if you didn't adore either of those things. He always put his arm around your waist and he had started dragging you to be with his friends more often than not. You suspected he had realized he wasn't exactly popular around yours. 

You wondered sometimes, between cigarettes, if you were happy.

You hated smoking.

Jacob hated you smoking too. You pondered the psychology of your actions as you pulled one out of your pocket. He flicked your arm when he saw the stick between your fingers. If only he knew how many packs you had been running through. You ignored his glare, opting for lighting it, even if you were inside. Not like anyone would notice in the overcrowded, obscure Ravenclaw common room. Bastards had the best spot, couldn't hear anything coming from the common room for at least two flights of stairs. Horrendous to go up or down when intoxicated, however.

Lily smiled pleasantly while hanging from James's arm. They were cute, you were delighted they finally got together. It was almost like it was meant to be. You couldn't help but feel your stomach churn when she spoke of the fireworks and butterflies that lived in her chest from his look alone. Lately, life had been feeling like a pile of rocks had settled in your stomach. The dread that came with every touch and every kiss. You wondered if there was something wrong with you. You felt vaguely bored. You pushed down the thought, hoping it wouldn't crawl out again.

You weren't listening much to James, the story he had dug up to entertain his new girlfriend, and your new boyfriend was something you had lived alongside him. No point in tuning in, he had it covered.

You felt Jacob squeeze your hip. Your eyes searched the crowd, you knew what, or well who, you were looking for but you were afraid to even acknowledge it to yourself. The cold glass of your drink made your fingers numb and tingly. You wondered if he had even come tonight.

You laughed as your boyfriend did, as if on cue. You glanced at James, whose eyes flickered to someone in the crowd. You saw his smile falter.

"Y/N how about you finish the story," He finally focused back, handing Lily his drink with a kiss on her head. He left, his body weaving in and out of the crowd, without much of an excuse. You smiled awkwardly at the two people in front of you. You wanted nothing more than to hand Jacob your drink and cig to follow James out. Well, maybe not the cig.

"Flippant man isn't he?" Jacob directed a small smile towards you. You offered a very wobbly one back. You thanked the heavens as Lily left, mumbling something about Marlene having Peter by the scruff of his collar. 

Jacob’s face flashed with recognition, his hand going up as to call someone's attention. He grabbed your waist with a simple let's go and dragged you around the crowd like a rag doll. You finished your drink, the shimmery liquid burning at the back of your throat and your glass sat forgotten on some piece of furniture for someone else to find. Your now smushed cigarette sat at the bottom of the glass. You greeted Jacob's friends warmly, a small shy small playing on your lips.

You tried, you truly did but either the alcohol or the knowledge of your friends being outside wouldn't let you focus on the conversation. Jacob's friends weren't bad, just not your type of crowd. You caught a glimpse of three out of the four marauders coming back in. James immediately made a beeline for Lily, a very sweaty Peter under his arm as he noted Marlene's presence. Remus trailed slowly behind the two. Sirius was nowhere in sight.

"I'll be right back, I gotta go to the loo," you knew your lie had reached the blond as he let go of your waist with a small smile. You pushed through the crowd, avoiding your group of friends. The door was all you could focus on. The man who was possibly on the other side. You weren’t sure he was even there. You didn’t know if you were hoping he was. So you went, the cold night air immediately forcing your lungs to expand. The hall smelled like cigarette smoke. The door closed behind you and it was finally silent.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" Sirius looked at you through his dark lashes, a small smirk on his face. 

"I thought we said we'd quit," your mumbled statement was meant as a joke, both of you just trying to break the icy barrier you had built between you. There wasn't a cigarette in sight.

"Your pile on the astronomy tower says otherwise" you winced, "does your little boyfriend know? I reckon he doesn't like the thought of his pretty girl frying her lungs with a cig"

You stared at him silently, your teeth biting at the inside of your cheek. You regretted finishing your drink. You pulled out the box of Player's No. 6 instinctively. 

"If you don't put it away, I'm going to throw it out the window," Sirius was drunk, he made sense but he felt like he couldn't look at you straight. He closed his eyes briefly. He sort of felt like was melting into the wall. The pack silently went into your pocket again.

"You know it's not like I'm falling in love," you didn't know why you said that.

"I didn't ask that love," you wondered if you were drunk. You observed Sirius, the way his jaw clenched, his tongue running over his teeth as he went deep in thought, eyes still closed. You trudged closer to him, forearms resting against the windowsill. You wanted to kiss him. You felt sick.

"I hate you," you mumbled as he laughed and shuffled closer. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. You looked out the window, he stared at the door, body leaning against the stone wall. 

"The same way you hate cigarettes?" He whispered this, his head turning towards yours. He didn't know what he hoped to hear. You were mere inches apart, his warmth mixing with yours, you wondered if you'd get a shock if you touched him. He fought the urge to press his lips against yours. 

"Yes, the same way" You felt the words scratch at your throat. He felt closer than ever, he moved a bit, and you held your breath. His lips pressed against your cheekbone. Right next to a little beauty mark. Soft and light but enough to tie a knot in your throat. You didn't want to cry in front of him again. You felt intoxicated.

"He won't be happy if he sees us," he parted a bit after he whispered this fact, his eyes darting to the closed door. He pressed another kiss to your cheek, this one closer to the corner of your lips. You pushed him playfully with your shoulder. You missed him.

"Do you think he'll break up with me?" you felt as pathetic as when you asked the opposite question three months ago. you frowned. It squeezed Sirius's heart in hope, he didn't answer though. But he didn't have to, you laughed and soon he did too. You laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. You clutched your stomach and stumbled a bit, laughter spilling from your lips like a river. He hoped to hear you laugh like this forever. He’d never get tired of the sound. 

You discovered that Sirius found it equally as hilarious. Tears gathered in his eyes as he laughed, he laughed endlessly, his usual chuckles or boisterous laugh missing. No, this was unfiltered, his sides hurt and he snorted sending the two of you into another fit. 

Your body ached in laughter. Your heart ached for him. You wondered if he thought of you. 

You thought of him every day.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you slowly stopped laughing. 

"You're no good Sirius Black," he could feel his heart flip as your lips said the syllables of his name "You'll do me no good." He pressed his shoulder into yours, turning to kiss the top of your head. It felt like an apology. Like an I'm sorry love, for every time he pretended not to want you, for every time he took you for granted, for letting it get this far, for not remembering or caring or loving. 

You didn't know what he actually meant with it. The door opened again, and the first thing you noticed was the frown on his face. Then the angry red of his cheeks as your boyfriend stomped closer to you. You had never noticed how Sirius was a bit taller.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," his grip on your arm was asphyxiating. You felt like your heart was plummeting down to your stomach. 

"I'm sorry I got distracted," your mumble was blue and laced with regret. Sirius considered taking the swing he'd been pondering about for months. He refrained.

"Let's just go" Jacob pulled you along, down the stairs. Not without sending Sirius a glare over his shoulder. He could hear how the boy talked about him the whole way down, shooting question after question, the why were you there with him's, and the can't even take my eyes off of you's not letting you speak. He hoped you'd look back.

You didn't. You couldn't.

You'd cry if you did.

You wondered if you were supposed to feel this way. Like the sheets were the only thing that could save you. You felt like your bed was stuck on you.

Lily was a sea of worry.

"He's outside the common room he won't stop asking Marls where you are and why you aren't coming down," she sat at the side of your bed. It had been about five days since the party. Since you laughed with Sirius. Since you concluded that you wouldn't. No, that you couldn't be happy without him. "You know how she gets, she's already exasperated."

You've been avoiding your boyfriend like the plague and your heartstrings pulled against your will. You felt bad, you thought you could just forget about Sirius, forget his looks, his touches, his kisses. You felt like the worst person on the planet. You had turned your once kind, sweet boyfriend into a jealous mess. He wasn’t the nicest anymore but you couldn’t blame him. Because it was obvious. More than you had thought. How often your thoughts strayed, how often you thought of Sirius. You knew the real reason your friends didn't exactly love him was because he wasn't Sirius. Because every person on the planet except the bastard himself could tell you were in love with Sirius Black.

Sirius didn't want you though, did he?

"Sweetie, what do you want me to tell him?" Lily in all her caring nature brushed her fingers through your hair. 

"Just tell him I'm really sick and that I'll send an owl or something Lils," you sighed "Just get rid of him before Marls says something insensitive"

Lily laughed "I'm afraid that's already happened but I'll see what I can do.”

As Lily left you thought about Sirius. About what your non-relationship was before. How you lounged around his bed for hours on weekends. Mostly naked as a baby, you would talk for hours. You’d always have sex of course and you’d hardly spend the night, but you would sneak over earlier rather than later, so 'we get the whole day love'. Sirius wouldn’t let you go until dinner was being served and you whined about hunger.

The way he’d kissed you the first time, slow and steady with his hands cupping the back of your head. you were bordering on tipsy. he said he had been wildly drunk but you knew from Remus he had only really had one or two drinks. This was one of the things that made the uneasiness start to prey on you. The way he would subtly kick you out, asking you if you wanted to go to dinner or leaving with you just for you to end up going different ways at the end of the night. The way he’d only kiss you on your lips every so often. The way it was a badly kept secret but a secret nonetheless.

You wondered what was missing from you. Was it something about the way you looked? or worse your personality? You had agonized over your appearance for months. You asked Lily about the trendy muggle workout videos. She had laughed as if you had said something silly.

At first, you thought why Sirius, it would’ve been anyone really. Insecurity was a wild beast, hard to satiate and even worse when it was something as transactional as sex with seemingly no meaning beyond pleasure. why did you decide to kiss him that night? had he kissed you first? you honestly couldn’t remember anymore. 

You stared daggers into the bracelet on your wrist. what had he given your other friends? you wondered about the price as if it would help the urge to feel wanted.

You missed Sirius Black because you were in love with him. Because he was one of your closest friends. You missed his stupid smirks and teases. The way he used to tuck a stray hair behind your ear and kiss the corner of your mouth. You missed sitting next to him at breakfast with his hand always touching your thigh in some way and the way he always saved you your favorite foods. Sneaking into the kitchens because you had missed dinner. He always refused to let you leave his bed until he decided it was enough.

But his body betrayed him until his eyes were droopy with sleep and he’d have to find some force to get up so you wouldn’t end up falling asleep together. 

You missed the way his fingers traced your naked back and the way he’d whisper secrets in French. He always refused to tell you what they meant.

You felt your cheeks dampened and wondered when you had started crying. You were tired of this, you needed everything to stop. Marlene and Lily came bursting into the room, bickering about Marlene’s temper. 

“Well he deserved it-“ Marlene grumbled and a small smile formed on your lips.

”Why is that Marls?” your pleasant smile faltered as the two girls looked at each other nervously. 

“Well it might be best if you talk to him-“

”Oh sod off Lillian she deserves to know,” Lily scowled at the name as Marlene went on “Your boyfriend's a wanker, he got all hot and flustered and had the balls to get in my face” 

You scowled, Jacob didn’t seem like the type. He was sweet and quiet most of the time. You wondered where he had been hiding this temper. You felt the guilt start to bite at your fingertips. Marlene continued,

”He kept talking about how you were probably with Sirius, he kept screaming can you believe it? He was screaming!” Marlene spoke so fast you felt like you couldn’t keep up. “He kept screaming about how you were hiding out in his room, and how you were a- well”

“I think that’s enough Marlene”

“and James well… he came out,” Marlene ignored Lily, but opted for omitting what your very upset boyfriend had rambled on about. Probably for the best, you thought.

”Oh Merlin,”

”He punched him!” You jumped from your bed, eyes wide as Marlene started to giggle but she quickly stopped as you gestured for her to explain. Lily glared at her and Marlene suppressed a smile. 

Lily turned to you, “I just think you need to talk to him directly, he’s in the hospital wing”

”Where’s James?” they both looked at each other, worry in their eyes. Marlene fidgeted with her ring.

“Slughorn took him, we’re hoping McGonagall will get involved at least,” Lily chewed on her lip nervously “It might help”

You sighed as you flopped back down to your bed. Everything was falling apart. You felt like you were falling apart. James wouldn't have gotten physical unless it was needed. He was always so relaxed, sure he always had a witty comment on the tip of his tongue, always some smart bullshit to spew. But to get physical? You couldn't help but still be grateful for him. For whatever the reason was.

Your thoughts strayed to Sirius,

You felt your eyes water again, hot with tears. You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of it all.

