#or you have to change it past the point of recognition

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 11)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught 📍 (this bitch is getting long)

Horny? Not this story yet but….Don’t worry, just wait a couple days… 👀 💦

Part 11 Caught

Taking time to cast out the line and wait for the big one to take the bait.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, jaws theme plays, fishing, sweet as fuck, and then not sweet, prostitution yelled into a crowd, rough hands, I won’t say the word ‘paddy wagon’ because the history seems to be targeted at the Irish in America so it’s called a wagon here」

Minors if you violate the MDNI I will toss you back into the river lie the pinfish you are 💥 🎣

Peaceful. Your head on his chest. Even breathes, strong heart. Corporeal. Real. There with you. A ritual to whoever brought you into his embrace, every morning you lied against him and you stared out the window. Past the greenhouse, where the woods were allowed to run wild and you knew the animals therein were safe to exist as they were meant to. Everything and everyone in their element.

His fingers would make little circles and pattern eights along your shoulder blade. Your gaze out and forward, his intently focused on the ceiling fan; then and there.

Occasionally he’d spell a word across your skin  to see if you were paying attention. Today: B R E A K F A S T ?

He didn’t want to interrupt the sounds of the radio on the dresser with the half hearted question.

He carried your plate out onto the front porch, the swinging bench as much a perfectly suitable place to eat as anywhere else. You both tended to enjoy the back porch, but he felt an urge for novelty.

As you nibbled, he stared at the car. He didn’t really want to leave, but he wanted to go somewhere with you.

“Can I take you to the water? We could fish. I’m in no rush today.” You were unsure, tilting your head a little when he asked. He had offered before but you admitted you didn’t know how. “You’ll have time to shower before work.” His index finger came over and waited for yours to hook into his.

Alastor was beyond smitten watching you and your trousers bound down his steps. Hand in hand, in the early morning breeze of the impending fall, he led you through his property to the water’s edge.

A small cup of earthworms he scrounged up while you changed, two poles from the shed, and a bucket he hoped would have fish soon enough.

As a child he often ran through the woods of his home and played pretend, and as he got older and his imagination shifted he would fish for his mother. When his friends began to date and pair off, he’d hunt animals in a parallel kind of chase. 

They took home gals, he dragged in rabbits.

And when his mother died, and the food he brought home was more than he needed, he stopped venturing past the clearing. That trek home to a bright house, his mother waiting on the back porch surrounded by the chirps of crickets was something he cherished.

But then her silhouette was gone. And the cricket’s song became one of loneliness. The walk to the house now a chore, a thing he had to do to get from Point A to Point B.

Pulling you by the hand past the field and its tall grass, into the shade of the trees where the air was so cool it bordered on wet, he wasn’t so worried about the return trip. No tedium in the navigation now.  

Alastor wasn’t loquacious as it were, but when he did feel like talking he talked. He could, and did, name every species of fish that lived in the river. The ones he liked to eat, the ones he liked to look at, and the fish he didn’t care for much at all. His mother’s favorite was bluegill, and he said it was the scariest fish when he was young.

“The fucker has spikes!” He said it like he was introducing a villain, “I grabbed one once and it flexed these spines and I dropped it. I broke a pole trying to beat one to death once because I was too scared to pick it up again.”

You’d never fished. Not because you didn’t care for it, it just wasn’t what you did. Your mother didn’t take you to rivers or the sea. You stayed in buildings and parks near people. You could see the water, just never really interacted with it. Luckily, Alastor was ecstatic to teach you. 

He saddled up behind you and explained how to cast out. It took a few tries to get it right, the release of the line a little tricky to get down at first. You could see the shine of the reels and could tell they were expensive and unused. Easily they were worth more than three dollars a piece. He bought two of them… when? The thought brought a silly, crooked smile you couldn’t contain. 

“A friend accidentally hooked his own back once.” You watched the way his gaze seemed to soften as he was looking into the distant past.

“I hope he’s gotten better at it.”

Alastor shrugged. 

Oh, right… Alastor had friends in a sense, but never had he really introduced you to someone that was remotely important. No one he lit up for, no one he invited over, no one he completely relaxed his put-on smile for. You had to wonder where they'd all gone.

“Do you ever see him?”

He shook his head, “He has a life now.”

Your chuckle wasn’t meant to be cruel, but it came off a little too incredulous, “Do you not have a life?”

He didn't look at you, which was the loudest indicator he wasn’t fond of the question. He cast out his own line, waiting to reply until he could settle, “Sweetheart, do you really think I’ve been living a life compatible with his? Or any of them?” He pulled back on the line a little to feel the tension, “Wives get uncomfortable inviting over single 40 somethings like myself. And I can only stomach so many surprise female dinner guests at such things.”

You felt like an ass. 

Being a single man at his age, with a good job, a car, and land, made people uncomfortable. A lifelong chosen bachelor is fine, a rake is expected, but someone who seemed to be disinterested in dating and in fooling around? You could imagine the looks on their wive’s faces, asking questions that were thinly veiled insults.

What do you do for fun?

Is it difficult to find respectable dates when you work in jazz?

So, you’ve never been married, is that right? Not even close?

A mood change. You waited a moment to let silence kill the topic and asked, “What is the catch you’re most proud of?”

He thought for a second before a lopsided grin spread and you felt your heartbeat relax. “A gull.”

“A gull?!”

Alastor cackled, doubling over at the memory. “I threw out my line and as it flew through the air, a gull passing by grabbed the worm. It fought me for a minute before managing to get loose.” He ended up squating, blue jeans rolled up at the ankles and covered in spurs you just now noticed. “It looked as confused as I was.”

The morning was spent reveling in new and useless information about each other. Your fear of dogs, his fear of armadillos (someone told them they had the plague). The time you accidentally walked into a stranger’s home, the time he startled an old woman because he was standing too still in a store and she thought he was a mannequin.

Moments of intimacy intermittently interrupted by a tugging of the fishing line and excited easing in of the prize.

The fuckers did have spikes. You reached out for your first successful catch and the barbs pricked you. With a hurried step back, your short heel sank into the dirt and you lost your balance. Your ass hit the ground hard, and you needed a breath before you could reply to Alastor’s worried questions.

“I’m fine”, just embarrassed, you assured him before picking up your shoe and throwing it, “I have to go home and change out these shoes.” Leftie smacked against the tree with a soft pop.

“Bring over a few pairs, if you have them. I’m sure a pair of mom’s could fit you, you can wear them home. We could toss these into the river. Shoot ‘em. Run em over.” He retrieved the thrown shoe before kneeling to remove the other one. He touched your ankle, eyes shooting up to monitor your face for any pained expressions. “Burn ‘em.”

“First my stockings last week and now my shoes? You’ve gone fire-happy.” You wiggled your toes for his peace of mind, “It’s okay, I don’t have many shoes. We’ll reconcile someday.”

Alastor sat down properly on the grass and dirt of the river’s edge and took off his shoes and socks. You thought maybe he was trying to commiserate somehow, until he shoved the socks into the toe box and slipped one onto your foot. 

You warned he didn’t have to do that and he flashed you a look, his smirk alone called you a hypocrite and made you go silent. “You can’t perform with tattered feet or a rolled ankle.” He laced them tightly, “I know where the stickers and ant hills are, I’ll be fine.”

Your eyes wandered over the bucket of water and fish, the worms in their cup, and his bare feet on the grass.

“Who taught you to be such a well rounded gentleman?” A rhetorical question, mostly. 

“My mother, of course.”

“Your father didn’t worry you’d be too soft?”

“Ah, apparently not. He left before I was born,” Alaster fidgeted with the straps of your shoes. “He hadn’t considered,” every word was measured, “the realities of,” you could see him searching for the words in real time; this was a conversation he had never had before, “of being with my mother before knocking her up.”

The ‘family planning’ conversation on the kitchen table fluttered back to you.

“Oh, can I have permission to hate him?” Always the easiest emotion.

He clicked his tongue, hands busy looping your shoes together by their straps and then attaching them to his belt loop.

“He left her the house and the land before going. Kept his promise to help take care of me, in that sense. So, no. I think indifference is fair enough.” He grabbed your fish by the tail and placed it into the bucket. “Kinda funny though, had he stuck around he’d have seen how the only thing I got from him was his biggest worry: my complexion!” A joyless laugh, “But I’m just like her in all the ways that matter.”

It came out before you could think it through, “He didn’t love your mother?”

He winced. “Cowards can love just fine, I think. Maybe they love the hardest actually.” You nodded, knowing this wasn’t a philosophical debate where your opinion was needed. “I mean, what kind of man just gives away his only assets?” Alastor leaned over to fix the collar of your blouse, “A scared idiot in love, of course.”

You wondered about ‘family planning’. In their age it was nothing short of guessing and lamb innards. It was impossible to pretend you knew what his father would have lived through had he stayed. But you knew very well what Alastor lived through because he left. New Orleans was different than many other parts of the country when it came to mixed children, but the attitude was less acceptance and more a baseline tolerance for their existence.

The conversation, and shoe change, brought a natural end to the morning. Alastor helped you up, taking the opportunity to brush off your backside. 

He led you until the clearing, he knew the land was flat there, and slowed down to let you walk a little bit ahead. The view of the house was much more inviting with you in it.

As promised, a shower. Originally alone, Alastor sitting on the toilet seat talking to you about dinner. Then he got quiet. He startled you a little when he peeked behind the curtain but everything settled when he got inside and his hands wrapped around your waist. Kisses for kiss’s sake. Skin on skin just to feel closer than you were before. A hum buzzing his chest as you hugged him tightly and wasted some water. Well, ‘wasted’ is subjective. The warmth radiating off his stomach rivaled the shower’s spray. You knew there wasn’t time for a nap, but the comfort was so deeply rooted you worried you’d fall asleep in his arms then and there. 

His mothers shoes did fit, a pair of her black double straps with a nice wide heel replaced your T-straps and their damned thin one. The offer and action of presenting them to you was bigger than could be acknowledged. It was clear in how he wiped them clean with drilled in focus and set them in front of the bed for you like the main course of a fancy meal. The way they’d been kept packaged and neat in the guest closet. 

“Throwing them away seemed a waste. Glad they could be of use.” He said it so casually but it was more than that. When she died he packed away her items and forgot about them. He couldn’t throw them away. It still felt like her house, after all. Who was he to change anything?

It was a little surprise to himself when he offered them to you. It seemed natural at the moment but as he said it his calm heart backtracked. Was that okay to do? Was it disrespectful to his mother? Was it rude to offer you a dead woman’s things? Would you be uncomfortable?

The little strings of worry all cut loose though when you did the straps and said, “I’ll return them in perfect condition.”

He had thought you’d take them forever. But no, that was better. “I’ll buy you your own just like them.”

You quickly buried the sincere sweetness of the moment with a joke, “Finally this long con is paying off!” What else could you do, threading the strap of your beau’s dead, dearly loved mother’s heels? It was like being on cloud nine with lead shoes. Confusingly wonderful and supremely daunting. You were literally walking in her shoes. The irony made you squeeze your arms to your sides to make sure your sweat pads were in their place.

Alastor thought if all you were getting out of this was a pair of shoes, you were definitely coming up in the red. 

Negative. 

Losing out. 

He knew it was a joke,  but had it been true he’d build a home on his land and fill it with shoes and dresses and whatever else you asked for. A stage all your own if you wanted. He’d clap and throw flowers at your feet nightly. If you’d let him. 

Maybe he could do that anyway. Every night, praise you with his mouth in all the ways he could imagine you’d enjoy. 

The analogy carried through as he drove you to work. What was the price of admission and had he managed to afford it yet? Again, he fretted over what he was giving you in all of… whatever exactly this was.

He knew exactly what he wanted it to be and knew very well what you didn’t want. So, letting sleeping dogs lie, he instead considered what you were actually getting out of the arrangement as it stood now. 

He’d met women who just wanted a home to pretty up. You had your own space you seemed keen on so he doubted that was it. Sometimes women pursued him for his obvious disposable income. Images of you swiping the hundred off the hotel bar played across his thoughts. No, you seemed capable enough to earn more than your job paid. If anything you seemed to enjoy chasing down marks.

You’d made it clear your thoughts on marriage (“I won’t be bought by jewelry and promises of a pretty cage.”)  though he did consider what could ever make you want that legal lock. He’d had friends who would have liked the safety a husband lended their image. Women who didn’t have any need or want for men in general. But things like banking and ownership were easier with a husband. And if he was aware of their preferences, they could still enjoy their love lives as they always had tried to before marriage. Alastor had considered such an offer before. Seriously considered it. It seemed to solve all of the problems he and his lady friend had. 

His hands twisted around the steering wheel. He knew, deep in the marrow of his bones, he was always going to be alone. But the tiniest speck of desire to have someone love him and share his life remained buried in the viscera of his reality. So he turned down the sham marriage. What if he met someone inconceivable? Suddenly he would be an adulterer. Which was just hilarious to him. Such a thing could lead to a loss of employment and social shunning. 

Plus, his mother would shake her head if he opened her very deserved home to someone purely existing to make a pleasant lie for the world. Disappointment could leak straight from her grave and into the floorboards.

Everyone wants something, though. He wanted to be seen in his entirety and accepted as he was.

You?

Well. All the things you seemed to want you had. Autonomy. Adoration. Attention. 

His mind conjured images of you sitting pretty in your trousers in Beth’s. Moments like those, before he knew you, you had all of the things you wanted and seemingly needed. It made you upsettingly attractive to him. 

Alastor didn’t want to be needed by someone, he wanted to be wanted by someone who already had everything.

As the car rolled over the bridge and you both made your way into the city proper, his thoughts wandered back to the notion of rings. His mother never had one, so he had nothing to hand down. Would you wear gold, like the necklace you hung on the mirror in the guest room? Or silver?

He suppressed an embarrassed chuckle, he was getting ahead of himself again. Daydreaming while he drove like he always did. But this time you were in the car with him. 

You caught him blushing, asking if he got too much sun by the water earlier. Alastor’s eyes went wide and he laughed a forced ‘ha ha ha!’, punctuated by a flat and low “No!”

All you could do was laugh in return when he didn’t elaborate. The way he was gripping the steering wheel made his knuckles go pale through the thin skin of his hands.  But the wonky smile he had told you he wasn’t angry. 

He gave you a peck outside the theater’s side door, promised to swing by yours after work so you could grab some shoes, and drove off. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Excuse you, you’re not welcome here.”

You heard it but didn’t really register what that implied. Sometimes people tried to sneak in who’d been banned, but it was…not common. The list of people was quite short. You didn’t stop to think of them all, regardless.

You made a habit of calling Ruth by her stage name as early in the work day as you could remember, to avoid any slip ups. So when you called out to her as you worked the room after your performance, she knew to answer.

“Skye, could you bring me some water?” Leaning on the bar you watched her make her own drink, flashing you a wink. She always got tipsy and ended up behind the bar when she was in a good mood. Which was most nights. The staff didn’t mind, the real money to be made was in liquor and whatever could be passed off as beer. So the extra pair of hands was appreciated.

“You’ve been especially happy lately. Good sex?” The glass was slid to you. All you could do was nod. You’d hadn’t actually had sex in awhile, but that wasn’t anyone’s business.

Your smile barely had a chance to slip off your face, your senses too quick for your body to keep up. The awareness that something was wrong hit you fast and hard, but only milliseconds before you felt someone grab you.

Brady’s hand gripped your shoulder and pulled you backwards, something slipping around your wrists as a uniformed cop came around the corner of the atrium. You struggled to get away from him, shouting general protests to being suddenly manhandled. Your voice erupted, the first cannon shot of the war as women and men began to swarm and berate the detective.

Barely a shocked laugh could be choked out from your tightening throat. 

“You’re under arrest!” He yelled it, looking at you for just a moment before announcing it to the audience. An actor to his crowd.

“For what?!” Johnny pushed Brady with two fingers to the chest. 

“Prostitution.”

A beat of silence as the room collectively gasped. Ruth was the first one to truly lay her hands on him, snatching his hat off and smacking him across the head. The other dancers moved like a school of fish, tucking Ruth into the safety of their numbers with a simultaneous jostling of the detective.

The cop leading you away stopped, “Just her? I thought-,”

Detective Brady dusted his hat off with the back of his hand and shooed the man away. “Just her.”

Before you had reached the glass doors of the theater, you tensed and pulled back. “What the fuck are you doing, Mr. Brady?”

But Brady wasn’t looking at you. He was scanning the room. Staring into the small but fierce roiling mass of regulars, dancers, and staff filling up the doorway in front him and flooding the atrium. 

Johnny sized up Brady, getting nose to nose with him, “Show your face here again and we’ll need an ambulance, not a wagon!”

Brady leaned into the confrontation, “Now sir I’d be careful. That almost sounds like a threat.”

“Sure as shit is!” Someone hissed. 

