#and then she’s shunned by the rest of the family for months

[herawell]

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[romanoffsbish]

Forever Mine

Natasha Romanoff x F!R (College AU)

Warnings: Angst -> Fluff / HE | Classism / Break-Up | Insecure R | Jealous / Possessive Natasha | Violence

Natasha was supposed to be having the time of her life, it was her final year playing college ball and she was hoping to end it on a good note but you threw her off her game. So, the night before another she found you at a party… | WC: 7,252

Smut: Rough -> Soft | Fingering (Both) | Oral (R) | Thigh-Riding (N) | Denial / Overstimulation | Choking

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha glared across the room as she caught a fool with their eyes on you—the love of her life (the ex). You smiled politely; sweet, the way that always made her face hot and her heart skip—the most beautiful feeling.

Everything was perfect, but then you ended things. Nonsense uttered about focusing on school but you were not dressed like someone who preferred solitude.

You looked like you were here to fuck and forget, which only further soured her mood. Here she was waiting, hoping to see you since you won't answer her calls and you were relaxing at a frat party in a scandalized fit. It only made her heart ache even more for owed answers.

——

Her first thought was to yell at you, to cross the room and scream at you in front of your peers until you apologize or run out crying. The rational side of her could see you were out of your element, while they told jokes you nodded but your smile had lost its shine. It was clear to her you were definitely not feeling joyful.

Which is more in line with what she expected since you two were just madly in love a month ago, then you came back home from Christmas vacation with her family in Malibu, where the weather was dreary. It was a weekend full of pretentiousness, her parents to blame but with you at her side she could actually handle it all.

One smile from you and she'd settle, you were so calm and loving, everything she felt she didn't deserve but nonetheless she clung to with firm arms. Every time her parents upset her, she'd find and pull you close and you would let her without a single prying question, the two of you would naturally melt into pure tranquility.

Unfortunately that peace you brought her now ceased to exist, you changed in a blink, the quiet car ride home alarmed her enough, you fell asleep on the couch that night then somehow she lost her entire heart in three days when you stumbled right out the door—you left.

She shared her New Years kiss with a bottle of Rosé, the one that Wanda gifted you on your twenty first birthday, when everything was so much simpler.

You were saving it for your second anniversary, which was meant to occur a few days ago, but you walked out before that could happen so she took a large swig then poured the rest of the bottle out onto your cacti that filled a corner of her house. Now you lived in a friend's dorm until you can find somewhere else to stay. The redhead begged you to stay, even offering to stay in a hotel until you could find somewhere secure and safe.

You refused and rushed out to avoid sobbing in front of her and begging her to just love you even if you would never be good enough for her; Natasha was luxury.

You were too, but beauty was in the eye of the beholder and you were trusting the hoaxed, who lived to judge. Natasha had a suspicion for what your motive was. The breakup has been on her mind every day and it is what keeps her up at night. She should be furious, it is her right after all, but all she feels is deep pain and regret.

Regret for not publicly calling out her family for ever shunning you; making sure you felt her love, she saw a flash of unwillingness and regret before you turned away from her and ran out the door with two bags and there in turn lies the pain, not being able to love you. A set of tears slid down her cheeks as she remembered that night, the inevitable memory spiral underway.

Her mind cleared when she heard you say no way, there were a million reasons for it but she assumed the worst based on her petty observations. Natasha saw a look of discomfort on your face and her nonchalant resolve crumbled, the rage she felt towards you turned into something she could express as she walked over to the both of you and punched DJ square in the face.

"Oh my god," you gasped, "Natasha what the fuck?"

"The prick should have kept their hands to themself!"

You rolled your eyes, prepared to defend your friend but DJ rushed forward and head-butted Natasha in the nose, blood gushed and you felt queasy at the mess you had made by ignoring their encouragements to talk with her, maybe if you had this headache wouldn't be.

They ran with the violence though, leaving you frozen in place, unable to move in their tumultuous direction.

Until Natasha easily got the upper hand seconds later, tapping into the power of the Greek gods to punch the poor kid in the gut. Your lanky friend went flying and you realized it was time to intervene before cops arrive.

DJ bounced back fast and went to swing next but you jumped in between them and the brunette faltered. A sigh of dejection left their lips and they lowered their fist but the glare didn't waver. "Watch your back, Red."

You sent them off with a smile of appreciation and they nodded like it was a secret code. Natasha wore her envy close to her chest until it spread to her features.

"Are you really already seeing other people," she cried, a direct contrast to her glassy eyed glare, even when her words are angry she can only express devastation.

"Natasha," you pled, "come with me upstairs, please."

The redhead didn't want to give you the grace of a shameless admittance. You humiliated her by breaking her heart before the semi-finals game that DJ had to save. Natasha was the best on the team, coming in at only 5'3 but she had unbeatable court skills. That was supposed to be her night for scouts to truly take notice of her, she was meant to shine, but now, instead she is on the eve of the finals on the verge of being benched.

Instead of practicing her free throws down at the court with the metal chains; sprinting short distances in manic repetition, or most importantly, getting sleep; she is intermixed with drunk college idiots for you.

Because, as much as she hated admitting it, she just can't do any of those things without you being her personal cheerleader anymore—she is exhausted.

Something you noticed when you finished wiping her face clean of the blood and smudged makeup. Under it all, you found winter kissed cheeks where faint freckles remained, waiting for the rays to bring them back, the urge to kiss over the bridge of her nose arose. A soft, instinctual smile graced your face until you caught sight of her dark circles and dry, flaky skin. "Natasha."

It was a whisper but she heard your shock and guilt. Though the redhead misunderstood your concern, and boasted, "they had it coming, you needed protection."

You reached down to rinse off the rag, then began to smooth it over her face once more, the warmth of the fabric blanketed her in false serenity as you couldn't just let her be cocky and vaguely noble. "You don't need to protect me Nat, and especially not from my friends." Natasha rebuffed you with a promise, her tone venomous, "I will always protect you from tools."

"You shouldn't," you changed your approach, and just as expected she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, why's that?"

You sighed regretfully, "I'm not yours anymore Nat..."

"Says you," she grunted, "I had no say nor an actual explanation. Just lies about focusing on school as if we weren't both already focused students at the start."

"We're on different paths," you weakly tried again, moving to gently clean her discolored, swelling nose. "Don't," she warned as she momentarily turned cold, her eyes hardened and she pushed your hands away only to disgust you as her hands popped her nose back into place, she took in a shaky breath and you broke even more seeing the way she tried to hide her wince.

"Please, just let me take care of you Nat, you're only hurt because of me." Natasha scoffed bitterly, "that's a gross understatement if I've ever heard one before."

"I—," you flinched and Nat regretted her harshness instantaneously, her scowl quickly fell into a frown.

There was no satisfaction like she thought there'd be in rightfully scolding you for breaking her heart. All that was left in her mind was to receive the truth for it all.

"Why?" her murky, viridescent eyes filled with tears and you sighed sadly, "I heard your parents Nat, what they said, and I couldn't help but to see the end." You felt it was time to be honest, leaving the ball in her court on if she even wanted to fight for this or if she was angry enough that she'd pick her family over you.

Natasha's expression did a 180 as you confirmed her worst nightmare, her features rightfully downcast, she was pissed off, but wasn't exactly sure who at just yet, them for ever interfering or you for not talking it out.

"What they said isn't true," she growled, "not to me."

You chuckled humorlessly, "they're right Nat. I am not going to ever be at your caliber. I'm going to be a low wage teacher for heaven's sake, you'll be an engineer."

"So what? Those are jobs!!" Natasha lost it and you fed off her anger, gut gnawing detest clear as you spoke on, "Melina said it best, you're beautiful—better, and I..."

Natasha harshly slammed her lips to yours, body seamless as it slipped off the counter and spun you around until she had you corralled. The upset woman blindly reached behind herself to lock the door, then she pushed you into the marble until you whimpered.

The way your body was bent back over the sink hurt, the side of your face being pressed onto the chilled mirror. Natasha was just trying to silence you, to keep you from saying anything remotely self deprecating, but then she couldn't stop herself from seeking more.

In a haste manner she smoothly lifted you up from beneath your thighs and hoisted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing and proceeded to kiss you. All rational thought left you as she devoured your soul, just like she always did whenever she kissed you quiet.

A metallic taste pulled you from your desires, you pulled away and tried to push her back but it was fruitless. Natasha was soft in nature, when she wanted to be—her eyes used to regard you so, but now they were hard and terrifying. Most weekends you'd spend laying your head on her stomach that had a soft bloat for you to snuggle against. Right now though, with her entire body tensed you were reminded of her strict gym regimen and diet, designed just for her scholarship.

"Please," she begged, something that momentarily stunned you since she never was one to beg. "I need this Y/N, like a fire needs air to breathe, I need you."

"You have to let me go," you tried to sound genuine but she could hear the tremble in your voice. "I-I can't be the reason you lose your family Natasha. Yelena ne—."

"I'd give everything and everyone else in the world up if it meant you'd be by my side," she cut you off, her heart would shatter if Yelena took her parents side but it would be bearable if you were there to hold her tight.

"I'm not worth it Tash," you tried again, pushing with all your might because you knew how close the sisters are, but Natasha wouldn't relent on this. Instead, she burrowed her face into the warm space between your shoulder and jaw that was made just for her to do.

"You're worth plenty," she mumbled against your skin that now felt the warmth of her love as she suckled.

"Na-Nat," you moaned and she hummed in sync, "I need you to let go," she paused abruptly for emphasis, using your own words against you like a power move, "of this idea that I'm somehow better than you, Y/N."

"You—." Natasha cut you off, "don't need you to speak for me—especially when you parrot my idiot parents."

For the first time in forever you were silent, allowing Natasha a moment to just observe your sullen face. There was no spark left in your eyes to mirror your adventurous soul and it broke her heart even more which the redhead never thought possible. If she never heard from her parents again she'd avoid a felony.

"Yelena loves you by the way, something you know."

"I do," you admitted, "but they're your guys parents."

"Fuck them," she commanded, "they don't matter."

"They love you two." Natasha shrugged. "Yeah, but love shouldn't have limits, Y/N, and if theirs does then it's worthless to me. I want something real, and deep and could give two fucks less about your damn net worth."

Natasha decided right as she saw your longing glance that now is as good a time as any to finally confess her feelings, "I-," but she was suddenly nervous. A moment of heavy silence passed, your eyes curious and hopeful, yet guarded. "I love you," she admitted the truth she'd failed to so many times before. It had to be perfect, but then you said it first and instead of screaming it back she kissed you with so much passion you blanked.

That night she made love to you, but it wasn't enough.

Not only did you fail to see her devotion but you heard her parents, whom she once highly respected, dismiss you as worthy of her love anyways because of status.

They only had money because Melina works for the Starks, yet somehow they thought they were genuine elites. Nobody invited the family to galas, they just had an oversized house and sports cars to sell the image.

All her life the redhead was told how to exist to keep the whole facade up, what she should wear, how to impress adults, where to go—whether that be for dinner or college, and the list goes on until she finally ended her parents overbearing reign on her future.

Natasha chose engineering because it came easy to her, the same way that teaching and nurturing did to you, the exact reason the redhead fell for you, it pains her to see that what she loves most is being used against you.

Especially because what you are is light and love, and no amount of money could pay for such attributes, it was just organically woven into the foundation of you. It's what made you the perfect candidate for education.

Natasha is a firm believer that teachers make the world go round, even if she's had her fair share of the spawns of Satan himself, the ones who would punish her for her undiagnosed and therefore unmanaged ADHD. It wasn't until junior year that she found herself a you and if not for that she would be living without truth.

Mrs. Rambeau, known to her as Maria during lunch, was her first period Calculus teacher. The woman was stern at a first glance, but without the rowdy crowd of classmates she was soft and hilarious. The moments spent with her eased Natasha's own deprecating voice.

It was her who convinced Natasha to go for what she wanted and not to follow her mom into a lab or her dad into a lifelong play of sports that'd lead her to coaching and to the inevitable breakdown of her body over time.

At her graduation it was her she sought out first, and where she met her wife, Carol and their daughter, Monica. The couple had laughed knowingly at the awestruck teenager before Maria hugged her tight. Then Natasha lifted their little girl, letting her hang off her flexed forearm and found her heart melted as the sweet girl with the dimples and swaying curls giggled.

Natasha saw her future clearly through them; a family, something she only could have with you in her arms.

"I'll give up engineering," she declared, "be a teachers assistant to the prettiest one this towns yet to meet."

"What?" You shook your head, "don't be insane now."

"I'm afraid I've already fallen off my rocker detka," she teased, but you didn't share in the humor of the moment, her smile turned into a frown as she sighed, "I lost every last good part of me with you; the only way to bring me back is with our love restored."

"Natasha, I," you paused, a bit unsure where to start, but it didn't matter because she always knew what to say. "I'm no better than you," she continued with a smile that spoke of honesty. "I'm beneath you."

"No," you rebutted and she shook her head with an obvious expectation. "Seriously Y/N/N, if you don't teach the next generation then there's no future!!"

You chuckled, finally easing into your ex's embrace, "Natasha, I will hardly make a difference in their lives."

"You are so clueless," she groaned, "I love and hate that about you the most. Because, when you trip over your words and I kiss you silent it's perfect." Her lips quirked reminiscently and yours easily followed, then she was back to her enthused speech, "Yet, when I am telling you just how amazing you are, you still push back. I just want you to see what I do, let me love you."

"You love your family," you reminded her once again and she shrugged once more, growing tired of your baseless argument. "Not as much as I love you detka."

Natasha snorted painfully as your breath hitched, a bit too amused by your shock, as if her sentiment wasn't clear prior, even with the absence of her words. "The only question is do you love me enough to let me lead."

"I—." Once again you paused, but this time it was because you couldn't refrain from yanking her back into you for a kiss. A rushed 'sorry' slipped from your lips between steamy, sloppy open mouthed kisses, meant mostly for the wince as your nose had nudged hers but it was emotional in tone so she understood it held a much deeper meaning. Forgiving you was easy...

Especially when she had your body to release her anger upon, her fingers slipped between the tense skin of your abdomen and skirt, "is it okay?" As soon as you moaned yes her svelte fingers slipped over the wet hot mess she'd created, pulling breathy moans from you as she parted your slick lips with her twitching fingers.

Natasha knew what she was doing, teasing you was her specialty, known to build you up until you were crying tears of immense joy. The redhead was lowering you into a false sense of security though, her thumb lightly pressed into the nub that pulsed with need then she changed the pace and plunged into your tight walls.

"Oh fuck," you threw your head back and hoped the glass wouldn't shatter, fortunately it didn't but you sure did break the sound barrier with your cries as she went from one to three fingers between a heartless set of thrusts. Her palm pressed and dug into your clit every single time her digits slammed back into you, each time she reached even deeper in as your growing arousal made stretching you out so easy. You trembled with such need the redhead could've cum on the spot, the same way you felt with the vicious pace she'd set.

It wasn't too far from your normal encounters, as soft as your relationship was, Natasha was very passionate in the bedroom. There was usually a delicate flair to the way she would pound into your cunt, but this time it was deliciously vicious. To the point that breathing became a struggle for you as the redhead masterfully brought you close to the edge. Teetering was all you could do though as she never let you fall fully, which was so unlike her, usually you had to beg her to stop..