Tags ! (lmk if they don’t work or if u wanna be added) :

@beekeepingageissome,

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (7 - Fix the Dead)

Chapter Summary: A conversation with Wanda about the twins’ rapid growth leaves you both struggling with guilt and loss. Clint’s attempt to contact you through a vintage radio ends in disaster, as Wanda tightens her hold on her fragile reality. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.9k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: So, cat's out of the bag--Reader is actually alive. Three more chapters until we close part 1! // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Please, talk to me.”

You look over your shoulder. You've been pretending to sleep for almost an hour now, and just when you thought Wanda had drifted off and you could sneak out to spend some time alone with a book in the living room, she surprises you.

With a soft sigh, you turn to face her. The sight that greets you instantly breaks your heart. Even in the darkness, with only a sliver of blue moonlight seeping through the window to illuminate her face, you can see her lonely, anxious expression.

“What is there to talk about?” you whisper back.

Wanda reaches out to touch your hand, but you pull it back slightly. “I can feel your sadness,” she murmurs. “Is something wrong?”

You take a deep breath, burying half of your face in the pillow, your throat tightens and your eyes begin to sting at her simple inquiry into your well-being. You want to remain silent, but you know you can't—and shouldn't—hide your feelings from Wanda. Your efforts are superfluous anyway, she always has a way of seeing right through you.

You give a small nod, unable to voice out more.

Wanda sits up slightly, propping herself on one elbow. She knows it’s only a matter of time before the doubt and fear catches up to you. “Did I do something?” she asks softly.

You bite your lower lip, struggling to hold back the feelings swelling up inside you like a dam ready to burst. “It's the boys,” you finally say.

Her disarming green eyes search yours earnestly. “What about them?”

You sit up fully, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “They're growing up too fast, Wanda. One moment they're babies—I’ve barely held them—and the next they're ten years old. I feel like we're missing out on so much.”

Wanda swallows hard. The twins’ childhood has lasted barely a week. Having lost her own childhood at a very young age, she knows the pain of missing out, and she desperately wants her children to experience a proper childhood. But here in Westview, Wanda has learned to look on the brighter side of things. At least you both have Tommy and Billy; you're a complete family. They're happy with who they are and what you have together as a family. At least you're here with her, raising them, no matter how short the time given to both of you.

She reaches for your hand again, and this time you let her hold it. “They're just exploring their abilities,” she says, repeating the assurances she's been telling herself. “You know how kids are…”

You don’t look entirely convinced by that, so Wanda sits up too, tightens her grip on your hand. “They're special. You know that their abilities make them different,” she points out.

“Different doesn't mean we have to skip their entire childhood,” you reply bitterly. “I didn't get to see their first steps, hear them say ‘Mama’ for the first time. Those moments are gone, and I can't get them back.”

Beside you, she tenses. You don’t need to look to know she understands—she wasn’t there for those moments with the boys either.

“Doesn't it bother you?” you ask. “Even a little?”

Wanda glances away for a second, quickly blinking back any sign of weakness before she looks at you again. “It does. But I've been so focused on keeping everything together that I didn't stop to think about what we might be losing.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, feeling bad for thinking Wanda didn’t care. She just seems so… tolerant of it all.

“I’m sorry,” you say, scooting closer and wrapping your arms around her. “I bet you wanted those milestones just as much as I do. Just…forget I said anything.”

Wanda leans into your embrace. “No, you’re right to bring it up. They’re missing out on so many things, too.”

“How can we fix this? Can we even fix it?” you ask.

Wanda understands it’s not about whether she can intervene—it’s about whether she should. She could easily use her powers to stop the boys from skipping ahead. But it’s the ethics of it that she’s wrestling with ever since she did it to you. 

“Maybe next time, I could… ensure things go differently?” she suggests carefully. 

The implication of her words doesn’t go over your head. “Wanda, we can’t do that,” you tell her softly. “I... I don’t think we should do anything without their consent, even if we think it’s for the best.”

Wanda pulls back in shame. “You’re right. I’ve been making too many decisions for everyone.”

You gently hold her cheek, making her look at you. “It's okay, Wanda.”

She fights the urge to disagree, to shake her head and confess that it's not okay. She's made these choices for you too many times, and it’s clearer now than ever how much she’s overstepped, compromising your privacy and trust.

“Maybe we can talk to them?” you suggest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You think they’ll listen?”

You offer her a sleepy, crooked smile. “I hope so,” you say. “But even if they don't, we'll be there for them, whatever they choose.”

You gently coax her to lie back down, and Wanda instinctively pulls your head to her chest, letting you rest your head against her. This time, you drift off quickly, soothed by the steady beat of her heart into a deep and dreamless sleep.

–

“Why keep it a secret?” Monica demands though not unkindly. She can’t wrap her head around why you’d choose to disappear and fake your own death, especially now that Wanda is back from the Snap. While it's undoubtedly a relief to learn that someone isn't dead, Monica can't help but feel disappointed by this turn of events.

All this time, they believed they could persuade Wanda to abandon her fantasy in Westview. But now, with everything she desires apparently right here, why would she ever choose to leave?

And more importantly, how would she ever allow any of them to leave?

“Also, how do we know you’re not lying again?” Darcy adds quickly.

Clint raises a hand to calm the room, nodding toward the television where you just appeared, very much alive. “Clearly, there's evidence that she's there,” he says calmly, pointing out the obvious. “Living and breathing just like the rest of us.”

Everyone quiets down, accepting his point. It checks off one of the many questions they've had since this whole thing started.

“She wanted it this way,” Clint then tells Monica, in response to her question earlier. “Believe me, it hit the kid hard, watching Wanda turn to ashes right before her eyes... I lost my family that day too. But at least I was spared from seeing it happen.”

Monica can only imagine what it was like. She was snapped away, but she counts herself lucky she wasn’t one of those left behind to endure the absence.

“Does Y/N know that Wanda returned from the Snap?” Darcy asks.

“Yeah,” Clint says. Everyone looks at him, expecting more, but it’s clear he meant to keep his answer short and sweet.

Jimmy taps his pen against his notepad. “So how did Wanda find her?”

“That's the million-dollar question,” Clint says, glancing back at the screen now showing only static. “Last I heard from Y/N was about five months ago. She settled in Reykjavik. Wanted to live a quiet life.”

Monica crosses her arms, the gears in her head haven't stopped turning since finding out you’re really alive. “And now she's in Westview, starring in Wanda's show?”

“Doesn't add up,” Clint agrees. “Y/N was determined to stay hidden.”

“Maybe Wanda found out Y/N was alive and pulled her into this reality she made,” Darcy says.

“Or perhaps Y/N reached out to Wanda,” Jimmy suggests.

“She wouldn’t,” Clint counters gruffly, dismissing the idea outright. After a second, he adds, “And if Y/N didn't want to be found, she wouldn’t be. She was always skilled at vanishing.”

Monica thinks it over. “But Wanda's powers have grown exponentially. Maybe she picked up on Y/N’s presence somehow.”

“Still doesn't explain why Y/N would play along,” Clint counters. “I know her. She wouldn’t agree to this.”

Darcy shrugs. “Unless she’s being controlled by Wanda.”

Clint clenches his jaw. “Y/N's strong-minded. It'd take a lot to manipulate her. Besides, Wanda wouldn’t do that to her.”

“Clearly,” Darcy scoffs. Clint’s lips press into a thin line, struggling to hold back a retort to that.

Jimmy flips through his notes. “From what we've observed, she seems... compliant. But there are moments where she looks almost aware.”

“You noticed that from the show?” Clint asks.

“Not from the show,” Monica clarifies, standing up. “From me.”

Clint gives her a puzzled look.

“Oh, I forgot to mention—I’ve been inside the Hex.”

“You were there? How did you manage to get out?” Clint asks, both horrified and a little impressed.

Monica sighs. “I mentioned something that referenced the real world. Wanda didn't like it. She literally threw me out of town.”

Clint runs a hand through his hair, processing this new information. “So, she really is controlling everything in there, and anyone who challenges that gets expelled?”

“Exactly,” Monica nods. “And now that we’ve found out that the real Y/N is in there with her, it looks like Wanda’s got everything she wants. That throws a wrench in our plans.”

Clint rubs his chin thoughtfully. “And your plan was to...?”

“To...” Monica trails off, suddenly realizing how naive it sounds. “...talk her out of it.”

Clint furrows his brow and lets out a noncommittal “Hmmm.”

“I know how it sounds,” Monica says, a hint of color rising in her cheeks. “But I thought if I could just reach her, reason with her, maybe I could get through. I've lost people too—”

“We all have,” Clint replies. “Though maybe not to the extent she has.”

“Parents, brother, best friend, lover...” Darcy ticks off Wanda’s losses on her fingers. “That's pretty much every key relationship in a person's life.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Jimmy asks, turning to Clint, who looks like he’s been hit with a freight train over the last five minutes. Overwhelmed would be an understatement—he probably needs an Advil after this conversation.

Clint exhales sharply, mulling it over while the others watch him, waiting.

“I'm usually a man of action,” he says slowly, “but sometimes it's better to try talking before jumping into a fight. Only, I don't think it's Wanda we should be trying to reach out to.”

“Then who?” Monica asks.

Clint licks his lips. “Y/N.”

–

“Where’s Sparky?”

It's odd to see the boys without their four-legged companion ever since they adopted him. He's been their whole world lately, and even Wanda spends her breaks between chores playing with the puppy. 

Billy and Tommy exchange uneasy glances. “He... ran out the front door,” Billy says, his voice papery-thin.

“What do you mean he ran out?”

“We tried to catch him, but he was too fast,” Tommy reasons.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Guys, you can't just let your pet run off like that. What if he'd been hit by a car? I'm… I’m really disappointed.”

“We’re sorry,” they mumble, eyes fixed on the floor.

“This is why I asked you boys to wait,” you say gently. “Maturity doesn’t just come from aging yourselves up—it takes time and experience. Do you understand why that matters now?”

They nod, a little slower this time. “We understand,” Billy says quietly.

“Alright,” you sigh, unable to stay upset for long. “Let’s go find Sparky. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

The three of you set out into the neighborhood, calling Sparky's name. It's around four in the afternoon, with about two hours of daylight left—plenty of time to search. After half an hour of knocking on doors and showing neighbors pictures of the scruffy Jack Russell, you begin to worry that finding him might require a more extensive search. The boys look really upset, and you feel guilty about reprimanding them earlier, even though you knew you had to be honest about their oversight. Just as you're about to suggest checking the park behind the townsquare, Agnes appears behind the bushes on her lawn, cradling something in her arms.

“Agnes?” you call out, a sick swirl of hope and dread twisting in your stomach.

“I…” Agnes approaches slowly, her face somber. Even before she gets close, you can already tell that whatever she’s carrying is limp and motionless. “I didn’t wanna come until I’d wrapped him up…”

Wanda pulls up just then, fresh from the grocery store. She’s barely out of the car when she notices you and the boys, your somber expressions stopping her in her tracks. She hurries over and follows your gaze. “What's that?” Wanda asks.

“Found him in my azalea bushes,” Agnes says, sidestepping the question. You glance at the twins, your heart sinking at the sight of their scared, regretful faces.

“I don’t know how many leaves he ate,” Agnes continues, her voice dropping even lower. “I didn’t find him until it was too late. Tommy, Billy, I’m so sorry.”

The brothers break forward. “No! Sparky!” they cry, tears streaming down their faces.

Your eyes sting as you pull them close. “I’m so sorry, guys,” you whisper, holding them tightly. They cling to you, their tear-soaked faces pressed against your shirt, and for a moment, the world feels still. But a moment later, they pull back, exchanging a glance—a silent conversation you’ve come to recognize all too well.

“Wait,” you say in panic, quickly stepping between them, as if the act alone could stop whatever plan is forming in their heads. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Boys, stop,” Wanda says, kneeling down to their level. “The urge to run from this feeling is powerful. But growing up isn't the way to avoid getting hurt. It…it teaches you to face it, feel it…learn from it. Trust me, I know.”

Billy wipes his eyes. “But it's too sad,” he whispers.

“I—”

Tommy, unlike his brother, has fire in his eyes. “You can fix anything, Mom. Fix the dead,” he pleads.

“You can do that?” comes Agnes’ voice behind her. 

You turn to your wife, who seems struck silent by Tommy's request. You know Wanda is powerful, her abilities growing stronger by the day, but reversing the natural order of things—that feels impossible and wrong.

“Some things can't—and shouldn't—be fixed,” you say, looking from one twin to the other. “Some things are final.”

“It's not fair,” Billy mumbles, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

You swallow hard. “I know. But maybe we can give Sparky a proper goodbye.” Agnes takes that as her cue to hand Sparky back to the boys. Wanda stands a few steps away, her face unreadable. The twins clutch the dog tightly, tears streaming down their cheeks.