“Hey! Brady!” You tried again in vain to get his attention.

“Hush. You confessed to it already, no point crying now.” The cop’s voice was harsh, his disgust barely hidden. His palms were calloused and scratched at the exposed skin of your arms.

“Someone! Someone call-,” Ruth snapped her fingers as the syllables teetered on the tip of her tongue.

Goosebumps rose across your shoulders like little tombstones. Your autonomic nervous system came to a crawl. The grip on your arm tightened as you had to be wretched forward and out of the front doors.

Her eyes lit up, “Alastor! Does anyone have Alastor’s work number?!” Ruth was met with confused faces and shrugs from the others.

You didn’t feel yourself begin to cry, it was a reaction to the fact you hadn’t blinked since you became aware Brady didn’t seem too interested in your reaction to this.

This wasn’t an arrest. It was a trap.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

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, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

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@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[thecoolertails]

haunted by the sonic forces rewrite that lives in my brain. every day im assaulted by my own thoughts and images

[tetsvya]

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

[cyberclouddream]

The Moon through the Houses

The Moon represents our emotional motivations and how we seek comfort and security. It’s also connected to maternal influences, our subconscious patterns, our capacity for nurturing and empathy, and how we process our feelings and replenish our emotional energy.

Moon in the 1st House:

- their emotions are readily apparent, often shaping how others perceive them

- their self-image is tied to their emotions

- strong instinct to nurture others

- react strongly to their environment and feelings of others

- often display emotions in public

- prefer familiar environments and routines out of anxiety

Moon in the 2nd House:

- feel anxious about money and find comfort in accumulating wealth

- strong attachments to family values and traditions

- self-worth influenced by financial status and material possessions

- nurture others through material or financial resources

- reckless spending during emotional highs and lows

- good financial intuition

Moon in the 3rd House:

- may find it hard to communicate without getting emotional

- strong ties to siblings, neighbors, or close friends

- pursue and learn subjects that resonate with their feelings

- in-tune with the emotions of others, making them a good listener

- often dwell on emotional experiences, leading to overthinking

Moon in the 4th House:

- feel most secure when surrounded by family or families environments

- mother or maternal figures strongly influence you, maybe to the point of emotions dependence

- often dwell on memories

- tend to keep their emotions private

- home is their sanctuary, which they invest heavily in

- changes in home dynamics have a strong impact

- exploring their roots and heritage can be very healing and therapeutic

Moon in the 5th House:

- channel emotions into creative projects

- seek out fun relationships and enjoy flirtation and spontaneity; unpredictable love life

- strong maternal instincts, especially when it comes to children or passions

- emotional and nostalgic attachment to hobbies

- seek validation and recognition in their romantic affairs and creative projects

Moon in the 6th House:

- emotions heavily influence work ethic and coworkers

- nurture others through acts of service

- emotional stability benefits strongly from structured routines

- have a knack for identifying problems and finding solutions based on gut feelings

- work may be a form of emotional healing

Moon in the 7th House:

- seek partners who can offer emotional support and security

- highly attuned to the emotions and needs of their partners

- go to great lengths to keep the peace; avoid conflict

- emotional state impacts your commitment level

- project your emotions onto your partners, causing misinterpretation

Moon in the 8th House:

- struggle with opening up to others

- obsessive feelings or fixations, especially in relationships

- fascinated by the unseen, the occult, or psychology

- past traumas or intense emotions around inheritances or shared resources

- end up very transformative relationships

- heal best through vulnerability

Moon in the 9th House:

- feel fulfilled when exploring different cultures or ideologies

- nurture through teaching

- idealistic or romanticized views of life

- family background may be tied to learning or traveling

- emotions vary with intellectual pursuits

- innate ability to connect with others from diverse backgrounds on an emotional level

- use philosophical or spiritual practices for emotional support

Moon in the 10th House:

- feel fulfilled or drained based off career success or failures, seeking validation through work achievements

- invested in how others perceive their work, valuing praise

- mother or maternal figure may inspire their career choices

- workplace greatly influences emotional health

- overly attached to career aspirations, and may struggle with balancing personal life

Moon in the 11th House:

- feel most fulfilled when surrounded by supportive friends

- desire group acceptance, mood fluctuating based on how well they fit in

- highly reactive to social injustices or causes that matter to friend group

- fear social rejection to the point of burnout

- exhibit intense loyalty to friends, sometimes to a fault

- social circles may change frequently

Moon in the 12th House:

- have a rich inner world that others struggle to understand, leading to feelings of loneliness

- require periods of solitude to recharge and process your emotions

- find healing in introspection, like journaling and meditating

- strong empathy for other people’s struggles

- dreams are a great tool to reveal unresolved issues or insights about your emotion world

- instead of feeling emotions you may analyze or intellectualize them

- natural healing abilities or desire to work in therapeutic fields

[kiddotarot]

SUN AND YOUR PENDING KARMIC GOALS.

Explanation = sun represents soul and self in the astrology with studying about it placement you can get what karmic goal and achievement you need to work on .

1. Sun in 1H/Aries = Aggression is the main point here it can be because in past life you are forced to develop a free will by involving war or you are forced to survive own your own thats the reson you enjoy the cut trusth competition. Your main goal is becoming aware of the unnecessary fighting spirit and take care of other needs .

2. Sun in Taurus/2H = With this placment you have a word which you use often " mine " . You think that your security and you are right place this can also lead you to not cutting your ties in unhappy marriage or environment because you don't learn that you can do better than this . Your pending karma is to learn to self security and trust yourself and make a strong rooted connection with yourself.

3. Sun in Gemini/3H = With this placment i can say in past life you are a publisher or teaching other thing related to spreading words . But it can also show that you are in gossip in past life you can share facts thst you don't even know is real or not just like a repoter. The duality is biggest problem for you . Your karmic goal is to express yourself cleary and fact check that you are communicating with right way .

4. Sun in cancer/ 4H = I don't be surprised if you get stuck in nostalgia often in a day. You take everyone and every relationship on a emotional level and often think and feel clingy to to the thing and person you feel familiar. Possessiveness can be problems here . Your pending karma is you set a stong connection with yourself and heal to the inner level.

5. Sun in leo/5H = You are the natural entertainers and may be tou don't have to work hard for this but you need a recognition from it and if don't get it then it can lead you to don't give people there importance. Your karmic goal is to use your charm in creativity and develop a positive attitude to gain popularity.

6. Sun in virgo/6H = This placment can lead you tobe a taskmaster but hard on yourself as well as on others. And main things that this can also give you fear of faliur. And it can also lead you to hating yourself on little faliur and mistake. The karmic goal is to love yourself and accept yourself regarless any flaws.

7. Sun in libra/7H = You love a place with harmonious and beautiful environment. You know when the things around you is right and when not. And often you find yourself most of the time putting efforts to make things right for others but in this process you can loose yourself. With your need to be liked it can lead you to fit in other standards. Your karmic goal is to takecare yourself in a relationship and find comfort in yourself.

8. Sun in scorpio/ 8H = with this you have a challenge to master the power . You can find yourself attracting a lot of people with your hidden side and charm . You love over power scenarios but it can also lead you again in karmic connection. Your karmic goal is controing is not an option you soul need to involve and invite the great divine.

9. Sun in sagittarius/9H = This make you a great followers of ethic and law and follow the rule but there is always a side when you feel you are not participating and involving yourself fully into new experiences. You are just taking your personal freedom. Your karmic goal is to understand the real meaning of life and live it don't just stuck in sitting examples.

10. Sun in Capricorn/10H = with this placement you need to understand that success is a state of life and mind its not a race . You need to establish or understand it from inner state outer world is not going to satisfy this need . Your karmic goal is to live with inner security and power first before giving it to other world.

11. Sun in Aquarius/ 11H = you can be always confused in the changing yourself or remain the same. Because your soul crave for changing and for this you have to take your freedom. It can lead you to become detached but it can also lead you to bad thing . Your karmic goal is to leave unhealthy things and become flexible in this matters.

12. Sun in pieces/12H = you can have a feeling to stuck in a victim mentality where you feel that you need to take care of other things or people because you feel that is the same scenarios where you feel victim like them. Your karmic goal is to develop your own lesson and path do not take anyone other to achieve wholeness.

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐑… 𝐍𝐎. 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you were once a feared name on the sea--once, but not anymore. your downhill life takes a turn when you decide to rob a pirate ship, and it happens to belong to one of your big brothers.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy's sister!reader x strawhats

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: smoking, mysterious backstory ooooo ahhhh, fluff and minimal angst, not enireeeely satisfied with this but its left off kinda open-ended so ill likely return to this scenario later

Now, the Strawhat Pirates were used to not knowing much about their captain’s past. He has a brother with flame powers? Sure thing. A Marine Vice Admiral for a grandfather? Okay, that’s fine. Monkey D. Dragon is his father? Whatever, they’ve heard crazier. 

But really, at this point, they might want to just sit him down and get all of it out in the open. 

Usopp wandered through a busy marketplace, Luffy’s shirtsleeve in his tight vice. Sanji tailed them as an extra precaution, one eye on his supply list and the other on the ready-to-bolt captain. 

Luffy huffed indignantly, tugging at Usopp’s grip. “I wanna explore.”

“And we want to get out of here in a timely manner,” Usopp quipped back.

And they just might have done just that, if not for the hooded figure running right through Luffy and Usopp, parting their hands. A street vendor shouted curses after them, shaking a fist. “S-Stop! Hey!”

It was no use; the thief was too far away, and the man was too old to have the energy to chase them. He slumped his shoulders and pinched his brow, raising his gaze to find the stares of Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp zeroed in on him. “What? You plan on robbin’ the old man too?”

Sanji removed his cigarette from between his teeth with a shake of his head. “Sorry. What’d they steal? Maybe we can get it back for you?”

The old man shook a dismissive hand, frown deeply set on his face. “Agh. Don’t bother. You kids don’t get yerself wrapped up with her.” That was all it took for their prying curiosity to close in on him, and suddenly the man was surrounded on all sides. “Hey, now…”

“Who?” Luffy demanded first, head cocked to the side. 

Lips agape, he shook his head and jabbed a thumb at the wanted poster pinned up to the wall beside his fruit stand. “That’s her, if you’re so curious. Been robbin’ us blind all month! The marines tried to catch ‘er, but no one can touch the bitch.”

Usopp rushed over and swiped the poster down, skimming it over with a hum. “Doesn’t look too tough. I bet we can take ‘er.”

The man rolled his eyes. “That’s what we all said.”

Sanji peeked over the sharpshooter’s shoulder as he let out a puff of smoke. He blinked, cheeks growing warm the longer he gazed at the woman pictured. “She’s… beautiful.”

Usopp squinted at the slightly faded writing scrawled under the picture. “Wanted dead or…” He snorted. “Nope, that’s it. Just dead for 40,000,000 berri.”

“Lemme see!” Luffy sidled up to Usopp and stared right at the poster’s center, recognition settling in instantly. You looked older, but that wasn’t the biggest change—joy had returned to your smile, your beaming expression showcasing a side of you he hadn’t seen since before Sabo died. 

An unbridled laugh left him as he took the poster roughly, shoving Usopp aside. “Hey! That’s my little sister!”

“Oh,” Usopp hummed, taking a moment to process before his brows vaulted and he shot Sanji a look. “WHAT?!”

જ ⁀ ➴

You slinked through the streets toward the docks, hood hung low over your face, cheshire grin shrouded by shadow. You rolled a slice of mango around your tongue, sighing now that your hunger was satisfied. 

You wanted to pay the guy—honest! But being an enemy of the state didn’t exactly pay well, and a mercenary’s gotta eat. 

Waiting for a donkey cart to roll past, you bolted over to the wooden boardwalk just in front of the port. Nobody paid you any mind, assuming you to be one of the street urchins that made up the local gangs. You only meant to play a small joke on the young sailor you’d grown acquainted with, make his life just a bit more difficult, when your path was halted by the sight of a new ship docked at port.

It was a pretty caravel, a little rough around the edges from weather and climate, with a masthead of a goat peering out at the city. A pirate ship, for certain. A grin itched its way up your face. A pirate ship meant treasure, and there wasn’t much in this life you liked more than treasure. 

Well, there was one thing, but unfortunately, your brothers were scattered across the sea—two alive, one not so much. The thought had you stumbling over your own feet, righting yourself swiftly before you headed for the caravel. You mumbled pathetically to yourself, like you had been since you left your home village some years ago. The life of a mercenary is a lonely one. 

“Wonder what they’ve got, huh, Sabo.” Gazing up at the clouds, you grinned. The wind whistled through your hair, and your coping mechanism fell through. It’d been doing that a lot lately. Sighing out your troubles, you shook out your shoulders and crept up the gangway. 

A girl stood watch, facing the sea on the other side of the ship. At the helm, a swordsman lay sleeping. Other than that, it was empty. Just a skinny-limbed girl and a lazy warrior. Perfect.

You slipped on board without a sound, living up to your title as The Silent Death. Well, nobody had called you that in a few years, not since you were twelve and stormed Marine Headquarters looking for your grandfather. You hadn’t found the Vice Admiral, but you had given them a reason for renovation. You possessed the Terra-Terra Fruit, and the earth rumbled at your command. At least you still held the name Earthshaker.

Your first wanted poster had been a shot of you sailing away, laughing in the face of the destruction. A force of nature, they called you. Hired by pirates, warlords, and royalty to do their less than noble deeds. But that was a long time ago. Now, you were nothing more than a petty thief, loneliness and grief taking its toll after so long repressing it.

But never the matter! After this last loot, you’d have the money to buy back your ship, get off that godforsaken island, and finally restore yourself to your former glory. Then Ace would never call you on your little snail transponder and laugh at your series of failures.

“Hey.” You glanced up from where you were crouching behind a barrel, locking eyes with the girl as she blinked surprisedly. Her hand itched toward a weapon at her side. 

“Shit.” You cursed yourself and your inner-monologuing tendencies. “Bye!”

You darted up and made for the edge of the ship when a sword whizzed past your faze, narrowly missing your chin. The swordsman rose, alert as ever, two more swords ready at his side. You scoffed, huffing, “Why do you need three?”

Three… Two… One.

Eyes widened, you realized you knew that lazy swordsman (whose swords probably overcompensated for something) just as he started to recognize you as well. He jumped down to the deck, approaching warily as the girl came to stand beside him. 

Roronoa Zoro muttered your name like a curse. “What’re you doing here, huh?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you murmured back, genuinely curious. “What’re you doin’ on a pirate ship, pirate hunter?”

“Change in career path,” he snapped. “We don’t appreciate stowaways. Especially not a backwater odd-job dog clinging to her glory days.”

You tsked. “Now, now. I was just having a look around. No harm done.” You swept a bow, flicking your wrist as you searched out the sea floor far down below. “I’ll be going now.”

With your head bowed, they didn’t catch your growing smirk until it was too late; the oceanic crust spread across the floor, magma exposed to the salty sea at an unnatural speed. The water rocked the ship and all those around, the nearby sailors murmuring worriedly.

“Hey, I may be a loser,” you admitted, picking at a cuticle as their glares shifted to concern. “But I’m still the Earthshaker, Roronoa. Now, how about some financial compensation for my bruised pride, before I capsize this sorry excuse for a boat.”

The girl scoffed in reply, brows vaulted. “Yeah, no thanks. We’re very attached to our beri.”

“You are,” Roronoa yelped. “Give her something before we lose the ship!”

Lips pursed, the girl looked ready to either attack you or give up, so you worsened the sea’s uproar just to give her a scare. A relent was on the tip of her tongue when her gaze darted over your shoulder, relief flooding her features. “Luffy!”

The sea floor closed up in an instant, the color leaving your face. “Luffy?”

A body flung into your back, tackling you to the deck. You bit back curses, wriggling free, when that laugh hit the back of your neck. A million repressed memories surfaced like the magma you controlled, and you were suddenly twelve years old, leaving your last brother in the dead of night to set off on an adventure you thought would fix everything. 

Falling still, you slowly shifted to roll on your back, staring up at the beaming face of Monkey D. Luffy. You pushed up on your elbows, blind to the careful stares of those around, and gulped down some air. “Luffy?”

He chuckled gently, murmuring your name in turn, and you lurched forward to wring your arms around his neck. A tiny piece of your heart was put back in place (only a third of it, and you figured it would only be whole when you died and rejoined the brother lost). 

Leaving home so young was a shitty miscalculation on your part. You’d fled Dawn Island some time after Ace, and some time before Luffy. Your not-so-big-more-like-twin brother always said you’d set out together, that one day he would be Pirate King and you would all be happy. But you left without ever saying goodbye, joined up with a crew of mercenaries, ate a devil fruit, and searched out Grandpa Garp for some answers about where you came from. And years passed and you could never admit your mistake—not until you spotted Luffy’s smiling face in the wanted poster he always thought you would share. 