The free hand not buried within you lifted your shirt and tossed it across the bathroom in one fluid motion. Her tongue swift and warm as it trailed down the side of your neck, lathing over the brutal marks as she left them behind. Natasha needed to remind you and the entire campus who was going to forever have you, which is why she continued on down. Impatience at the forefront of her mind as she remembered what it was like to bring you to the edge, so she ripped your bra and you felt the reminder of immense pleasure as her tongue curled beneath your nipple, lips suctioned to your heated skin as she began to suck and nibble.

Drool pooled under her chin and slid down your skin as she lavished both of your breasts, keeping you a muffled moaning mess but no matter the waves of pleasure that followed the curl of her fingers or the ruthlessness of her teeth, you just couldn't reach that special place of pleasure because the redhead also knew just what not to do and it was starting to hurt.

"Na-Natasha please," you finally gave into the desire, needing release and not understanding the denial as your thighs impulsively tried to shut around her arm. The redhead considered it, always loving when you begged, but she couldn't just yet, her fingers stopped but they remained buried deep within. "N-no! Why?"

The redhead released the side of your breast that had just been caught between her teeth, the burn of her former grip lingered and weakened your fortitude as you caught a glimpse of her heavy turmoil. "Natty?"

There was a level of despondency that alarmed you. Ever since she saw you tonight, her mind just couldn't stop wondering—have you been with someone else? The sickening thought, that it could be DJ, made her behave irrationally, her fingers tensed inside of you.

"Who's been taking my—," Natasha's growl was cut off by your abrupt plea, "Natasha, look at me." She didn't. Your voice was strained from priorly screaming, but even so it remained strong, "look up, come on baby."

Still, she remained frozen, trapped within her mind as her fears continued to mercilessly taunt her. It broke you all over again to see just how insecure she had become since the breakup. Knowing your choices led her to this moment, where she'd doubt you, hurt a lot.

"I am, and always have been yours," you practically begged her to believe you, tone sincere and hardly influenced by your need to cum. "I have not, and would not have been with another. I only want you Nat, please." The redhead lifted her gaze from where her chin was pressed into your breast to find your earnest face. She believed you, but she was still so mad and kept her forgiveness shadowed behind dark eyes. "I'll believe it when everyone else does; scream my name..."

The way her calloused fingertips brushed over your most sensitive spot within as she curled her digits, holy hell—you nearly blacked out; the corners of your vision blurred as your eyes rolled when her move repeated, over and over, each new thrust more aggressive than the last and that sent you cascading into your bliss after having already received her veiled approval.

A loud scream of her name that became a desperate chant until eventually you were no more capable of an incoherent set of babbles as she kept up her brutal pace was, well, it was clarifying. It finally put the redhead at ease with your truth, she was able to feel as your walls squeezed her in place with every desperate cry of her name that dripped from your chewed up lips.

The bitter tension left her body in a whoosh but all that did was soften her thrusts. A warm, wet kiss left at the base of your neck made your walls quiver with the aftereffects of the high and it became apparent then that Natasha didn't have the interest to stop herself.

"Nat," you called out hoarsely, "you need to rest."

Though your body resisted the message your mind was sending as it reacted pitifully when her wet fingers departed your warmth, just to slide up and slowly stroke your clit, steadfast on keeping you engaged.

"I'll rest when I'm full," she teased against the side of your breast, where her tongue returned to trace over your sensitive skin. "N—," your words faded into a gasp when her teeth grazed your sore nipple just before the redhead began to suckle again, with so much passion and effort you'd think you were feeding her. In a way, you were as the lust clouded your responsible mind, and just like that you were giving into her slightly.

Your fingers, fueled by desire, roughly wove into her hair and the passion was back on, in full force as she released your nipple with a loud pop as she groaned. A strong arm slid beneath your ass and pulled you from the counter and in a flash you found yourself pressed into a frat boy's lumpy mattress. Natasha admired you up close and purred huskily, "such a pretty thing."

"N-Nat," the redhead slipped her tongue into your mouth and sullied your protest into obscurity as her rough hands explored your every curve. A whimper vibrated beneath her palm, having had slid up to wrap her fingers around your throat, the way you mutually craved. There was a possessive, domineering glint in her eye the moment she pulled away to see the result.

You were always such a worrier, so she knew the only way you'd shut up is if she made you—it was also such a turn on for her to watch you go cross eyed every time she cut your access to air off, it was a delicate play of pain and pleasure she had mastered, it always left you desperate for more, something she saw in your eyes just before your lips met again in a passionate kiss.

Her teeth had clashed with yours and you tasted the metallic consequence, which only made you feel hotter. Both of her hands slid down your sides, painfully slow, you could barely breathe as her toying with you worked you up. Natasha's clit pulsed with yours when she felt your thighs tremble as her fingers oh so gently landed on the slippery skin, but with a coded firmness as she'd gripped onto them. The look in your eyes told her she'd won, the smirk let you know she knew; she spread you out further, pecked your lips and spoke, "I am going to devour you now Y/N, I've been deprived long enough."

Before you could grapple with your conscience and deny her on the basis of her own wellbeing she was situated with her face before your slicked lips. The aroma of your essence naturally wafted her way and the saliva that filled her mouth was autonomic enough to inspire her to surge forward to lap up the trails of you that ran down your plush thighs. Every once in a while she'd stop to play with your heartbeat, suctioning her lips at the apex of your thigh, nearest to your mound that only further glistened with neediness.

Natasha knew she had a game to prepare for, the same way you did���but she saw prep differently than you. Sure, sleep was important, but if she was expected to win, she would need to have her taste of you first. After all, you should remember her game time ritual; to fuck her pretty, good luck charm dumb the night before. It had never failed her, until you disappeared of course, which only proved, to her, that this sequence mattered.

A groan left the redhead when she finally dove into you, but fortunately for her you found pleasure in the way she let her pain vibrate through your intimacy. Your back quickly arched as her tongue swirled around your clit and she took pride in knowing you were so distracted by the pleasure she gave you. In your right mind, you would've pushed her away, but that's exactly why she worked so hard to get you to be this pliant..

"Mmmm," you expressed your feelings through a low hum as your hips twitched and pressed your core further against her face, letting her tongue reach even further within, where you by some degree tasted even sweeter. This subtle change always drove the redhead to lose her mind as she strained her neck just to reach your sweetness again. The carnal hunger drove her hands to grip your thighs tight enough to leave bruises and press you further apart, the sounds that came from below were down right lewd now, fueling your praises along and leaving Natasha's boxers stuck to her skin.

"Ohhh shit," you shrieked when you felt the tip of her tongue barely graze a particularly sensitive spot, dots of white filled your vision and Natasha hardly heard your mindless praise with the way your thighs tried to double up as earmuffs. If not for her trained strength, she would likely be deafened to your waves of pleasure, which she needed to fuel her own but she managed to keep you apart just enough to hear your pretty cries.

You were so heavenly, Natasha was overjoyed to have you like this again, her hollow walls quivered with such a need as she felt your juices drip down her chin, that she nearly readjusted both of your bodies to fuck your face but she was too desperate to bring you to climax. Which is why she pulled her tongue out, chuckling devilishly against your sensitive folds when you whined in protest, you looked down, dazed. It was the hottest thing to witness as she locked her gaze with yours.

Natasha placed a few open mouthed kisses to your pussy lips as she slowly made her way up to your clit, dark gaze stuck on yours, you stopped breathing for a moment when you took her appearance in. A bit of the lust wavered from yours as she slowed it down, and she saw the concern in yours as the bruising had worsened.

Before you could grapple with your sound morality her tongue softly caressed your neglected clit, you mewled and nearly fell back down but Natasha wasn't having it. "Eyes on me detka," her gravely tone sent a delightful shiver down your spine—you were enraptured as you watched, and felt, her swollen lips brush over your clit.

"Na—," you were going to beg for relief but stuttered as two of her fingers teased your entrance, she slowly pumped her fingertips in and out as her lips only covered your clit, offering no real stimulation. Until she finally broke the silence, "give me everything."

Her lips suctioned around your swollen nub, and you nearly blacked out as her fingers slid all the way in, predatory eyes piercing into your closing set. Your left side jutted off the bed as the intensity of the pleasure you felt was just too much for your body to bear after so much overstimulation. Natasha swiftly readjusted her body, arching her back to give her wrist more space to move, but mostly to allow her to hold your body down with her right arm pressing into your stomach.

Sweet arousal continued to fill her mouth as it gushed up with every thrust of her fingers, you were so close and she wanted to be closer to you. So her thumb replaced her lips on your clit, as they were traveling up your body, knees holding you open as the arm holding you down now held her up. Your thighs trembled and most of your body ached but you welcomed her tongue down your throat without resistance. It was as if all you needed was to taste yourself on her lips because just like that you were squirming, trying desperately to close your legs and this time Natasha allowed you to.

Once again she readjusted, pressing her covered core against your thigh, you felt the warmth and fell apart. The kiss you two shared broken as you both moaned in mutual ecstasy. You felt so desperate to get her off further, even though you were exhausted, so your hand slid into her shorts to find the results of her climax. There was thought of protest, but Natasha missed this and knew she wouldn't last long so there was no need. 

With skilled fingers you spread her arousal around then easily slipped two of them inside her warmth, pumping in and out slowly like she preferred, at first. The pace picked up when she clenched around your fingers, you began to kiss her again, and after just three firm curls of your fingers within her she came once more. In a matter of seconds you greedily pulled your fingers from below to slip them into your mouth.

You softly hummed around your fingers as you were reacquainted with your girlfriend's divine taste. The moment your lips were free you felt hers, it was a warm kiss full of sensuality as she mixed your arousals with her exploratory tongue. It made your out of order body feel as if it could actually go on for the entire night.

"I want more," she rasped against your lips, you met her with a soft giggle and she fell into you with a pout. "I want more too, Tasha," you sighed, your hands firm as they squeezed her hips, emphasizing your words. "But we should really get your nose fixed up and then get some sleep, since you need to be court ready."

Natasha reluctantly agreed, and moved to help you to clean up, she readjusted your clothes until you looked untouched by her, then she kissed you. You felt her love already but smiled as she said the words so softly, you hugged her tight and returned the sentiment. It was a perfect moment, her hand caressed your neck while her other gripped your opposite hip from behind.

For a moment you both ignored responsibility and just held each other close. A loud knock pulled you both from the peaceful embrace and you looked to your everything with wide eyes. Natasha was amused, a part of her wanted to rip the door open and walk out with you on shaky legs so everyone knew you were hers.

The other, more mature part knew to protect your dignity so she found an escape route instead, just in time for the drunken idiot to pull out their room key. She tore the sheets off their bed, stuffing them into a frat duffle she'd return later and rushed you onto the balcony, that conveniently had a set of diagonal stairs.

You ran across the street to her car, laughing as she held you back from opening your own door, her arm wrapped around your waist as she kissed the side of your neck affectionately. Once the door was opened by her, she allowed you to move forward while rushing back to her side so she could settle you in. You rolled your eyes and waited patiently as she turned the key in the ignition, turning the heater on for you before she buckled you in, then tugged on the strap to check it.

Soon enough she was driving you out of the area and towards her apartment, with her hand on your thigh, her focus remained on the road but her fingers gently traced shapes into your exposed skin at the red lights. Offering you comfort that you appreciated, as this is your first time in the space since you left. If you asked Natasha yesterday, she'd say you deserved to feel bad, but after a few minutes with you she felt otherwise.

It was quiet as you entered, the both of you moving around as if you never parted. You greeted Liho, and waited for Natasha to let you know she was ready as she went on to prepare the shower for you both. It gave you time to see nothing had changed, except that even more photos of you two together had been put up. You smiled as your heart cracked a bit at the depth of her.

It was overwhelming to go from genuine questioning to so assured in her love for you. It was easier though when she looked at you, hand extended and body bare. You let her guide you to the bathroom, undress you, and devote her time to taking care of you. Then, once you were both dressed for bed you did the same, you straddled her on the toilet and patched her nose up.

You deposited kisses to her unaffected skin, and lips with every wince and made sure not to take too long addressing her nose. Natasha preferred quick and painful to slow and still somewhat painful. There wasn't much you could do anyway but to apply an ice cube bag for as long as she'd allow then put a splint on.

In appreciation or infatuation, you received a deep kiss but you were not going to fall prey to her charm, again. You both needed to rest, so you departed in a hurry.

When you got out of the bathroom you expected to lay down on the tempurpedic mattress you missed just slightly more than your lover. But just as your behind nearly met the mattress you were scooped between buff arms, a tired giggle leaving you. "Not so fast."

You hadn't a chance to respond before she whisked you out of the apartment in your thin pajamas, but now that you've adjusted to being outside you whined, "it's cold," and the redhead giddily jumped into action. In a matter of seconds you were enveloped by warmth and cedar-wood, the familiar scratch of her letterman jacket brushed against your skin and you smiled. It was a brief moment of comfort until you heard her yawn.

"Natasha, it's two in the morning and your bus leaves at six," you instantly scolded the redhead, who now sported a skin tone nose splint that you hoped would blend well beneath her foundation. "I need to practice, the game is tomorrow, today is just travel and practice so we can sleep on the ten hour bus ride," she decided.

"We?" Natasha grinned. "Of course, just like before."

You couldn't help but to tease, "What if I had plans?"

Natasha smirked, her shoulders shrugged lazily as she took a perfect shot and mused, "they'd be something to cancel, I believe." The ball, as if on her side, swooshed into the metal net and her suave, inflated ego returned. "One might say this game will go down in history."

You rolled your eyes but a smile overtook your face as she came to deposit a kiss to your lips, as is tradition with these late night practices. The redhead admired you fondly, one hand cupping your cheek as the fingers of her other traced the yellow felt on your back; the perfect figure eights helped to calm her when she felt the push back against her fingertips, a touch to remind her that this—you, were real. For the first time in over three months the woman felt like she could breathe, having you in her arms made her forget her objective.

Then you giggled, teasingly calling out to her, "Natty?"

Natasha hummed, her hazy gaze met yours and your heart melted at the peace you watched settle in her. You felt guilty having to ruin the moment, especially after being the reason she was clinging, but you got it together, and firmly spoke, "get back to the net."

The redhead could've cackled, because with the late time you were actually just an adorable little grump, not your usual intimidating self. She considered challenging you, but she remembered how important the upcoming game is so she pulled you out with her.

"Natasha no," you cried, a body that felt like jello from a long day was not meant for the court. "I am tired." The redhead rolled her eyes and assumed the position, making you scowl, but you mirrored her body anyways because you love her enough to suffer through this.

Ask Natasha, and she'd say you were being dramatic because you were smiling from ear to ear whenever she got around you and yanked you into a rushed kiss. It was a flurry of movements, you could hardly register them, so you were likely not challenging her in the slightest but you were improving her performance.

"If I make this shot," Natasha caught your curious gaze and met it with a smirk; it'd been so long, the sun rays were casted around her and you couldn't believe you ever let her go, she was mesmerizing—to the point that you barely heard her tease, "we get married in Vegas."

"Absolutely n—," you were cut off by the squeal that left your own lips as her body abruptly collided with yours, an arm wrapped and flexed behind you having pulled you in to keep your arms from blocking her. The clang of the net, and your loud protests were shut out of your mind the moment the redhead kissed you, it was full of tenderness, a vulnerability you felt deeply.

"I will make you mine," she promised, and you melted further into her chest. "One day soon, you and I will walk down an aisle and into the rest of our lives, Y/N."