You reach out toward your wife. “Honey—”

But Wanda steps further back, her eyes avoiding yours. “I... I need to start dinner,” she mutters, turning away before you can say more.

“Wait, can we—” you start, but Wanda’s already turning away, disappearing into the house.

–

The boys try to skip dinner, claiming they're not hungry, so you play your ace and order pizza, knowing they can't say no to that. Wanda just gives you a wary look and announces she's heading to bed early. You make a point of eating a good portion of Wanda’s dinner—not just to avoid waste but because you genuinely enjoy her cooking—before you tuck the boys in for the night.

After making sure they're settled, you decide to check on Wanda. You find her in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window.

“Wanda?” you say softly.

She doesn't turn. “Are the boys okay?” she asks quietly.

“They're handling it,” you reply, approaching the bed. “They needed you.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I couldn't... I didn't know what to say.”

“You don’t have to fix everything,” you say softly, sitting beside her. Your hand rests on her shin, fingers starting to massage in slow, soothing circles. “Sometimes just being there is enough.”

When she finally looks at you, your breath catches. Her eyes are swollen, red from crying. You reach for her hand, but she keeps it clenched in her lap. “I feel like I’m letting them down. Letting you down,” Wanda says quietly.

“Are you kidding? You’re an amazing mom to our boys. And the best wife I could ever ask for.”

She scrunches her nose, clearly struggling to accept your words. You smile, finding it endearing how shy she still gets whenever you compliment her.

“Thank you,” she whispers, lacing your fingers together before kissing the back of your hand.

“Have you eaten anything?” you ask.

Wanda shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Well, let's fix that,” you say, standing up, pulling her with you. “Come downstairs with me.”

“But you've already had dinner,” Wanda says.

You smile. “There's always room for dessert.”

–

Darcy practically jumps out of her seat, pointing excitedly at the screen. “That's our shot!”

Monica, Jimmy, and Clint look up from the reports scattered across the table, their brows furrowed in confusion. Hayward’s team is still stuck, unable to figure out how to get equipment through the barrier without it being warped into something unrecognizable. The working theory is that anything era-appropriate to Wanda’s “show” might make it through intact.

“A shot at what?” Jimmy asks.

“Reaching Y/N through Wanda's kitchen radio!” Darcy exclaims, already grabbing her coat. The others scramble to follow her outside to where her equipment is set up, ready to put their old theory to the test. 

Darcy starts adjusting the dials on a makeshift transmitter hooked up to a vintage-looking radio. “If we can sync up with the frequency of the broadcast, we might be able to get a message through,” she reminds them, her breath forming clouds in the cold.

Clint eyes the gadgets cluttering the back of the truck. “Is this really going to work?”

Darcy smirks. “Well, considering traditional methods aren't exactly panning out, it's worth a try.”

“Someone should keep an eye on things from the inside,” Monica surmises.

“I'll head back and keep watch,” Jimmy volunteers, already walking back to the tent. “I’ll radio in if it works.”

Monica turns to Clint with a thoughtful expression. “Who do you think should try talking to Y/N?”

“I'll give it a try,” he says. “Maybe hearing a familiar voice will help snap her out of it.”

Monica nods. “Good idea. She trusts you.”

Darcy comes up to them with the transmitter. “Alright, it's ready to go. Just press this button when you're ready to speak,” she instructs, handing the device to Clint.

Monica grabs her radio and contacts Jimmy. “Agent Woo, what's the situation inside?”

“Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Y/N is alone in the kitchen, looks like she's preparing dinner.”

“Thanks,” Monica smiles slightly. “Perfect timing. She's alone—we can reach her now.”

Clint nods, stepping closer to the microphone. “Here goes nothing,” he mutters. He presses the button and speaks into the microphone. “Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

–

You’re pouring two glasses of wine, waiting for dinner to finish heating, when the old radio by the sink crackles to life.

“Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

You freeze, hand hovering over the glass. The voice is faint, broken, but you heard your name. 

And his.

Clint? Why does that sound so familiar?

You glance at the radio, its dial unmoved. Adjusting the antenna slightly, you try to wait for another message to come through, but only static follows. You resume what you’re doing, only for the radio to speak again—directly to you, it seems.

“Jesus, Y/N, wake up! Come on!”

Your hand trembles violently, forcing you to set the wine bottle down before it slips from your grasp.

Heart pounding, you stare at the radio. “Hello?” you whisper, not really sure you believe what's happening. It feels like a dream. Other than your wife, who could even make a radio do this? 

And why would they need to talk to you?

“Finally! We've been trying to reach you. Listen, you have to—”

Before he can finish, a sharp burst of static erupts. The radio sparks violently and explodes right in front of you. You barely have time to shield yourself as fragments fly past, one slicing across your cheek. Wincing, you touch your face and your fingers come away smeared with blood.

“What was that?” Wanda's voice calls from the other room. You can hear her hurried footsteps approaching, but you can’t seem to move or say anything, too shocked to respond.

She appears in the doorway, eyes widening as she sees the blood on your cheek and the smoking wreckage of the radio. 

“You're hurt!”

In a flash, she’s on you, her hands checking your face, her thumb brushing near the cut. She tries to wipe away the blood, but it keeps coming, stubborn and unrelenting.

“I-It's nothing…”

“We need to clean this up,” she says, too calm, like it’s normal to find you bleeding after a radio exploded.

“I'm fine, really,” you insist weakly, but she’s already fetching a cloth and pressing it against your wound.

As she tends to you, her eyes dart quickly to the destroyed radio. “These old things can be so dangerous,” she murmurs.

“Yeah…” 

Someone named Clint had tried to reach you. Who is he? And why did the radio explode? There are too many questions swimming in your head, overwhelming enough to numb the sting of your wound.

“You're shaking,” Wanda notes softly. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“Maybe,” you concede, allowing her to guide you to a chair.

She kneels in front of you, dabbing gently at your cheek. “It's not deep. You'll be okay.”

“Thanks,” you mumble absently. 

Wanda purses her lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re quiet for a second, unsure if you should tell Wanda what just happened or ask her about Clint. But something inside holds you back.

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for her hand as she tends to your wound, and lightly kissing her palm. “Promise.”

–

Jimmy stares at the screen, where the words “We'll be right back!” are now plastered, replacing the live feed. The broadcast had cut out the moment you answered Clint's call with a hesitant hello. He runs outside, where Clint, Monica, and Darcy are huddled around the equipment. The cool air bites at his cheeks, but he barely notices.

“The broadcast’s down,” Jimmy says, slightly winded. “The second Y/N responded to the radio, it switched to a standby screen.”

Clint's hand falls away from the microphone. He knew it was a long shot with Wanda just a room away. “Now she knows we're trying to make contact,” he remarks grimly. “I’m sure Wanda will find a way to block any future transmissions from here out.”

Darcy doesn’t look up, her fingers flying over her tablet. She curses under her breath, scowling at the screen. “Yeah, looks like she’s already on it,” she mutters.

Monica rubs her hands together, exhaling into them for warmth. “Alright, clearly this isn’t working. We need a new plan.”

“Uh, guys…?” Darcy cuts in, looking around. “Is it just me, or does it seem way emptier out here tonight?”

Everyone stops, taking in their surroundings. Sure enough, the area is quieter than usual—just a couple of guards lingering near the barrier and not much else.

Jimmy crosses his arms, his eyes fixed on the tent serving as a Command Center. “Either everyone’s on break at the same time, or Hayward’s pulled them all into a meeting.”

They exchange uneasy glances, the same thought running through their heads. What’s this meeting about—and why does it feel like they’ve been deliberately left out?

[cocosparkel]

Curiosity killed the cat (but satisfaction brought it back)

Chapter 1

Summary-

When Marinette finds out that she is adopted, she tracks down her Biological aunt. Who happens to live Gotham, the place she swore she wouldn't go. Well, Gotham just gained a new vigilante -Chaos.

next>>

CHAPTER 1: REVELATIONS

The day Marinette found out she was adopted, her life changed completely.

It started like a normal day.

She entered the kitchen. “Maman ?” She asked. Her mother was crying over a photo. When she noticed Marinette, she quickly wiped her tears and hid the photo under a book.

“Marinette…” she said with a shaky smile.

“Maman, are you okay ?”Marinette asked, stepping into the room “What was in that photo ?”

“Nothing, Marinette, I'm fine.” Sabine abruptly stood up and left the room.

“Okay maman…” Marinette whispered as Sabine was leaving the room, loud enough for her to hear it.

Just as Marinette was about to leave too, confused about the entire thing, something caught her eye. It was another photo, which had fallen on the floor. Hesitating, she eventually picked it up. The photo was that of a baby. She had big blue eyes, and black hair, with a beautiful smile. Flipping the photo, Marinette saw a familiar handwriting at the bottom corner.

Bridgette Liu Dupain-cheng, our precious baby.

Confused, Marinette kept the photo with her, deciding to ask her parents later.

______________________________________________________________

At dinner, Marinette finally asked the one question in her mind. “Maman, papa, who is this ?” She showed them the photo she had found early.

Sabine dropped her knife and Tom looked stunned.

Snapping out of her reverie, Sabine said “Oh Marinette, we hoped this day would never come….”

Marinette swallowed, losing her appetite immediately.

“We were going to tell you when you were 13, but then Hawkmoth appeared, and we didn't want to overwhelm you, and we just– we love you Marinette, and it doesn't matter if… if you're…if you're…” Sabine looked at Tom, unable to complete her sentence.

But Marinette bet them to it. “ I'm adopted, amn't I ?”

Sabine started sobbing, and Tom put a comforting hand around her.

He sighed,” Marinette, we are your godparents. Our own daughter, Bridgette passed just a year before we adopted you. Your mother was a very close friend of ours, and she left us with you.”

Sabine gave her a watery smile,“We love you, Marinette that will never change.”

Marinette stood “ Thanks for finally telling me the truth Maman, Papa.”

She fled to her room.

______________________________________________________________

Her parents had given her her original birth certificate that night.

Her name had been Marie Kyle - Draper. Her mother's name was Diane Kyle, and her father's name was Richard Draper.

She looked them up in every possible website, but the only thing she found was an article.

Last saturday night, a young couple who were later identified as Richard and Diane draper were found dead in an alley near Robinson park. Richard had been shot straight on the head,whereas Diane had taken a bullet through her stomach. While it looks like a mugging attempt which led to their demise, the GPD suspect something more sinister. The GPD have promised to get to the bottom of this.

Finding out just what happened to her parents made her uneasy, especially when she realised that the place they died was Gotham, the very place where her grandmother Felicie had been murdered.

______________________________________________________________

Walking into class, Marinette was still in a daze about what had happened the day before. She was so lost in thought, that she didn't notice the glares her classmates were giving her.

"How could you, girl ? We all trusted you so much !” Alya shouted, as Marinette went to sit beside her.

"Alya what do you mean ? I don't get it ?” Marinette asked, confused.

“Look I get that you don't like Lila but that doesn't mean you can insult her when all she's done is be nice to you.” Kim said, as everyone agreed with him.

"What? I still don't understand-’’ M asked looking around. Her eyes fell on Lila who seemed to be crying.

"So you're saying you didn't tell lila that she will never be Adrien’s friend ? Or that Ladybug doesn't really like her ?” Alya snapped.

“I never said that!” Marinette exclaimed, realising what was happening.

“And who would have sent her these messages from your phone ?” Sneered Kim.

“ Those were taken out of context.” Marinette said, shaking her head.

"Sure…” Alya looked at her, and lowered her voice and said, “Look all you have to do is apologise to her… and understand that Adrien may not want to be with you and-”

“Alya what makes you think I still like Adrien” Marinette asked, getting annoyed.

"Come on girl, I'm your best friend.” Alya said rolling her eyes.

“You haven't been my best friend in months! You haven't properly talked to me, insulted me when I forgave Chloe and even ditched me for Lila many times.” Marinette shouted, done with her friends, no ex friends stupidity.

“Marinette, you know it's not like that…” Alya said, in a condescending tone.

"No Alya, I'm done. With all of you.” With that, Marinette stormed to the back of the class, and sat next to a stunned looking Chloe. She had made up her mind about what she was going to do.

______________________________________________________________

Ever since she found out that she was adopted, things had been tense with her parents. She walked into the bakery, determined to put this behind her.

“Marinette ! Could you.. could you help me with making the decorations for this cake ?” Sabine asked hesitantly.

"Sure thing Maman” Marinette said, a small smile on her face.

So what if she was adopted? Her parents still wanted her, still cared for her. She wasn't going to let anything ruin her family life, like the way she let Lila ruin her friendships.

______________________________________________________________

( what do you think ??? Is it nice ???? Is it boring ??? Is it cool ???? Is it horrible????