You leaned back and caught his eye, scurrying to sit on your knees. You wiped at your eyes as embarrassing tears started to well up. “I… I dunno…”

He knocked his head against yours, eliciting a sharp ow! from you. Luffy grinned cheekily as you nursed your temples. “You owe me an apology. So you can start there.”

And the fire sprang up in your throat all over again. Pathetic, you choked it all down with a nod. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. With S-Sabo gone and Ace gone… I thought for sure you’d be gone too soon enough… so I left you before you could leave me.”

You looked away sheepishly, rubbing at your arms. Luffy just flicked the side of your head and offer you the same bright expression he always did; it was the expression that gave you hope your life wasn’t totally screwed over, not yet anyways. “It’s okay—S’ long as you know it was stupid.”

You rolled your eyes and stood as he did the same. His hand never strayed far from your shoulder, holding you there like you might bolt away. Luffy gave a laugh and turned to face his friends, and only then did you remember you weren’t alone. You pivoted to face them all, locking eyes with a less-than-pleased Zoro.

“What’d going on, Luffy?” Zoro grunted, and if possible Luffy’s smile grew.

He took both your shoulders and shook you a little. “This is my little sister!”

You scoffed. “Little my ass! We’re the same age!”

Luffy held up his palm to his own height, then dipped it down to around your collarbone. “But you were always little-er, and Ace got to call you little!”

“Because he’s older than me!”

“Wait,” Zoro butted in just as you prepped to launch yourself at Luffy. “Sister? You never mentioned a sister.”

Luffy nocked his head to the side, lips pursed. “I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Huh.” He laughed it off. “But this is great! We saw Ace a while back in Alabasta, y’know.”

Nodding, you twined your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. “Yeah, I caught ‘im a few months ago.”

The reunion met a halt when Luffy asked, “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

Nami jutted out a hip and settled you with a look. “She threatened to take down the Merry if we didn’t hand over our beri.”

Luffy’s brows vaulted, lips a thin line as he turned to you. You chuckled awkwardly. “That is something I did, yes.”

But that wasn’t what occupied him. “How did you nearly sink the ship?”

“Oh.” You swirled your palms, gathering the granules of rock and dirt scattered around the deck and collecting it all in a tiny twister. “I got the Terra-Terra Fruit a few years ago.”

His eyes brighetend like stars. “That’s so cool!”

Usopp faced Sanji with a slack jaw. “What is it with their family and devil fruits?”

“Hello?” Nami waved a hand between you and Luffy. “She tried to rob us, Luffy.”

You inched away from her with a small smile. “Sorry about that. Desperate times, yeah?”

Despite the frowns set on everyone’s faces, you had a good feeling you would win them all over. You were just too charming, after all. Casting a look around, a familiar ache gnawed at your stomach. “Uhm, have you got any food?”

જ ⁀ ➴

The crew quickly decided that Ace was their favorite of the family. 

While Ace was polite, generous, and charming, you and Luffy were cut from the very same cloth. Messy and loud, the only difference was that you were slightly more aware of your surroundings than your brother.

“Yeah, she and Luffy were always tied at the hip,” said Ace, his voice crackling to life from the transponder snail Sanji pulled out one late night. “Just… don’t be too harsh on her. She’s had a rough few months.”

Sanji had no clue what that meant, but he almost wanted to find out, not just because you’re pretty. A shadowy look always eclipsed your face, no matter how big your smile got. Over the few weeks you’d spent on the Going Merry, Sanji tried to get to know your story, but you never answered more than a few sentences before disappearing the whole afternoon.

“You knew her from before,” he said to Zoro one morning, stopping the swordsman as they traded spots for the night watch. “Do you know anything?”

Zoro adjusted his swords at his hip, chewing at his cheek. “All I know is a couple years ago, she was one of the most wanted mercenaries on the East Blue. Now, she’s a shadow of that person on the Grand Line. Isn’t that just what this place does?”

“Maybe…” But Sanji knew better. Maybe he was so concerned because he knew that sometimes, on days darker and gloomier than the rest, he had that same look in his eye. So he caught you one night watch when you had no choice but to lean against the ship rail and deal with his company.

He took a long drag from a cigarette, preparing what he’d say, when you nudged him and reached out to take the smoke from him. Sanji scoffed a laugh as he handed it off, watching you inhale deep and expel it in a puff, your eyes heavy. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” You took another drag.

“Whatever it is you thought of.”

From the way your face darkened, Sanji thought you might stub the cig on the deck and leave him there to take your watch, but you only stood there, head hung between your shoulders. You gave him back his smoke hesitantly. 

“For the longest time,” you sighed, “I wanted so badly to know where I come from.” Sanji tilted his head in unspoken question. “Me and Luffy aren’t reallys siblings. We’re adopted, I guess.”

“Ah.” That made all your similarities a little more uncanny, but it made sense. You didn’t really look like Luffy anyway. “And… you found out?”

You nodded shortly, picking at a splinter in the rail. “Not to long ago. I always imagined that my parents loved me, and that we got separated by some tragedy that left me on Dawn Island.” Your voice broke off hollowly. “But that’s not it at all.”

He didn’t say anything when you started crying, and he didn’t ask what exactly plagued your past. Sanji just… stood there, offered you a cloth from his pocket, and waited till you compeod yourself to give you his cigarette. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as the sun peeked up over the sea. 

“No need. I’m here if you want to talk. All of us are, really.”

You doubted that, but you sent him a smile and descended to the girl’s cabin for some sleep. Nami and Robin remained sleeping softly as you slipped into bed, staring up at the ceiling wide awake. Your slammed the heels of your palms to your eyes, silently screaming into the air. 

“Why,” you hissed. “Why did I cry?”

Sheets rustled across the room, and suddenly Robin’s eyes glinted at you. “You were crying?”

“Who’s crying?” Nami yawned as she pushed up on her elbows.

You just about buried yourself in your blanket and suffocated yourself, face warming over. “No one! Go to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Nami snapped back. “You practicality stomped in here. I’m thoroughly awake.”

“Same here.” Robin and Nami shifted to face you from their beds, sleepy eyes hooded as they gazed upon you. “What’s the matter?”

You sat quiet as a mouse, eyes wide and caught, until you flopped over on your side and pulled your blanket up to your chin. “Sorry I woke you.”

The two Strawhats locked eyes, brows equally raised. They’d been conspiring to figure you out ever since you joined their adventures, and this certainly added fuel to their investigative fire. Because as much as you laughed and played and made messes everywhere you went, a great shadow lurked behind you—and everyone could see it.

Like a lingering ghost of a past you’d rather forget, something haunted followed your every move. From the way you cast glances over your shoulder at every port to how you fell into frightening silence at certain points in conversation, the entire Strawhat Crew felt the way darkness pulled at you.

And they would find out why—Whether you liked it or not, they would find a way to help you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s

[crazilust]

What main character energy should you embody for this next chapter

From left to right : Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3.

Pile 1

confirmation/what’s coming instinctively : Brown eyes, brown, guitar, vynils, green shoes, docs, bangs, rings (lots of them, Virgo/Earth energy, hardwood floors, The Emperor, Goddess energy, Water sign, Water dom, Loves water, loves nature, loves animals, Names that start with a J, F, P, S

the message :

You should embody the main character that moves out of her town to start her character ark. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll physicall leave your town (although, you might!) but you definitely need to leave some things behind. I’m sensing friends, maybe even family members. Your environement is getting too small for you, which is maybe why I’m getting small town vibes. You are someone that needs a lot of recognition, even from yourself and you’re not getting any where you are right now. Are you proud of yourself? I doubt it. But you need to make the proper steps to find your place in this universe and there is a place for you but you need to look for it! I see you in a new apartment, maybe a bit lonely at first, but it’s because it’ll be the first time you really get to know yourself and discovering your true self. You have been repressing your true taste, your true interests, your true self with those people you’ve been surrounding yourself with. It’s not healthy and it’s getting dangerous at this point cause you’re starting to lose yourself. Leave. That would be my advice for you.

Pile 2

confirmation/ what i’m getting instinctively: Fighter, Orange is the new black, Piper Chapman, Blue, Glacier, Grey, long hair, fake smile, dimples, the emperor Reversed, bad relationships with caregivers, siblings, many friends, Aquarius, Pisces, car, driving, roadtrip, name that starts with M, N, X, V.

the message :

Woah! Okay! Love this energy, but hard to catch honestly. You don’t like being seen, huh? It’s okay, me neither! The journey you should embark on is the one where you’re gonna get thrown into an environment that is completely unfamiliar to you. A bit like pile 1 in the sense that it’s not something you’re used to, but contrary to that pile, you don’t decide to go into this environment, you’ll get thrown into it. I can sense you have some sort of anger issues and this will be the perfect environment to finally let it out. I can feel that although you have a very polished appearance, you actually feel like a wild animal inside. In this new environment, you’ll finally face yourself as you really are. You won’t be able to fake it, or to act like you’ve always done it. It won’t be possible anymore. You’ll have to be your real self, even tho it might disappoint people around you. Oh, you probably don’t want that. Too bad, because you will disappoint people, but you’ll make some real connections out there. When you’ll get out of that environment (because yes, it is temporary I feel), you’ll look back and won’t even recognize yourself. I think you’re quite excited for that. Deep down.

Pile 3

confirmation/what i’m getting instinctively: Twilight, Bella Swan, break up, torture, painful love, toxic love, mean, smiles with bad intentions, agenda, skinny, long hands, pale (or pale for your ethnicity), doesn’t like their hair, Aries/Taurus/Sag/Pisces, Fire dom, Neptune dom, Jupiter Dom, lucky but fails to see it

the message : Oh I’m getting major Bella Swan vibes lmao. Not necessarily her temperament, but mostly what she’s going thru. You’ve been thru a bad breakup and that person has left you empty inside. You find yourself staring at the window, and wondering why it ended the way it did. Stop obsessing over the past. You’re at a point of your journey where you need to change gear. You cannot keep going like that or you’ll litteraly become a shell of yourself. Get up of your bed, take a deep breath, take a walk. Anything. But reminiscing on someone that is gone, won’t do any good. Btw, they’re gone now but they’ll come back. I know you’re excited, but they’ll come back when you won’t care and then you’ll be like : “huh, i don’t even see what I saw in you anymore”. It’ll be a very satisfying feeling for you. In the meantime, cause you’re not there yet, focus on healing. See some friends, get into a hobby. Anything that could take your mind off of him. Why do you fixate over him? Was he something he did? Or didn’t do? Focus on moving on. That’s your journey for now. That’s the part of movie where we all root and get excited for the protagonist to get on her two feet. That’s your part. You got this.

• 🧡🍯👑🐰🪀 •

and that’s all from me folks, thank you so much 🧡

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 1.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of abuse/alcoholism

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. first meetings and a slight introduction to our characters! i imagine each drabble will have a pretty varying length, so this one is a bit on the shorter side! either way, i hope you enjoy :) interaction is highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗘

Kinich meets you in the spring.

The air is warm and balmy that day, with a breeze that brushes by the skin with pleasant coolness. His mother likes to take him to the market with her on days like these, probably for his own good. She tells him he’s a bit unsociable for his age, not that he disagrees—he just doesn’t see any point in changing. He does just fine spending his days at home, exploring the land around his house.

This kind of weather brings everyone outside, which leaves the market bustling—sellers scream their prices and show off their wares, and buyers haggle until their wallets are empty. He walks around with his mother for a bit, one hand gripping her skirt, and she offers him bits of candy and other treats. He rejects them all; really, he doesn’t want for much.

Still, he’s a more independent child, so eventually his mother leaves him to explore the various market stands while she goes around buying the more “boring” items. She probably hopes that he’ll make a friend or two, but he never does—most of the children don’t play in this area. They prefer to play with the Yumkasauri near the outskirts of the tribe.

Either way, he does end up looking around for a bit. Yanta, an elderly woman that sells fruit, gives him some berries to try, and he leaves with his tongue sweetened. He peers at some of the climbing gear, too, with astronomical prices that he would never be able to afford—at least not while his father gambles every Mora away. As the time passes, the crowd starts to get a bit stifling, so Kinich wanders away in search of a quieter place.

He settles for one of the walkways outside of the market, letting his legs dangle over the edge so he can look down at the river. There’s Yumkasauri whelps playing below, bumping each other into the water and screeching with joy. 

Laughter echoes from somewhere nearby—the sound of children, children like him. He tucks his knees to his chest. He has no need for friends, not when there is still so much to learn about the land. He thinks of his mother and the fresh welts on her skin. When he’s older, when he’s more capable, when he knows more, he can help her. Maybe one day they’ll be able to leave this place, or maybe just that man.

A burst of wind slips by—it carries the scent of flora, fuzzy yellow ones that make his eyes water and the purpling blooms that his mother loves. The recognition makes his head turn, just in time to see you run past him, a clump of flowers falling from your grip. You don’t seem to notice, and they fall uselessly to the wooden walkway, inches away from Kinich’s pinky. 

He eyes the flowers curiously—the petals are so bright, yet dainty and thin. Then, he looks toward your rapidly disappearing figure.

And really, he doesn’t know why he cares. He should go find his mom and go home. His father will be there soon anyway, and that’s a whole different beast to contend with; he doesn’t have the time or energy to be concerned with you. 

So he doesn’t really understand himself when he grabs the flowers, pushes himself to his feet, and jogs until your back is within his reach. Another step, and then his fingers wrap around your wrist just as you yelp in surprise. 

The first thought he has when you turn to face him is that you’re quite pretty, and that you look to be his age—he shakes it away just as fast. Instead, he nods toward the bundle of flowers sitting in your arms.

“You dropped some,” he mumbles, opening his palm to you. It reveals a pile of crushed petals and snapped stems, and his face reddens in embarrassment. He hadn’t thought to be so careful in his rush to chase you. When he looks up, your lips are barely parted in surprise, and he awkwardly tugs at his collar.

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

He’s not good at this, he realizes instantly. Years of sticking to his own have left his social skills lacking, and he grasps blindly for something to say. Instead, you’re the first to break the silence—you laugh, a bell-like sound that he finds a bit cute.

“Wow, I must’ve been going pretty fast,” you say, head tilted. “Sorry about that! My momma used to say I run like the wind!”

Kinich tries not to get stuck on the ‘used to’ in your words, but fails—he wonders if you’re alone. It must be difficult, he’s sure, but there are some nights when the stench of alcohol grows too strong and the screams grow too loud where he wonders if it might be preferable. He’s thinking too long, and the silence grows awkward, so he forces himself to speak.

“What are the flowers for?”

It’s your turn to be embarrassed now, an awkward giggle escaping your lips as you shift your weight between your feet. 

“I was thinking about making flower crowns for the other kids in the tribe. They don’t really like playing with me lately, maybe ‘cause I’m alone, so I wanted to do something so we could all be friends again.”

Kinich doesn’t really get it—what would be the point of playing with someone who doesn’t like you? Something about the situation tells him it wouldn’t be the right thing to say, though, so he merely nods. You seem genuine, and while he may be socially inept at times, he’s not mean-spirited. Quietly, however, he notes that the stems of the flowers you have are too long—you’d have trouble making flower crowns with these. 

“Have you ever made crowns before?” he asks, doubtful. 

“Nope,” you answer honestly, “is it that obvious?”

Living at the foot of the mountain meant he had become much more familiar with the nature surrounding the tribe. His mother had been teaching him a few things lately, particularly related to farming and weaving. A flower crown would be simple work, certainly. 

He frowns. He shouldn’t do this, but you’re looking at him so expectantly.

“I could show you how—”

“Kinich!”

His mother appears just then, cheeks reddened and hair sticking wildly to her forehead. Various bags hang from her arms, evidence of her shopping, but she casts them aside in favor of grabbing at his wrist. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I thought you got lost, or even kidnapped! What were you thinking? You’re not usually like this!”

You vaguely think that the two look quite alike; he has her eyes, save for the purpling bruise that sits just underneath her left one. You’ve had similar ones from banging your knees on things, but none in a place so front-facing.

Kinich hangs his head, stepping away from you quickly. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

Shame radiates from his form in waves, so potent you can practically feel it yourself. You grab his other wrist out of instinct, and he raises his eyes to you in surprise.

“I’m sorry too, ma’am,” you say. The woman looks shocked, gaze flitting to where your hand joins with his. “I was clumsy and took up too much of his time. It’s my fault if he was late.”

Kinich’s heart flips, and he’s unsure why—maybe because he’s never had anyone defend him like this, maybe because he’s never had anyone defend him at all. His mother looks just as flabbergasted as he does, only returning to her senses when she notices the setting sun. She sighs, addressing her son again.

“Your father will be home soon,” she says, retrieving her bags, and Kinich visibly stiffens. “We should go.”