"Yeah?" Natasha pulled back to catch your expression, the tone you took playful and sweet, but your gaze was nothing short of a dreamers. Like you were starstruck by the redheads words, as if they were unexpected and the truth was they probably were to an extent, since you only just heard her true feelings. She nodded and you took in a shallow breath then chuckled in disbelief, this woman was going to be the death of you. "Maybe."

"Care to elaborate?" Natasha was intrigued, not having expected you to accept her faux proposal at the crack of dawn but nonetheless, she was excited just the same. "If you win tonight, I'll let you plan a better proposal."

Natasha grinned wider than she ever had before, at least in front of you, the red tinted her cheeks against her usual expression of perceivable neutrality and you suddenly were being lifted off of the ground. Giggles left the both of you in visible puffs, the cold morning air no match for the warmth of your shared love. A loud engine rumbled in the distance and the redhead caught sight of the bus as it turned into the lot. "Then I guess we shouldn't miss the bus, Mrs. Romanoff..."

Unbeknownst to you, as you laid your aloof head on her chest in the bus meant to lead her to victory, that the ring was already waiting for the day you'd say yes.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

High Infidelity

Regulus Black x f!reader, Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, slight mention of fingering, underage drinking, cheating sorry guys i couldn’t stop myself

summary: your boyfriend sirius and his friends have never felt welcoming. but his little brother is…

word count: 5.3k

a/n: once again i’m bad at summaries so basically you fuck regulus spoiler alert hahaha. inspired by taylor swift of course. she’s been inspiring too much smut from me tbh. anywaysss. hope you enjoy (my sneaky link “broke up” w me today and i’m devastated) so here’s this !!!

~~~

April 20, 1978

“That’s precisely what I was thinking Moony!”

“Are you sure Padfoot? I got the understanding that it was you and Prongs who shared thoughts.”

“I second that.”

“Honestly I believe if James didn’t have Lily, you blokes would be together.”

“Definitely.”

“Well, Sirius also has y/n as well.”

You felt the boy beside you brush your shoulder with his, and you gave him a smile. “Oh, yes.”

The conversation continued, but you zoned out once again. You played with the vegetables on your plate and tapped your foot. Anxiety was a common thing you felt during meals with your boyfriend and his friend group. They were wonderful, but you always felt they had something secretly against you.

You were a year younger than your boyfriend, you were in Slytherin, you were pureblood, and you were cordial with the other members of your house. You weren’t stupid enough to believe the Marauders didn’t suspect something bad of you, or the Gryffindor girls. Some of them were muggle born and while you didn’t care much for blood purity, you could tell they thought you did.

When you and Sirius had begun dating a few months earlier, you were far from oblivious to the initial disapproval of his friends. You could see the skeptical looks Lily would share with her friends; you could hear the small whispers in classes. It didn’t bother you at first, in fact, you understood their distrust. You thought it would go away with time. But by the end of your second month dating their friend, you realized it was never going to change.

Your relationship with Sirius in short was far from perfect. You liked him, of course, and he liked you. However, it was clear neither of you saw it lasting forever. Deep in the corners of your mind, you’d thought it that before, a life with the infamous Sirius Black. You imagined the two of you would get your own flat after you graduated, you’d be shunned of course by your family, but it wouldn’t matter because you’d have him. Realistically though, you knew that life would never be possible. If he didn’t care enough to tell you why he sneaks off on full moons, if he didn’t care enough to let you in on jokes, if he didn’t care enough to even assure his friends fully that you weren’t like the rest of your house, you’d never have a life with him.

Without thinking about it, your eyes drifted across the great hall to a certain person in your house. He sat straight with a smile on his face as he conversed with his mates. A piece of his hair was in his eye, you watched as he brushed it away. You always wondered why people said he wasn’t as good-looking as his brother. He was just as handsome in your opinion. He was tall, his eyes were starry, and his black curls were never frizzy. His accomplishments spoke for themself. Top of the year, star seeker for Slytherin, prefect, he was the ideal boy. His only flaw in your eyes was his obsession with Voldemort and blood purity. Though your family and his were close in that aspect, you never cared much for the topic. He did though.

Suddenly, his eyes met yours. You watched his smile falter for a few seconds and a different expression formed. You looked away quickly, your cheeks turned pink. That wasn’t the first time you’d been caught staring at Regulus Black during dinner. It was far from it.

~~~

That night you sat alone by the fire in your common room. You’d been invited up to Sirius’s dorm with a promise that the other Marauders wouldn’t be there, but you declined. Sirius was a great shag; it would be impossible for him not to be with how many girls he’d been with. Truthfully, you didn’t like the number of girls that came before you, but you never said anything. You simply weren’t in the mood that night for any more patronizing looks, so you opted to silently work on homework instead.

After some time of working, the door opened. You instinctively looked up and found your pulse quicken as you were met with the beautiful eyes of Regulus Black. He was with his friends, Barty Crouch Jr, and Evan Rosier, but his eyes were on you. You looked down at the sheets of paper in your lap and pretended to not notice the sound of Regulus telling his friends to go up to their dorm without him. When they left though, you were forced to drop the act.

“I thought you’d be up in the Gryffindor tower with all your blood traitor and mudblood friends,” he said after taking a few steps closer to you.

You swallowed and kept your eyes on your paper. “I wasn’t in the mood, and they aren’t really my friends.”

“Really? Y/n you’re shagging my brother I’m not daft.”

He was slowly getting closer; you could see his shoes in your peripheral vision. You subconsciously held your breath. You kept your composure as well as you could.

“Great observation Reg, not as if the whole school knows that. And besides, since when have you cared about that?”

“I always care when someone with blood as pure as yours taints it with someone like my blood traitor brother,” he replied as if it were obvious. “Plus, if you have forgotten I’ve caught you staring at me at least a dozen times within the past month.”

Your cheeks turned bright red. “About that-”

“Look at me.”

His sudden authority made a warm feeling spread in your stomach. Slowly, you lifted your head to look up at him. He was close, barely a foot away. There was an expression on his face you once again couldn’t fully understand. You watched him examine your blushing face in silence.

“Go on then, explain yourself,” he said after a few seconds.

“I didn’t mean to; it was just an... accident,” you mumbled, your eyes moving around the room as you spoke.

Regulus tisked and without warning bent down slightly and gently touched his fingers to your chin. You were speechless. “I prefer to be looked at when spoken to y/n it’s a sign of respect. Can you do that?” You nodded and he moved to his previous position of standing. “Continue.”

“Like I said it was an accident, I sort of space out a lot and I guess my eyes go back to our table,” you continued. You stared in his eyes the entire time as your heart began to beat in your ears.

“I would’ve believed that if it had happened only once or twice, but this has been quite a few times. What is Sirius not fulfilling you enough?”

“No, it’s nothing like that he’s great I just... I dunno. You’re just...” You found it hard to speak with his eyes on you. “I dunno all right? Let’s just forget it’s ever happened yeah?”

It was the truth. You really didn’t know what it was that made you stare at him. It was just something. He fascinated you with his complexity. Sirius was outgoing and popular, but Regulus was closed off and reserved. He’d only had one known girlfriend in Hogwarts, he only talked to his friends, and he was mysterious. He was the opposite of his brother. And you found it perplexing.

“If you say so,” he spoke after a moment. Then he turned and started to walk toward the staircase to the boy's dorm. But before he was too far, he looked back at you with a sliver of a smirk. “You can talk to me though, if you need to. You don’t have to simply stare because my brother is insecure.”

He disappeared up the stairs before you could reply. And you spent the rest of the evening with his words replaying in your head.

~~~

April 22, 1978

You sat at lunch; Sirius’s arm was draped over your shoulders, and he shook as he laughed hysterically at something James said. You tried to put on a fake smile, but you weren’t sure how convincing it was. There was something about the way Sirius held you that made you feel off. You felt almost trapped. You felt as though you were being tested or put on display.

As if it was a sixth sense, your eyes looked at the one table you’d been purposely avoiding. He was already looking at you, it caused your breath to catch in your throat. For a few seconds, the two of you stared at each other, what felt like a mutual feeling of understanding was communicated through your eyes. So, when he nodded to the doorway you understood completely what he wanted. And you agreed.

“I’ve got to run down to my dorm I just remembered I forgot my essay for McGonagal.” You made up an excuse. From across the hall, you noticed Regulus already walking toward the exit. “I should go get it before class.”

Sirius dropped his arm from your shoulders and smiled. “You’re too forgetful y/n/n, but be quick I was hoping to get a quick snog in before that dreadful class.”

“Right, I’ll be as quick as I can,” you said as you stood up. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, ignoring the eyes that were on you. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I could never!” He exclaimed as you began to walk away.

Truthfully, you weren’t too sure of where Regulus went. You relied on the gut feeling in your stomach to guide you. With anxiety and anticipation flowing through your body, you made your way down a few halls before you found an abandoned classroom. The door was open a sliver, and somehow you knew it was the one.

He was inside, leaning on one of the desks with his arms crossed over his chest. “Close the door.”

You didn’t hesitate to listen to his request. Once it was closed you turned back to face him. “I don’t... I don’t really know what to say.”

“You looked like you needed to escape, you don’t have to talk,” he replied. His face was almost soft. “Am I the only one who knows how you feel?”

“You don’t know how I feel,” you mumbled.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Just because you haven’t told me doesn’t mean I can’t read your face. It’s almost unbearable how miserable you look while you sit there. Why do you do it?”

You only stared at him, almost starstruck. Has he always been so observant? Or was your pain noticeable? You didn’t know what came over you, but you only acted on it. Before you could stop yourself, you moved across the room until you were barely a foot away from him. Regulus has always been perceived as cold and rude, but in that moment, he looked at you with sincerity no one could deny. Regulus knew you. That was all it took.

Without another thought you grabbed his tie and crashed your lips on his. His lips were soft and warm. Unlike his brothers, Regulus’s lips didn’t feel as though they’d been kissed thousands of times. He felt far less welcoming but nevertheless inviting. But your senses came flooding back fast and you pushed yourself away from him.

You stepped back and covered your burning lips with your hand. “Oh my... I’m- I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have. Fuck I’m terrible.”

“Y/n-”

“No, I can’t do this. I have to go.” You cut him off as you began to move to the door, tears forming in your eyes.

The last thing you heard was Regulus calling your name before you ran down to your dorm.

~~~

April 23, 1978

He was watching you. You could feel his eyes burning into you through every class and meal. Is that how he felt all those times you’d stared at him? It was uncomfortable, to say the least. You tried to pretend he wasn’t, you really did. But it was nearly impossible. You made sure you were accompanied by Sirius or one of your other friends throughout the entire day until you weren’t.

You were just running to the bathroom. You thought it would be quick enough for him to even notice you slipped out of class. It was stupid of you to think that. Just as you were about to enter the girl's bathroom, you felt a hand grab one of your wrists to stop you.

“You can’t avoid this y/n,” he said softly.

You inhaled sharply, refusing to look at him. “Let me go Regulus.”

“I don’t care about what happened and I’m not going to tell on you if that’s what you’re worried about,” he replied quickly.

“Then what do you want? I just- it was a mistake all right?” You felt your heart pounding in your chest. His hand was still on your wrist, your skin practically burned from the contact.

“Look at me.” His voice was hard. You turned slowly to look at him. His expression was soft, he looked almost... worried. “I know we’ve never been that close, but I suppose I’m now involved in your issues. You can talk to me; I want you to talk to me. You can’t keep all of whatever you’re feeling built up inside. It’ll only make you act out impulsively like yesterday.”

You let out a shaky breath. “It was a mistake. It should have never happened I was just... overwhelmed.”

“I know. And I don’t blame you.”

You hated how he said just the right words to make you fold completely.

“They don’t trust me. Even your brother. They seem to think I have some deep plot or that I want to murder the muggle-borns. It’s just... it’s too much Reg. I hate being constantly watched, it’s like they’re waiting for me to make a wrong move that proves their theories.”

“So, why don’t you leave?”

His question caught you off guard. Why didn’t you leave? You hadn’t really thought about it. Sure, you knew that you and Sirius were going to end eventually. But you hadn’t given much thought to how it would occur. Perhaps a mutual agreement? You didn’t know. And you told Regulus exactly that.

“Well, then it’s your fault you feel this way,” he replied.

You scoffed and pulled your wrist from his grip. “Thanks, Reg, you really know how to cheer a girl up.”

“Do you want me to lie and say it’s not your fault? Sorry, I’ll give it another go. It’s not your fault at all y/n, you’re being forced to be around my blood-traitor brother and all his mud-blood friends.” His voice was cold, but for some reason, it didn’t make you feel small. “Was that better?”

“Listen I know I have the choice but it’s just... it’s hard when you care about someone,” you said, ignoring his question.

He sighed and shook his head. “If leaving isn’t what you plan on, then I suppose you’ll have to settle on talking to Sirius about how you feel. I assume you haven’t done that yet?” You shook your head, and he rolled his eyes. “Then talk to him and see if maybe that helps.”

“But what if-”

“If he reacts badly then you break up with him, it’s not that hard to comprehend y/n. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to return to our class, so no one gets any more suspicious.” He cut you off.

You were left outside the girl's bathroom with your mind racing, and your wrist still tingling where Regulus had held it.

~~~

April 25, 1978

It took you over a day to muster up the courage to follow through with Regulus’s suggestion. No wonder you weren’t in Gryffindor. The opportunity for you to speak with Sirius alone came after lunch when the two of you had a free period. As usual, you spent most of the time up in Sirius’s bed. So, as the two of you laid next to each other, spent from another good time, you decided it was a good time to bring up how you felt.

“Sirius,” you spoke softly. Your head was on his chest, your fingers drawing circles on his skin. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“’ Course love, anything,” he replied sweetly.

You inhaled deeply and kept your head down. “We’ve been seeing each other for a decent amount of time now and I’ve enjoyed it very much, but it’s just...” You swallowed. “Your friends... they don’t accept me.”

“How do you mean?”

“Come on, don’t you see how they treat me? They always give me these looks; they whisper about me. I’m sure they’ve all voiced their concern about me to you,” you answered.

“They don’t mean it to make you feel bad, they just you know... Lily is muggle-born, and so is Mary.”

“I’m aware of that. That has nothing to do with me, you should know I don’t care about blood status.”

“Well yes but your house, the people you are friends with, they care. You can’t blame my friends for being weary.”

You sat up and looked at Sirius, suddenly full of anger. “I am not like the other people in my house, and it’s hypocritical for them to judge me based on that. Have I ever proven myself to be anything like the other Slytherins?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing Sirius. I’m not like them, and it hurts that you don’t even bother to make your friends believe that.” You cut him off. You got off his bed and began to gather your clothes. “It’s clear I’m not welcome here.”

“Y/n-”

You began to button your shirt. “No Sirius it’s fine, I understand. I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be welcoming, I suppose that assumption was wrong too.”

Just as you were about to bend down to retrieve your tie, you felt Sirius’s warm hands on your hips. Instinctively, you turned to look at him. He stared up at you with a frown on his face. You hated how perfect he still looked with such a sour expression.

“You’re right, I should advocate for you more. I’ll do that from now on. You are nothing like the other Slytherins, you’re perfect y/n. I’m sorry for not catching on to this sooner.” His words were sincere, you could tell. It made your anger subside.

“Thank you,” you said, a small smile on your lips.

“Now, can you get back into bed for a little longer?” He asked.

You nodded with a chuckle and slid back beneath the sheets. Though you felt relieved and happy at the outcome of your conversation, you couldn’t help but think about what Regulus’s reaction to the news would be.

For some reason, you knew he wouldn’t be pleased.