If u liked this, do check out my other work, they're just not dreams)

next>>

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Batman/Bruce WaynexMagician!OC| Chapter List

Here is a list of the chapters of the Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!Reader story in this blog.

Please note that chapters that are marked with the blue highlight are part of the main story and those without the highlights are the chapters that are mostly scenarios and fluffs with the other characters.

I will update this whenever there is a new chapter.

Season 1

Our First Meeting Involved a Murder and a Cult Part 1

Our First Meeting Involved a Murder and a Cult Part 2

The Three-Way Relationship

The British are Coming!

The Unexpected Guest: The Guardian of Wayne Manor

Children of the Bat

The Time We Got Caught Skinny Dipping

“I’ll Always Be Here for You, Kiddo. Always.”

Fear Toxin: The Memories That Haunts Us

"I Need a Raise."

Along Came Jason

Meeting the Justice League

Day Off & Double Dates

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 1/3)

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 2/3)

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 3/3)

Special Merchandise

A Quiet Night

The Billionaire's Wife

A Promise Across Time (Part1 / 3)

A Promise Across Time (Part 2/3)

A Promise Across Time (Part 3/3)

Moving In

Mother & Daughter

The Consultant: Morgan le Fey Case

Cats

In the Events of My Death: The Bruce Wayne Tapes

Dreams and Reality (Part 1/3)

Dreams and Reality (Part 2/3)

Dreams and Reality (Part 3/3)

Damian's Pets

Opening Up

Gotham Year One

PTA Rivals

Two-Face

Wedding: Without Masks (Part 1/2)

Wedding: The One that Gotham Remembers (Part 2/2)

Another Chance

Little One

Love of my Life

Blurred Photos

Babysitting

Valerie's First Birthday

Penny Too!

Family Sports Day

Trouble

The Crossroads

Wayne Family Holiday Traditions

Beyond

From Our First Case to Our Last

Season 2

Hiya Mom!

Its a Bat-Thing

In Another Life

[Maxie] Zeus

The Riddler's Mistake: The Wrong Kid for Ransom

Exes

Wrath of Wayne [Part 1/3]

Wrath of Wayne [Part 2/3]

Wrath of Wayne [Part 3/3]

Indiana Quinn! Harley Goes to the Temple of Doom

A Family Trip to Liverpool

The Madman's Dream

Superman Saves the Day

Teen Titans!

Happy Valentines Day, Batman

“I’m Sorry, Ma. I’m really, really sorry…”

Dracula [Part 1]

Dracula [Part 2]

Happy Birthday, Batman

Dracula [Part 3]

The Dark Side of Academia

Gotham at Night

Return of Hush

Superhero Playdate

College

Social Services

City of Owls [Part 1]

City of Owls [Part 2]

Sometimes it’s Best to Keep the Closet Closed… and Locked with a Kryptonite Padlock

Moments with the Justice League [Part 1]

The One Thing I Can’t Sacrifice

That Look

There is a Floating Baby in the Living Room

She’s Not My Girlfriend

That One Coworker

Moments with the Justice League: Powerless Atom [Part 2]

Vivian Pryor's Barber Shop

How Robins Babysit

Into the Dreaming [Part 1/2]

Into the Dreaming [Part 2/2]

Date Night

Goodbye, My Love

Season 3

Boyfriend

Season 3: Bruce x Vivian Elseworld Chapters

I moved the Dark Knights of Steel and other Elseworld chapters to this post: Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician Elseworld Chapters

Please note that some chapters do not follow the chronological order due to time jumps that relate to the story, but are placed in this order as major parts of the story are in that certain timeline.

Gotham Year One

Our First Meeting Involved a Murder and a Cult Part 1

Our First Meeting Involved a Murder and a Cult Part 2

A Promise Across Time (Part 1/3)

Cats

The Time We Got Caught Skinny Dipping

The Three-Way Relationship

A Madman's Dream

The British are Coming!

The Unexpected Guest: The Guardian of Wayne Manor

Moving In

A Quiet Night

Meeting the Justice League

Exes

“I’ll Always Be Here for You, Kiddo. Always.”

[Maxie] Zeus

Happy Valentines Day, Batman

Fear Toxin: The Memories That Haunts Us

Wedding: Without Masks (Part 1/2)

Wedding: The One that Gotham Remembers (Part 2/2)

Along Came Jason

The Billionaire's Wife

In the Event of My Death: The Bruce Wayne Tapes

“I’m Sorry, Ma. I’m really, really sorry…”

Children of the Bat

Teen Titans!

"I Need a Raise."

The Dark Side of Academia

In Another Life

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 1/3)

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 2/3)

Angels & Demons: Justice League Dark (Part 3/3)

The Consultant: Morgan le Fey Case

Indiana Quinn! Harley Goes to the Temple of Doom

Mother & Daughter

Superman Saves the Day

Opening Up

Day off & Double Dates

Special Merchandise

A Promise Across Time (Part 2/3)

A Promise Across Time (Part 3/3)

Hiya Mom!

Dreams and Reality (Part 1/3)

Dreams and Reality (Part 2/3)

Dreams and Reality (Part 3/3)

Damian's Pets

PTA Rivals

Two-Face

Another Chance

Little One

Love of My Life

Blurred Photos

Babysitting

Wrath of Wayne [Part 1/3]

Wrath of Wayne [Part 2/3]

Wrath of Wayne [Part 3/3]

Valerie's First Birthday

The Crossroads

Penny Too!

Family Sports Day

Trouble

Wayne Family Holiday Traditions

A Family Trip to Liverpool

Happy Birthday, Batman

Dracula [Part 1]

Dracula [Part 2]

Dracula [Part 3]

Return of Hush

The Riddler's Mistake: The Wrong Kid for Ransom

Beyond

Gotham at Night

Its a Bat-Thing

From Our First Case to Our Last

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 04.

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it, last part was a cliffhanger but here we are surviving :) Some background on Madame and I pray you guys get the reference with the name of the exorcist

A/N: I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD!!!! I finally got this out and I added to it so this is a longer chapter than anticipated. I’m so horribly sorry for taking forever to get this out, I had like so many reports to do for my job and this was just calling to me. I hope you guys didn’t forget this and if you did I totally don’t blame you. Not to fret though, I have big plans coming soon, and I’m pushing for longer chapters to keep you people fed. I love you all so so so much! Happy reading and thank you for being so patient and for all the kind messages I got! As for the taglist, I’m afraid it’s closed as of right now, just because I physically cannot tag anymore people on these posts, so I’ll try to figure something out with that!

Tags: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @only-cherry-blossom @sockgoblin @nxrdamp @1-800-no-users-left @l0ca1ax010t1 @inutheangel @reader-of-worlds @writing-fanics @random-person07 @ghostdoodlen @elaemae @fantasy-angelo @tanjirosworld @patchesofdreams @sunnyslug @reineurynome @scoliobean @arrozyfrijoles23 @kimmikreates @lqmons @amarokofficial @mangobango69

Word count: 5694

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity writes (event)!! // Part three // part five

Charlie had almost jumped out of her seat upon seeing the excorsist by your side. The water spout collapsing quickly, water violently splashing all around. A crowd of ‘ooh’s and ah’s could be heard from the crowd as you finally revealed the exorcist to everyone, allowing the sinners around to get a better look at the pet with you. The exorcist next to you was a woman, who looked fairly young. Her wings were large, white feathers with a sheer hint of gold. Her skin was ghostly white, and her eyes were equally as pale, almost a ghost. she looked around quickly, turning in her spot on the ground next to you, where she was kneeling. Her wrists were bound by chains and she stood quickly, wings flaring out. Yet, amid the spectacle, Charlotte couldn't help but notice a flicker of sorrow in the exorcist's pale eyes.

You stood next to her calmly, playing the violin as she stood, flying off the ground and up the middle of the coliseum, flying as quickly as she good. Her long hair, white with golden streaks, flowing as she flew up. Before she could get out however, a long black chain appeared around her neck, pulling her backward quickly, choking her. Her eyes went wide, hand reaching out to the sky above, a silent reach for heaven, before her angelic body was pulled back into the floor of the coliseum, body hitting the hard ground with a loud thud, the floor cracking beneath her upon the impact. Black chains began to hold onto her legs, her chest and neck as she fought against it, the chains lifting her high enough in the air for the crowd to see, making a mockery out of her, out of the exorcists above.

Charlotte's eyes widened, mirroring the shock and disbelief etched across her face as she witnessed the angelic exorcist's dramatic entrance. Alastor, usually composed, betrayed a subtle flicker of concern, his stoic demeanor momentarily shaken.

As the exorcist's wings unfurled, the sheer beauty of her appearance contrasted sharply with the ominous chains that bound her. The crowd's collective gasp echoed, drowning out the earlier applause.

Alastor's grip on his opera glasses tightened, a silent acknowledgment of the unforeseen depth this performance had taken. The music continued, but now there was an undertone of tension, each note echoing the internal struggle of the exorcist. Just the way you had intended.

The audience's gasps turned into uneasy whispers. Charlotte glanced at Alastor, finding a mix of fascination and unease in his expression. His smile looked almost painful, like a touch to him would have him shatter on the spot. She was not used to seeing him this way. Something was oddly unsettling about having him next to her in this way.

“Should we be watching this?” Velvet leans over to ask Vox, sketch book long discarded. He says nothing, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight before him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever seen an exorcist, but this sight was different in itself. You were basically manhandling an exorcist right in front of everyone. This was holy power you were messing with. Tauntingly, making a fool out of this poor innocent girl. Vox wasn’t sure if he was supposed to run away, tail between his legs, or sit and watch the way you had wanted. To obey or disobey, like a dog.

The song was finally at its peak, the angels wings spread to its full length as she fought to get away, thrashing about as she fought again the chains. Charlotte feels her own throat tighten, her heart feeling heavy.

“I can’t watch.” Charlotte said, standing and moving to take her leave, but a large shadow blocked her path.

“Madame requests that you stay here.” The shadow spoke. Charlotte was silent and though she wanted to argue, decided against it.

Amidst the tension, the atmosphere in the coliseum grew heavier, the ethereal music now echoing a dissonant melody. As the angelic exorcist continued her struggle, a figure emerged from the shadows – a mysterious character, their presence felt more than seen.

This enigmatic figure, shrouded in darkness, approached Charlotte with a whispered urgency. "You hold the key to her liberation," the voice murmured, barely audible over the haunting notes of the violin. "Will you break the chains or become a spectator to her demise?"

Charlotte, conflicted and sensing a greater responsibility, looked at the shadowy figure, determination flickering in her eyes. With a newfound resolve, she turned towards the restrained exorcist, seeking a way to intervene and unravel the unsettling performance that had taken a dark turn. The coliseum, once a mere stage for entertainment, now stood witness to a moral crossroads where choices weighed heavily on the hearts of those present, and it was definitely making Charlotte contemplate her whole reason for being here.

Alastor's sharp warning reverberates through the air, his stern tone emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "Interruption during Madame's performance is ill-advised, my dear. It is best not to meddle in affairs beyond your understanding." he cautions, a hint of a threat underlying his words.

Rosie, with a more nurturing but firm approach, guides Charlotte back to her seat. "It's not the time, hon. Madame's got her ways, and we don't want trouble. Just watch and let it play out," Rosie advises, her gaze mirroring a subtle concern for Charlotte's safety.

As Charlotte reluctantly takes her seat, the tension in the coliseum persists, the haunting music and the struggling exorcist creating an eerie symphony that held everyone in a state of suspense. The shadowy figure lingers, observing the unfolding drama with a watchful gaze, leaving an air of mystery and uncertainty in its wake.

The resounding crash echoes through the coliseum as the angelic exorcist succumbs to the relentless chains, her divine form colliding with the unforgiving ground. The spectators, now silent witnesses to the spectacle's unsettling conclusion, feel the vibrations of the impact reverberate through the arena.

The once-beautiful performance has transformed into a scene of somber defeat, the ethereal music now hauntingly melancholic. The shadows that enshrouded the coliseum seem to deepen, casting an eerie gloom over the aftermath.

The mysterious figure in the shadows maintains a watchful presence, its intentions still unclear as the audience processes the unsettling turn of events. The coliseum, leaving an indelible mark on the collective psyche of those who bore witness. As the ethereal music slowly fades to silence, the chains metamorphose into spectral figures, gracefully carrying the defeated angel away. The abrupt stillness in the coliseum feels eerie, the aftermath of the performance leaving the guests, including Charlotte, in a state of uneasy reflection.