Gentle, he twists his wrist from your grip, quietly following his mother as she starts to leave. There’s a similar sadness to the hunch of their backs, as if they’re dreading returning home—you wonder if you’re imagining it. Kinich, you remember his mother calling him. You like the sound of it.

“Kinich!” 

He turns at the call of his name, so unfamiliar from your lips. You’re smiling brightly, holding up two of the flowers you’d picked.

“Next time, teach me how to make a flower crown, okay?”

/

His mother doesn’t speak as they make the walk home. He lets the wind fill the silence, whistling through the trees and carrying him with its lulling sound. It’s one of the few pleasures he finds nowadays when he retreats outside, skin purpling with fresh bruises.

They inch the front door open, tentative and wincing, half-expecting his father to burst out in a drunken rage—they’re only met with silence. Relieved, Kinich’s mother sets about putting away the groceries, and Kinich collapses into bed, letting his eyes fall shut as the sun dims outside. He tries to savor the last few minutes he has, distantly praying that his father might come home sober today. 

He thinks of the market, and then he thinks of the flowers. He thinks about the flowers, and then he thinks about them some more—a little longer than is natural for him.

Just as he slips into sleep, Kinich realizes that he never asked for your name.

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 3)

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 7.2k words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

⚠️ CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, mentions of past sexual assault, amnesia, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, swearing, some fluff and comedic relief, padfoot's perspective. This one may feel a little heavier to some viewers - I tried to balance it out with light-hearted banter and fluff but please be mindful of the warnings before reading.

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How does your return to the Order of the Phoenix play out? (concept inspired by Recognition by aeaean__bliss on ao3)

Padfoot drifted back into consciousness from the end of the bed where he had migrated at some point in order to have a view of the door. His ears flicked but he didn’t bother opening his eyes as he listened to the room around him, after a while he relaxed back into the bed.

Again, he was roused by the sound of a whimper. With a doggy whine, he lifted his head and looked at his Y/N, asleep on your side of the bed. Your face was all scrunched up and you were breathing heavy as if you were running. Padfoot didn’t always know a lot of things, but he knew people didn’t run in bed.

He slowly crept a little closer and placed his front paws on your feet and rested his head against it, hoping the added weight would provide his girl a sense of security. His efforts were in vein though as you let out another cry. Padfoot got up and crawled to the head of the bed, and by the time he reached your head, Padfoot had changed back to Sirius.

“Alright, that’s enough of that, beautiful.” He whispered as he pulled your arms out from your body and wrapped them around himself before pulling the rest of you into his chest. “You’re alright, love. It’s just a dream.” He murmured into your hair, tracing shapes with his arm that wasn't underneath you across your back.

You let out a shuddering breath before relaxing into his embrace.

Sirius doesn’t know how long he laid there holding you in his arms as you rested, but he did know that he would happily sell his soul to spend the rest of his life like this.

Apparently, it wouldn’t cost him his soul if he wanted to stay with you in bed for the rest of eternity, but he may need to make some decisions regarding his best friends.

The door opened so painfully slowly that Sirius accio’d his wand into his hand, sure as all get out that someone had snuck into the house. A lifetime later, the messiest head of black hair poked into the room, and as James spotted the two forms curled up in the bed, the most shit-eating grin Sirius ever had the (dis)pleasure of witnessing spread across his face.

“Are you seriously cuddling in my house without me?” James asked, and that was all the warning he got. Before Sirius could reply, James was in bed on the opposite side of Sirius spooning him from behind.

“Prongs you wanker, get out.” Sirius whisper-shouted.

“Not a chance, babe.” Was all the response he got as James smacked a wet kiss on Sirius’ cheek.

Their arguing was interrupted by a gasp from the door where they saw Lily looking at the bed incredulously.

“A cuddle puddle without me?!” She commented before she too joined the bed. Lily crawled up and laid between you and Sirius, her head resting on your stomach; your eyes began to flutter at the intrusion of your nap. Sirius brushed the space between your brows with his thumb which caused you to crack one eye open.

“Good morning beautiful.” He winked at you, which was met with a scoff from James.

“��Morning’ he says. Like it isn’t almost dinner time. You guys were about to miss the meeting.”

“James, must you ruin everything?” Lily asked, nuzzling further into you as you began to play with her hair.

“Yes. That’s his middle name. James Must-Ruin-Everything Potter.” Sirius muttered.

“Please, this cuddle puddle wouldn’t be happening at all had I not shown up.” He argued.

“Exactly.” Sirius countered.

A baby’s squeal could be heard from the door and when four adults looked, they were met with the sight of Remus standing with Harry on his hip looking at the four adults in bed with a look of ill-hidden humour.

“Well, Haz,” he started, “I think we found where everyone got to.”

Harry squealed again and held his arms open which Lily reciprocated. Remus walked across the room and to everyone’s chagrin gave Lily her child before joining the 'cuddle puddle' by laying his long ass body across the bunch of them.

“There are far too many people in this bed right now.” You said as the infant pulled at your hair.

“We’ve had fuller beds here, sugar.” James corrected salaciously.  “Remember when we would push the four beds together in our dorm after adding extension charms to them and then all eight of us would have a slumber party?”

The room became deathly quiet then; the pain of losing so many of their little tribe still so fresh for the young adults.

“No, actually.” You admitted, which caused Sirius to bark a (somewhat nervous) laugh.

“Okay, that’s it. Out.” He said and gave James a good kick which launched him off the bed and caused Remus to roll off of everyone else onto the foot of the bed.

“We’re gonna be the last ones at the meeting.” Remus said as he helped James up off the floor.

Remus had met the others at the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow, and he felt giddy. Usually, he only felt this way close to a ‘manic moon’ as he and his friend’s wont to call it. Moon sickness could go either way; he could be pained and moody and stressed, or he could feel like he was high and had all the energy in the world. The next full was still two weeks away, but he felt as close to happy and flying on cloud nine as any 21-year-old werewolf-soldier could possibly manage in the middle of a war where many of his friends had lost their lives. He had a member of his pack back from the dead, and Wormy was going to meet them at the Weasley’s after being caught up with his missions and work in the ministry. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs – his Marauders – and their Vixen would be together again. So yeah, Remus was happy.

“My, my, Moony.” Sirius smirked as he stepped out onto the porch, “I’ve never seen you so excited for an Order meeting.”

Remus scoffed. “Well excuse me if I’m usually shipped off to some obscure wolf-pack for my missions and never get to go to them. Besides, Vix is back and that feels good.”

Sirius’ smirk turned into a gentle smile at the end of his sentence. “It does feel good.” He agreed.

The girls had gone up to pack Harry up for the trip to the Weasley’s safe house. Unbeknownst to Remus, babies came with a lot of things. They joined the two men at the front door, Lily with a diaper bag that was nearly the size of the baby itself, and you had the child on your hip as he continued to tug at your hair. The saint you are didn’t even flinch at a particularly vigorous tug of your locks.

“Oi, Haz. Watch the hair mate, come on.” Sirius said with a look of mock disapproval on his face. Harry just screeched and clapped his hands.

“He seems quite proud of himself. He has no shame that one.” You said.

“Much like his father.” Lily muttered as she passed the bag off to James. “Poor thing is a carbon copy of an idiot.”

“Oi, said idiot is standing right here.” James said indignantly.

“Potter, you’re not supposed to agree with the title, mate, come on.” You chuckled, and Remus’ heart soared. Sassy Vixen is making a comeback.

“Are we ready?” Remus asked and clapped his hands together but paused at the sight of a glance being exchanged between you, James, and Sirius.

“Not this again.” Sirius muttered as he took the toddler from your arms. Remus smiled at the sight of you; you were wearing your patched denim jacket that had been hanging on its place on the coat rack in his and Sirius’ flat since you hung it up last. He immediately spotted the enamel fox pin he had bought for you when the group of you visited a small muggle town near Windsor several summers ago.

James sighed, “It’s her call, Pads.”

Your face turned pensieve. “You don’t want to go?” Remus queried.

“I don’t know that I should.” You clarified.

“You should,” Sirius argued “because you’re an Order member.”

“Who has been imprisoned by Death Eaters for months and can’t remember her time as an Order member, Sirius.” James countered.

“That doesn’t negate the fact that she still belongs there.” He spat.

“They may not want me there, Sirius.” You offered quietly. Sirius immediately stopped his arguing and looked at you.

“You have every right to be there, Vix. I will fight anyone who thinks otherwise.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s true, he fought me the just this morning when I was skeptical.” James agreed readily.

“Yes, but now you know James. You understand. They won’t, not right away.” You countered.

Sirius sighed. “Love, please. I swear it’ll be alright, and if at any point you want to leave, we’re out of there, okay? But please, don’t not go because you’re worried about the others. They’re going to be just as happy to see you as we were, I’m sure.”

You searched his eyes for a few seconds before nodding.

“Not quite as happy as some of us were, I’m sure.” James snickered and elbowed Sirius, which was met with a hearty shove causing the man to fall off the porch.  

“Enough, you two. Merlin, it’s like I have three toddlers.” Lily muttered as the five adults and one infant set off to the ward line to apparate to the next safe house.

Remus took a deep breath of the ocean air as they made their way to the Weasley’s safe house. He had to admit, he got to travel an awful lot during this war. He was only sad he never got to enjoy it as much as he wished he could, knowing he’d not likely get another chance to see these places. But he watched as James threw his arm over Lily’s shoulders and caused her to laugh at some no doubt asinine comment he made, and Sirius bounced Harry on his hip as you cooed at him from the other side, and he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face.

He split off from the group as they entered the house, the rest of the Order already present. He said hello to Molly holding a very tiny red-headed baby and tried to ignore the squealing of the many other red-headed children whizzing past them in the kitchen. He gave Mary a tight side hug before he spotted Wormtail across the room talking to Mundungus Fletcher and beelined for him.

“Moony!” Peter shouted as he spotted his friend, and they enveloped each other in a warm hug.

“Petey, mate, you alright?” He asked as he clapped his friend on the back.

“Och, busy as hell but I’ve been alright. How about you?” He asked with a friendly smile.

“I’m good, I’m good. Mate, you’ll never believe it, Y/N’s back.” He said, and Peter froze in shock.

“What?” He whispered.

“Yeah, I know, she just showed up at the safe house this week, James found her. Sirius is the happiest I’ve seen him in ages, mate. Lily too.” Remus stated. He clapped Pete on the shoulder again and looked out the room to see if he could spot his friends. Doing so caused him to miss the way Peter visibly paled at the news.

He needn’t search long for his friends though, because before he knew it you were standing six feet away from he and Pete, who he had his arm around, with your wand pointed at Peter’s face.

“Whoa Vix, what’s going-” Sirius started, coming up behind you.

“I’m not going back; I won’t do it.” You stated plainly, eyes and wand never leaving Peters face.

“Going back where, love?” Sirius inquired, sharing a bemused look with Remus.

“I’ve been good Sirius. I’ve been honest. I don’t want to go back.” You shot again.

“Y/N, nothing is happening. You’re not going anywhere.” Lily stated.

“Then what is he doing here?” You shouted.

The room grew excruciatingly quiet, and Remus slowly peeled his arm away from his friend. Remus noticed that by now the Weasley children, the Longbottom’s son and Harry had all been ushered upstairs by Nymphadora Tonks, so they didn’t even have the kids to distract them from the tension in the room.

“Erm, what is who doing here?” Remus asked cautiously.

“Pettigrew.” You spat.

Remus looked to Sirius hoping to find some understanding on his face, but his friend met his look with equal shock.

“Y/N, I...” Peter started, “I thought you were dead.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “Why? Because Mulciber told you so?”

“What is going on?” Alastair Moody finally interrupted; your eyes never left Peter as you responded.

“What is Pettigrew doing here?” You asked again.

“Peter is our friend, Y/N. He’s been working at the Ministry so hasn’t been very active with the Order, but he’s been coming around more lately. We’ve been keeping him up to date with Order business.” James offered.

You seemed to pale at this information, your eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N, erm, why don’t you and I talk in the other room, catch up?” Peter offered, voice shaking. Remus noticed now that Peter had his wand drawn in his hand, pointing slightly up at you though kept it at waist level.

“Mr. Pettigrew, why don’t you put your wand down.” Dumbledore asked, watching his two former students.

Peter seemed to consider it for a moment, looking between his old headmaster and you. “Her first.” He stated.

Sirius turned to you, briefly making eye contact with Lily over your head before addressing the distressed witch in front of him.

“Vix, do you recognize Peter?” He asked carefully. He was answered with a curt nod.

Remus could hear Peter’s heartrate pick up., though he supposed having a wand pointed at your face could do that to a person.

“Y/N, why don’t we go talk?” Peter tried again. “Put your wand down, we can catch up.”

Your wand never faltered. “Show us your left forearm first.”

The room stayed silent. Sirius’ eyes bored into Peter’s, which were steadfast on you. Lily and James stayed perfectly still; bodies poised as if ready to run at any point.

“Miss. L/N?” McGonagall asked, and then all hell broke loose.

As Remus watched in what felt like slow motion, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds; a purple spell shot out of Peter’s wand, which you quickly deflected with your own before Peter’s short, stocky frame disappeared and a yellow rat was scurrying along the floor. Just as quickly, your body shrunk into a small red fox who began to chase the rat in earnest. Remus looked at Sirius and could see the actual moment that realization dawned on his friend’s face. It took exactly three and a half Mississippi's for Sirius to recognize that 1) Peter shot a curse at you 2) Peter transformed into his animagus 3) that Peter was trying to escape and 4) You were trying to stop him. As that information all clicked inside of his head, Sirius quickly transformed into Padfoot and began assisting you in Peter’s capture. Remus ran to the back sliding door whilst James ran to the front, ensuring Peter couldn’t reach those two exits. Moody ran to the fireplace whilst Lily ran to the bottom of the stairs so that Peter couldn’t reach the children upstairs. Padfoot and Vixen were heard growling and barking as they chased the fat rat who was squeaking frantically. Finally, after many chairs and side tables were overturned, Padfoot cornered the rat and Vixen shot in, grabbing it by the scruff and giving it a good shake as if telling it to stay.

The fox jumped onto the kitchen table, the rat struggling from its hold in her mouth. She bit down harder and gave it a shake which was met with an indignant cry from the rat.

“Enough.” Dumbledore stated calmly as he stood before the fox and the rat, his wand trained on the pair. “You can drop him now. He can’t go anywhere.”

The fox remained unmoving, its yellow eyes staring hard at the headmaster’s blue eyes while its chest heaved from the hunt. They stayed like that for what Remus counted to be 17 seconds before the fox slowly lowered the rat to the table and released its hold. The rat immediately went to flee, but Dumbledore was quicker. Suddenly, the rat became Peter once again and was incarcerated against one of the kitchen chairs, bound by invisible ropes. The fox jumped off the kitchen table and you stood back up from the floor beside Sirius, your wand once again pointed at Peter.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” James and Moody said at the same time.

You and Peter continued staring at one another, neither willing to utter the first word.

“Peter.” Sirius barked. Slowly, Peter moved his gaze from you to Sirius, and any worry he showed at the beginning of the meeting morphed into sheer panic as his eyes met a fuming Sirius.

“She’s insane mate, she’s obviously completely lost it.” He cried.

“You know, Mr. Pettigrew,” Dumbledore started, face impassive but eyes twinkling with subtle anger. “There have been rumours of a spy amongst us.”

Peter whimpered, “Yes! I know! Why do you think she’s here? Hm?” Peter exclaimed, motioning towards you.

“No son, I know it’s not her.” Dumbledore stated calmly.

“How could you possibly know that!?” The sod cried again.

“Because I have my own spies within Voldemort’s ranks.”

Anyone in the room could hear a pin drop. Sirius’ eyes widened and looked between his friends. Lily watched on from beside Remus, clutching his arm like a lifeline. Sirius was sure he could see steam coming out of James’ ears.

“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t dropped a huge bomb on the whole Order. “My spy has been on a dangerous mission for the past few months and hasn’t been able to be in contact with me. However, I heard from them approximately 37 hours ago.”

Sirius looked over at you whose eyes still hadn’t left Peter, whose face in turn was drained of all colour.

“I didn’t know exactly what they meant at the time, but they warned me to be aware of a rat amongst us. I see now that the warning was really quite clear.”

“Lift your sleeve, Peter.” Sirius demanded.

“Sirius, mate, please. I-”

“LIFT YOUR SLEEVE.” He bellowed. You flinched.

Sirius took an involuntary step closer to you in apology. He decided to shift his focus to you instead; knowing if he looked at Pete, he’d do something he may live to regret. Focus on her. Keep your eyes on her. He told himself.

“Peter, I swear to Godric if you do not lift your sleeve.” James seethed quietly before Remus ripped himself away from Lily and stalked over to Peter. Not at all gently, Remus ripped Peter’s arm from the invisible restraints holding him to the chair, which caused a pained whimper from Peter’s lips, and ripped his sleeve clean off his shirt. Clear as day, the dark mark was visible above Peter’s left wrist.