~~~

April 26, 1978

His eyes searched your face; you tried your hardest to keep your expression neutral. The two of you were up in the astronomy tower, the glow of the moon and stars your only source of light. You didn’t know why you felt almost ashamed telling him about the conversation you had with Sirius. Something deep within you knew the outcome wasn’t what the younger Black brother wanted.

“I’m a bit confused,” he said after a moment of silence.

“What about?”

“If the conversation truly went as you say it did, why aren’t you happy?”

“What do you mean? I am happy. I think I even saw a bit of improvement today,” you answered honestly.

Regulus only shrugged and turned to look off the balcony. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I really am happy Reg this is what I wanted. Now they won’t be so judgmental and perhaps I’ll start to finally feel welcomed,” you replied.

You stared at him for a minute. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated his features in a way you’d never seen before. He was handsome. With his sharp jawline, his dark curly hair, and his prominent cheekbones how could he not be handsome?

Eventually, he turned his eyes back to you, and for a split second, your breath caught in your throat. There was something intense in his light eyes that you couldn’t decode. It made heat rush straight to your face.

“All right, if that’s what you want,” he said. “See you around.”

With that, he left. And you almost followed him, almost.

~~~

April 27, 1978

Something was wrong with you. Very wrong.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the one boy in Hogwarts you really shouldn’t have been thinking about. It was wrong, especially in the way you were thinking about him. You tried to distract yourself in every way you could. With your friends, with Sirius, with schoolwork. But nothing worked.

Perhaps it was the intense dream you’d had the previous night that kept your mind wandering. After all, who could simply brush off an intense sexual dream about their boyfriend's brother? It made you blush and feel ashamed each time it crossed your mind throughout the day. And when you saw Regulus around the school, you almost fell apart.

It was as though a switch had been flipped inside you. Gone were the innocent friendly thoughts you had about the younger Black brother. They were replaced by awfully inappropriate ones.

But you were determined to make them vanish. Because to act on such thoughts would be terrible.

Right?

~~~

April 28, 1978

Avoiding Regulus was hard given he was in almost all your classes, and he shared the same common room as you. But you tried your hardest. You spent the day clung to Sirius as much as you could, despite the fact you were upset with him. Being around him meant being away from his brother. That was the important thing.

Things between you and Sirius’s friends had not changed much. You wondered if he had even said anything to them. If he did, it didn’t seem like it. It hurt you, but it didn’t occupy your thoughts as much as it previously had.

Actually, it made you realize something you were too afraid to admit.

Regulus seemed to care more about your feelings than your boyfriend.