The band, once vivid and lively, dissipates like wisps of smoke, leaving an empty stage behind. Madame, now standing alone in the center of the coliseum, is joined by the largest shadow, a looming presence beside her. The shadowy figure addresses the hushed audience, explaining that they will be escorted back to Madame's home for dinner. "Ladies and gentlemen, the next act awaits within the walls of Madame's mansion. Your journey through her realm has only just begun.”

The guests, still processing the unsettling performance, are ushered towards their tables with a sense of quiet trepidation. The coliseum, now devoid of the vibrant spectacle, transforms into a place of anticipation as the guests prepare for the next act in Madame's enigmatic domain. Charlotte, visibly shaken, moves among the disquieted crowd. Zestial stands out, his calm demeanor contrasting with the collective unease. His eyes reveal a depth of understanding, leaving Charlotte to wonder what he really thought of the performance. As they return to Madame's home, the charged atmosphere persists, leaving everyone to ponder what awaits them in the next act of this mysterious and haunting night.

The shadows lead those seated privately with Madame through a mysterious portal, transporting them to a large, black room. The windows, tinted black from floor to ceiling, create an otherworldly aura. Bowls of floating fire cast dancing shadows around the room, adding an element of mystique. In the center stands an impressive dining table, crafted from black wood with matching black chairs adorned with white cushions.

White plates with a gold lining are meticulously arranged, each bearing a name card. The order mirrors the sequence in which the guests were initially invited: Alastor, Vox, Charlie, Velvet, Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie. Three empty seats capture attention, the most prominent being the grand and ornate chair at the head of the table – undoubtedly Madame's seat.

However, two other unoccupied chairs add a layer of intrigue. One is positioned across from Madame, and the other is to her right. Vox, leaning casually against the black dining table, raises an eyebrow as he scans the unoccupied chairs. "So, did Madame forget to send out a couple more invites, or did she just not bother finding anyone else worth inviting?" His tone, dripping with casual disdain, prompts an involuntary eye twitch from Alastor and a scoff from Carmilla. The room is momentarily tense as the guests settle into their seats, the air thick with unspoken tension and the promise of an unconventional dining.

The large shadow materializes behind Madame's chair the moment everyone takes their seats. It speaks with a commanding presence,

"Madame will be joining you shortly, ensuring the guests are properly situated in the main dining hall. For now, you may all start with the drink of your choice."

As the shadow's words linger, the room is filled with the appearance of various drinks, each guest's preference seemingly anticipated. The other shadows swiftly deliver the beverages before seamlessly vanishing from view. In their place, a small orchestra emerges from the darkest corners of the room, ready to weave a musical tapestry that will accompany the unfolding feast.

The atmosphere in the black room remains charged with a sense of anticipation, the guests left to wonder about the mysteries that await in Madame's unconventional and enigmatic domain.

The anticipation peaks as the celestial display unfolds outside the tinted windows. Stars twinkle in the vast darkness, and constellations take shape, transforming the black room into a cosmic spectacle. The guests, mesmerized by the celestial scene, exchange awed glances.

”Oh this is so beautiful.” Charlotte says, glancing around at the stars.

In the midst of this ethereal backdrop, Madame makes her grand entrance. A sweeping gust of shadow accompanies her, like a cloak billowing in an unseen breeze. She moves gracefully, her silhouette weaving through the darkness, and steps into the room with an air of an almost royal confidence.

Madame wears an elaborate gown that seems to absorb and reflect the celestial light. Its deep, dark hues shimmer with a glow, adorned with intricate patterns that evoke the mysteries of the night sky, certainly fitting her specticle. Her presence commands attention, and a hushed silence falls over the room as the guests turn their gaze towards her.

A soft, melodic hum emanates from Madame, resonating with the orchestral tunes. The shadows, now at her command, align to form a fleeting silhouette of wings that unfurl and then disappear into the darkness. She takes her seat at the grand table, her eyes gleaming with a haunting form of excitement.

As Madame takes her seat, the celestial display beyond the windows intensifies, casting a glow over the dining room. The shadows, now intricately woven into ethereal patterns, dance along the walls, adding to the surreal atmosphere. With a graceful gesture, Madame signals the waitstaff shadows to present the first course. Exquisite dishes are unveiled, each a culinary masterpiece designed to tantalize the senses. Alastor’s eyes light up as his favorite dish is revealed — Jambalaya. Rich and spicy, it perfectly captures his love for bold and vibrant flavors.

Vox, always one for extravagance, is presented with Sushi. Delicate sushi rolls arranged like musical notes create a visual and auditory delight, harmonizing with each flavorful bite. Meanwhile, Velvet savors the spicy noodles on her plate, a cosmic array of ingredients adorning handmade noodles, reflecting her love for adventurous flavors.

Charlotte’s palate is delighted with the Harmony of Garden Greens, a vibrant salad showcasing fresh and wholesome ingredients. Zestial’s preference for refined flavors is indulged with a nice tender steak. Carmilla indulges in an enchanting dark Chocolate Fondue, a decadent dessert that mirrors her taste for the luxurious. Rosie, captivated by sweetness and charm, enjoys a stellar Strawberry Shortcake, a heavenly creation adorned with edible flowers. Rosie was grateful Madame hadn’t served her limbs this evening, though the craving was very much there.

As the guests savor their feast, Vox, unable to resist his penchant for stirring conversation, attempts to broach the topic of the enigmatic exorcist from Madame's previous performance. "Madame, that exorcist bit was quite the show, don't you think? Who was she, and why the dramatics?" Vox inquires with his signature flair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Though Alastor would never admit it, he was silently appreciative Vox was the one to voice the question. He knew Madame would have his head if he dared to ask. A large grin is displayed as he awaits Madame’s response. Knowing she is intolerant of being questioned on her decisions.

Madame, however, responds with a stern and unwavering gaze. "Vox, some matters are not for idle chatter. Rest assured, when the time is right, I will provide the explanation that is due." Her tone, though firm, carries a sense of ancient wisdom that tempers Vox's usual audacity. Alastor just grins to himself, happy she did not disappoint.

Carmilla, sensitive to the undercurrents of unease, feels a shiver down her spine. The cryptic response leaves her uneasy, but she keeps her feelings to herself. Madame's words hang in the air, a subtle reminder that there are depths to this realm that remain veiled. She is in control.

The aura intensifies as the orchestra weaves a haunting melody, adding an ethereal backdrop to the exchange. The guests, now caught in the delicate dance of shadows, flavors, and unspoken mysteries, await the unfolding of Madame's narrative. However, to their dismay, she leaves them empty handed.

The small orchestra adapts it’s tunes, complementing the dining room with melodies that resonate with the mysteries of Madame. The music sways between haunting and enchanting, guiding the guests through an experience that transcends the ordinary.

"I hope the food is to everyone's enjoyment," Madame remarks, her plate being set in front of her last. The guests, captivated by the transcendent feast, eagerly dig into their respective dishes. As the flavors unfold on their palates, a chorus of satisfaction fills the room.

“These are quite excellent.” Carmilla comments as she enjoys her meal. Madame only nods in response. Compliments flow freely from the guests to Madame and the shadows, expressions of delight escaping between bites. Alastor, savoring his Jambalaya, commends the bold and vibrant flavors.

The room resonates with the sounds of enjoyment, and Rosie, with the Strawberry Shortcake, receives nods of approval for the delightful sweetness. Madame, her strong composure unwavering, listens to the compliments with a hint of satisfaction. Everyone enjoys being praised.

As the melodies of the cosmos continue to weave through the air, the dining room becomes a mix of flavor and enchantment. The guests, immersed in the extraordinary experience, savor each moment, aware that this transcendent feast is not just a meal but the start to something haunting.

Things could not be peaceful forever though. Madame pushed back a bit and stood, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for being such pleasant guests tonight. I do believe a lot has happened since the last extermination. I am aware you overlords, or the ones that had the decency to show up, are aware that we must do something to protect our souls. Which begs the question.” Madame stops, taking her time to look at everyone. “What do you plan to do when the exorcists come down here to kill you all?” She asks bluntly. Carmilla inhales sharply not saying much, which Zestial just sips a cup of tea, his usual. Alastor and Rosie exchange a glance, but before anyone can say anything, Vox interjects.

“Well Madame I think you’ll be pleased to know Vox-tech has been working on protection for the people and-“

“Do you really think a piece of technology will stop this?” Madame asks. Her eyes narrow at him, and Vox silently sinks into his seat. Madame sighs, her shadow pulling her chair farther back so she can walk around the table, to the empty seat across from her. “Since you all clearly have no clue what to do, I presume I’ll share my idea.” Madame says, before she snaps her fingers. In an instant, a large shadow, almost in the shape of a sphere, forms next to her. It’s whispy and hyperactive, almost alive, before it sinks to the ground. Slowly it’s fades away. The guests stand, wanting to get a closer look, before the shadow turns to fog, and falls away. There in it’s place is the exorcist from the coliseum.

“Madame-!” Carmilla says, but is met with a stern look from Madame.

“Something wrong?” She asked. A chain formed around the exorcists neck, one that wrapped around Madame’s hand. She holds it tight, like she’s holding a wild animal back. Velvet wonders if this is because she’s afraid, or excited.

“Go on. Speak.” Madame says to the girl next to her. She looks down at the ground, a bit bruised but shining brightly nevertheless.

“I do not wish-to fight.” The girl says, and Madame just smiles.

“Let her go.” Charlotte says. The overlords look at Charlotte with a surprised expression. Madame says nothing, and instead tilts her head to look at Charlotte.

“Let her go?” Madame repeats, and Charlotte nods.

“Yes. Let her go.” Charlotte says, suddenly feeling nervous. Madame doesn’t appear to be upset, which only confuses and makes Charlotte even more anxious.

“Very well then. Have it your way.” Madame says, dropping the chained leash. Suddenly, the exorcist flies up and lunges at Zestial, attacking him. The overlords all disperse, watching as he throws her off of him.

“No! Wait stop!” Charlotte says, trying to get the situation under control. Alastor’s eyes widen, and he grins, tentacles appearing from the ground quickly, attempting to scare her by attacking her wings. The moment his tentacle touches the feathers on her back, it burns, and Alastor pulls back immediately, seemingly confused. The room erupts in screams and chaos, Rosie attempting to get the exorcist away from her as she tries to kill her.

“My dear, you do realize the mess you’ve made, yes?” Alastor asks as he summons himself next to Madame. She stands by the windows, the starts casting an almost colorful display over her, making her seem ethereal. Madame nods.

“Well then maybe you should get Lilith’s pet under control.” Madame inquires. Alastor just grins, nodding before lifting her hand to kiss the back of it.

“Of course Madame.” He says, before fading into his shadow. Carmilla stands next to a tired Zestial, while Velvet and Vox stand on the dining table, holding onto each other for dear life, while Rosie takes to poking fun at the exorcist, who seems to only want to harm Charlotte at this point.

“You filthy girl-!” The exorcist cries, before she chokes, a black chain wrapping around her neck quickly, and pulling her back.

“Enough Evangeline.” Madame says sharply. At this, the exorcist grows quiet almost immediately. Charlotte is in tears and on the floor, Alastor picking her up by her underarms, setting her straight.

“This is why you be quiet.” Alastor whispered to Charlotte.

“Oh~ that was fun! Let’s do this again.” Rosie says delightfully. Madame just nods to her, an unreadable expression adorning her features.

“Yes, let’s.” Madame says, tugging Evangeline’s chain sharply. Evangeline stands, now looking a bit shorter than Madame, while Madame’s shadows remove Vox and Velvet from the dining table. Quickly, everything is back in order, as Madame ushers the guests to take their seats. Now, Evangeline sits at the head of the table, across from Madame.

“Everyone, this is Evangeline, my sister.”

“Sister?” Vox asks, shying away from the exorcist.

“Didn’t you hear her?” Velvet asks, nudging him with her elbow. He just nods, but says nothing.

“Yes. Sister. I’ve obtained her for one reason and that reason only.” Madame said, before Zestial interjected.

“What reason doth that be?” Zestial asks. Madame just smiles, with a snap of her fingers, Evangeline is turned around, wings sprawled out.

“To send a message of course.” Madame says. Before a paper is presented to all the guests.

“During the extermination I had the pleasure of speaking to Adam.”

”Wait Adam like, first man Adam?” Velvet asked, and Madame nods.

“Yes, him. He believes he can wipe us out fairly quickly. He said he’d be back for me specifically.” Madame said, looking out to the windows, before continuing. “So, I decided it would be best if we sent him a lovely letter. Charlotte,” Madame said, “I know you spoke to him recently. If he wants to come to your hotel, I believe it’s only right we make other areas just as much of a target.” Madame said, before Carmilla frowned.