Stay focused on her. Don’t look away from her. Sirius chanted as he felt bile rise in his throat. She’s all that matters, stay focused on her.

Dumbledore reinstated the restraints on Peter as an explosion of demands were being made.

“How many safe houses has he outed?”

“Where will everyone go now?”

“Who has he gone on missions with?”

“How many of our people has he killed?”

“How many missions have failed because of him.”

“How could you!?” Was bellowed, and it came from Marlene.

“Marls, I-” Peter started tearfully.

“HOW COULD YOU!?” She screamed again.

“Peter. We-we’ve all been friends since 4th year. The Marauder’s since first. You and I, we...” James choked. “We grew up together I-I don’t understand”

“He killed them!” Remus shouted. This seemed to shock the room; some seemed fearful of what the werewolf might do when angry, others surprised by their kind-hearted friend’s outburst. But no one had to ask who Remus was referring to. “You fucking killed them!” He repeated.

“Caradoc...” Benjy muttered sadly.

“Gideon, Fabien.” Molly wheezed as she clutched at a pendant around her neck, Arthur pulling her into his side consolingly.

“If we hadn’t been at Sirius and Remus’ flat planning your funeral” Dorcas said, referring to you, “Marlene would have been home when her entire family was murdered.”

“Dedalus and Elphias.” Mundungus sighed.

“Emmeline.” Lily added.

“So, so many members of the Order have fallen.” Dumbledore agreed sagely. “Some because of Peter, some due simply to the nature of war.”

Peter stayed silent; eyes red-rimmed and lips pursed as if words threatened to spill out of his mouth if he didn’t clamp it tight enough.

“How long?” Sirius asked quietly, bringing all attention to him.

“What, son?” Dumbledore inquired.

“How long has he been the Death Eaters rat?” He clarified, refusing to even acknowledge Peter anymore.

Dumbledore watched Sirius inquisitively for a moment before he turned to face you.

“He first showed up at the Lestrange Manor shortly after the prophecy was announced, said he could help get You-Know-Who access.” You said quietly. Sirius noted how sickeningly pale you appeared suddenly.  

“My son, Peter!?” James asked, but it wasn’t a question.

“He didn’t know if it was the Potter child or the Longbottom child.” Dumbledore stated curtly.

“But he was willing to give up two infants! Infants he knew. YOU WERE THERE WHEN HARRY WAS BORN!” James screamed. “How could you fucking do this?!”

“It doesn’t matter, James.” You mumbled.

“What-” James stuttered. “What the hell are you on about?”

Sirius again immediately moved closer to you worried James’ ire would now be directed at you instead.

“Nothing he could possibly say right now would excuse what he’s done. No amount of reasoning or explaining or grovelling will help you understand why or how he could betray you all. You will never be able to understand what, why or how he did what he did because you’re not like him. You will never understand because you would never have made the same decision.” You explained. “You can ask him again, and you can make him explain until the cows come home, but it won’t make any sense and it won’t make you feel any better. And quite frankly, James,” You paused, finally removing your eyes and wand from Peter to face James and Lily, “whatever comes out of his mouth will be complete and utter bullshit anyway.”

Nobody said anything; there wasn’t anything to say really. You were right - of course you were – but it didn’t make anyone feel any better. James still itched to have Peter explain himself, as if rehashing every tiny thing that took place over the last ten plus years would help erase the symbol of hatred willingly burnt permanently onto his forearm. Remus wanted to hear Peter admit from his dirty fucking mouth just how he betrayed them all. Sirius wanted him dead. None of it would make them feel better.

“How do you even know all of this.” Peter spat, turning to look at you. Just as Sirius was about to smash his face in for even daring to look in your direction, you scoffed.

“I was good for more than your death eater buddies little games.” A sickening smirk graced your face as you regarded Peter. “I would have been dead a long fucking time ago if not.”

“But, but he- but” He stuttered. You cocked one eyebrow as you waited for him to finish. “But Mulciber, he-”

“Ah,” You interrupted, “but Mulciber wasn’t my only keeper, was he?”

Peter paled. “No.” he whispered, but he never got to continue before you stupefied him.

The Order sat in an incredibly uncomfortable silence. Most members stared at you, who in turn stared blankly at Dumbledore. Sirius watched you, hoping for any emotion to betray your face. He was left disappointed and turned to join you in watching his old headmaster.

“What the fuck?” James whispered.

Dumbledore hummed. “Indeed, my boy.”

“Was, was this the meaning of this meeting?” Mary asked.

“Partially, yes.” Dumbledore agreed. “I felt it imperative that you all know of our leak as soon as possible so we could make appropriate alternate arrangements.”

“Like where the fuck I’m supposed to move my family now.” Lily muttered.  

James rubbed a hand across his face. “This is awful, we’ve relocated so many times. I mean, Peter was going to be our secret keeper for fuck’s sake.”

“Mr. Black has access to a property already vacant and protected by the Fidelius charm.” Dumbledore offered.

“Absolutely not.” Sirius barked.

“It is the safest option available to us at this time, Son.” Dumbledore countered.

Sirius scoffed. “To me and James, perhaps. And maybe Harry, if you don’t consider what living in a dark, loveless, and evil pile of timber could do to a child." He paused to wave a dramatic hand in front of himself as if to say see? "But I am not bringing Y/N or Lily there with the amount of dark artifacts I know are littered about just waiting for a muggle-born to touch them. And that’s not to say what is waiting for our dear Moony there either.”

“I forgot you inherited that place.” Lily muttered quietly.

“Listen, the Order is running out of places to hide. The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black already has a Fidelius charm in place, and it is empty. Once the semester is over, McGonagall and I would be happy to assist in the cleanup, however, Moody has a curse breaker ready, and Andromeda and Ted Tonks have offered their assistance as well. I don’t believe you would be standing here today, James and Lily, if Peter had been able to give away your location, but I do not think this can wait. We should not take the chance.” Dumbledore stated severely.

No one seemed to have an argument for the plan, though Sirius despised everything about it and Remus, Lily and James all hated the idea of stepping foot into a space so recently filled with hate. James momentarily envied you – how sweet ignorance would be at the prospect of living in Grimmauld place for the foreseeable future.

“Now, onto our other matters.” Dumbledore said, turning to you. “Your contact within Voldemort’s army, they sent you with something?”

With a quick nod, you pulled out a small, beaded bag from your jacket pocket and enlarged it before turning it over above the table in front of Dumbledore and shaking out its contents.

In front of the old headmaster sat Ravenclaw’s lost found diadem, the Hufflepuff cup, a gaudy looking locket, a black leather bound journal, and a ring. Remus gagged and pulled the collar of his jumper over his mouth and nose.

“Oh my God, what is the smell?” He mumbled through his shirt.

“Smell?” Marlene asked.

James chuckled, “must be a wolf thing.”

“Yes, I’m sure dark magic smells quite awful to those with the ability to pick up traces of magic.” Dumbledore stated.

“What are they?” Remus asked, peering over the table cautiously as if any of the inanimate objects could launch itself at him at any given moment.

“These, my boy, are horcruxes.”

McGonagall let out a strangled sound. “I beg your pardon?”

“What’s a horcrux?” Ted Tonks asked.

“It would appear Voldemort has, in an attempt to become immortal, split his soul into pieces and placed those pieces inside of these objects. It is very dark magic.” He explained plainly as if instructing one of his classes in Transfiguration.

“Jesus Christ.” Mary muttered.

“Is this all of them, then?” Dumbledore asked you.

“No sir.”

Dumbledore looked at her for a moment, as if waiting for more information. “No?”

“No, we believe there is one more.”

“You mean to tell me that he split his soul six times?” Moody asked on an exhale.

“Seven is a magically powerful number,” You explained. “We don’t believe it’s a coincidence he has splintered his soul into seven pieces.”

“I see.” Dumbledore said. “And what is this sixth horcrux.”

You let out a huge sigh, “I...”

Sirius brushed your arm gently, moving to stand up against your back. I can’t do much, love. But I can be here. I’m right here.

“I think it’s Nagini. The snake.” You admitted finally.

“Fucking hell.” Remus groaned.

“So, what now?” Sirius asked Dumbledore, but Dumbledore appeared to field the question to you.

“We must destroy all six horcruxes for You-Know-Who to become mortal again. Only then can we defeat him.” You explained.

“Ah, but I suppose destroying horcruxes by throwing them down a garbage disposal won’t work?” Lily interjected. You shook your head no.

“Horcruxes can only be destroyed by Avada Kedavra, Fiendfyre, or honourable goblin wrought silver such as Godric Gryffindor’s sword after being infused with Basilisk’s venom.”

“Easy-peasy.” Mary commented wryly.

“Thank you, Miss. L/N.” Dumbledore interrupted, looking at you above his half-moon spectacles. “For everything. You’re contributions to the cause have been immeasurable.”

You swallowed thickly. “May I be excused?” You whispered.

“Of course, my dear.” He replied, and you took off out the sliding door off the kitchen. Sirius didn’t ask for permission nor wait around for further instructions before he followed after you.

He stepped out into the sea air and looked around, but he heard you before he spotted you. He followed the sound of your heaving into a metal garbage can beside what appeared to be a weathered tool shed. He slowly made his way over, not wanting to interrupt you until you were finished. I’ll never be able to get more meat on her bones at this rate.

You took a deep breath and wiped your face with your sleeve before replacing the lid on the garbage can and turning towards Sirius.

“Fucking hell, you scared me.” You sighed, bringing your hand up to your chest.

Sirius breathed out a chuckle. “My apologies, love. Didn’t mean to.”

You stood with your arms wrapped around yourself and turned to face the ocean. Sirius watched you as he tried to make it look like he wasn’t watching you by pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. The ocean breeze pushed your hair behind your shoulders, and you lifted your face to the horizon. Your eyes were red and your nose was running, but Sirius still thought you made the most beautiful picture.

“What did he do to you?” Sirius asked gruffly, not able to keep quiet any longer.

“Hm?” You asked as you squinted over at him through the setting sun.

“Peter. What did he do to you?”

You grimaced and scrutinized Sirius for a few moments.

“Were we just friends?” You asked.

“Hm?” He parroted your previous question.

“You and I.” You clarified. “Were we just friends? Before?”

His cigarette burned in his fingers, completely forgotten. He wanted to lie to you. That’s not true. He felt like he should lie to you, as if that would somehow make this all easier for you. But he couldn’t; he was asking you to be honest with him, he owed you the same.

“No.” He admitted quietly.

You watched him flick his cigarette into the field before pulling out another one. “Then do you really want to know?”

Sirius snorted. “No, I know that I don’t want to know. But I need to.”

Sirius stayed quiet as you fidgeted. He figured it may be somewhat less painful for you to tell him now when you didn’t remember him, than having to have this conversation when you did.

“Did he force himself on you?”

You let out a shuddering sigh. “Yes.”  Sirius cracked his neck in aggitation.

“He wasn’t-” you began before cutting yourself off.

“Merlin, Y/N, if you try telling me he wasn’t that bad-”

“No, I-” you sighed again. “No.”  

He had so many things he wanted to ask. Who? How many? How often? Where? When? Where can I find them? Do I remember the wand formation for Crucio? But he knew none of it mattered. Not really. It couldn’t; knowing those things wouldn’t help him, and it wouldn’t help you. And right now, that was all that mattered, helping you - keeping you safe and away from fuckers like Peter and those Death Eater arseholes. And apparently, he was expected to do that in his awful childhood home.

“Thank you.” He settled for, as his jaw ached from how tightly he was clenching it. “For telling me.”

You stared at him for a long time. “You’re welcome.”

You both stood in a somewhat comfortable silence as Sirius finished his second cigarette and watched the tide come in. His mind drifted to the grey orb in your mind that stored your memories of him in it. Somewhere in there, is the memory of the time Sirius became a bumbling fool after you sang and played a song in the Three Broomsticks for the whole restaurant. Though you blushed furiously the whole time at Sirius’ obvious infatuation, you couldn’t help but smirk at his blustering. Somewhere in there is the memory of the time you came flying (not literally) into the Quidditch field in 5th year and interrupted the Gryffindor practice much to the chagrin of that year’s captain because you had just been notified of your mother’s death and somehow needed Sirius of all people. There was also a memory somewhere in there of what Sirius considered one of the worst days of his life – you and Sirius had been dancing around each other for quite some time by that point; all your friends had bets on how long it would take before you two got together. Sirius knew of your affections toward him, though he never quite understood it. He may have been handsome, witty, charming, but he was just no good. He had gotten into an argument that day with Reg about conforming to the drivel of their parents and it weighed heavily in his mind during the Gryffindor party. This girl had been batting her eyelashes at him all night, and he was feeling sorry for himself – he was such a mess; how could someone as beautiful and thoughtful and smart as you get messed up in the shitstorm that was Sirius Black? It wasn’t fair to you, so, he snuck off to a broom closet with the nameless, eyelash batting Hufflepuff and got off, hoping to alleviate some of the tension of that day. He later found out that not only did he feel gross for fooling around with a girl he never bothered to learn the name of, but you had witnessed them sneak off together. He found you later curled up in Remus’ arms having had cried yourself to sleep. “You’re a right arse, Sirius.” Remus had spat at him, standing up with you in his arms and stalking off to their dorm.

But Sirius wanted you to remember it all. How you flat-out ignored his existence for seven weeks and four days. Sirius waited one-thousand two-hundred and seventy-two hours for you to finally look him in the eye, even though it was only to tell him to go fuck himself. It took another three weeks for you to stop spitting angrily at him and start acting like he was just another one of the guys, which also hurt, but he was just happy to be gifted with the sound of your voice again.

He never took your attention for granted again after that; everyone noticed the change, you most of all. He never broke eye contact with you when you spoke to him. He always took full advantage of your attention any time you were willing to give it to him. He was always the first one to stop talking when you went to speak up, and the first to defend you if someone dared to interrupt. At the time, it made you feel precious, like you were something worthy of worship. Sirius wanted you to remember that, and most importantly, he wanted you to experience it again.

“Well Pads,” a voice interrupted his musings, “excited to bring Y/N home to your darling mother, finally?” James smirked as he rubbed his hands together.

Sirius scoffed, “the only reason I’m even considering the prospect of bringing her to that hellhole is because that old hag is already dead.”

“What, am I not good enough to bring home to mummy-dearest?” You said with a smirk, causing Sirius to bark a laugh.

“Not at all love, in fact, if I had been sure she wouldn’t have Avada’d you on the spot, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t do it earlier; maybe we could have sent her to an even earlier grave.”

The meeting seemed to have ended, as Moody was seen dragging Peter’s stupefied body from the safehouse and apparating away.

“There’s concern of corruption in the Ministry, so he’ll be put in an anti-magic cell in Moody’s basement for the time-being.” Lily explained.

“I always knew Moody was into some kinky shit.” James commented with Harry on his hip.

“It’s not funny, James.” Lily fumed. “I don’t think you realize how close we were to dying.”

“I guess we’re very lucky Y/N had an ally on the other side.” James murmured. Sirius laughed sarcastically.

“Some ally they were.” He spat angrily.

“Sirius, relax,” Lily started, “They kept her alive, protected her memories and gave us the ability to win this war.”

“And let the entire Death Eater army use her as their play toy!” He shouted. “Peter himself fucking violated her!”

“Would you shut the fuck up!?” Lily seethed, looking around to see who all heard.

“No! Everyone should know what a fucking abomination he was! Is! And we called him our friend!”

“BUT IT ISN’T YOUR STORY TO TELL!” she shouted back.

Remus and James looked properly mortified, both at the outburst and on account of the news that their friend not only betrayed them but was capable of such heinous acts.

Sirius felt the blood leave his face as he spun to face you; a curious expression adorned your face. It wasn’t necessarily pain – but certainly frustration, and perhaps some pity.

“You’re so used to being around such moral people Sirius, and that’s good – you should be.” You began calmly. “But I just watched Peter Pettigrew – a member of a racist terrorist organization who is guilty of treason at best and murder at worst, a sexual assailant, a user of unforgiveable curses, and all around bad bloke get carried out of an enemy base completely unharmed to be held in a safe facility until he receives what I assume is going to be a fair trial.”

Sirius held his breath as you paused for what he was sure was dramatic effect.  

“Do you know what happens to the most loyal of Death Eaters who dare to sneeze when their Dark Lord is speaking? They’re strangled by Nagini. Maybe they survive, maybe they don’t; that’s neither here nor there. And do you know what happens if a Death Eater even looks like they might hesitate when they’re asked to crucio or avada a muggle? They’re fed to Nagini. And those are the tamer of the possible reprimands.