That thought scared you. And it only made your improper thoughts about him grow.

~~~

April 29, 1978

You sat up in the Astronomy tower with your legs dangling off the balcony, a bottle of firewhiskey beside you. For the first time in months, you couldn’t deal with your thoughts without a substance. Luckily your boyfriend had a stash of alcohol and was able to spare you a small bottle. So, you took it with a big thank you and practically ran up to the tower. You needed to clear your head. You needed to escape.

There was a slight breeze, it made you clutch your robe tighter around your body. The alcohol helped too. You took another swig, a sigh escaping your lips at the feeling. You liked the way it made your chest warm, and how it made the thoughts of Regulus fade.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps. You gathered the bottle into your robe but remained seated. Whoever it was, they’d catch you anyway. There weren’t many hiding spaces in the tower. So, you prepared for an angry Filch to scold you.

“I figured you’d be up here, your roommates said they hadn’t seen you, neither did my brother.” The gentle voice of the boy you were trying to avoid spoke.

You whipped your head around fast, your mouth hung open slightly. He was only a few feet away from you, and still getting closer. “You talked to him about me?”

“Told him we have a project together and he still wasn’t very welcoming. I see why you feel out of place now,” he answered as he lowered himself to sit beside you. “Care to share any of that with me?”

“Since when do you drink Mr. Prefect?” You questioned skeptically.

He shrugged. “I’ve indulged before, is that surprising? I am almost of age you know.”

“You just don’t seem like the type that’s all,” you replied honestly. You removed the bottle from under your robe and handed it to him. “I’m a bit ahead of you though.”

Regulus didn’t reply. Instead, he popped the cap off the bottle and took a few swigs. You watched carefully, unable to hide your smile when his face scrunched up from the bitterness. Even then, he was still beautiful.

“Wine is much better than this,” he said after a minute as he handed the bottle back to you.

You nodded. “Taste wise, yes, but this gets you drunk much faster.”

“Is that what you want? To get drunk?”

You nodded again and took a swig from the bottle. He had a point, firewhiskey tasted awful. But you needed it, especially since Regulus had caught you alone and even more because he looked far too good in the moonlight.

“I thought things were going to get better with my brother,” he spoke.

“I thought so too but it seems he isn’t good at keeping his word,” you replied with a frown.

Regulus chuckled and took the bottle again. “Well look at him, he’s a filthy blood traitor, what do you see in him?”

“He’s kind, outgoing, very fun to party with, and of course one of the most handsome boys in the school,” you answered. You couldn’t help but smile when Regulus rolled his eyes. “None of that matters though. We’ll be splitting up soon.”

“Yeah?”

The hope in his voice was undeniable. It made your heart rate quicken.

“Yeah. He’ll be leaving school soon and we never really planned to last this long anyway so it only makes sense that we’ll be splitting.”

As he handed you the bottle back, your fingers brushed. You held in your breath, your mouth suddenly felt dry, and a tingle began in the small place where his skin met yours. Your eyes met again and from the way his starry eyes suddenly appeared darker you knew he felt what you did.

You should’ve looked away. You knew you should’ve. You’d like to blame the alcohol for the way you felt, but Regulus Black had proven himself to be more magnetic than any boy you’d ever met so there was no use excusing it. So, despite the fact it was wrong, you didn’t move when he started to lean closer.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

“I’m sure you are,” you replied. He was close, his lips only inches away from yours.

“Why’s that?” He asked.

His eyes were so beautiful, you could barely focus on the words that came out of his mouth. “Because you...”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt his soft lips brush against yours. He was so gentle; you could barely even feel him. And after only a few seconds he pulled back. Your eyes remained closed.

“Because I’m...?”

“Reg, don’t make me ask you.”

“Oh, but I want to hear it so bad.”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

He didn’t hesitate to fulfill your request and soon enough he was kissing you with an intensity you weren’t sure you ever felt before. One of his hands fell to your waist, his fingers quickly untucking your shirt from your skirt. You let your fingers run through his curls as you’d imagined doing so many times over the previous days.

When he pushed you back and urged you to lie down, you did it. When he pushed your knees apart and slid between your legs you didn’t protest. It was terrible, you were cheating on your boyfriend with his little brother. But at that moment no thoughts could even register in your head. All you could think about was how good Regulus’s body felt against yours and how good he was at kissing.

Perhaps things moved faster than they should’ve. Perhaps they should’ve never moved in that direction to begin with. Either way, within only a few minutes both of your robes were discarded and one of Regulus’s hands was between your thighs. His lips remained on yours as he toyed with you, his soft kiss engulfed each of your moans. You traced your fingertips up and down his back, your hand under his shirt. He was soft but rough, he was perfect.

“I want you,” he suddenly whispered against your lips.

Your eyes opened, he pulled back a bit, and your eyes met his. He didn’t stop his fingers; you could barely think of what to say. “I want you too Reg.”

“Right now?” He asked.

“Right now,” you assured him breathlessly.

You watched him fumble with his belt for a few seconds before he distracted you with another kiss. He was intoxicating, to say the least. Every one of your senses was flooded with Regulus Black. The scent of his cologne, the feeling of his hands under your skirt, the taste of the firewhiskey he’d previously drank, the sound of his shallow breath, the brief glimpses you stole of his pretty face, it was almost too much for you to handle.

Once his belt was finally undone you felt him shift and you knew what was to come. You didn’t think of stopping him for a second. Instead, you threaded your fingers back in his black curls and held him tighter. He pushed your panties to the side and without warning began to slowly push his cock inside you.

You bit down on his lip, your back arched off the floor, and your thighs squeezed around him. He didn’t stutter with his movements and began to thrust in and out at a pace that made your head spin and your insides warm.

After a few minutes, he began to trail his mouth down your neck, the sensation making it impossible for you to stay quiet. You gripped one of his biceps with your hand and your eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you. He was careful despite the heat of the moment, however. You were silently grateful. No marks would be left on your skin.

“Reg,” you moaned. “Fuck Reg.”

He staggered for a moment. “Are you okay?” The vibration of his voice on your skin made you almost moan again.

“Yes, yes. Please don’t stop,” you whimpered.

It would be impossible for you to know exactly how long it went on. But by the time it was over, you felt no effects from the alcohol you’d drank before. You came hard, arguably harder than you’d ever come in your life. Regulus did something to you that you couldn’t understand. So, when he asked if it was ok for him to finish inside you said yes.

The two of you laid next to each other in the aftermath, a few inches between your bodies. Sweat covered the inside of your shirt, and another substance leaked between your thighs. You only stared at the ceiling and the stars above as you steadied your breathing.

“I won’t tell,” Regulus said after some time.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly. You were still in a daze; your mind couldn’t process what had just occurred. You sat up, your back was already starting to ache. “I should go.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Regulus sit up too. “Yeah, you should.”

You slid your robe over your arms and straightened out your tie and shirt. Before you stood, you made sure to grab the bottle of firewhiskey and conceal it under your clothes. You looked down at Regulus briefly, he was already looking at you. It made your face heat up.

You gave him a weak smile. “I’ll um... I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You escaped before anything else could be said and raced down to your dorm.

The whole night you tossed and turned in bed, your head full of thoughts that would not let you sleep. You cheated on Sirius. With his brother. It was almost unimaginable. You’d never thought of cheating before, it never crossed your mind. But there you were a cheater.

You just hoped Sirius wouldn’t ask where you were on April 29th.

Because he really wouldn’t want to know.

[lostsyren]

I have a request based of the scene where Rafe talks shit about her ''i have standards''. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe spots her walking away crying and he runs after her, ahh angst <3

˖⋆࿐໋ standards ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

{summary: an alternate turn of events in season 4 episode 3}

{a/n: hope you like it, thank you for the request!}

{part 2 here} {part 3 here}

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

“Wait has she moved in yet?” Ruthie smirked, eyeing Rafe over the lip of her glass as she took a sip.

Sofia thought about her things scattered across Rafe’s house: her clothes in the drawers, the flowers she’d buy sitting in the vases, her toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. She hadn’t moved in but she may as well have.

“I’m not living with a pogue.” Sofia blinked in confusion at his callous words. She couldn’t see Rafe’s face, but she saw Ruthie and Topper’s faces perfectly. They were gleeful. That’s what she was to them– a joke. The poor, pogue bartender Rafe dragged around everywhere. And of course she followed blindly. Like a good dog. Sofia’s stomach frothed and roiled with nausea, her heart splintering in her rib cage. Heartbreak was one thing, mortification was another…her face burned with both.

“I hope not.” Ruthie chimed.

“I have standards.” Rafe muttered. Sofia’s eyes roamed Rafe’s back, the sinewy muscle imprinting on the material. The skin she’d kissed, the skin she’d grip. And now he was turning away from her. Shunning her. Twisting a knife in her heart. The rest of their words faded away like mist in the wind, leaving only the weight of emotion on Sofia’s shoulders. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, in some self-soothing hug, as she sped back to her car, her breathing shallow and painful.

Standards. Of course Rafe Cameron had standards. And of course a girl like her didn’t meet them.

“Sofia!” She heard a voice call out behind her, barely perceptible over the sound of blood rushing through her head.

“Sofia!” This time she noticed, turning around to see no other than Rafe approach her, a smile on his lips, as if those same lips didn’t just spew all that shit about her moments earlier.

“Hey I thought you were with your family today?” He asked, nearing her outside the country club gates.

Sofia spun back around with a scoff, heading to her car, not wanting to see his face for an another second, scared she’d burst into tears in front of him.

He bridged the gap between them almost instantly, his long legs striding towards her just as she reached her car door. By this point the tears in her eyes had spilled onto her cheeks, her vision blurring into a watery film.

Rafe’s hand rested on her shoulder, as he turned her body gently to face his.

“Hey– hey hey– Sofia, what’s wrong?” He said on seeing her crying, his voice soft like gossamer. It perturbed her how quickly he could flit from cold to caring, her anger veining into confusion at the paradox of a man in front of her.

“Get off of me,” she pushed him off her, trying to sound intimidating but instead the words came out in a blubbering mess.

“Hey? What happened huh?” Rafe’s face screwed in confusion. His words came off as desperate. Pleading. Sincere… his hands hovering over her skin, still in the same place she pushed them off from. He could be so damn sweet sometimes. Maybe this was why his words pierced hard– because she never expected it from him.

“You Rafe. You happened.” She hissed, spinning around to get in her car.

But Rafe moved quicker, his big arms slamming the door shut, caging her small frame between them.

“What are you saying?–“ he began.

“I heard what you said. With Topper and Ruthie.”

She watched as his pupils widened, his jaw tightening.

“What– when…?”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “Just cause we hook up doesn’t mean I’m your girlfriend right?” She mocked, throwing his words back at him.

“Sofia–“ his face sunk, blue eyes getting even bluer.

“18 months Rafe. Nearly two years and that’s what I am to you? A hook up?”

“No,” he said, the word practically jumping out his mouth, “no of course not. Look you weren’t meant to hear that–“

“So that makes it ok then? For you to degrade me like that in front of your friends?”

“No, look I just was– I didn’t mean–“ he was stuttering, his hands reaching out to her, but never connecting the space.

“I was there for you Rafe. Did you just forget that?” She thought about holding him, teary eyed on his yacht, consoling him for the death of his father. She thought about the nights where he’d pepper her with kisses, his touch bordering on worship. She thought about his laugh, his smile, his sweet nothings. All that gone, as if it was always ephemeral.

“No. I know you were there, and I appreciate it, more than you think– ok?”

“But I’m just a pogue right?” She derided, a sarcastic, pained leer twisted on her lips.

Rafe’s face contorted in an emotion she couldn’t place, his azure irises brewing with something darker. He looked…devastated.

But she continued her barrage, words sharp, tongue fast. “And you have standards of course.”

Lips twitched, eyebrows knitted in a hurt expression, Rafe’s face bled into a heady emotion, a strange mix of regret and anger.

“Sofia…” be began warily, voice like husk. Rafe instinctively lowered his hands, trying to find purchase on the skin of her shoulders but she slipped out of his grip like smoke from fire.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t meet them for you Rafe.”

And with that she got into the drivers seat, slamming the car door shut, trying hard not to spare another glance at him.

Careeing out the parking lot with the screech of her tyres behind her, Sofia couldn’t help but chance a look in the rear view mirror. Rafe stood in the distance watching as she drove away, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Sofia’s heart spasmed with a resounding pain, her throat itching with unshed sobs. She quickly glued her eyes on the road, her fingers gripping the steering wheel as she drove further away from the country club back to her home on The Cut…driving further away from the kook she’d fallen in love with. The kook who’d just shattered everything they had built together.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 30

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 4319

Warnings: Dean being Dean, navigating being an empath, suggestive thoughts, longing, Fluff, Premonition, Talk of Bonding (This is something specifically for this AU. I do not see this as a "requirement" to fully connect to someone, but for this story, it is needed).

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 30

The following day, he woke before you, lying there just watching you sleep. He knew today would be filled with a lot, and right now, you needed your rest, and he needed this moment. There was nothing to worry about in the now. Right now, nothing troubled him, and you hadn’t had another nightmare. Dean allowed himself to lie there with you for nearly ten minutes before finally dragging himself away and to the kitchen. As soon as he had the coffee brewing, he began making phone calls, informing everyone of what Pamela had said. However, when he called Bobby, he gave him a piece of his mind for how things had gone.

“I’m sorry, Dean. It wasn’t like I knew that stuff would come up,” Bobby apologized for the third time, partially regretting having made the suggestion.

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “I know. You didn’t see her, though. She was distant on the entire drive back here and I couldn’t feel any of her emotions through the connection.” Bobby leaned back in his seat, staring at the closed door of his office. “Is there anything I can do on my end for the two of you?”

Dean thought for a moment, “Yeah. Can you tell the boys they can throw me that surprise party the weekend after we can get out of here?” 

That made Bobby chuckle. “How’d you find out about that?” 

“Jack let it slip. That kid is still pretty innocent in some ways,” Dean replied, remembering back to that second month he was back when Jack had let just enough slip out about the surprise party.

“Yeah, I’ll let ‘em know,” Bobby replied, trying to push aside the growing concern that had come with Dean’s call. “Call if you need anything. We’re all here, for both of you.”

“Thanks. That means a lot to me,” Dean replied, utterly grateful for the support system in the outside world.

Dean poured himself another cup of coffee after he hung up. He’d already called Sam; that had been his first phone call, Bobby his last, and all the adults in between. “It’s gonna be a long day,” he mumbled through a sigh.

Stretching with your arms over your head, you let out a long yawn, the morning finally pulling you from a dreamless slumber. When your arm plopped in the spot Dean should have been, you looked over, a little confused. I didn’t sleep that late, did I?

Glancing at the clock, you chuckled to yourself. Almost nine, of course he’s already up. With a smile on your face, you climbed out of bed and headed into the kitchen. He was there, leaning against the counter, lost in thought. You smiled to yourself, knowing he hadn’t even noticed you yet. “Morning, handsome,” you cooed, stopping next to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Dean practically jumped out of his skin at your presence, his hand over his racing heart as he attempted to catch his breath. “Jesus, Sweetheart. You damn near gave me a heart attack,” he breathed out, wondering how you’d managed to sneak up on him.

GIggling, you poured yourself a cup of coffee, then sat down at the table so you could see him. Dean smirked. Oh, someone’s in a playful mood this morning. His whispered words in your mind made you giddy. You were in a playful mood, even though you knew that today was when you were going to share with him what Pamela had told you.

“Maybe,” you replied, drawing the word out, looking down at your coffee as a smile played with your lips. For a moment, you debated dashing to the living room, eyeing the couch briefly.

He set his cup down, enjoying the moment, and wondered just how playful you were feeling. Dean smirked mischievously as he pushed off the counter, slowly strolling toward you. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you giggled quietly, unable to take a sip of your coffee. The anticipation of what he might do twisted nicely in your stomach.

“What’s the matter, nervous?” he teased, his tone going a little lower, making you take a shaky breath.

When he was only a couple of feet away and began taking another step, you squealed as he reached for you, then darted into the living room, laughter ensuing as he chased you. You dashed behind the couch, giving Dean an idea. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he was going to get a hold of you. The way your laughter mixed with his and filled the room was like a beautiful symphony. 

You slowly moved in the opposite direction he went, matching his pace until you were the one now in front of the couch, the coffee table directly behind you. In one swift motion, Dean not only went over the couch but also grabbed the front of your shirt firmly before falling back into the cushions. The squeal you let out as he pulled you onto his lap had him laughing with more amusement than he could contain. 

Dean wrapped his arms around your back, holding you firmly in place, unable to escape. You were laughing so hard that all you could do was rest your hands on his shoulders. The moment froze for Dean, feeling that pang of love that overflowed, threatening to slip from his eyes, but he held it back. As your laughter slowly subsided, you rested your head on his shoulder, evening out your breathing again. “That was fun,” you told him through light chuckles, remembering the way he had eyed you, your breath warm against his neck.

“Yeah, it was,” he sighed contently, rubbing your back with one hand while holding you close with the other. “I love hearing your laughter.”

You debated between telling him everything Pamela had said or just giving him what you had initially planned on saving for his birthday. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be intimate with him, something about it just scared you.

Don’t go getting lost in your head again. The way his words whispered through your mind made you chuckle, sitting up so you could look at him. “And what if I like getting lost in my thoughts, huh?” you asked playfully, not quite ready to let go of the joy the playfulness brought.

He raised an eyebrow, but you saw that glint in his eyes, knowing he was already plotting something as his grip around you slowly tightened. Dean just didn’t want you to get away just yet. “What’s more interesting than you straddling my lap?” he asked as the smirk on his lips began forming.

You leaned a little closer, being just as playful, “Thoughts of you.” 

Woman, I swear… A low groan, almost inaudible, rumbled in his chest as one of his hands came up and tangled in your hair behind your neck, holding your head. It was a gentle gesture, but sent a shiver down your entire body. “Sweetheart, do you have any,” he gently gripped your hip, pulling you down against him as he lightly bucked his hips up, grinding against you, “idea what you do to me?” 

You hadn’t even realized just how turned on he was until you felt the bulge in his pants rub against your core through your clothes, making you bite your lip. “I didn’t mean to, really,” you told him honestly, and a little shyly. It wasn’t like you were completely ignorant. You just hadn’t done anything with anyone, so you weren’t entirely sure of the things that turned men on, let alone Dean.