”Why should we? Won’t that make us all targets?” Carmilla asked. Madame nodded.

“Yes, but with too many locations they’ll spread themselves thin.” Madame said.

“Why are we talking about this in front of her?” Rosie asked, pointing to Evangeline. “Won’t she just tell them what we’re planning?” Rosie asked. Madame shrugged.

”Possibly. I never said she was going back alive.” Madame said. “But this topic can wait. I’m ready for dessert.” She said, and suddenly shadows were back with all kinds of desserts in the middle of the table. Evangeline was now facing the rest of the guests, all who stared at her with a predatory gaze.

Y/n L/n was born in the year 1885, with her sister, Evangeline, arriving in 1887, just two years apart. Y/n was the eldest among her siblings, having two younger sisters and a younger brother. Sadly, the youngest sister passed away at the tender age of twelve, a victim to scarlet fever. Despite this tragedy, Evangeline remained the darling of the town, known for her innocence and beloved by all. Meanwhile, their brother Arthur matured at a quicker pace than Evangeline.

The family's prosperity stemmed from being victims of the Salem witch trials back in the 1600s. This dark history actually served as a catalyst, enabling their ancestors to establish a business that had been passed down through generations, making Y/n the rightful heir. Initially, the business catered to workers and provided scrubs, but Y/n had grander visions.

Under Y/n's leadership, the business transformed from producing simple workwear to crafting exquisite dresses, corsets, feathered hats, and other fashionable garments. These creations were designed to empower young women and elevate their sense of self-esteem, departing from the mundane work attire of the past.

As word spread of the boutique's exceptional offerings, affluent families began flocking to Y/n's establishment, seeking custom dresses and elegant accessories. Evangeline, always cheerful and accommodating, played a pivotal role in welcoming and attending to the guests while Y/n conducted business.

Despite the initial success and harmony, ominous clouds loomed on the horizon, signaling that peace and tranquility might not last forever.

Evangeline's heart fluttered whenever she was around Alexander, a charming and charismatic gentleman who frequented the boutique who was also from a wealthy family. Their budding romance seemed like a fairy tale at first, but little did Evangeline know, Alexander harbored hidden agendas. But Y/n could see it from a mile away. But alas, she let her younger sister be. She did not feel threatened by Alexander. To her, he was simply another walking wallet right into her arms.

As their relationship deepened, Alexander subtly planted seeds of doubt about Y/n in Evangeline's mind. He would gently question Y/n's decisions, pointing out areas where he believed Evangeline could excel if given more freedom.

"My darling Evangeline," Alexander would whisper, his voice dripping with honeyed words, "you're a diamond in the rough, waiting to shine. But Y/n's cautious approach is holding you back. Imagine what you could achieve with your own vision."

Evangeline, enamored and impressionable, began to see Y/n's protective actions as barriers to her dreams rather than safeguards for their family's legacy. Alexander's persuasive arguments fueled Evangeline's desire for independence and recognition.

"You deserve more than being just Y/n's shadow," Alexander would say, his eyes filled with feigned concern. "Don't let fear of failure hold you back. Take risks, Evangeline. Follow your heart."

Unaware of Alexander's ulterior motives, Evangeline started to view Y/n's guidance and decisions with skepticism. She began to prioritize her relationship with Alexander over the family's business, inadvertently straining her bond with Y/n.

As Alexander's influence grew, Evangeline's perception of Y/n shifted, painting Y/n as overly controlling and unsupportive of her aspirations. The once-close sisters found themselves on opposite ends, with Alexander's manipulative tactics driving a wedge between them.

Behind the facade of love and affection, Alexander manipulated Evangeline's emotions and perceptions, using her vulnerability to further his own agenda. The tangled web of romance and manipulation threatened to unravel the familial harmony Y/n had worked so hard to maintain.

One evening, as Evangeline sat in her room at the family estate, Alexander approached her with a concerned expression. "Evangeline, my love," he began, "I've noticed something troubling about Y/n's management of the business. It seems she's keeping you in the dark about important decisions."

Evangeline furrowed her brow, surprised by Alexander's revelation. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Alexander leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "I've heard whispers among the staff," he confided, "about Y/n making decisions behind your back, as if she doesn't trust you with the business's future. You deserve to have a voice, Evangeline. You shouldn't be kept in the dark."

Doubt crept into Evangeline's mind as she pondered Alexander's words. She had always trusted Y/n implicitly, but Alexander's claims sowed seeds of suspicion and resentment. "But Y/n has always had our family's best interests at heart," Evangeline countered weakly.

"Of course, my dear," Alexander reassured her, his tone soothing. "But perhaps Y/n fears that your ideas and vision might outshine hers. You're more than capable, Evangeline. Don't let anyone keep you from realizing your full potential."

In the following days, Alexander's subtle manipulation and peer pressure intensified. He highlighted instances where Y/n had made decisions without consulting Evangeline, portraying Y/n as controlling and domineering. "You're the future of this business, Evangeline," he would say, planting seeds of ambition and discord.

Fueled by Alexander's influence, Evangeline confronted Y/n during a heated family meeting about the business's direction. "Why are you keeping me in the dark, Y/n?" Evangeline demanded, her voice trembling with emotion. "I deserve to be involved in every decision!"

Y/n, taken aback by Evangeline's sudden hostility, tried to explain. "Evangeline, I've always valued your input, but some decisions require swift action. I never intended to keep you in the dark." Y/n would say sternly, trying to keep her composure.

But Alexander's words echoed in Evangeline's mind, clouding her judgment and fueling her resolve to assert herself in the business. The once-unbreakable bond between the sisters fractured under the weight of manipulation and misunderstandings, orchestrated by Alexander's cunning tactics.

Evangline’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she and Alexander stood before Y/n, their announcement hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

“We’re engaged, Y/n,” Evangeline exclaimed, her voice filled with joy. “And we believe it’s time for me to take over the business. After all, I’ll be married soon and would want to pass it down to our children someday.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief as Evangeline and Alexander stood before her, their engagement bombshell hanging heavily in the air. The room fell silent as Y/n processed the news, her shock palpable.

“You’re getting engaged without even discussing it with me first?” Y/n’s voice cracked with incredulity, her tone carrying a mix of surprise and hurt.

Evangeline, caught off guard by Y/n’s reaction, tried to explain. “Y/n, we thought you would be happy for us,” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.

But Y/n’s shock quickly turned into frustration and anger. “Happy for you?” Y/n’s tone sharpened, her words laced with bitterness. “How can I be happy when you’re making decisions that affect our entire family without even consulting me?”

Evangeline’s expression faltered, her eyes filling with tears. “But Y/n, I love Alexander, and we want to build a future together,” she pleaded.

Y/n’s emotions boiled over, her hurt turning into harsh words aimed at Evangeline. “Love blinds you, Evangeline,” Y/n snapped, her voice rising. “You’re being manipulated, and you don’t even see it!”

Evangeline’s tears spilled over as Y/n’s words hit home. “I’m not being manipulated, Y/n,” she protested, her voice trembling.

But Y/n’s frustration didn’t stop there. Her gaze turned to Alexander, her tone dripping with disdain. “And you,” Y/n directed her anger at him, “using Evangeline to get to our family fortune, shamelessly preying on her innocence and trust.”

Alexander’s facade of charm faltered for a moment, his expression betraying a hint of unease. “I assure you, Y/n, my intentions are genuine,” he tried to placate her.

But Y/n wasn’t buying it. “Genuine? You’re nothing but a leech, Alexander,” Y/n’s words cut through the tension, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “I won’t let you manipulate our family for your selfish gain.”

As the tension escalates during the argument, Evangeline turns to Y/n, her eyes filled with confusion and hurt. “What do you mean, Y/n?” she asks, her voice trembling with emotion.

Y/n’s expression hardens, her resolve firm as she faces Evangeline. “The whole family can see it, Evangeline,” Y/n’s tone is resolute, her words cutting through the air. “Alexander is just after our money, and he’s using you to get to it.”

Evangeline’s eyes widen in shock, disbelief evident on her face. “No, that’s not true,” she protests, her voice tinged with desperation.

But Y/n doesn’t back down. “Open your eyes, Evangeline,” Y/n urges, her voice filled with urgency. “He drove Arthur away from you, manipulated him to keep you to himself. He’s tearing our family apart for his own selfish motives.”

The weight of Y/n’s words hangs heavily in the air, the truth of the situation sinking in for Evangeline amidst the chaos of emotions and accusations.

In response to Y/n’s accusations, Alexander turns to Evangeline with a dismissive smirk, his tone dripping with condescension. “Evangeline, Y/n is lying,” he asserts confidently. “She’s never been in love, so she wouldn’t even know what she’s talking about.”

Evangeline, torn between her trust in Alexander and the unsettling doubts planted by Y/n’s words, looks to him for reassurance. “But Alexander, I love you,” she insists, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

Alexander’s charm kicks into full gear as he takes Evangeline’s hand, his gaze filled with faux affection. “And I love you, my dear,” he replies smoothly. “Don’t let Y/n’s jealousy and lies cloud your judgment. We have a future together, away from all this drama.”

As the tension reaches its peak, Y/n’s resolve remains unyielding as she delivers a stark ultimatum to Evangeline. “If you choose to marry him, Evangeline, I will never speak to you again,” Y/n’s voice is firm, her words carrying the weight of finality. “You will be disowned from the family and removed from the business entirely.”

Evangeline’s eyes widen in shock and hurt, her voice barely above a whisper as she asks, “Why are you doing this to me, Y/n?”

Y/n’s expression softens for a moment, but her determination doesn’t waver. “I’m thinking of the family business, Evangeline,” Y/n’s tone is unwavering, her words laced with a mix of sadness and pragmatism. “I’m thinking of what will benefit us, not silly emotions like love that can be manipulated and used against us.”

The gravity of Y/n’s decision hangs heavily in the air, the rift between the sisters widening as Evangeline grapples with the harsh reality of Y/n’s ultimatum.

Evangeline's voice trembles with a mix of defiance and sorrow as she tells Y/n, "I'm going to marry Alexander anyway, Y/n." Her eyes reflect a sense of resignation, knowing the rift her decision will create between her and her sister.

Y/n receives the wedding invitation in the mail, her heart heavy as she reads Evangeline's words inviting them to the wedding. Despite the hurt in Evangeline's voice, Y/n remains steadfast in her decision not to attend, unwilling to condone a union she strongly opposes. This choice further deepens the rift between the sisters, leaving Evangeline feeling the pain of their absence on her special day.

“You don’t need her anyway.” Alexander says to Evangeline when she tells him how hurt she was her sibling did not show up.

In 1901, tragedy strikes as Evangeline dies during childbirth. The funeral is held, and Y/n, Arthur, and Evangeline’s only child, a son, attend. However, Alexander chooses not to attend and sends his son with the nanny instead. Y/n isn’t surprised, but she did debate going to their estate to tell Alexander how much of a horrible husband he was.

In 1915, Y/n tragically dies from poisoning due to alcohol. The family faces yet another loss, marking the end of an era filled with turmoil and strained relationships. Arthur is the last sibling left, the head of the business, and serves out his life fulfilling Y/n’s visions, making her the face of the family name forever.

“You always did only worry about yourself.” Evangeline thought to herself as she began her dessert.

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area

Chapter 1

“A cult?” Jason blew out a bubble and enjoyed the disgusted face that Bruce made.

“Yes.” His voice was tight. Jason could tell that he wanted to turn back to the Batcomputer. “They’re operating in Park Row-”

“Crime Alley.”

Batman sighed and accepted the correction. “I would like to propose a joint operation.” He sounded so tired and not very optimistic.

Jason eyed up his on-again-off-again Father figure and popped his gum, thinking it over. Bruce clearly expected him to say no, fuck off, and take the information himself.

He could. There was nothing wrong with that.

“Sure, old man.” He clapped Bruce on the shoulder and finished screwing together the tool he’d brought in for maintenance. He’d had to fabricate a new part and the Red Hood didn’t exactly have the equipment for that in his two room apartment. “Thursday night alright?”

“They’ve a planned meeting on Wednesday, actually,” Bruce said, frowning slightly at him but looking soft around the eyes with confused hope. “Would that be possible? They seem to gather mid-week.”

Jason let out a sigh. “I can make it work. Ta, old man.” He made sure to toss off an especially insouciant salute as he sauntered away. Sure, he was willing to put a little effort into maintaining their relationship, but he couldn’t be too compliant. If you gave Bruce an hour of your time, he wrote you down on the schedule for an hour every day until one of you fuckin’ died in a warehouse explosion. Something like that.