“So, the fact that any Death Eater managed to find me, heal me, train me and keep me alive for the past nearly five months is nothing short of a miracle, and God only knows what You-Know-Who would do if he found out that they’d managed it. But they could not always save me from the evil that they themselves were also victims of and surrounded by twenty-four-seven, regardless of whether they simply wanted to or not. It didn’t matter if they knew it was wrong or had the moral compass of a saint – we would not have survived, it is that simple.” You paused as you allowed your words to settle inside of Sirius’ mind.

“You all have the privilege of being surrounded by sane, morally sound people. That has given you the ability to see the world in black and white. To survive, some people needed to become certain shades of grey. I’m not saying that it’s right, or fair, or just; it just is.”

Properly chastised for his outburst, Sirius stared at his boots.

“Does it make me one of them to think Peter deserved everything you just said?” James asked quietly.

Remus let out an inelegant snort. “No mate, I think that makes you human.”

“I wasn’t asking you, you goody-two-shoes.” James mockingly argued before turning back to you.

“No, it certainly doesn’t make you one of them. I think Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes here is right.” You replied.

“I’m literally a dark creature, I don’t know who you all are calling a goody-two-shoes.” Remus muttered petulantly.

“Uhm, the goody-two-shoes, obviously.” Lily snorted.

“Hi, kettle?” James spoke an octave higher, pretending to hold a muggle phone to his ear. “This is the cauldron; you’re black!” Lily swatted her husband.

“Perhaps before we kill Nagini or whatever the snakes name is, we could send it down to Moody’s sex dungeon to finish off Peter.” James joked, though no one missed the dark edge that shadowed his voice.

“Charming.” Sirius heard the posh accent of Andromeda from behind Remus. “Well cousin, ready to head back home?”

Sirius moaned dramatically and threw his head back as his party began to head to the apparition point just beyond the wards. He opened his eyes to see you still standing there, your gaze cautiously analyzing him.

“You okay?” You asked him.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m the arse and you ask me if I’m alright?”

“Are you?”

“Are you alright?” he countered.

You continued watching him for a few moments.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Lily was right, I shouldn’t have run my mouth like that. You trusted me and I let you down. And of course, you were right about the other stuff as well – I have no business pretending to know what it’s been like for you these past few months.”

You nodded gently at him. “Thank you for apologizing, and for listening. I’m alright.”

He offered his arms out to you and you hesitated only briefly before accepting his embrace.

“You were always so much smarter than the rest of us,” he mumbled into your hair. “Lily would have just hexed me if she were you.”

You laughed – a real actual laugh, the first he’s heard from you in months. “Sounds about right.” You admitted, before quickly pulling away from Sirius and staring at him in awe.

“What?!” he asked, slightly paniced from the change in demeanor.

“I remembered. I – I knew, or agreed, that Lily would have been the type to hex you – I knew that!”

Sirius beamed at you before picking you up from your waist and spinning you in a circle. When he put you back down, you were both flushed and out of breath.

“Welcome back, Vix.” He knew you weren’t really back, not yet. But by Godric, it was a start.

Continue to part four here.

[esoteriamaya]

PICK A PILE ! ROMANTIC READING <3

PICK A PILE / PICK A CARD.

STARTING FROM LEFT TO RIGHT! (Pile 1 & Pile 3 On the left (Top/Bottom) ; Pile 2 & 4 On the Right (Top/Bottom)

LETS GO!

PILE 1 - Recognition & Reward / Intuition

If you picked this pile, you are on your way to a new romantic partnership. This could be your big one. Past decisions have led you to receiving better and your confidence has gotten better over time. So congrats. This handsome/gorgeous person will sweep you off your feet. Crushes in this group are significant so I will say if you have someone you've had your eyes on why don't you tell them how you feel? Again, confidence is key here, and you'll be rewarded for your bold energy. Trust your gut, it'll lead you to the right direction.

PILE 2 - Solar Plexus / Fulfillment Of Wishes

So this group needs to relax and take a chill pill. So your love life has gone through a few rough edges, but that doesn't mean you're the problem. The real reason why love has been a bit pesty, is because you haven't fully accepted yourself in all your glory. You're very special, so it takes a special someone to see it. You aren't for everyone. And nor should you let yourself be.

PILE 3 - Shadow / Awareness

Paying attention to your behavior is key with this group. Not everyone is going to like you, so don't make yourself out to be everything for anybody. You have gifts in sensual abilities. Meaning you can manifest the lover(s) you like with just your charm alone. Not everyone has a romantic aura that shapes the perception of everyone around them. You're a dream come true for many, yet aren't being who you are meant to be. Focus on self-love at this time in order to attract the partner you're aspiring to have. That's the way to make things worth it. You're charm is admirable, but it takes you to see it.

PILE 4 - Accelerated Motion / Firm Foundation

You have to let go of everything you thought you knew about love and more importantly about the love you see in yourself. Everything doesn't have to make sense in the matter of love as love is the highest vibration to connect to. Which isn't based on pure logic alone. Struggle love may have been something you've had in the past or just accepted because you didn't know what was out there. But I am telling you there is more out there, you just have to look and see. For this group, you gotta let go of the old you, and make room for a new one. Change your look, do something different your hair, smile more. Make yourself presentable when out to the public, and dress. your. best. That love you're looking for is around the corner. You just gotta keep yourself looking good and feeling good for you, and yourself ALONE. You're security in self needs to be the focal point in all love relationships moving forward, because in the past the focal point of the relationship was bended do to not fully supporting ones own needs, but for the needs of others.

[luveline]

Hi babe! Not sure how you feel about writing ab parents so feel free to ignore, but had an idea for kbd au if Steve’s parents tried to contact him/get into their lives and he’s all like stay away from my kids

kisses before dinner —steve has a tense relationship with his parents. mom!reader, 1.5k

The girls haven't seen their grandparents for… a while. 

Steve's dad always has something to say about his life. How he's thrown everything away being a stay at home dad, or how idiotic it was to stay with you. The latter was enough for Steve to want to cut contact initially, but you convinced him not to do it on your behalf. 

Steve, pretty much everyone we knew thought I was baby trapping you, you'd said. 

Well, he'd said, attempting to lighten the mood, little do they know I baby trapped you. 

Damn. Wanna do it again?

So it was funny. His parents didn't like you but they hardly liked him, he didn't mind —he was so fucking angry because who the fuck did they think they were, how could they look at you and not love you, you, in what world was it possible?— and he put up with their passive aggressive Christmas cards and their sparing visits, but then his mom took it too far. 

He can remember it word for word. “Beth, honey,” his mom had said, her nose stuck in its permanent wrinkle, “why are you eating it like that? What do your friends at school think?” 

“Mom, don't,” Steve had butt in. Beth didn't even go to school at that point. 

“She's such a weird kid,” she said, shaking her head. 

Some could argue it was fond or that she didn't mean anything by it, Bethie is very unique sometimes, but Beth turned her face to her dad with crestfallen eyes, as heartbroken as Steve had ever seen her before, and asked, “I'm weird?” 

Steve doesn't remember the last time he spoke to his mom. A year ago at least. 

He does miss her. But he doesn't really know her, never has, and he'd choose Beth over her without a thought. It would take a hundredth of a millisecond to decide. 

That's why seeing her is a shock. He's going to see her, they live in the same town —you bumped into her a few weeks ago and had to give her the rundown. Everyone's okay. Yeah, we had another baby, she's doing great. 

Steve had blown up at her. The girls had never seen him that angry in their lives and they haven't seen it since, and the gap is impassable. 

Or so he thinks. 

“Steve!” He tenses up. “Steve, honey!” 

He can't decide what to do. He can't exactly run away; Bethie and Dove sit knee to knee in the shopping cart, Avery has her hand in his pocket, and Wren is strapped to his chest. Running would leave at least one girl behind, and where would he go? The frozen food aisle?

“Oh, it's grandma,” Avery says. “She looks… old.” 

“She is old,” he says, turning reluctantly on the spot to watch his mother rush past a stack of cans of carrots. “She's ancient.” 

“Steve, baby.” His mom stops in front of him, more flustered than he knew she could get back, struggling to maintain a sense of casualness. “How are you? Girls? It's been so long.” 

Steve doesn't have an inkling of an idea of what to say. He's not mad anymore, but he knows she'll never change, and he knows that your family is a hundred times happier without worrying what grandma and grandpa think of you. “We're perfect,” he says. 

“And this is baby Wren?” 

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, this is Wren.” 

She's only three months old but she has a good weight to her, and she's brilliantly healthy. She blinks at the woman in front of her without recognition, her dark lashes a thick hedging. She's a beautiful baby. 

“She looks like you again, Steve.” 

“Yeah, my girl's good at having babies, but she hasn't mastered the mixing process,” he jokes without thinking. Love for you falls off the tongue. 

His mother has the sense to make herself laugh. “Where is Y/N?” she asks. 

“Mom went back to get milk!” Avery says. 

“Yeah? And how are you, sweetie?” 

Steve clears his throat. He understands what she's trying to do, but he remembers Beth's crushed face and he can't abide this shit again. I believed you when you said I wasn't good enough, he'd said, he'd shouted, his voice hoarse with it as you’d wrapped a hand around his wrist arm, but I will not let you do it to them. It's not happening, mom, I won't let it. You don’t get to say that to her.

“Steven…” 

“Mom, we have to get going.” 

“I said I was sorry,” she says. 

“But you weren't.”

“Steve–” She doesn't look a thing like her son beside the similar way they begin to cry, that frown, “Please, I know I'm not perfect, we don't have to pretend I've– I'll hold my tongue. I just want to see my grandkids. I've never even held her.” 

Steve covers the back of Wren's head with his hand, her baby hair soft as down. The girls are being remarkably quiet, beside Dove, who's whispering, “Who is that?” to Bethie in her clumsy toddler drawl. 

“That's gran'ma,” she whispers back. 

Steve's mom is, at the end of the day, their grandma. And she sucks and she doesn't deserve anymore chances, and the girls are better off without her for the majority, but… 

Steve screws his eyes shut. Don't make me regret this, he thinks. 

“I just want to speak to them,” she says. 

“Alright,” he says quietly, covering Wren's ear. “Alright, mom, fine, but this is it. This is your chance. If you ever upset or insult one of my kids again, we're done. We will never, ever speak again. You won't see them, and you won't see me. I'm serious.” 

“I'm sorry,” she says again. 

“Fine.” He pulls the strap off of Wren's harness and shushes her gently as she protests, lifting her out of his arms into his mom's. She doesn't have time to decide if she's ready. This is how it's going to be. “Her head.” 

“I know how to hold a baby,” she says. 

You come around the aisle slowly, a little wince to your step, some residual tightness in your hips as you recover postpartum, but the frown you wear slips into surprise. “Terri?” 

You save Steve and take the reins, suffering a conversation on your pregnancy, birth, and Wren's first weeks of life as Steve takes a breath. His heart races, adrenaline and a sticky, icky feeling in his chest as he watches his mom. He doesn't know if he's doing the right thing. His arms ache to steal Wren back. 

It ends in an invitation for dinner. Whenever you're free, whatever you want, Steve's mom offers. 

He's glad to see the back of her. 

You put the milk carton in the cart and touch his elbow. “You okay?” He hums. Your hand moves up to his face, cupping his cheek. “She makes you so mad, babe. Do you need a second?” 

“I think I'm pissed because…” He glances down at Wren, who's happier now she's in familiar hands. “I didn't realise she was a shitty mom. I knew we didn't get along, the same with my dad, but I didn't know…” He sighs. 

“It's okay,” you say, giving him a gentle squeeze before Dove demands you pick her up. You do it unthinkingly, and that's why he's mad. 

“I know what a good mother looks like,” he says. “I know how hard it is. And I know she didn't even try.” 

You're all sympathy, looking like you wanna wrap him up in a cuddle in the middle of the grocery store. “You deserved better. It makes me angry too.” 

“Are we going to dinner?” Beth asks. 

“What, with grandma?” Avery asks. 

“Not right now,” Steve says. 

“Good,” Dove says decidedly, wrapping her arms around your neck to hug you, squishing your cheeks together. “Cocoa?” 

“Cocoa? You want hot cocoa?” you ask, pleased. 

It breaks his heart thinking about himself as a kid. He knows there weren't any moments like this, no soft touches or sweet treats that weren't begged for. You don't even think about saying no. 

“And marshmallows,” you croon, rubbing the little space between her shoulders. “And we'll have to get a cinnamon roll too, for your sister. How does that sound, Beth?” 

Beth doesn't like hot cocoa but she loves cinnamon rolls these days, and she nods her head exuberantly. As quick as that, the girls forget their grandma's interruption, and Steve tries his best to put it out of his mind. Family is messy, and it's harder now he has to make decisions for all of them, but he has you. His support beam, his sweetheart, you put Dove on your hip and sew your arm loosely through his. Tonight he'll talk your ear off about things you know already. You'll listen without complaint, stroking his hair back from his forehead if you have a free hand. His family growing up wasn't worth calling a family half the time, just three people connected by blood and a shared house, but the family he has today takes the cake. There's no competition. 

[rockpapertheodore]

I cannot tell you how frustrated I am with the anti-math movement because despite what anyone thinks in high-school, you use math constantly every day in ways the very, like, sexless? way school teaches math will never prepare you for.

If you want to run a business? Inventory costs, storage and logistics, labour and wages, bills.

You have any customer service job? You are making change. You are making SO much change. All the time. Sometimes the computer works and you're safe, but sometimes your entire point of sale is beholden to the whims of a third party system with a web server of your entire inventory on the other side of the state and it's gone down. Again. So u gotta do all the math on paper because you're still open because it's an inconvenience, not a reason to stop business.

Baking.

Building something? Gotta do some dang ol' physics and engineering if u wanna do it efficiently and with minimal expenses.

Sports people are doing so much subconscious math all the time, without ever knowing it, and being aware of all the ways geometry (if ur playing a stick-and-ball game like baseball or cricket or pool) or physics (literally every sport)

I'm not gonna lie, I'm not sure where I was going with this beyond "im so annoyed with the incompetent presentation of math in US public schools." Please understand I'm not trying to shame anyone, and I am not judging anyone for struggling with math. Math is an arcane wizard language invented to quantify and understand the functions of the world around us. The human brain is a pleasure-seeking monkey with astronomical pattern-recognition abilities, and some beautiful autist in the past went "hey actually what if I could measure everything?" And math started.

I'm not even particularly good at any discipline beyond general mathematics because I've been making change for customers since I was 6.

Also its really fun making ur bosses sweat when you piece together the profit margins on accident because you 'tism for a second and guesstimate the cost of buying in the product and margin of profit based upon sale price and volume of sales.

Anyway learn and understand just enough to survive, and then just enough more to make your employers sweat when you can explain to your coworkers approximately how much the store is making.

Shoutout to my discalculic homies, I don't know how to make math that doesn't suck yet, but I'll do my damndest to help u out when they create a sequel to numbers that makes sense.

[priniya]

🎥 ACTRESS’ SAVIOUR

SYNOPSIS. when doctor reid finds himself enamoured with a certain actress with bright future ahead of her, she gets kidnapped and all he wants to do is save her by any cost.

going to your father’s bureau for the first time could’ve been considered an usual experience, something that could occur on a daily basis — a daughter, stopping by her parent’s workplace to possibly drop him off breakfast he left at home.

for you, on the other hand, it was a stressful occurrence. it was one of the first times at the BAU, where agent hotchner’s been working for years. the reason behind your rare visits there was relatively simple, you weren’t aware you even had a father until you turned sixteen and your mother has passed away. it was, when the social services found out that beside her, you had other living relatives, so… instead of an orphanage, you moved to quantico. building a relationship with a man, who already had a wife and a son, and no idea that his high school relationship has resulted in a kid, was rough. but here you were, six and a half year later, nervously standing inside the elevator, hoping that nothing would go wrong.

however, it had to go, you wouldn’t be yourself if everything went smoothly. as you looked into your phone to check a notification that popped up on the screen, you were met with a person — too quickly to realise that you were bound to bump into someone. the man in front of you was holding a half–empty cup of steaming coffee that other half spilled all over his brown sweater. a flush washed over you immediately, having taken a notice of what just happened.

“i am so sorry, sir.” your nervousness reached its peak the second your eyes laid on the man in front of you. he was tall, definitely taller than you, almost towering over you, glasses were resting on the bridge of his nose as he grimaced. from the plastic plate on his chest you read his name. spencer reid.

“well, uh. it’s alright.” he muttered, walking past you to change out of his stained piece of clothing, giving you all the reasons to overthink this situation, feeding your anxieties.

the confident attitude you tried to put on was now long gone as you made it through to your father’s office. it was a struggle, because you couldn’t remember how to get there, but when you did, your cheeks flushed even more upon seeing spencer, standing next to your dad, his stained shirt nowhere to be found. “excuse me, uh–” you started, announcing your presence, earning a few curious looks. “dad, you left the breakfast at home.”