Dean gave you a soft smile. He knew you hadn’t intended to turn him on. “I know. It’s why I didn’t just kiss you. I know you aren’t ready. I don’t know why, and you don’t have to explain it to me. I’ll be here, when you’re ready.” Then he leaned closer, leaving a tender kiss on your lips, staying there only a few moments before he pulled away, fighting every urge coursing through his body.

The pout that found your lips at least made him chuckle, but you still felt bad and figured now was as good a time as any to talk to him. Carefully, you climbed off his lap, sitting on the couch next to him, cross-legged and facing him.

After adjusting himself, he turned a bit so that he was facing you, although he wasn’t entirely sure what topic you wanted to talk about. He was trying not to think about kissing you, touching you, and loving you, which was nearly impossible after he’d pulled you down onto his lap. That one he took full responsibility for.

You took one more deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was bad enough that your thoughts were on Dean rather than the topic you wanted to broach, but having his desire mix with your own was making it that much more difficult.

“Okay, so yesterday. Pamela told me a lot, and there are still some things I’m not sure about, but I promised I’d tell you.” It seemed like a decent place to start. “She said that the reason you got sick was because my fear went through the connection we have.” Dean looked at you, a little puzzled, “But, you’ve been afraid before, and it never hit me like that.” he tried to explain, as he was still confused about why it had hit him so hard.

Looking down at your hands, you attempted to remember how Pamela had explained it to you. You pursed your lips as you met his gaze, hoping you didn’t botch it too badly. “She said that hope is your strongest emotion. Well, mine apparently has been fear. It’s what’s been basically running my life. When she mentioned me being afraid to lose you,” your voice got quiet as your gaze fell to the space between the two of you. 

“It just sort of hit me, but for me, it was a knot in my stomach. I’ve just been so afraid for so long… I’m not sure how to just take a leap of faith, like she suggested,” by this point, you were almost whispering, and Dean only wanted to pull you into his arms again. He vaguely remembered that part of what Pamela had said, sort of, since he had to bolt to the bathroom before he was sick in the living room.

“I’m afraid I’ll lose you… if we’re closer,” you finally admitted in a barely audible whisper, and now Dean wasn’t going to hold back. He moved closer and pulled you into his arms, shifting you so that you were sitting sideways on his legs. As your emotions crashed into his, he just focused on you, soothing the storm that had taken hold. It was the missing piece for him, so he could understand what kept holding you back. “Looks like we were both trying to figure out a puzzle,” he murmured softly, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Those monsters took everything from me. I can’t lose you too,” you sobbed out quietly, feeling like the damn inside had finally broken. You didn’t understand that you needed this in order to finish healing, letting him in deeper than you had let anyone.

For nearly an hour, he held you, uttering soft, soothing words and doing his best to comfort you. He probably wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but the pain that came through the connection felt like a vice on his chest. Dean did his best to take slow, deep breaths so your pain didn’t consume him, but a few tears slipped down his cheeks, landing in your hair. He knew that losing your soulmate was one of the most painful things possible, but he hadn’t realized just how much the mere thought of it affected you. Not until now. You were terrified to let someone in that much just to have it ripped away.

“I’ve got you, I always will,” he whispered when your sobs finally subsided. “And I’m not going anywhere, not if I have a say in the matter.” The only hope he had that things would be okay, was because of the words Pamela had said to him. The two of you only had to stay in the bunker for the next week and a half, no matter what.

You wanted to apologize but knew it would frustrate him, so you did your best not to even think the words. “I didn’t mean to break down like that,” you mumbled before sitting up a little.

He met your gaze, seeing how puffy your eyes were from crying. With a soft smile, he gently wiped the lingering tears away. “Crying isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it helps. Like, how they say you have to hit rock bottom before things get better,” he offered, trying to help.

“I just want it all to stop, to go away,” you pouted, focusing on your hands in your lap as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

Dean debated for a moment, focusing on what you were feeling. There were a few different things he could say, but now was not the time to let the playful remarks slip out. He gently nudged your chin with his finger and thumb, so you met his gaze, trying not to let another tear slip out. 

“Things will be okay. Why don’t we just take this week and a half and just relax? I know that you’ll have to call Crowley, and we’ll be down here past my birthday. But hey, think of this time as a little vacation from the world. It’s different now,” he tried to soothe you, giving you that soft smile that brought a small one to your lips.

He knew the kind of grip your fear had on you; hell, it wanted to consume him. Gently pulling you against his chest, he let out a sigh, trying to find the right words, but he was pretty sure nothing he could say would help you right now. So, he just held you close, gently rubbing small circles on your upper arm with his thumb.

“I don’t know how not to be afraid,” you eventually mumbled. The nightmare you’d had the night before felt like parts of it were playing on repeat in your head, along with what Pamela had said. You just weren’t sure what the consistent was, so you weren’t sure what part of it would happen.

“Why don’t we just take it one day at a time?” he suggested softly.

You moved a little so you could look into his eyes. The sincerity and hope there made you smile a little. I just want to see you smile. The whispered words made your smile grow, your fears and worries slowly slipping away as you let his hope, love, and compassion wash through the connection. It was like the gentle waves as they lapped over the sands of a beach.

“Now, I’m gonna go make us breakfast. You wanna change or just lounge in pajamas all day?” he asked, feeling that soft contentment as you relaxed.

Deciding to focus on not being stressed over things you had no control over, you chose playfulness, tapping your chin with your finger, pretending to think. “Hmm…” you hummed, pausing playfully. “Pajamas, because I’m pretty sure you’ll tease me,” your words came out a little sassy, pulling a playful smirk to his lips.

Again, he was fighting with his thoughts. God, it’s gonna be a long week. The thought made you almost laugh, knowing you weren’t going to make him wait that long. He let his fingers find your ribs, gripping them in just the right way, tickling you. With a squeal, you attempted to get off his lap, but he held you in place.

He hadn’t moved his hand, but the anticipation that kept building was what was driving you absolutely crazy. However, when he leaned in close with that look in his eyes, a shiver went down your spine. “You know, anticipation works on other things, too,” his voice was low, rough, tinged with that teasing that made the butterflies dance in your stomach.

Taking a shaky breath, attempting to focus on anything other than what he was hinting at or the fact that his hand was still holding your ribs. All he had to do was grip, and he could tickle you again. “Thought you were gonna make breakfast,” you told him quickly, unable to hide the joy that was coursing through you at how he had lightened the mood.

The laughter started deep in his chest before filling the room, “Yeah, breakfast.” Not when I’ve got you right where I want you. He couldn’t help himself, though, gripping your ribs enough to make you squeal and try to get away from him. The sound brought that joy to his soul, soothing any stress left in him.

“Stop!” you yelled playfully, squirming in his lap as he held you there. His other hand found the crook in your hip, squeezing down and making you scream at how ticklish you were there.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you long. He didn’t want to accidentally hurt your wrists, and you were trying to stop him, even knowing it was impossible. The man was far stronger than you. Plus, the way you squirmed on his lap was causing another issue to arise. He snaked his arms around your waist, the two of you attempting to catch your breath for different reasons.

“Alright, Sweetheart. I’ll go get breakfast going,” he told you, trying to calm his racing heart. He gave you a quick kiss on your cheek before scooping you up and gently setting you on the couch after he stood. I love you, your whispered words in his mind bringing a wider smile to his lips, trying to push away thoughts he couldn’t act on, not yet anyway.

And that was about how the next several days went. There were board games, watching movies, tickle fests, which you even got him a few good times, and a couple games of pool. The playful banter that went back and forth had you both wound as the sexual tension grew between you. He never pushed anything too much, but he did give it an encouraging nudge. Dean would hold you when you did the dishes, so you would return that when he would cook.

The two of you settled into a comfortable routine. So far, the nightmare hadn’t come back, and the monitors also hadn’t gone off unless it was an animal going about its business. Your fears were slowly slipping away. Being close to him was getting easier the more he bantered with you. So much so that three days before his birthday, when he kissed you after your evening movie, you didn’t pull away after a few moments. You had wanted so badly just to let go of all your fears at that moment, but you couldn’t, even with your body humming from how he touched you. The moment you went to apologize, he gently pressed his finger over your lips and shook his head. 

“I told you, I can wait till you’re ready,” he told you in a soft, sincere whisper. His breathing was heavy, but he meant it; he’d truly wait till you were ready. For now, he’d have his fantasies and enjoy the feeling of your desire as it danced with his own. “How about you go crawl in bed? I’ll be there in a bit,” he added, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to sleep unless he took care of himself.

A blush crept into your cheeks as you bit your bottom lip. I wish I could just let go. It was the one thought that kept going through your head like a repeat record player. Dean gave you that half smile before leaving a tender kiss on your forehead. Don’t make me carry you. His teasingly playful threat made you chuckle. “Alright, I’m going.” You left a soft kiss on his cheek before going to your room, mostly closing it so he had more privacy. 

The tip Pamela had given you, about picturing a bubble around you, was something you had been practicing. So, as you climbed into bed, you pictured that bubble again, needing to have some time so your body could cool down from the fire he always ignited. Lying on your back, staring at the ceiling, you slowed your breathing, picturing a bubble around you. It was an odd sensation after feeling Dean’s emotions for nearly a week now. The connection was still there, and you could feel the thread, but the emotions that passed through it diminished. As you were focusing on how different it felt, Dean gently pushed the door open, a little apprehensive.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” he asked, pulling you from your concentration, effectively popping the bubble. “What was that?” 

You watched him as he crawled into the bed next to you, rolling onto your side. “I was practicing that bubble thing. I probably should warn you so you don’t get so concerned,” you replied sincerely, giving him the soft smile that helped the tension ease from his shoulders.

Dean pulled you closer, the physical contact bringing the relief he needed after feeling the connection diminishing. “Yeah, a heads up will help,” he sighed out, focusing on the way you felt in his arms and the way your emotions danced with his again.

“I can remember,” you told him softly, kissing his cheek tenderly before getting fully comfortable tucked against him. “Get some sleep,” you murmured sleepily.

It took him a few minutes to completely relax again. One minute, he had felt your emotions dancing with his, the desire mingling, and then there was almost nothing. For a moment, he thought something had happened, even being in the bunker. I’ll be thankful when we don’t have to worry anymore. He wasn’t sure how far into sleep you had drifted, but the peace that washed over him like a warm blanket began pulling him off to the dreamworld as well. A quiet hum slipped out as you drifted off to sleep.

You had no idea where you were. It was a town, and it was nighttime. There were a few street lights that cast an eerie yellow glow along the deserted street. What the hell? Looking around, the town seemed deserted. Cautiously, you headed toward the only place that looked open, a gas station several blocks away. There were no sounds like you would typically hear at night, like crickets or owls. Goosebumps prickled along your skin as you rubbed your arms, trying to get them to go away. The closer to the gas station you got, the more a knot began twisting in your gut. Something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t put your finger on what it was. The night air was warm against the chill that settled down your spine when you crossed the street. There wasn’t a single car in the parking lot or at any of the four pumps. Your heart pounded as your breathing became shallow and shaky. Swallowing hard, you made your way to the front of the gas station, only close enough to look inside. There was one person inside, a guy behind the counter that you’d never seen before. Other than that, the place looked empty. Oddly enough, that seemed to steady your nerves, letting out a sigh. You turned and looked back down the way you’d come, then further in the direction past the gas station. Where am I?  You stood outside, debating going in and talking to the cashier or just heading in the direction you were drawn to, past the gas station. Slipping your hands into the pockets of your jeans, you headed further down the deserted street. The further away you got from the gas station, the more surreal everything felt.  A few blocks later, you noticed a motel across the street, Dean’s Impala, parked in front of one of the rooms. Quizically, you tilted your head a bit. Now utterly confused, you made your way across the parking lot to the room, taking note of the number seven on the door.  First, you tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Then, you felt around your pockets, noticing something in one of the back ones you hadn’t felt earlier. Slowly, you pulled out the item, taking a shaky breath, seeing it was a key to the door. Your stomach began knotting up, like something was horribly wrong. Slowly, you unlocked the door but looked over your shoulder, feeling like you were being watched. Dean’s car was gone, replaced by something else. This one was a new model Jeep that you didn’t recognize. As your brows furrowed in confusion, the door was pulled open from the inside. Just as you were attempting to regain your balance and see who had opened the door, someone grabbed you, dragging you into the room. They weren’t gentle about it either. You even attempted to fight against their hold. Whoever it was, it wasn’t Dean, but it was a guy, and he was far stronger than you. “Now, you’re mine,” his voice was low, pleased, but with a cruel undertone. “First, you’ll be bait. I need to sever that connection.”

Your scream reverberated off the walls of the bedroom, echoing through the bunker as you bolted upright in bed. Unable to take a deep breath, you clung to the blankets as Dean’s arms wrapped around you. “Shhh.. Sweetheart,” he began softly, images flashing through his mind. “I’ve got you. It was a nightmare.” However, you both knew the truth. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a premonition.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 31

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[dellalyra]

i can't stop thinking about what toru's parents would be like!!! his mother would definitely be the energetic type and his father would be extremely calm, and their freak out about seeing toru getting married or adopting megumi and tsumiki and then coming to akio too!! it fills my heart with love

See I always had it in my head that Satoru’s parents were either dead/not around or his father simply married to create a new Gojo heir and it wasn’t a happy childhood at all. Raised by nanny’s and as a weapon/God rather than a little boy.

However - this got me thinking.

Satoru’s mother is the Gojo, all white hair (not only with age) and pretty blue eyes. A talented sorcerer in her own right, was married by the clan elders to a son of another noble family. She protested and fought against it - going so far as to barricade herself in her room at the estate, slipping out the bedroom window and sliding down the ivy on the walls only to trip at the last minute and be caught by a pair of strong arms.

The young man recognises her immediately.

“You hurt?” He asks, righting her on her feet with gentle hands.

She freezes and stares at him.

All jet black hair with a hint of soft curls and beautiful eyes, ivory skin and a slightly shy look in his eyes. His height towered over her, all lean and slim.

“I’m guessing you’re the one they want to knock me up, then?” She says, hands on her hips and glaring.

“I - um - if you’re Gojo Izumi, then yes, I suppose so.” He flusters.

“That’s me. You are Takahiro, no?” She says, dusting off the light blue skirt she wore.

He just nods, attempting a smile at the stubborn and brash woman before him.

Safe to say, a marriage that started as a contract between two families, ended in a marriage of love.

Izumi was all excitement and enthusiasm, high energy and over the top everything, a powder keg temper and a lust for a good exorcism. Takahiro was her antithesis. Calm, quiet, subdued and relaxed - endlessly gentle and warm without a bone in his body meant for anger or violence. Yet, somehow - they worked. Both 18 when married, Satoru arrived 2 years later. Izumi wasn’t overly maternal - of course she adored her little boy but her favourite way to bond was to train with him, or bring him along on missions. Her pride in birthing the first Limitless and Six Eyes user in hundreds of years contributed to that. Izumi, in Satoru’s eyes, was the fun parent. She did ice cream for dinner and ‘don’t tell your father’ secrets. Izumi, although an only child of the late head of the Gojo clan, was refused the title herself on the grounds of being a woman. So when her father passed (she was delighted, the cranky old bastard) when Satoru was just 3 months old, the title immediately passed to him.

Takahiro was soft, gentle and kind. He read bedtime stories and made cocoa with marshmallows and helped tie his shoelaces and kissed any rare boo-boo that he got. His father’s deep voice would echo in his bedroom, soft lullabies and words of love helping the young boy drift to sleep.

His parents loved each other dearly, too - they were the model from which he learned to love. Completely, and without hesitation.

That’s how Takahiro knew. The first weekend that Satoru came home from Jujutsu Tech, he seemed different. He had wrote to them about the Geto boy, his best friend and the RCT trainee Ieiri, and his third classmate - the future head of the L/N clan, a prominent, exceptionally skilled family shunned by the elders many years ago for their rebellious nature. The look in his face changed when Izumi had asked over dinner what each of his classmates were like, and he got to the girl.

“Taka, she’s a lovely young girl - fiery as the rest of her clan and exceptionally beautiful, her mother assisted me on a mission a few years ago.” Izumi informed her husband of the L/N clan eldest.

Takahiro saw the red on the tips of his son’s ears.

“What’s her name, son?” He asked, cutting a piece of the chef’s specialty chicken.

“Y/N.” Satoru replied, with a dreamy edge to his voice that he had only heard before when his own voice had first called for Izumi.

It was no shock when 2 years later, you came home with Satoru to the Gojo estate for a portion of the break. The Gojo clan was so different to your own, who were fiery, passionate people and were completely family oriented, Christmas was spent in pyjamas by the fireplace with spiced cider flowing and cousins fighting over which film to watch and parents cuddled up on the sofa with their brood between them, and Christmas dinner served with love after being prepared (between food fights) by grandparents and their own grown children. The Gojo Christmas had a professionally decorated tree, and a chef to make a Christmas meal, gifts exchanged neatly and primly.

At least - that was what you expected.

You didn’t expect to pull up in a private car to a beautiful mansion only to have a tall, elegant woman with shining white hair bound down the steps.

“Show me her! Let me see, yes - hello Satoru, move now.” The woman smiled, moving her son, now taller than her to the side to get a better look at you.

“Hello, Gojo-sama. Thank you so much for inviting me.” You say, slightly terrified of the imposing woman (it’s clear she’s where Satoru gets his presence).

“Nonsense, child - Izumi is fine. Look at you, you look so like your mother! What a pretty little thing you are!” She says, excitedly squishing your cheeks and almost vibrating with excitement.

“Izumi, dearest, let the child breathe.” A tall man, about Satoru’s height, slim and pale with wavy inky black hair and soft eyes and smile approaches.

You go to open your mouth to greet him formally.

“No, no - Takahiro is what you’ll call me, little one. You are my little boy’s love, no need for such formalities.” He says, voice deep and soft and smooth as chocolate with a smile that reminds you of warm winter nights.

Satoru begins to walk inside, before a voice stops him.

“Gojo Satoru! Get down here and take your lady’s bag! Gosh, what have we raised?! A feral bear?!” Izumi shrieks.