He wasn’t that trusting, though. Jason took the information that Bruce emailed him and did his own legwork. He wasn’t stubborn enough to bother redoing digital work that Bruce had done or gotten from Babs. That would be a waste of his time, and he valued his time. But he scoped out the cult’s meeting place.

Of all the undignified things, it was a rented room in the community center. Jason found himself sheepishly breaking into the office to check on the reservation and poking around the room itself.

There was nothing special about it. It was a shitty room with shitty paneled walls and cheap, well-trodden grey carpet. It boasted a few too many tables, arranged in a U shape, and a whiteboard pushed up against the wall that hadn’t been cleaned off well enough to erase what he was pretty sure was a reference to their lord and savior, destroyed of worlds.

So. That was a point for Bruce’s cult thing.

He hadn’t really doubted it, if he was honest, given that this had originated in a tip from Zatanna. She had told him as a courtesy that some creep had moved their base of recruiting and operations into Gotham.

Apparently, recruitment was going pretty well. The room could seat like, twenty? Jason counted chairs and left.

He came back on Wednesday at 8pm with the Batman and an attempt at a good attitude. He probably wasn’t going to need any of the weapons on his person. They were going to check in so that this guy knew they had an eye on him and that he would be suspect number one if there was any hint of people or cats being sacrificed.

Bruce fucked off to peer in the windows, like the giant caped creep he was. Jason took the front door, nodded congenially at the old man in the office, and knocked at the room the cultists had reserved.

He could hear Bruce internally curse through the comm. It was silent, of course, but the quality of the silence changed. “Knock knock,” he called, since a literal knock hadn’t done it. He opened the door without waiting. “Just checking in, heard you’re new to town and that you tried to feed Zatanna’s shitty little cousin to the god of Death?”

The room stared at him. A whiteboard marker squeaked to a stop. He idly followed the sound to the board. A …. Huh. that looked like some kind of mystical bullshit.

“You’ve been touched by death,” said the fraud himself, a man in his fifties with a wildly pretentious robe that was wrinkled from the paper bag he’d clearly used to carry it in. He outstretched the hand that didn’t have a blue whiteboard marker in it. “You would be a perfect sacrifice to our Lord.”

“So will it be,” said about half the people there, at the same time a young woman said, “No shit?” in an impressed tone.

Jason rolled his eyes through the helmet, unintimidated by the room of weirdos standing up. The kind of people who gathered at a community center on a Wednesday night were not going to summon the God of Death. Light glinted off the window where Batman was clearly weighing the possibility of breaking glass and swinging in. Jason silently waved him off with a headshake. They weren’t to the point of property damage yet. He took a couple of steps into the room with deliberate swagger. “What a lucky guess,” he drawled. “The Red Hood has had brushes with death? No one but a legitimate prophet could possibly make such a statement.”

“I’m not a prophet,” said the man, and turned back to his white board. “I’m a devote.” He rubbed out a line with the meat of his hand and then hurriedly wrote in ‘The Red Hood’ in a tilted cursive. “The sacrifice!” he shouted, throwing his arms wide and accidentally making a big blue line through his evil little sigil or whatever it was. The elderly lady to Jason’s right opened up her bag, thrust her hand in, and came up with a fistful of -

“Salt?” Jason asked, confused and unimpressed as the silly twit threw her handful of salt at him. “Thanks, I’m better seasoned now,” he snarked. He pulled out a gun easily. “Alright, let’s get serious. I-”

The whiteboard was glowing. The blue letters were glowing green.

“What the fuck?” Jason said. The windows exploded with broken glass as Batman decided now was the time to make his entrance. He barely got to see it before something hooked unpleasantly on his body and soul and twisted it sideways.

The world was green now. Holy shit. Jason spun a circle on uneven ground and gaped. “...Egg on my face,” he said. “I’ve been sacrificed. Consider me embarrassed.” A quick check showed that his comm was useless. It was giving off a steady little eeee of static that kinda sounded like screams. Whimsical. Jason turned it off.

He wasn’t panicking yet. The void wasn’t that freaky. It was weird, sure, but there weren’t any demons or enemies. He flicked the safety off his favorite gun just in case and frowned into the darkness.

It was like he was standing under a spotlight with no light source. There was ambient lighting in all directions, but the world faded into darkness only a few dozen feet away. He took some experimental steps to determine that, yeah, the field of visibility traveled with him.

Well. Time to get moving. Jason walked. There was nothing for the first - hour, he was gonna call it an hour. He got antsy and started jogging. The green stretched on, placid and infinite in a way that was really starting to piss him off. “Hey!” Jason barked into the void. “Anyone there?”

There was an answering electronic whirr. He stopped in his tracks. Jason looked in every direction, including up, and only saw the fucking thing when it was basically on top of him.

The vehicle was probably most equivalent to a spaceship, he decided, as what was probably a 3-man craft at most parked. The top clicked. It opened from the top and someone bounded out. “Hey!” came an annoyed male voice. “What’s the deal, bud?” The stranger landed in front of Jason with crossed arms and a pissy expression. His white hair floated above his head as if he was the little fucking mermaid in the ocean.

Jason scowled, the back of his mind cataloging the other guy’s outfit as pristine and undamaged and his musculature as athletic. “What’s it to you?” he asked, defensive. He didn’t know if it was safe to give information to this guy. “I might be a little lost,” Jason conceded.

“A little lost,” the guy repeated, and then- okay, he flew in a weird little flippy circle, scowling all the while as Jason gaped. “A little lost.” He scoffed. Then he let out a sigh that made his whole body look smaller. He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. “This is a weird question,” he said, making it sound more defensive than apologetic. “Did you uh.” He scowled, like the words were distasteful. “Look,” he tried again. “Are you delulu, or did you get caught up as the sacrificial bride? I told Frank to knock that shit off.”

Sacrificial bride. Jason felt his brain go offline for a moment. Say what now.

“Helloooo,” the… was this rando a god of death? He was impatient. He flew way up into Jason’s personal space and snapped his fingers. “Someone just smashed metal trash bins together at my grave to get my attention, basically. No, it’s more like one of those spam pop ups that says there’s hot girls in your area?” He made a gesture at Jason. “Only it’s loud. It’s ringing in my ears, and I had to come track you down. Do you think this is funny?”

“...Sacrificial bride?” Jason finally managed to croak out.

Weirdly, this made the other guy relax immediately. “Just found out, huh,” he said, sounding much more sympathetic. “Yeah, okay, we need to sort out a spiritual divorce immediately. And then you can go home and there will be no more hot girls in my area and I can get back to my ess- my work.”

Jason took a few moments of grief and confusion to accept his apparent status. “We’re married?” he said weakly.

The white haired man looked a little sheepish. “Marriage is probably not quite accurate,” he said, and Jason felt a little bit of relief before the guy continued, “It’s more like you’re my concubine?” He sounded mortified by this. “I didn’t want this!”

“No, no,” Jason said, meaning both that he believed it and that he needed this conversation to change directions immediately. “I- who are you?” He gestured at his– what the fuck was the other side of a concubine relationship? King was the associated word that came up, but that…

“I’m nobody, really,” said the white haired man weakly. “But I may technically be King of ghosts or whatever. The Infinite Realms.” He scratched at his face. “So… yeah.”

They stood in utterly mortified silence for a long moment before he seemed to remember something. “You can call me Danny,” he offered.

“...Call me Jason,” he said.

“Thanks, Jason,” Danny said genially. “So, uh, this is a mess, right?” He started floating away backwards. “I’m going to hunt down my mentor and advisor and get some uh- advice, I guess. Do you wanna come with? Or should I come back and check in once I’ve heard from him?”

Jason weighed up his situation, the conventional wisdom about getting in vehicles with strange men, and wondered how useless his gun was going to be in this situation. Danny had never reacted to it being pointed at him, so his guess was ‘utterly unhelpful’. He put it away. “I’d like a ride, thanks,” he said dryly.

They made some stilted conversation on the ride. Danny was clearly trying to hold back and give him no identifying information. That was fascinating, because it implied that there was something Jason could do from the human world to track Danny down. It was also reassuring because there was no reason to withhold information if he’d planned to keep Jason prisoner, so, ya know, that was a good sign.

Anyway, Jason got a lot of information from Danny.

Danny was a terrible liar and he misspoke like, all the time. Jason was pretty sure he was in the ghost equivalent of school, like college or something. He talked like someone in Jason’s age group would, so he’d probably died very recently. Maybe he had been a college student when he’d died and he just hadn’t given up on that degree yet, honestly. Jason managed to drag the conversation around to education. He got nowhere with asking about literature but he hit the jackpot with science. Danny was still babbling about a telescope when he landed the …ship outside of a wonky clocktower.

Jason took off his safety belt and froze in his tracks when Danny absently stopped him with a cool hand. Jason looked down at that hand.

“You had better stay here,” Danny said. He shook his head slightly. “Clocky doesn’t like everyone.”

He melted into the chair as if he had never wanted to get up. “Alright,” Jason said.

Danny was out of the spaceship by the time that Jason realized something was very wrong with that interaction.

He hadn’t decided to sit down. He hadn’t wanted to sit back down. Did- did he actually think it was reasonable to stay behind, or would he have argued and gone in normally?

‘...I think Danny did something.’ Suspicion swirled in his gut. Jason tried to take the safety belt off and stand up. He couldn’t. It was like his muscles wouldn’t respond to it.

Well, that was pretty fuckin’ evil. His pulse picked up in his throat. It… It was some kind of compulsion? He had to do what Danny told him to do? That was really fucked up. He was starting to feel really unsafe now. He wished he’d hung back with Bruce. He wanted someone to bring him home. And weirdly, he felt betrayed. He hardly trusted Danny, didn’t know the fucker well enough to, but he hadn’t gotten that impression off the guy–

‘It wasn’t him,’ Jason realized. ‘It was the binding ritual. Danny said it wasn’t like a marriage, it’s not equal. That’s why I did what Danny wanted me to do.’

Well. Well then. If Danny didn’t know that Jason had to follow his orders, Jason was most fucking certainly not going to spell it out for him. It was a grim calculation to make, but it seemed the safest. As it was, Danny seemed to want to get rid of him as fast as possible.

So that was it. He’d play along and get Danny to spit him back out into Gotham, a young hot divorcé free on the streets.

[coldilikeit]

Chapter 1: The sleepy familiars

Male reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𓅓 ₊˚.✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

"Quick! We have to catch them!" A little Blue haired girl runs into the surface to the nowhere space to the surface to the nowhere space again with a human boy and a witch behind her

A stupid Nisse stole Frieda's magic wand claiming to be a 'witch in training'

Yeah right!

Nisse's can't be witches! Can't they?

They enter the surface and see that the Nisse is being held tight by a little boy

"uhh.. it bumped into me.. I caught it" the boy says meekly

"it's actually a she, and she stole my magic wand!" Frieda gets closer and snatches her wand back, the Nisse gets out of the boy's hold and runs to the nowhere space again

"No wait- urgh we can't follow her now! How do we get home?!" Hilda groans

"you don't happen to know your Nisse?" David asks meekly "Can we uhh... Borrow them?"

"We're running out of time! We need to get back to the library or else the familiars will forever be asleep!" Frieda panicks

It was now Hilda's turn to panic "And if we don't get there in time, I'll fall asleep too!"

"that's sounds fun... Can I join?" The boy says "I'll ask my Nisse for help" he smiles

"oh splendid! The more the merrier! I'm Hilda, that's David and Frieda, they're my friends, Frieda's a witch and I'm her familiar"

"I'm (Name)! It's nice to meet you all, I was getting bored, there's not much to do here"

✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𓅓 ₊˚.✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

A witch lost her familiar and in grief, cast a spell that makes other familiars sleepy so no one would get familiars

What an adventure.

You've been alone for so long, trapped in the four walls of your bedroom, too afraid to get out because of your family's hostility

The witch cries "If I can't have my familiar! No one can have one!" She casts another spell and Hilda falls asleep "No Hilda!" David runs to Hilda

"wait! Frieda! Don't cast anything! Something's not right!" You yell "What! I can't hold this spell much longer! She'll get to us!"

The symptoms of the witch's cat, The cat started eating a lot but keeps on puking it anyway... And hasn't been seen for 8 hours...

"Miss witch! Hold on please! Don't hurt the other familiars! Your cat is just fine!" You tell the rampaging witch, she stops casting spells and destroying the library and looks at you intently

"what do you mean?" She glares

"does your cat have a spot they feel safe in?" You ask "We have to go there!"

She looked puzzled but hopeful, she just wants to see her familiar again

She leads the four of you into her lair and up the attic, in the attic there's a small empty fireplace that hasn't been used for ages, it seemed like the cat turned that fireplace into a nest...