“dad?” you heared a female voice whisper, and you swore your guts to know that she looked around the room for an answer, while, unfortunately for her, being left with nothing more than a shrug. the last name on the plastic clipped onto your shirt didn’t match with their boss’, which only confused them more.

hotch cleared his throat, giving you the tiniest smile as he took the brown bag from you. “y/n, these are special agents morgan, prentiss, rossi, garcia and doctor reid. you already know jj.” he said, confusing them even more. “this is my daughter, y/n.”

“hey, i know you from somewhere.” a woman spoke out, her colorful dress catching your attention immediately. “oh my gosh, hotch why didn’t you tell me that you’re daughter is playing on the russos life? i love that show!” her words brought heat to your cheeks.

the russos life was your first bigger gig that got you a little bit of recognition in show-busines and social media. at the beginning of your small acting career, you promised yourself that you’d not go to the television, because theatre was your thing. you can’t even recall the moment when your point of view changed, maybe it was after the call from your agent suggesting you that you should take the role, because the producers were already interested. or, most likely it was when you fell in love with a role you were proposed.

you stayed in the conference room (and in the building in general) for the next few minutes. after you had left, the sweet sound of your voice was still lingering in spencer’s mind that somehow went unnoticed by the team. he was sitting at his desk, frowning over something, when the clock hit three and the decision was quickly made in his mind — go grab a sandwich or you’ll go crazy. the funniest thing for people around him (if he ever let them know) might be that he couldn’t quite grasp the reason of his interest in you. reid found his thoughts trailing off to you as he hovered over the raports he was filling out that he almost wrote your name in there. he pushed the door of a nearby cafe open, intuitively scanning the place. his eyes were all over the place until he felt someone at his back.

“shit— sir, i’m sorry, i don’t know what’s happening with me to–” you began to rumble as the man you bumped into turned to face you. your face grew redder, the second you realized it’s the same person you’d bumped into already, which only made you feel more embarrassed.

oh.

“doctor reid, i’m really sorry.” you hoped your words came off as genuine, because they were. it almost seemed like you had some sort of scheme against him that you had to bump into him whenever he’s around. “at least i didn’t have a coffee on me, right?” an awkward smile crept on your lips, trying to ease the situation.

the corners of his mouth twitched slightly as spencer was taking in your beauty. the way your eyes flickered, the way lipgloss coated your lips, the way you had your hands behind your back or the way you tilted your head to get a better view of his face. the height gap between you and spencer wasn’t a lot, but it was definitely a little troubling. “thank god, i didn’t exactly have another spare shirt on me.” his repsonse made you chuckle quietly, feeling the embarrassment wash away with each word that left his mouth.

you don’t even know how much time had passed since you started your little conversation with doctor reid. even though you were the one rambling on and on, he has asked you a few times about your job, genuinely interested in what you do on set and what is your show about. he remembered the cheap looking show lila had played in, back when the bau had her case. you told him all about the plays you partook throughout the entirety of your school year and he dumped all the facts he knew about the plays on you.

you could see yourself getting fond of his presence around you, it felt eerily comforting, which for you was strange. until you moved to your dad’s place, you had rare contact with the opposite gender outside the plays, no real father figure, no closer relationship with a guy before, you had never felt so comfortable around a man, who you just met. so… it wasn’t really strange that you ended up exchanging numbers, what could be strange (for reid’s friends) was that he was the first one to call.

he kept calling, while you kept happily responding. it grew to be some sort of your thing, almost as if each of you were one another’s happy place. whenever he got frustrated with a case, he’d call you to take things off his mind, which always went smoothly. spencer was probably the biggest fan of your endless rambling about your classes or people you found annoying during the day.

the phone calls got more and more regular with each week passed, and when you didn’t call him to say good morning one day, his conscience was going absolutely crazy, his guts telling him something was off. nevertheless, his thoughts were pushed aside as his phone rung out with a call from jj, alerting on a new case.

“NYPD asked for our assistance in a possible serial killer case.” jareau explained as she handed the case files to the rest of the team. “over the course of last few days, four females were strangled before the unsub stabbed them multiple times.” she took a long sigh. “each of the girl was around the age of twenty to twenty three, studied in the state and majored in the arts fields, lived alone, but were socially active.”

a shiver ran down spencer’s spine as he heard jennifer’s words. the victimology were too familiar to you, making the unsettling feeling come back to him. pulling out his phone from the deep of his pocket, he managed to send you a quick text, asking to call him as soon as you see his message.

but you didn’t call him back. he was thinking about you all the time they were gathering more information, but there was some that shocked the team the most. the letters craved on each of the victims’ bodies. at first it seemed… like random letters, a code maybe.

“what if it’s an anagram?”

after that, spencer wrote the letters on the board, his throat tightening when the realisation hit him. the letters could be put in as your first and last name. “hotch, uh, i– can we talk, in private?” he muttered, before leavng the room the NYPD set up for them. his hands were shaking as he paced around the room, trying to find the right words to tell hotchner about his theory.

“y/n and i have been talking lately.” spencer started. “i–i got this strange feeling today, she often texted me in the mornings, almost every day in the past few days and–and she didn’t do that today.” he took a deep breath, flattering his brown shirt. “maybe i’m biased, but i think something bad happened to her, the anagram was– it was her name, hotch.” his words were falling out of his lips almost too fast for your dad to understand.

but aaron hotchner has always been the smartest guy out there, the meaning behind spencer’s words almost immediately got to him, because once again his child was in danger, he had a feeling, when he learnt the victimology, but when spencer said those words, his suspicions were confirmed. “reid. i need you to go to her apartment, i suppose you know the address?”

fifteen minutes later, young doctor was at the door of your apartment. it wasn’t exactly the first time he was there, but it didn’t matter now, not when you could be in danger with a serial killer, looking for you. “y/n?” he knocked on the door three times, when he got no answer, he did the morgan speciality, kicking the door open.

your entire flat was quiet, completely out of place. the last time he was there, around two weeks ago, it wasn’t as neat as it was right now. you had your scripts scattered around the coffee table, pillows disheveled on the couch, dishes laying around the counter, although now, everything was clean. almost too clean. then he found it, a small piece of paper underneath a cup that you made him coffee in.

you won’t keep us apart.

he recognised the fact that your handwriting was different, even though you liked keeping your place a little more messy, often calling it ‘artist’s mess’, your handwriting was neat and precise. you didn’t write this note.

“sir? you’ve gotta take a look at that.”

the last thing you remember was walking down the street, a phone in your hand about to send a quick message to reid that you’d call him as soon as you get to your flat. it was a habit of yours, texting the young doctor to give him a notice you’d call to ramble about your day. just the thought of talking to him had given you butterflies, a thought of hearing his voice after a long day at university and on set was enough to make your day better. you were about to send the message, when a guy bumped into you with so much force you barely kept yourself on ground. before you knew it, you felt an overwhelming rush of pain, passing out soon after.

your consciousness was regained, but the place wasn’t familiar. a small room with window covered with a black fabric that didn’t let any light inside. the walls had pictures stuck all over them. pictures of you, from at least four months back. each day when you were coming back from campus, there was a photo, of you at the library, at the club with your friends, going back from school, even one that captured how you giggled at one of spencer’s facts, when he visited you.

the level of anxiety peaked, when the person who locked you up came back, a bouquet of flowers in his hands, the one you loved so dearly, the one’s your mom had always put up in vases at your house, the one you got from your manager after wrapping up the season one of the russos life. “we’re sorry.” he spoke out, his voice hoarse, cracking here and there.

“but we’re finally together, y/n/n.” he whispered, getting closer to you with each word. “no one will be able to keep us apart. we’re together, for eternity.” his hand grapped your jaw to make you look at him, his lips barely inches apart.

you could feel the overwhelming pain washing over you again, realizing that he probably stabbed you back there on the street — with that realisation, it hurt even more.

his hands were rough on your skin, almost leaving a burnt mark on your cheeks. he caressed it, trying to maintain a gentle manner, causing you to tear up. “please, let me go.” you whispered, looking at him with teary eyes. “please.” his rough, yet gentle hand slapped you across the face, attitude changing immediately.

“no.” he groaned angrily, gripping your jaw even harder than the first time. “you’re not leaving. not when we’re finally together. eternity, sun. together for eternity.” his words almost burnt into your mind.

how long were you there? days, weeks, months maybe. you couldn’t know. the lack of sun, barely any food and water was driving you crazy, nevertheless, right when he left you alone, you realized something that came up to you as a moral of reid’s story he told you about a certain case with a man obsessed with a woman. you had to play into his fantasy, no matter how it hurt and how painful it was, it was necessary to gain his trust.

and you did, played right into his delusional fantasy of you until he trusted you enough to make a mistake. leaving the door unlocked. you left in such a hurry, you couldn’t breathe. the air was suffocating, it was dark, so dark you felt scared that someone would attack you again.

“oh my, miss, are you okay? you’re bleeding.” a lady called out to you, grabbing your shoulder in a soft manner, the presence of a female soothing your nerves a little.

“i– i need to make a phone call, please, could i use your phone?” before you knew it, you were dialing one of the numbers you memorised by heart.

“doctor spencer reid, can i help you with anything?” his monotonous voice rang out in the phone, causing you to sigh in relief. “sorry?” he added. you imagined him frowning, like when he tried to teach you how to play chess and you kept giggling at how frustrated he was getting, while you pretended to not know a thing about chess.

“spence.” another escaped left your lips. “i– i don’t know where i am. i know you’re in quantico, put please help me out, there’s a guy, who—” you started rambling, your vision getting blurry.

“y/n, i know.” he whispered. “we’re in new york, garcia’s tracking your location right now, please stay on the call with me.”

“spence,” you started, holding onto the woman next to you for stability. “i– he’s done something to me, i think– i think, i might pass out.” your tone was quieter with each words, almost stuttering as you felt your limbs weakening.

your world was crushing down on you, the nearby buildings suffocating you, not letting you breathe, the stab wounds overwhelming. the next thing you knew, you were in the hospital, machinery plugged into you, your eyelids heavy as you opened them.

“you’re awake.” a familiar voice filled your eardrums as you tried propping up on the bed, stopped by the ripping pain. “hey, hey. don’t move, you’re okay.” his hand was in his, holding you so gently and tenderly you wanted to cry. it wasn’t like their unsub’s, doctor reid was genuine, the way he held your hand was almost… symbolical.

you had four stab wouds on your stomach that the man wrapped into a foil to stop you from bleeding out, but it ripped when you ran away. your face was bruised, marks left by his hands visible on your upper neck and jaw.

“you’re okay.” he repeated his words almost as if spencer tried to reassure himself that nothing would happen to you anymore. definitely not on his watch. “i won’t let him do anything to you again, i promise.” he planted a tender kiss on your hand, squeezing it softly. none of you realized that the rest of spencer’s team, including your father, was standing in the doorway, observing the little moment between you and doctor reid.

the one thing that burst your bubble was derek’s laughter, after having told a joke that obviously involved you, spencer and the fact that he was the first one you called after getting out of the unsub’s place. “looks like pretty boy stole your daughter from you, hotch.” morgan’s elbow nudged your dad’s side.

aaron wasn’t dumb, and from the very beginning, he knew that there would be something going on between the two of you. hotch knew that from the way reid’s lingered on you, when you visited the bureau. how his eyes would always slip to his phone or how he had to get away from the office to make a phone call, lasting all through his lunch break, so when four days ago he told his boss about the suspicions, it all came together.

“i know it’s early, but you have to tell us if you remember everything from those days.” your dad’s tone was soft. if he wasn’t so good at this job, you’d think he tried to make you relive the moment again, but hotch has always been great and you knew it, he wanted to catch the person who did this to you.

“it was, uh.” the words coming out of your mouth was weak, which was no surprise for anyone, since you could barely have your head up to look at the concerned faces of people in your room. “a white guy, his late twenties maybe. i don't remember much beside his hands. i thought of it as something that maybe would let you catch him.”

“what about his hands, sweetheart?” morgan asked. he was standing next to prentiss and rossi, who noted all the important things you said. “did he lack any fingers? had only one hand?"

“no, no.” you shook your head. "spencer told me that, um, most of the sophisticated killers have smooth hands. his weren’t smooth at all. it was rough, like if he was working since he was a kid.” images were flashing through your mind at the speed of light. nevertheless, it didn't feel enough. “it looked like he was in the middle of psychotic break or was off meds, he kept using plural pronouns like if there was another person, but he was alone the whole time i was there.”

when the interview was done, jj stayed behind to talk to you a little. her facial expression revealing that she was interested in your friendship with the young doctor from her team. “so… spencer told you?” she lifted her eyebrows, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed.

“yeah…” your reply sounded a little sheepish. “i kind of ran into him twice, when i came to your office half a year ago, the first time i was too embarrassed to say anything other than ‘i’m so sorry, sir’, but the second time was on his break, i think and it kind of… went smoothly from there.” a blush spread over your cheeks, but jennifer didn’t comment on that.

“you’d look cute together.” her words made your brain go a little fuzzy. maybe she was right, but something in your gut told you that nothing would be happen between the two of you, spencer was the type of guy in love with his work, not a random girl he met on a random tuesday. although, his mind was an enigma, how could you be so sure of that?

“c’mon, jj.” you mumbled, looking away. “we’re friends, strictly platonic.”

the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach was there, even after the unsub was caught two days after you were free to leave the hospital. it was only growing, when you were alone with a man you weren’t exactly close with. as bad as it made you feel, being around your dad’s co–workers was almost paralysing. morgan, rossi, the cops involved in your case, who tried talking to you about the entire thing, it was making your hands shake.

“spence?” you whispered, after having knocked on the door of his hotel room, a day before they left.

he opened the door immediately, almost as if his guts told him you were on the other side. he looked like you’d just woken him up. his hair all over the place, his gaze sleepy. a t–shirt loose on his body as he pulled you inside, closing the door behind you. “hey, sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you up, thought you’d be still up.” you couldn’t bring yourself to speak louder.

“i had a feeling you’d swing by.” his words made your cheek grow hotter, because to be honest… you were thinking about seeing him, laying down on the bed unable to sleep. “what’s on your mind?” he asked, bringing his hand to your chin, causing you to look at him.

“are all the profilers doing that?” you asked, mesmerised by the way his eyes roamed around your face, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

“subconsciously, yeah.” you chuckled. “don’t go off topic. something is bothering you, you know i see it.”

“i just… wanted to see you.” embarrassment rolled off your tongue, knowing that probably lots of women had already told him that. mostly, because morgan told you about the time, when prostitutes tried hitting on him during one of the cases — spencer had his charm, but you couldn’t be sure if he knew. “jesus, you can’t look at me like that, when you’re all that.”

“all that?” reid’s laughter rang in your ears as he made a step towards you, reducing the distance between you two.

“yeah? have you seen yourself before you opened the door? man, i had four stab wounds and—” you began to ramble, but his smirk and the look on his face make you stop, before another chuckle left his lips. “what?”

“nothing.”

“reid!” you groaned, punching him slightly in the arm as he still held your face, tilting it upwards.

seconds later, his mouth were on your, his lips moving against yours tenderly. his free hand squeezing your waist gently, pushing you even closer. it was the first time you felt any type of comfort in the past few days. you were completely speechless as the kiss broke off, looking at him with big eyes.

“i– you–.” you stuttered.

“it’s funny, you usually can’t stop rambling, but now you’re a stuttering mess.” he chuckled once again, his arms firm, yet gentle on your waist as he continued to tease you with a smirk that wouldn’t get off his face.

“i thought if i did something wrong, i’d not see you again.” he whispered, his nose brushed against yours. your breath hitched in your throat at the proximity. “it made me realise how many things i should’ve done before, how important you became to me, y/n. i can’t go on without a thought of you in my mind, you’re like a plague that i don’t– that i’d never get rid of.”

“i know this job is hectic and that i’m a mess most of the time, but you’re the only one that keeps me sane after what i see.” his lips brushed against yours again and you didn’t protest.

“so… you’re saying that you can’t stop thinking about me.” it was your turn to smirk at him, your heart tingling with a feeling unknown, yet so familiar that always appeared around him. “i can’t stop thinking about you, too, you know. i, uh, had this feeling that if i get out, you’d be there somewhere to keep me safe.”

“i am, and i always will, promise.”

“is it you asking me out right now?” a quiet giggle escaped your mouth, earning a hum in return. “only if you’re gonna say yes.”

[amphitriteswife]

Queen

Jaegyeon na x reader

Standing on the central station of Incheon, you were busy reading the latest news. You were going to take the next train to Seoul which was in half an hour. Tapping your foot against the ground impatiently, you were reading the news article about Jichang kwak who ‘suddenly’ passed away. Scrolling through the article almost the 3rd time in the past few minuted you scanned the words. Nothing made sense at all. Jichang wasn’t a weak man, nor was he he careless man. So why would someone target him when he wasn’t even the king of Seoul anymore but of Chuncheong? A place that many did not care for at all? Thinking about it terrifying. Not only did they know lots about jichang as a gang member, but they were strong enough to kill him.