The evening was spent eating a meal, indeed cooked by the families chef, and sitting drinking mulled wine in a beautiful drawing room. Izumi informed you that your own mother was a year below her in school, although she went to Kyoto where your family were staunchly Tokyo attendees. Izumi and you quickly made close friends, laughing and chatting away and answering every question the fascinated woman could think of. Takahiro, insisted on serving you extra food, saying that you just need the energy to keep up with his son, who quickly refutes that he can’t keep up with you. White Christmas began to play - and Izumi smiled widely, turning to look at her husband who groaned.

“Must we, ‘Zumi?” He whines, so like his son.

“We must.” She nods and drags him by the hand to dance a slow waltz with her.

You look at them, as Izumi smiles widely, perpetual buzz of adrenaline surrounding her - wrapped in the arms of her husband - a soothing balm in comparison.

You whisper to Satoru.

“I love your parents.”

He smirks, shrugging.

“Meh, they’re alright.”

When Suguru left - and the elders were all informed what had happened - Satoru’s phone rang showing his father’s contact.

Both Izumi and Takahiro were on the phone - with all seriousness, Izumi asks if there’s anyone else except you and Satoru there. You say no.

“We know how much Suguru means to you, Satoru - now listen to me, if you can find him - if you can convince him to come back, everything can be dealt with. We can keep you all safe - the elders won’t refuse us anything.” Izumi’s voice is cold and serious - completely embodying the role of the Mother of The Six Eyes.

You both knew he wouldn’t come back. Yet, Satoru felt safer knowing his parents were behind him.

2 years later, a knock sounds out through the apartment while you make yourself and Satoru a coffee.

“I’ll get it!” Shouts Tsumiki.

“Thank you, sweetie! It’s probably just Aunty Koko wanting some lunch.” You reply, living in the staff accommodation definitely served your best friend well.

You heard the door click, and some muffled voices - a man’s deep rumbling, a woman’s and a child’s.

Drying your hands, you walk out of the kitchen to see who was there.

In the doorway, stood Izumi and Takahiro - looking very, very confused.

“Oh, hey parents.” Satoru says, poking his head around the corner from the living room.

“Hello Satoru, hello lovely Y/N. We were in the city and thought we’d pop in to say hello since it’s been several months. Is this little one a niece or nephew?” Izumi asks you.

You blink.

“Huh? Tsumiki? Nah, she’s ours.” Satoru shrugs, as you realise he didn’t tell his parents about the Fushiguro kids.

Takahiro drops his Starbucks.

“I - would you like to come in for tea? It seems we all have some catching up to do.” You smile, rolling your eyes.

After they settle themselves on the sofa, a coffee in each parents hand - Tsumiki sitting beside you and Megumi beside Satoru - Satoru explains the situation.

“They… live with you? You’re starting the process to adopt?!” Izumi shrieks, Takahiro looks like he’s been hit by a truck.

“We’re hoping to, yes.” You nod, smiling, holding your boyfriend’s hand.

There’s silence for a moment, and Tsumiki re enters the room with a tray of cookies.

Izumi looks between both of the children, shellshocked.

Takahiro places his coffee down, and smiles at both of the children.

“Hello, children - what are your names?” He says, calmly and soothing - exuding an aura of calm safety.

“My name is Tsumiki, and this is my younger brother Megumi. I’m 8, and he’s 6.” The little girl smiles.

You could visibly see both the elders melt.

“Well then, Tsumiki and Megumi - I am your Ojiisan, and this is your Obaasan.” Takahiro says, patting them both on the head with his large hands.

Somehow, by bedtime that night - Takahiro had coaxed Megumi into showing him all of his National Geographic magazines, the older man’s calm nature a nice contrast to his adoptive parents chaotic selves. Izumi had also learned every piece of drama and gossip happening in 2nd Grade from Tsumiki, and was truly blown away by the audacity of Kinju saying that Nami’s new pink boots weren’t that cool and subsequently uninviting her to her Monster High birthday party.

3 years later

Izumi’s phone buzzed with a lunch invitation from her son, a rare occurrence outside holidays and planned visits. So she agreed, vaguely concerned something was wrong.

A small French cafe was their destination, full of decadent pastries for both Gojo’s to devour.

“Mother, I’ve asked you here because I need something.” He says.

Now that piqued her interest, Satoru had never wanted or needed for anything.

“Oh? What could it be?” She asks, sipping her tea.

Satoru lifts his sunglasses, looking her in the eyes.

“The ring.”

She almost drops the teacup.

“Satoru?! Are you finally going to ask her to marry you?! Oh, this is so wonderful! Gosh, I’ll go right away - it’s in my jewellery box at home and if you warp us there we can get it immediately and return so you can ask her right away!” She spews, grabbing her coat and purse.

“Mother - I have it all planned, I just need it by Saturday.” He smiles, taking her bag and putting it back down.

“Have you told your father? Tell me the plans! How will you ask her? Should we get the ring resized? My jeweller will do it in time for Saturday. The ring was your great grandmother’s. It’s truly beautiful, very delicate and the sapphire ” Izumi prattles off countless questions, enough to dizzy even Satoru.

The kids relationship with their Gojo grandparents was different to their relationship to your own mother, Ojiisan and Obaasan were people they liked very much and enjoyed being around, and were very spoiled by. Your own mother, their Baba, was someone they saw every week. They had sleepovers with their Baba, or Baba came to stay. Baba would sit them both on her knees and read them stories or teach them to bake. Your mother, despite being younger than Satoru’s parents, immediately became infatuated with the role of doting Baba - every Friday night they would stay with their Baba. Satoru had been greatly loved by his parents, yet as two high ranking sorcerers and both from noble families - his primary caregivers had been nannies throughout the day. Your Mama, had raised you herself with the help of your own grandmother - your family were close knit, and no nanny or external caregivers had been part of your childhood, and so it became the same for the children. Satoru fit perfectly into your family. His chaos matching theirs, his warmth and unconditional love far more suited to a less formal and traditional family as he spent his first Christmas in pyjamas watching Elf alongside you and all of the rest of the L/N clan, he realised that was how he wanted to love, and to live.

[jackiehicks]

‘Best Kept Secret’

Wyatt Lykensen x Reader

request: wyatt x wells!reader with a secret relationship? they're just always sneaking away from friends during school to meet up.

A/N: my first request and it’s a wyatt x reader?? the stars literally aligned for me on this. i hope you guys like it!! this is set after the events of zombies 2 for timeline reasons. don’t get sick of wyatt just yet though, there might be some more content coming your way…

words: 1.6k

content warning: light swearing

y/n smiled at her phone and sighed. she had been dating wyatt for a few months now, but they had decided to keep it secret due to the fact that she was human and he was a werewolf. she knew seabrook was integrated now and the human/zombie/werewolf student body was becoming more familiar by the day, but it was just easier to keep her relationship with wyatt a secret.

she didn’t really know why they kept hush about it. perhaps it was so the two of them would be somewhat left alone by bucky and his aceys who found every opportunity to say something snide and cruel about y/n and her friends. maybe it was the fear of wyatt being shunned by his wolf pack - this was the first time a wolf and a human had started a relationship in well over a century. maybe it was the judgement she would get from her family.

to cut a long story short, y/n was burdened with the surname ‘wells’. not only was her mother the mayor and her father a well-respected zombie patrolman, but she was the twin sister of star cheerleader and monster-activism trailblazer addison wells.

it’s not that addison and y/n didn’t get along, they had been best friends since the day they were born - they practically came out of the womb holding hands - it’s just that y/n had seen everything that addison had gone through last year with her zombie boyfriend zed, and she did not want that for herself and wyatt. zombies were one thing, but werewolves were still a whole other story in seabrook.

on top of all that, y/n was simply never as popular as addison. she always felt like an outsider. where addison hid her natural hair with a blonde wig, y/n always wore her white locks proudly and defiantly. this got her in a lot of trouble with her parents and the school (seriously, being dress-coded for having naturally white hair was a joke) but she didn’t care. she wasn’t like all the other kids at seabrook, why try to fit in?

that’s how y/n and wyatt met, actually. y/n noticed how all of the wolves had streaks of white in their hair, and she was curious. maybe this was why she felt as though she was different from the others? she talked to wyatt about it, learned some interesting things about wolves, learned some interesting things about wyatt, and shared some interesting things about herself. the rest, as they say, is history.

so, y/n and wyatt were seabrook’s best kept secret. when they weren’t miserably hiding their relationship, it was sort of fun. y/n liked the danger of sneaking around with her “scary” boyfriend, and the thought of doing so was more than appealing as she stared down at her chemistry textbook on the table.

she closed the book and picked it up, making her way out of the library, when all of a sudden she felt a hand on her arm and was being pulled round the corner. she yelped just as she came face to face with her boyfriend.

“miss me?”

“wyatt, you frightened me!” she smacked him playfully on the arm.

“come on, i’ll walk you to your locker. you’re not gonna need any books next period.” he grinned as the two of them walked down the hall.

y/n placed the chemistry textbook in her locker as wyatt leaned nonchalant on the lockers next to her.

“where are we even going for our… free period?” he asked in a hushed voice. she smirked at him and shook her head. the halls were completely empty, everyone was already in their next classes.

“this was your idea, honey. i figured you would have a plan.”

“when do i ever have a plan for anything? you’ve been at this school far longer than i have, surely you know some good hiding spots.”

“i don’t know if you remember this, but i’m a wells. i have to be on my best behaviour at all times.”

“god, that’s pitiful. thank god you have me, you’d be so bored otherwise.”

y/n closed her locker and kissed wyatt on the cheek.

“thank god indeed. come on, i think the football field is unoccupied this period.” she grabbed wyatt’s hand as she started to run towards the school’s exit. he laughed loudly as he ran with her, and she shushed him.

y/n and wyatt sat on the bleachers, looking out over the seabrook football field. it was a warm day, as it usually was in their perfect town. wyatt and y/n enjoyed deep conversations in moments like this, no one around them to interrupt them, simply sitting and chatting. wyatt had his fingers interlocked with y/n’s as they spoke.

“you’d think the school would be more monster-friendly” wyatt sighed.

“yeah, i mean eliza was campaigning for zombie language classes which would have been dope, but there’s not much accommodation for zombies outside of what zed’s presidential campaign was going for.”

“and for werewolves… shit, people still won’t look us in the eye half the time.”

y/n smiled softly and squeezed wyatt’s hand. he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“sometimes i think you’re the only one outside of the pack who understands me, sweetheart.” he said. he was only inches away from y/n’s face, it would be so easy to just grab his cheeks and kiss him. so that’s exactly what she did.

y/n’s hands gripped wyatt’s face firmly and she kissed him square on the mouth - only briefly, but it left them both grinning. wyatt returned the favour, kissing her with such force that almost knocked y/n backwards. they laughed against each other’s lips until wyatt pulled away. he had a concerned look on his face, and y/n immediately worried.

“wy, what’s up?”

“not to panic you or anything, but i got a scent.”

“oh god, what is it?”

“smells like jock.”

“oh shit” y/n exclaimed, looking at her phone. there was 5 minutes left of their ‘free period’ and she had totally forgot that the football players and cheerleading squad start their practises early. this wouldn’t be much of an emergency, except for the fact that y/n’s sister was on the cheer team.

“we need to hide, right? if addison or zed sees us-“

wyatt finished her sentence for her. “we won’t be much of a secret anymore, i know. come on, let’s go.”

they made their way down the steps of the bleachers as fast as they could - why the hell did they sit all the way at the top?! - and began to make their way around the corner of the field when they saw the football team and cheer squad about to turn the same corner, with addison and zed leading the crowd.

“under the bleachers!” y/n whisper-shouted and grabbed wyatt’s hand, running to hide under the metal bleachers from her sister’s line of sight. the two were out of breath, quietly laughing with relief.

“you’re almost too good at this ‘keeping secrets’ thing, you know that?” wyatt asked, wrapping his arms around y/n’s waist. she put her arms on his shoulders and began fussing with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.

“oh please, this is a team effort.”

wyatt hummed in agreement as he leaned in for another kiss, but the two were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing.

“you guys good under there?” zed grinned. addison was standing next to him, trying to hide her smile.

“i don’t know what shocks me more: the fact that you hid your boyfriend from us, or the fact that you skipped class, y/n.” she laughed.

“please don’t tell mom and dad.”

“about your truancy or your secret werewolf boyfriend?” zed interjected. y/n scowled at him.

“if you don’t want me to, i won’t.” addison reassured her. y/n breathed a sigh of relief.

“thank you.”

zed sauntered over to wyatt, putting him in a headlock.

“skipping class, huh? remember what i said about doing it like the zombies do?”

wyatt smacked his arm playfully. “yeah, right. like no zombie has ever cut class before.”

“we follow rules here at seabrook. come on, furball, can’t be missing two classes in a row.”

wyatt sighed as zed let him out of the headlock. he was still getting used to being so buddy-buddy with people outside of the pack, and zed really could be extra sometimes.

“he’s right, actually,” wyatt said to y/n, “we probably should get to our next classes. don’t wanna get caught by anyone else.”

“yeah, you’re right. you go ahead, i’ll catch up.”

wyatt winked at his girlfriend before he began to walk away. y/n turned to her sister, engulfing her in a hug.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t tell you, addy. you have no idea how badly i wanted to. we were just worried what everyone would think. wyatt hasn’t even told his sister either and she’s the alpha werewolf and she’s, like, actually scary.” y/n blabbered, squeezing addison tight. addison laughed.

“sis, it’s okay. i was nervous to tell you about zed and i when we first started dating. don’t stress.”

“ugh, i love you. i really should go though, i don’t wanna be late and i know for a fact wyatt is waiting for me a few feet away.”

addison untangled herself from her sister’s tight squeeze of a hug.

“i love you too, now go!” she spun y/n around by her shoulders and gave her a shove. y/n waved goodbye before she jogged to catch up with wyatt.

zed wiped a fake tear from his eye, “ah, young love.”

“come on, casanova, you’ve got football practise.”

[ofallthingsnasty]

Bill gives off “will fuck you minutes before you have to go meet up your friends so he can get out of it AND have you embarrassed” energy so I’ll love it if you can write that scenario 👉👈

Nothing but facts here 🤭💕 He's such a smarmy asshole haha @flameshadowwolf 😘

fic referenced - please give it a read before you jump into this one, you'll probably need the context.

tags: yandere, heavy dubcon, Bill being condescending as always, breeding mentioned, talk of future knotting, past noncon + forced impregnation + forced marriage, chubby reader, f!reader, werewolf/human, minors dni word count: 3k

You haven’t done your makeup in forever. It’s been at least two months, you think, as you try to remember which of the colors in your little eyeshadow palette is the best for a monochrome look. You don’t really have the time to duke it out with a more complex style right now, especially with your rusty skills - there is barely an hour left until you're supposed to meet Ellie, car ride not included. Your mind sings at the prospect of a quiet evening, with friendly chatter and good food - and you not having to do anything. No needy toddler, no sticky little hands and pouty mouth to rob you of every last ounce of patience and energy, just adults-only conversations and friendly faces. Ellie and her husband Francis are the only members of the pack that are making an effort to include you and you like them all the better for it. You buff out the eyeshadow a little closer to your brows while you try to keep your bitterness down.

That fateful night three years ago had been your D-Day, and everything that followed was just punch after punch to your face - including being shunned by the very community that you had unwillingly become a part of. Of course, the whole pack knows what happened. Three years might have passed, but they still stick their necks together and whisper about it as though it all happened yesterday, avoiding your presence like you’re some bad omen, the hangman’s bride herself. Only Hugh and the Evett couple are cordial, the rest act as though you’re the black sheep of the family. It’s a small relief but at least they treat your daughter fairly well. It might change once her peers reach a mature enough age to be included in the gossip but for now your little toddler girl doesn’t have to play alone on the playgrounds and is invited to birthday parties only her father can take her to.

You rummage through your little makeup bag, searching for your brow powder. It’s probably too old to use safely, but you don’t care as you smudge it into the hairs. It’s not like you have the time to buy a new one.

Out of the whole pack, only your life is ruled by some archaic tradition. You had asked Ellie once about her and Francis and when she answered that they were high school sweethearts, you had quickly ducked into your coffee, ashamed of your own fate. 

Of course, she knows. You’re close enough in age - she’s a few years younger and still bright-faced, probably taking a giant heap of pity in your circumstances. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re just glad that someone who knows about this whole supernatural business is friendly with you - your old, blissfully unaware friends have long since grown tired of your bitter rants about your husband, not understanding why you’re still with him.

Oh, if only they knew. Their not-so-subtle nudges to get you to go to therapy (or to ditch Bill) get nothing but a grim laugh out of you now. No therapist could get you out of this mess, no stupid self-help book could give you the courage (with a sparkle and fire emoji, of course) to just leave. Just leave. God, it’s so stupid it makes you grimace.

Your life simply isn't your own anymore - right down to your name. Now you're just Mrs. Timmons, with a small golden band and his goddamn scent all over you (marking you as his possession). He had dragged you to the altar kicking and screaming, breaking plates and ripping up that gaudy number he had proposed as your wedding dress, but in the end, he had succeeded.

You had threatened to leave once, when Claire had been so very little, to pack her up and go - to the other side of the country, out of the country, across continents - just to get away from him. It had all been hot air, said in a dark moment of despair, of fear.

The solemn truth is that there is no way out of this. No matter how much you screech and fight - you’re not up against a regular man. Behind that grubby smile and dark eyes lies a creature that can track you down with deadly precision and has claimed you as its own, until the day it dies.

It sure is easy to forget when he throws his dirty shoes down onto the couch table or when he smokes when Claire is in the room, when he doesn’t do shit around the house and you get to stew in your anger, ruminate on the abysmal hand fate had dealt you. Then he’s just a regular piece of shit, just another good-for-nothing husband you get to nag and scream at and fume around. But when he fucks you - that’s when he’s back to the snarling beast he had been in that shed. The way he holds you down, even as a mere man, his grip like iron, his eyes feral and wide - even thinking about it makes you shudder.

It doesn’t matter right now, you think. You’ll be safe from his wandering hands and salacious comments in a matter of minutes, able to be yourself and not the always-scowling fury you have been turned into.

Just a swipe of mascara and your purse- 

A soft knock on the door frame interrupts you.

The sound of Bill’s heavy footsteps save you the glance over your shoulder to confirm it’s really him. “Wow, look at you”, he whistles, a freshly lit cigarette in his right hand. “Did I forget something? Date night? Our wedding day? My birthday?”

He laughs at his own joke as he takes a drag and you can already feel the annoyance starting to boil in your stomach. “I kid, I kid. You’re gonna meet with the Everett girl tonight, right? Girl’s night, eh?”

 “Yeah. Francis will join us later, though”, you say, clipped, brushing your mascara wand over the lower lashes of your left eye.

  “That so?”, you can hear him sucking in another lungful, sounding almost pensive. “Sounds awfully nice, princess.” You hum, finally done with your look. “I did invite you to come. If you remember.” A husky laugh behind you makes your brows furrow. “Jesus, woman, what did I do to you now?” You bite your tongue. Oh, you know. You just forcefully impregnated me three years ago and maybe I still haven’t worked through that. No biggie, though. “Be nice to your old man, yeah?”