"aww... She had kittens" David coos and he plops a sleeping Hilda down a chair in the attic, "Cats usually give birth for about hours... And they find a safe secluded space" you smile

"Now can you undo your spells on the familiars!?" Frieda glares

"uh- yes! Of course... It seems I overreacted.." she fixes her glasses

"Oh did you!?"

✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𓅓 ₊˚.✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

The witches hug their now awake familiars, the matter has been resolved

"Do these things happen to you guys a lot?" You ask

"yeah... But they're fun,Such is the life of an adventurer" Hilda bows and you and the other two giggle

"would you like to join us for the future escapades? It would be nice to have another boy in the group" David suggests

You fiddle with your hands "If you'd like me to join"

"Then it is official! We have another member!" Frieda announces, Hilda tilts her head "You live far away tho.."

"that's not a problem for me, my Nisse loves to travel, and I'm kind of the only one who speaks to him, and my family doesn't really care when I'm gone" you smile

✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧𓅓 ₊˚.✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺

ILOVWHILDA

Also they are 11

[barefoot-joker]

Snake in the Garden Pt 4~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome to Snake in the Garden Part 4! In this chapter we meet a few new characters, so I hope I got their personalities right. I do hope you all like the new chapter as I had a lot of fun writing it. As always, enjoy and I hope you have a great day/night!

Words: 2395

Warnings: Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

I heaved as I ran through the streets of Hell. I couldn’t get enough air to my lungs and my legs were growing weary of the journey. However, I kept my eyes on the marquee and just kept going. You’re almost there, Y/n! Come on! Soon you’ll be free!

I didn’t take the time to look at the demons surrounding me but my ears caught all of the screams, moans and conversations as I passed. A couple of times I was grabbed at, but I just shoved them away and continued my trek. When I reached the gate of the hotel I stopped to catch a breather, my hand grasping the iron bars to steady myself. I looked back from where I came, the palace a tiny speck in the distance. I wanted to pat myself on the back but I knew I wasn’t in the clear. Until I was back home Lucifer could rear his head at any moment. Speaking of the Devil, I wondered how long it would be till he noticed I was gone.

Taking in a few more breaths, I walked up the cobblestoned hill to the front door. The marquee shone a bright red and I felt like I was bathed in blood. Stopping at the front door, I marveled at how intricate it was. The stained glass formed a circus tent pattern and the rim held a golden tint to it. Bringing my hand up, I knocked on the glass, a knot forming in my stomach. What if all this work was for nothing? Would the Princess even listen to my case?

I didn’t have much time to think when the door opened. In front of me stood a tall, lean man dressed all in red. Among his red and black hair, black deer antlers stood and what I assumed to be his ears straightened in surprise. His red eyes felt different compared to Lucifer’s, his feeling more sinister. His grin seemed to grow wider as he looked me up and down. “Hello, my dear. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel. I’m Alastor, the hotel’s facility manager. How can I be of-”

I rushed past him and slammed the door shut, my nails digging into the golden wood. “-service to you?”

I spun around to face him, my eyes blown wide in panic. “I need to speak to Charlie! Please, it’s an emergency!”

I clasped my hands tight in prayer and tried to make myself look as vulnerable as possible. “Charlie isn’t here at the moment, I’m afraid. She’s out on some business with Vaggie. The two of them should be back soon though.”

I groaned and hung my head in despair. How long will she be gone?

I lifted my head back up and let out a slight shriek at how close the deer man was. He was practically on top of me, our noses almost touching. “Though I could speed along the process if I was told what constitutes an emergency.”

I hadn’t noticed it before but as the man spoke his voice held a static to it, almost like an old radio. “Listen, Alastor was it? I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.”

“Hmm. I guess you’ll just have to wait then. Husker, make this sinner feel at home.”

I looked to the left and saw a bar that looked way too out of place. Blue boards made up the walls and floor while the dark oak bar top sat in the middle. The cat demon, Husker, looked up from drying a glass and sighed. Alastor wrapped his arm around my shoulder and dragged me over to the bar, shoving me at a stool. I sat on top of it and gulped as the radio man kept eyeing me from his post nearby. “What’ll you be havin’?”

“Oh, um, a water is fine.”

“Not much of a drinker, eh?”

“No. Besides, I don’t really drink around strangers.”

Husker shrugged and turned his back to me. When he returned to my side, he placed a rocks glass in front of me on the bar top. I grabbed it and sipped my water. “So, I couldn’t help but overhear you’re in an emergency. Got some loan sharks after you or somethin’?”

“Oh no, much worse. It’s a long story.”

“I’ve heard my fair share of long stories as a bartender.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable sharing. I’d much rather wait for Charlie.”

“I can respect that. Hell is a rough place and if you’re not careful it can swallow you whole. I learned that the hard way.”

He sighed and continued to dry glasses. As I sipped my drink, I glanced over to see Alastor still staring at me. That maniacal grin never leaving his face and his eyes cool and calculating. “So um, what’s Alastor’s deal? Why does he keep staring at me like I’m fresh meat at the butchers?”

“He’s always like that, scoping out the new guests. But a word of advice, don’t make a deal with him whatever you do. You think your life is horrible now, you got another thing comin’ with him.”

“I see.”

Suddenly I felt something grazing my ankles. I peered down to see a very short woman with a red bob, a stripe of yellow hair in front of her one giant pink eye. My eyes widened upon seeing the silver blade in her hands. The female looked up and a giant grin spread across her thin lips. “You're not meant to be down here, are you?”

“Huh?”

“You smell…human. Sinners have a certain scent and you don’t have it. We’ve got a live one, guys!”

She hopped into my lap and grabbed the top of the nightgown. I gulped at how the knife was slightly pointed at my throat. “You’re pretty for a live one, not that I’ve seen many like you before.”

“T-thanks?”

“How rude of me! I’m Niffty! I clean.”

She shook me back and forth. “A live one, hmm?”

Suddenly I felt a hand tighten on my shoulder. I looked back to see Alastor, the end of his smile reaching well past his eyes. “You didn’t quite introduce yourself to us, did you, my dear?”

“Leave her alone, Alastor!”

“Tsk, tsk, Husker. I just want to know what I should call our newest arrival.”

“I, I, I-”

I stopped when I heard the front door open, two voices chatting as they came inside. I had never been more thankful for a door to open. “Oh, hey guys! What’s going on,” The tall blonde asked.

She looked so similar to Lucifer so she must be Charlie. “We’ve got a live one, Charlie! And to think she was trying to hide,” Nifty replied.

The Princess turned her red gaze to me and I quickly threw off the deer and housekeeper. I got down on my knees and looked up at the blonde. “Please Charlie, you have to help me! Your dad is fucking crazy-”

“Oh you must be Y/n!”

My heart dropped. No. No, no, no, no. How much does she already know?

Lucifer’s daughter scooped me up to my height and pet me on the head. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you! My dad has sent me several pictures but you look much prettier in real life. But what are you doing all the way out here? Shouldn’t you be planning a wedding?”

“That’s my problem! I don’t want to be here! Please, you’ve got to help! I’m begging you!”

I could feel tears come to my eyes as I pleaded my case. Charlie’s eyes softened and she placed her hands on my shoulders. “Here, let’s take a walk. Vaggie, can you put our shopping away?”

“Of course, honey.”

“Come on.”

The blonde took me by the shoulders and led me up the grand staircase. We went up a few floors before stopping in a room that resembled a library. Charlie ushered me to sit in one of the leather armchairs and then she followed my lead. “So tell me everything. I’m sure my dad left out a few key details.”

I did. I told her how the two of us had met up until I had been forced to say yes to marrying him. While I told my tale, she didn’t say anything. She just hummed at key parts. “So can you help me?”

“I want to, I really do. However, my dad-”

“Fucking kidnapped me, Charlie! Do you really want me to go back to that?!”

She opened her mouth to say something when suddenly her phone rang. She pulled it out of her red suit jacket and her eyes widened. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s my dad.”

“Shit! I’m not here!”

“But…”

“You see the good in others don’t you, Charlie? Can’t you see the good in you helping me?”

She bit her lip before sighing. She clicked the answer button and held the phone to her ear. “Hey, dad. What’s up?”

Lucifer didn’t even need to be on speaker as I could hear him shouting from the phone. “Charlie dear, thank goodness you picked up! Look, I’m in serious trouble and need your assistance.”

“What can I do for you?”

“My darling bride Y/n is gone! Vanished! I left her to her own devices and when I came back she’s left me! I thought someone took her but then I found this rope hanging out the bathroom window and have you seen her? I don’t know how long she’s been gone for and I don’t want her out and about by herself. Hell’s too dangerous!”

Charlie and I made eye contact and I begged her to not give me up. Her grip tightened around her phone and I could see the battle going on in her head. 

“Sorry dad, I haven’t seen her. I’ll keep an eye out though.”

“If you do find her please make sure she’s unharmed. I want my dear apple to be in one piece after all.”

“You’ve got it. But, hey, I’ve got to go. Vaggie’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, thank you sweetie.”

“You’re welcome. Love you. Bye.”

She disconnected the call. I let out the breath I was holding. She did it. She actually was going to help me! 

“Okay, I know somebody who can get you back to Earth. But we’d better hurry. My dad sounds like he’s getting close.”

“Thank you so much, Charlie! I really do appreciate it!”

“Hurry now!”

She summoned a dark trenchcoat and fedora from thin air. I quickly put them on and out the front door we went. Our walk felt just as long as when I had run to the hotel, but this time demons didn’t seem to bother us. It was probably because the Princess of Hell was with me. We continued walking until we stopped at a very large mansion. Out front was a cobblestone drive and a fountain spraying water. Charlie and I walked up to the double set of dark blue doors and she knocked. They opened to reveal an imp butler, a small white mustache hiding his lips. “Hello, Princess! What can we do for you?”

“I need to speak with Stolas. It’s urgent, Pringles!”

“Follow me.”

We strutted inside and the little butler led us to a study. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you, Pringles.”

“Of course, Princess.”

The door shut behind him. The study was quite large with several bookcases housing thousands of novels near the walls. A desk with a tall, navy and gold chair sat behind a dark oak desk. The place seemed very fitting for a Prince. As we waited I found myself playing with my engagement ring. I willed myself to stop but my fingers kept rubbing it. Don’t get cold feet now, Y/n. You’re almost home free.

I heard the navy blue door open and I turned to see a very tall, skinny owl man. He wore a dark red jumpsuit with a wine red cape draped on his shoulders. White and black feathers made up the collar and they mingled with his own gray feathers. A smile found its way to his beak when he spotted us. “Charlie! It’s so good to see you, my dear!”

The two hugged and when he pulled away, he looked at me with his four red eyes. “Who might this be? A friend of yours?”

“Stolas, this is Y/n. My dad captured her and brought her down to Hell. We need to send her home to Earth.”

“Ah, so this is the infamous Y/n I’ve heard about. It’s a pleasure to be meeting you.”

He bowed. How many people has Lucifer told about me?

“But why would you want to go back to Earth? You’re getting married in a few months.”

“Because I don’t belong here! I was fucking kidnapped and am becoming a bride against my will! Please Mr Stolas, let me go home!”

“Have you and Lucifer made a contract together?”

“Huh?”

“I mean have you signed anything that he has given you?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

He bowed his head. “Then I can help. Just let me get my Grimoire.”

He held up his hand and a blue and gold book came flying towards him. The book looked heavy as it floated in the air but the owl Prince paid it no mind. He flipped through each of the pages until he landed on one. “Y/n, if I do this for you I cannot guarantee your safety. I know Lucifer. He’ll be looking for you until you’re in his grasp again.”

“That’s fine. As long as I can go back.”

“Very well.”

He chanted out a spell and before I knew it a purple portal materialized before my very eyes. “Go quickly now. I can’t hold this open for long.”

“Thank you, both of you. I appreciate it!”

“Go!”

I walked through and not a minute later the portal closed behind me. I looked around and smiled. I was back in my house in the hallway. I laughed triumphantly and threw off my disguise, making my way to the living room. I stopped when I heard the crunching of what sounded like…chips? I looked over to my couch and I felt my eyes widen.

“There you are! It took you long enough!”

~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST

@ladymothbeth @cosmic-spider @l0vedoe @stormz369 @strawberry-gothic @repostingmyfavs @purplechan9 @caniseethefourthsword @rl800 @froggybich @txpchhhhhhh @stayinguplate @theonlykawaiigod-blog @vash-yuu @musicb33nsstuff @zennylz @rosieposie005 @weirdgirlislonely @noxianwarmason @luksusowejachty234567 @nicky190i @flutistbyday2020 @insanepurplegrapes @rin22 @b-connie @yepperoniro @halparkebitch