The harsh and loud scraping of the train gliding ringing in your ears, the sound of many people talking all felt a little overwhelming at the moment. But what was there to do? It was strange. Everything seemed out of place. Jichang was a honorable man even if you didn’t often cross paths. He was respectful and did care more for his family than for the greed of taking over the territory of the other kings of the 1st generation. It was just so heartbreaking for a man who was finally making a turn for his life. Most of the time then. It gave off a chilling feeling. Unfortunately for you, the chilling feeling only became worse when a familiar voice was heard close to your ears

‘I thought we agreed you wouldn’t show your face in this place again?’ A man with a blonde dyed mullet and black roots asked you. He wore rather fashionable clothing and a chain around his neck. He looked like a kpop idol…you almost mistook him for DG but with another style..not that you’d say it out loud.

The man waved in front of your face. Seemingly to get you to pay attention. ‘Hellooo i asked you something Y/N’ the man said seeming a little irritated that you didn’t answer his question. Strange. He knew your name. Yet you didn’t know him, not at the top of your head. ‘Who are you?’ You asked him back a little puzzled. The man seemed absolutely floored at your question, almost offended even. His face switched from narrowed and a scowl to dropping open his jaw and having wide eyes. ‘It’s me! The king of Incheon!’ The man said pointing to his own face. ‘How could you ever forget my handsome face?’ He asked you back, offended at your lack of recognition for him. ‘….James?…’ you said slowly and hesitantly, recalling the events to meeting a red haired youngster you met a few years ago.

The man stopped moving, completely stunned by the name you just called him. He looked almost deeply hurt and on the verge of crying by which name you just called him before his face distorted in pure rage ‘JAEGYEON! JAEGYEON NA DAMMIT! HOW DARE YOU EVEN COMPARE ME TO THAT FUCKER!’ He said all in one go, catching his breath after followed by his composure. He ran a hand through his bangs and looked at you again all cocky and arrogant. ‘So..what is the former Queen of Incheon doing here? Trying to get back your title?’ He asked you in an almost mocking tone.

Realization dawned over you which made you laugh because of how you totally forgot him, and because of how much he changed. Physically then, mentally he was still the same. ‘Well, even if i was the former queen, i left that life style behind a long time ago. Why did you think you won anyway?’ Jaegyeon stiffened a little. Are you implying that you let him win? How humiliating…But he decided to play it off for now. ‘So..what are you doing here?’ He asked you a little hesitant but mixed with curiosity. ‘I’m going to Seoul, taking the train. Why?’ You asked him back. A little suspicious by the questioning which made him scoff. ‘I could drop you off myself. No need to take the train.’ Jaegyeon offered, sounding more cocky than kind. ‘No way, i’d rather take the train than be seen in that junk of yours.’ That seemed to piss him off as his face scrunched up in anger before he started insulting you, spewing all kinds of nonsense and walking away to his junk car. Muttering a soft ‘stupid girl’ under his breath, secretly hoping you’d hear him.

It was weird, since you two were around the same age. But then again, it’s not like you’d care if he said something like that to you. You just waved back and stepped into the train that had arrived in the mean time, leaving Jaegyeon alone with the weird interaction he just had with you. He couldn’t help but wonder when he’ll see you again and confess. If he’ll even have the balls to do so.

Thank you all for reading! 🙏

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Stand Alone Series Chapter: 2

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n and Hermione attempt to deal with the emotional and mental turmoil that came after the 'Battle Of Hogwarts' & everything else that led up to it.

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, depiction of cutting & self harm, death & violence, a bit of fluff somehow

Note: this one gets pretty graphic so please approach with caution. like stated there is mention of self-harm and a depiction of it so i have indicated that section with asterisks. if that sort of thing is triggering for you please skip and stay safe! but other than that, hope you enjoy. <3

Taglist: @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @poppyflower-22 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @cherryflavoredcoke @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

(comment to be added to or removed from the taglist)

You cover your ears, a feeble effort to dull the incessant ringing.

Squinting to find your way through the courtyard, the dust began to make your eyes water. Yet the sting was a welcomed distraction from the near deafening noise that reverberates through the air.

You gaze up at the sky and it only helps to disorient you further.

The sun is out, but there is no light.

“Harry Potter is dead!” A voice dulls the noise, his voice.

The large snake that slithers past your foot makes you recoil, it circles you continuously, as if stalking a prey.

You reach for your wand on instinct, but you find that it is not in your pocket.

Your breath catches in your throat as Voldermort advances towards you. Half of his body deteriorating into dust, yet a spine-chilling grin remained.

You attempt to call for help, but you have seemed to forget how. So instead, you take a frantic scan of your surroundings.

Your stomach turns as you catch sight of a bloodied arm, sticking out of a pile of rubble to your left. You shift closer, motivated by a curiosity that you quickly learn to regret.

What you once thought was rubble, turns out to be a mountain of corpses.

They lay limp and lifeless atop one another, some nearly burnt to ash– others bloodied beyond recognition.

Your schoolmates, reduced to pieces of charred flesh and bone.

The urge to wretch overcomes you again.

“Harry Potter is dead.”

Voldermort's voice again, now only above a whisper, still makes you wince. You followed the arm he has left outstretched, pointing to the highest point of the mountain.

There you spot Harry, laying on the top of the pile, unmoving.

Dead.

The noise that leaves you is involuntary when you notice Ginny pinned underneath him. Then there is Fred, Neville, Seamus– Ron.

All dead.

“No!” You cry out, this time your voice does make it past your lips.

At last, you are able to locate your wand, you retrieve it swiftly as you point it at Voldermort.

His face has changed again. This time he appears to you younger, human.

You are left staggered for a heartbeat, still you continue to aim your wand towards the man standing before you.

“The snake, y/n, you have to kill the snake.” Her voice carries through the courtyard. Hermione's voice.

Still, you can't see her.

You just barely manage to bite back a sob.

Her absence is like a dagger to your chest, twisting relentlessly.

“I will try.” You respond to no one.

The man's head morphs into one of a serpent, and soon, a bright flash of green erupts from the tip of your wand. With a large thud, the man before you drops to the ground.

It leaves you unsettled– killing still feels unnatural, it made you sick, and you vow to always feel that way. To never let it be a part of who you are, you cannot allow it to be.

You stand over the body now only to realize there is a serpent head no longer.

The corpse now bears a resemblance to someone you recognize all too well. A blade twists in your chest again, hacking away at your heart.

Hermione remains motionless as you kneeled over her. Frenzied, you pull her head onto your lap, feeling her pulse.

You did wish to see her, but not like this.

How can a sight you desperately yearned for, so suddenly turn into something you utterly dread?

“No, no. Wake up, my love. Please, wake up.” You beg in anguish, clutching her body close.

She is so cold.

The only bit of warmth you feel comes from the uncontrollable flood of tears that escape your eyes. You cannot sense the dagger anymore, and soon, you cease to feel much of anything.

Your chest– your very being, vacant.

You have killed Hermione, and the last bit of your soul in the process.

-

When you open your eyes again, you are in bed. You wake, alongside the familiar blinding ache in your arm.

All you can hear now is your quickened breathing, and the pounding of your heart as you sit up.

“Shit–” You mutter, clutching your head, your shirt sticking to your frame from sweat.

It wasn't real, only a dream.

The Dark Lord is gone, and you are safe.

Instinctively, you reach for Hermione, only to find the empty space next to you.

Panic sets in once more as you climb out of bed.

It can't be– it was only a nightmare.

“Hermione?” You call out into the darkness, but you receive no response.

You know she is alive. You spent the day with her and you went to bed with her.

It has been that way for weeks, you concede.

That is unless, you've managed to escape one nightmare only to wake up to an equally bleak reality.

The thought makes you shiver, you wrap your arms around yourself as you call out once more.

“Hermione?” You speak slightly louder as you enter the kitchen, still, she is nowhere.

You swallow uncomfortably, rubbing your throat when you realize just how parched you are.

You quickly approach the sink, retrieving a clean glass. “Aguamenti.” You watched silently as water started to fill it.

Soon you throw your head back, entirely emptying its contents.

You attempt to set the now empty glass down but a sudden sharp pain in your arm causes it to slip out of your fingers.

Before you can save it, the glass shatters across the counter.

The sudden noise causes you to flinch, but any shock you experience quickly morphs into pure anger as you observe the dark mark etched in your arm.

Truth be told, after the battle you had expected it to become dormant, obsolete. There is no use for it now that Voldermort is dead. but to your dismay, the effects only got worse and far more agitating.

Still driven by hot rage, you carelessly reach for a piece of glass, clutching it firmly.

Simply desperate to put an end to it all. The wretched memories– the pain and anguish that you carry with you every waking moment it is a result of this symbol in your arm.

***

Without another moment's thought, you run the sharp edge across your skin. You groan at the pain, but a queer sense of relief sets in as you watched the blood trickle down your arm.

The warm, red substance defaces the dark mark, you began to relish in the fact that you could hardly see the symbol now. So you decide to cut again.

You have no intentions to stop until it has been carved out of your arm entirely.

***

Although, you are only allowed to continue for a moment longer. You are caught by surprise when Hermione distrupts your plans. She wretches the piece of glass out of your hand in distress, it makes a loud crash as it lands it in the sink.

“What on earth are you doing?” Your girlfriend exclaims in horror. She immediately grabs a wash towel, quickly placing it over your arm to stifle the bleeding.

You don't respond for a prolonged moment, you can only afford to stare at Hermione. She is safe, she is alive.

You have not harmed her.

“Darling..” Hermione coos, you only realize you are crying when she gently wipes the tears from your cheeks.

“I just wanted it to stop.” Is all you can manage to utter, and your girlfriend's expression only grows more concerned.

She averts her gaze, lifting the towel to inspect your arm. Whereas, you mantain your stare upon Hermione– you cannot bear to acknowledge the damage you've inflicted upon yourself.

“This.. that was not the way to do it. What if you had cut too deep? Please, y/n, you can't do things like that. You frightened me half to death.” Hermione reprimands, her frustration entirely justified.

You nod in resignation, the fact is you weren't thinking, you simply acted, as you always do.

“I'm sorry.” You say with real remorse and Hermione swiftly wraps an arm around you.

She kisses the side of your face, embracing you tightly. The both of you remain like that, without speaking, for a while, simply taking comfort in each other's presence.

“Where were you?” You finally mumble against Hermione's shoulder. She pulls back to look at you properly before speaking.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went out onto the balcony.” Your girlfriend explains, loosely gesturing to the sliding doors in the distance that remain open.

“I lost track of time because I was reading.” Hermione adds, more sheepishly, and it only makes you smile.

“Of course you were.” You quip.

Your girlfriend shifts her eyes away from yours once again to look at your arm. You observed as she set her bottom lip in between her teeth, always a sign that she was thinking.

“You know, I think it's almost romantic.” You say suddenly, and Hermione blinks at you in confusion.

“What is?” She asks but you don't allow her to ponder on your statement for too long as you reach for her left arm.

You lift it up. It is tough to see under the moonlight, but you could still somewhat make out the scarring on Hermione's forearm.

Her flesh once carved until bloody with the word ‘mudblood’, now fully healed, leaving only a thick scar.

“Now we're the same.” You remark with a smirk, an effort to make light of a otherwise grim situation.

Hermione scoffs, retracting her arm.

“You are an idiot.” She claims, but there is no bite to her words, and you catch a faint smile playing on her lips as she rolls her eyes at you.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up.” Your girlfriend coaxes, tossing the bloodied wash towel into the sink.

[dalekofchaos]

Not interested in LIS:Double Exposure

Okay I saw the Double Exposure trailer and I am not playing it.

Multiple reasons.

The Deck Nine IGN article. I will not support a developer that knowingly protected a bigoted groomer and allowed a Nazi to sneak in White Supremacist signs in the game.

Max learned nothing about the first game. Nevermind there is no Chloe, Warren or anyone from Arcadia insight(we'll get to that) Max apparently formed another codependent relationship that she couldn't let go to the point where she's fucking up reality by creating yet another parallel world. Either Deck Nine is entirely unoriginal or Max didn't learn a damned thing

That is not Max. If your defense is "she grew up" I got news for you. I've looked the same for nearly a decade. I've had friends while changing their aesthetic, they look the same. you don’t look like an entirely new person when you age, the new model looks nothing like max there’s barely even resemblance. Also I know, we all change our style as we get older, but Max's style was unique and it made Max Caulfield who she is. It didn't need to change. Deck Nine just Stephified Max. Was it really that hard to give Max bangs? Not just that. No freckles, eyes and eyebrows look completely different. This is not Max Caulfield.

4. No one from Arcadia Bay returned. It's pretty obvious Deck Nine is either keeping Chloe's fate a secret, but it's also clear they are trying to skirt around the issue of the endings without pissing everyone off. Feels like a copout to whatever ending you chose to give a new cast of characters. For the fans who wanted more time to play as Max and Chloe, I feel bad for you, I especially wanted to see Chloe again. So what the fuck was this supposed to be for then?

Though another point; why the hell are we supposed to be okay with the fact that Max is using her power again to save this brand new character we have zero previous connection to? Especially if the game’s gonna try to straddle both endings to LiS 1; seems very insulting to have Max be okay with doing it for a character we have no previous attachment to, but she’s left her girlfriend to die alone, thinking nobody loved her?

Also you had the perfect chance to make a fucking game that has Max save Rachel. I know I just did a tangent about Max not learning anything, but if you were just going to have Max use her powers again, why the fuck didn't you do it to save Rachel from a fate she never deserved? Godfucking forbid you give attention to Warren, Kate or Victoria. I just wanted to see these characters get some screen time, make cameos or give us SOME hint to what they are up to after the events of the first game. But no, we can't have that. We can't be given anything of substance for Warren, Kate or Victoria. Can't learn anything about their fates in the LIS 2 Save Arcadia Bay ending, can't find out Warren or Kate survived the storm in Wavelengths via talking to Steph during the storm anniversary and we can't see them again in DE. I know it's just a teaser, but seriously why even do a new Max game if we don't even get cameos from these characters? Knowing how Deck Nine is, they are just gonna find a way to demonize Warren to paint him like Eliot, regress Victoria's character and not even give Kate the time of day to mention. Jesus fucking christ, I just wanted to see Max and Warren Go Ape, fun Max and Victoria photodates and to see Max and Kate have one fucking Tea date. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR???

5. Deck Nine are literally just swiping DontNod’s characters for the purposes of chasing that brand recognition. It's just copy pasting lighting in a bottle and milking a cow out of this franchise. BTS was remotely successful because of Chloe and Rachel's relationship. True Colors is fun at first, but realize it's just a hollow imitation of the first game. DONTNOD's story was original, fun and unique. I had problems with it but it was still THEIR story on their terms and not developed from a place of corporate cynicism asking for preorders ASAP that come bundled with a box of tissues and bobbleheads of dead teenagers. Read recent interviews from DONTNOD and you can TELL they got burned by SquareEnix over this. I hope they can channel that into something with Bloom and Rage because I’d love to see them recapture that magic again.

I had fears of what would happen if Deck Nine ever got their hands on Max. And looks like I was right to be worried.

To be clear, I think making stories with someone else’s character is great and cool and it’s literally what fanfiction is and technically, MUCH of mass media now IS “fanfiction”. The difference here is DONTNOD deliberately wanted LIS 1 canon left alone, near as I can tell. But no, Square Enix wanted a franchise and Deck Nine was more than happy to milk the cow for all it was worth and Deck Nine has shown they don't understand DONTNOD's characters

The game looks like it's repeating everything about the first game, but none of the charm that made it great. It's beat for beat the same fucking game. Dead friend, murder mystery, but without the ambiance, charm or magic that made the first game good. Deck Nine is completely unoriginal, DE is a soulless cashgrab and their hyperrealism killed the entire essence of the game and its characters.

It's quite literally a copy and paste of True Colors, but with Max.

And when we just look at this. Double Exposure is just soulless. It's style over substance and I knew. I just KNEW that if Deck Nine got their hands on Max it would be half-assed and soulless shit like this. They dared to slap Max's name on a Steph lookalike and then just do True Colors again, but more hollow.

There's something just so disappointing about the change in art style over the years. The art direction in the first game was charming and now it just feels kinda soulless. The awkward chunkyness of the models really made it stand out but now it feels way too smooth

life is strange going from one studios passion project to another’s cashgrab is one of the biggest modern tragedies in the world deck nine they could never make me like you. All the charm of the franchise from the cartoonish artstyle to the episodical releases has been completely stripped away it’s just very disappointing to see.

This meme is literally Double Exposure.