He takes the cigarette into his left hand and presses a kiss to your temple, then drags his lips down to your ear. His stubble scratches the thin skin that is stretched over the cartilage of your helix and you can’t suppress the shudder. The right hand that lands on your shoulder is heavy and warm as it rubs and presses the fat over the joint, thoughtful but firm. “I have been nothing but kind, haven’t I? If you had ended up with that little freak, you wouldn’t have seen the sun ever again.” Crinkling, dark eyes meet yours in the mirror. 

Evan. You still think about him sometimes, but he moved just shortly after you started showing, too distraught that it had been Bill's kid and not his. You'd pity him if he hadn't done the unthinkable to you, just like Bill did.

“You do know that, don’t you?” Despite yourself, you nod - suddenly hot and cold at the same time. “I keep you fed, I keep a roof over your head, I let you run free, I let you tear up my shit when you’re mad, I let you go to your uppity little bitch you like so much- I think I’m doing way more than necessary, darling.” He mouths at your ear again, suddenly licking and biting the shell, only stopping when you visibly cringe. “I even think I deserve a little something for that, hm? And if it’s not gratitude, it might just be something else.”

He presses out the cigarette before you can even answer, right on top of your eyeshadow palette. Rough hands glide over the nape of your neck, down to your shoulders and settle right underneath your tits where he pushes them up and catches your eyes in the mirror again. “Just look at you, baby. I wish I could ruin all that makeup with my cum but we can’t have you be late for your little wine dinner, hm?” You see your own face twist in shock at his crude words and he watches in amusement, hands already working the soft flesh of your chest. He pinches and prods through the sturdy fabric that cups your tits, rubbing the material between his fingers to appraise it. “Aw, you’re wearing only a t-shirt bra today, aren’t you? Not my favorite lace number?”, he says and squeezes over your clothed nipples roughly, making you yelp in pain. “Or maybe I should be glad you aren’t. Else I’d think you’re dressing up for the Everett boy.” “But you’d never do that, would you?”, his tone drips with something dark. “You’d never betray me, hm?” Your breath stutters. It’s not a question. It’s a threat. “Why, I-”, you gasp, the words enough to shake you out of your stupor. “Why would you think that?”

“Dunno, babe”, he almost croons. “Just wanted to put it out there. In case you got into your little head again.” His hands wander down to your stomach and grab your fat roughly, a deep growl ending the conversation. He buries his fingers deep into you, so deep it stings and you subconsciously stretch upwards, granting him easier access to your neck. He promptly uses it to nip the skin of your pulse point.

“Soft as ever. Makes me want to bite and devour you whole”, Bill laughs. “But I’ll settle for putting another baby in you.” The nails digging through the cotton of your shirt turn sharp and long - he chuckles as you yelp, as you try to wiggle out of the chair in front of your vanity. “Too late, honeypie.” The man who stares back at you through the mirror is no longer a man - he is a wolf again, the same one that sounded the bell for the end of the life you once knew. “Don’t give me those pitiful eyes. Where’s all that fire, huh?”, he snickers, grotesque notes strung together by a deeper voice, by bigger lungs. “Your snippy little attitude. You do know I love to fuck it out of you, again and again.” Your head is pushed down into the wood and it sends your mascara and brushes flying to the floor. He simply drags your face over the vanity until the crown of your head touches the cool glass of the mirror, your legs slowly rising with the stretch. 

You have a hunch of what will follow. “Ass up, sweetheart”, he bites out and kicks the chair underneath you to the side with so much force you can hear it splinter. You’re left to stand on shaky legs, the cartilage of your nose pressed into the furniture. “Good girl.”

You only whimper in response, too weak to struggle against him, even as his hands leave your head.

He shows little regard for your clothes, as little as he had for his in the moment he turned - sharp claws dig into your nicest pair of jeans with little care, thick hands pull them down by force - over your belly, then over your ass. They're left just above your knees as he targets the next layer, a simple pair of cotton briefs. He slices through them and groans at the sight of you - fully exposed, bent over, vulnerable and oh-so-soft.

 "The baby did you good, sweetheart", he laughs and spanks your ass so hard it echoes through the room. "Made you even better. Maybe another one will make that ass even fatter."

  You're mortified at his crude words - but any indignant squawk of protest gets stuck in your throat as he presses his whole muzzle into your cunt.

He licks and pushes and sucks - eats you out so messily that his spit drips down your thighs and you can't contain your voice any longer.

You're rewarded with a chuckle and even more fervor. 

It's too much and yet not enough - his tongue only brushes your clit but he fucks your hole with it so well it makes your legs shake. You don't even register the way his claws dig into your ass, the pain barely noticeable over the mess he's making in between your thighs.

It’s not enough to make you cum but you feel yourself loosening up, growing pliant under his touch. Maybe he can feel it too because just a few precious minutes later he stops, licking his maw loudly. “Could eat you out all day, princess”, he chuckles behind you. “But you got a little girl’s night to go to, don’t you?” You manage nothing but a teary-eyed nod, throwing him a look over your shoulder, that terrifying creature staring right back at you, the man within it clearly getting drunk with the power he has over you when he is like this. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.” He pushes himself into you slowly, but firmly - his saliva mixed with your own arousal making the most obscene squelch. It’s almost a relief to feel him in you after he fucked you on his tongue and you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of him working you open.

“You take me so well-”, he grits out and you moan in response. You should be ashamed of how much you long for his cock, how the years have made you compliant, even needy for him, even though you’re thoroughly terrified of him - but you can’t find it in you to care right now. The shame will come later, when you’re alone with your thoughts again but for now you just want to him to fuck you so well you’ll forget about everything. He starts out slow but it doesn’t last long - it never does. Just a few thrusts in and he’s found a rather harsh pace that has him fist the neck of your blouse to steady himself, claws puncturing the fabric. “God, I just wanna knot you, sweetheart”, he groans and you believe every word of it. “Bet you want it too- Always such a slut for my knot-” You clench around him both in arousal and shock - taking Bill’s knot is such a messy experience, one that would make you late for sure, with everyone able to smell just why you’re an hour behind schedule. “Ah, tomorrow- I’ll fucking knot you tomorrow.”

Your body is dragged over the wood with every thrust, the crown of your head bumps into the mirror every time he bottoms out - you feel like nothing more than toy with the way you’re rattled around. He seems a little extra desperate, probably trying to empty himself into you as fast as possible.

“Right now I’m- I’m- gonna make you stink with my scent, gonna mark you so that they all know how well I fuck you.” How embarrassing for you. Of course Francis will immediately smell it the moment he walks into the door and you’ll have to duck your head behind your wine glass - wolf that he is, claims like this won’t go unnoticed. “So you can’t run away from me-”, he gasps, out of breath with effort. “And no one can take you, either-” Even through your fucked-out haze, something clicks. He’s insecure. That’s why he’s in this form, why he’s so intent on filling you up before you sit yourself down with friends. Why he just won’t come with you eludes you - but that is Bill, ever so possessive, ever so puzzling.

You’d laugh at him if you weren’t currently getting mounted by a two meter tall humanoid monster, if you weren’t so literally fucked right now.  A groan pulls your attention back to the creature you call your husband. “Oh fuck, babe-”, Bill moans behind you, his pace getting even faster. It grates your insides, your body trying to keep you lubricated as he pounds you. Spittle flies through sharp teeth and lands on your ass as he unabashedly lets his maw hang open, too blissed out to care.

“I’m gonna cum, oh shit- Shit-”, he says and loses himself in a string of curses, trying to fuck you as you deeply as he can, rutting into you with so much force you’re scared the mirror is going to break off the vanity. “Fucking take it-”

The snarl he lets out isn’t human anymore, as are the claws slicing into your scalp, the sudden grip keeping you in place. He shudders violently as he pumps you full of his load, hot and wet. The feeling is enough to wring a throaty moan out of you - not enough to make you cum, but enough to make your legs shake and clench around him. “Damn…” Bill wheezes into the silence that follows, hands still iron on your skin. You slump into the wood beneath you, sweat-slicked and high-strung. He laughs as he hears the thump of your forehead against the vanity. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re gonna make me go before my time with that pussy.” You don’t answer, already irritated with him again. “Well-”, he coughs and takes his hands off you, sounding much more composed. “Looks like you need to start over with your little look.” His words make you gasp and paw at your face, the sticky smudge of mascara palpable on your cheeks. You don’t need to turn your head up to the mirror to tell that you’re back to square one, that you’ll be late, with a dripping cunt and hastily scrawled on makeup. Your arousal is gone in an instant, replaced by hot rage burning its way through your stomach for good. A pat on the head and a content sigh behind you make it boil over, make you clench so hard you actually push him out of you. It’s laughed away, either mistaken for the wrong emotion or simply ignored. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, your old man will make it up to you tomorrow.”

[thethreeeyed-raven]

ELLO LUV, How's the mum n them?

Anywho, you know who I'm here for 🤡🩵🤡 Buggy ofc.

So, Buggy x fem reader, where maybe she's kinda an outcast too because of her apperance. (Maybe she lost an eye or sm, I don't really care) And she was forced to join Buggys crew cause she wasn't wanted anywhere else.

she's like super nice and kinda acts like the mother figure to most of the outcast, cause most of them were abandoned/shunned.

Anywho, It's 'showtime' and she's got crazy stage fright, so she misses her cue and doesn't come out. After the show, buggy goes to find her. First Buggy is pissed, but once he realized that she's just like him, and didn't do it on purpose he changes.

Maybe feelings get admitted, cause she asked "why are you so nice to me but not the others" or sm. And he's like "cause you're so nice, and no ones ever treated me like a real person" ect. Ect. You get the idea.

I JUST WANT HIM SO BAD. THANK YOU XOXO BABE. 😘😘❤️❤️❤️😍😍😍😝😝🥵🥵 crumpets and tea mate!!

nice

navigation | warnings : none? | a/n : enjoy! | tags : @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @knight-of-flowerss , @fangsp1der-2099

Buggy felt entirely humiliated.

You completely missed your cue, and made him look like a fucking idiot.

He was pissed, and when the show ended, he went to find you.

Buggy approached your door and walked straight in. "Y/n!" He looked around in anger, before finding you curled up in a ball in the corner.

"You missed your cue." He exclaimed with clenched teeth.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, making Buggy soften just slightly.

"I-I'm sorry Buggy."

He didn't say anything, instead he took in the red rims around your glassy eyes, and the redness of your nose.

"What's wrong?"

You didn't expect his voice to sound so gentle, you expected him to shout and scream in your face about how you 'ruined' the show.

And you didn't expect him to kneel down to your level, delicately taking your hands in his like you were a porcelain doll.

"Sweetheart, tell me what's going on."

You swallowed your nerves down before answering him. "Why are you being so nice to me? You're never like this with anyone else."

There was a beat. Buggy was taken aback by your question, so he just blurted out what he'd been thinking over the past few months.

"Because you're too nice, I've always been treated like a freak, a nobody. But you treat me like a real person. You care for the rest of the crew like they're you real family. I love you."

"Buggy, I..."

"You don't have to say anything now. Just think on it, now tell me what's wrong."

[foundtherightwords]

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 10

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: prejudice, PTSD

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

The next morning, Derwin was in the kitchen making coffee when Otto jumped to his feet and scrambled to the back door with a happy bark. The door opened, then came Alba's voice, crooning, "Hola, Otto!" mixed with Otto's ecstatic whines. Derwin realized his hands were shaking and fought to keep a calm expression. Coffee spilled everywhere as he spooned it into the pot. Cursing under his breath, he reached for a towel to clean it up. What did he have to be so nervous about? She had been coming here almost every day for nearly three months; today should be no different.  

"I know, I know, I miss you too," she was saying to Otto, who was winding himself around her legs, making her stumble. Derwin rushed forward to help her up, only to realize, belatedly, that his cane was resting against the stove. He stumbled as well and crashed into Alba, knocking his forehead on her chin. Amid a rush of giggles and ouch and sorry and are you OK, Derwin's nervousness was forgotten, and by the time they had helped each other to their feet and started having their coffee, it felt like just another day.

They settled into a new routine. Alba still spent most of the morning outside, cleaning the debris of the storm from the garden. Derwin couldn't join her, but he would lug the gramophone to the sunroom or the porch, and sit there keeping her company through music. When she came inside to start lunch, he would join her in the kitchen. She taught him a few basic things like how to make rice and roast meat, along with some simple recipes that could be modified with whatever he had on hand. Derwin was pleased to discover he was a competent cook—it was a proud day when he managed to make his first pot of rice without it boiling over. Then, after they ate, he would help her wash up. In the afternoon, if there was nothing else to do, they would take the car down the drive and Derwin would practice changing gears and braking and turning. As Alba had predicted, he soon learned how to drive. But more than these accomplishments, he took great pleasure in spending time with her. Before, he'd been satisfied with staying in the study and knowing she was around; now, he realized he'd wasted all those days when he could've been with her in the kitchen or watched her work in the garden or sat next to her in the car, feeling her hand on his as she grabbed the wheel to stop him from driving into a ditch for sinking them into the swamp. He knew they were on borrowed time, and the more he allowed himself to be used to her presence, the loss would be that much harder once she left, but he couldn't help it. How could he return to his old world, cold and dark and lonely, once he'd had a taste of the sun?   

One afternoon, Alba brought in the mail as usual. One letter, with a Gainesville postmark and a University of Florida letterhead, made Derwin pause. He reluctantly opened it, read it, read it again, and eventually threw it down with a long sigh.  

"Bad news?" Alba asked, turning around from the shelf she was dusting.

"No, not news exactly. And not bad. More like... a dilemma. An offer." She raised an eyebrow, curious, so he picked up the letter and explained, "It's from my old professor at the University of Florida. He's putting together a project called"—he glanced at the letter—"Poetry without Frontiers."

"What is it?"

"He wants to translate poems from English into French, Spanish, German, Russian, Italian, and vice versa, and put them in a book. He hopes the universal language of poetry would bring people all over the world closer together after the—the war."

"And he's asking you to join the project?"

"Yes, he's asking me to pick a poem and translate it into German. Since I speak German. I imagine there's not a lot of us around." He meant it as a joke, but it came out rather bitter.

"That's great!" Alba said. "So why are you looking so glum? Glummer than usual, I mean."

He smiled at her teasing, briefly. "I don't know if I can."

"Why not? You always have your nose buried in those poetry books."

"Yes, but reading poetry is one thing. Translating it—essentially writing it in another language—is quite different."

She stopped dusting and sat down in front of him, fixing those enchanting green eyes on his. "If you don't try, how would you know?" He had no answer for that. She smiled. "And if I could translate that Jose Marti poem so beautifully, as you said, I think you can too."

When she was looking at him and smiling at him like that, Derwin felt like he could do anything. "Will you help me pick a poem then?" he asked.

Her smile widened. "Sure."

Derwin went to the shelf and brought down a few volumes. As he flipped through them, he watched Alba's lithe figure bustling about the study with the quiet efficiency he'd come to appreciate so much. Not for the first time, he wondered why someone like her would give him the time of day.

"You told me you don't plan to be a housekeeper forever," he said suddenly. "So what are you going to do after you're done here? Back to the bakery?"

"Well..." She paused in the middle of straightening a stack of books and thought for a second. "If I tell you, would you promise not to tell anyone?" she said, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Who would I tell, Otto?" he joked, but she was looking serious, so he sobered up as well. "All right, I promise. What is it?" He felt oddly happy that she was choosing to confide in him.

"I want to go to college," she said.

"Why is that a secret?" he asked, confused.

It took her a moment to answer. "Because my father doesn't want me to."

"Why not?"

"He wants me to take over the bakery. Actually, he wanted Raf to take over, but now that Raf is...  well, it falls to me instead. Never mind that Beatriz loves to bake and is much better at it than I am."

"Why don't you tell him that?"

"He wouldn't understand." She put the books down with a deep sigh. "See, during the war, I worked in a shipyard, building torpedoes to take down German U-boats. I was good, too. My supervisor even recommended me for an engineering program. But I couldn't go, because it was only available at some universities up north, and I couldn't leave Papi and Beatriz for ten months. Besides, designing airplanes and building torpedoes are fine and all, but I prefer to work with nature." She looked out the window and gazed at the swamps. "I want to see things grow and thrive. I want to see cypresses rise in the winter mist, I want to see herons and egrets wading amongst the mangrove, I want to see alligators sunning themselves on the river bank—yes, even the horrible one that attacked us," she added, grinning at him. With her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, she seemed lit up by some inner flame, looking more beautiful than Derwin had ever seen her. "And I want other people to see them too, see them for their beauty and splendor. Do you know they're setting up a national park in the Everglades? Imagine that! Miles and miles of untouched nature, protected and preserved by man, instead of being destroyed in the name of progress. I want to be a part of that." She glanced away, her flush deepening. "You think I'm having ideas above my station, do you?"

"No, not at all." He cleared his throat. "You know, the University of Miami has a biology program, and they just opened a marine lab too. You should enroll."

Her eyes widened. "Do you think I can?"

"If you don't try, how would you know?"

She tried to glare at him, but her lips quirked up. "All right, you got me," she admitted and went back to cleaning. "What about you?" she asked over her shoulder.

"What about me?"

"Do you plan to go back to college? Maybe finish that degree?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Derwin. Truth be told, he didn't see a point in it. His Army pension and the rent money he got from the bakery were just enough for him to live on, if he was thrifty, so why would he risk putting himself under more stress to get a degree and get a job? What kind of job could he do anyway? But what Alba said next made him change his mind. "Maybe we can go together," she said, a shy little smile hovering on her lips.

To go to college with her... to still be able to see her, even after she no longer worked for him.... It sounded too good to be true. Derwin reminded himself that, if or when Alba did go to college, she would meet new people, fun, exciting people, and she would probably no longer want anything to do with his gloomy self. But a part of him still hoped, and he said, "Maybe," smiling back at her. He was playing with fire, he knew, but the fire was too warm and comfortable for him to keep away.

***

After some consideration, and with input from Alba, Derwin chose Robert Frost's "Mending Wall" to translate. Professor Bauer gave his approval, and Derwin started working on it, laboring over every line with a care that bordered on obsession. He would read his translation aloud to Alba, and asked her whether the words flowed well together. Even though she didn't know German, she had an excellent ear for rhythm and music, which was why he trusted her opinion.   

For all the fun they had driving, cooking, and reading poetry together, Derwin couldn't help dreading their first excursion into town. About a week after she came back, Alba said over lunch, "I'm planning to go grocery shopping tomorrow, do you think you're ready to tag along?"

Despite her casual tone, Derwin's hand froze over his plate. Seeing his hesitation, she said, "If you're not feeling up to it—"

"No, I'm fine," he said quickly. "Where are we going?"

"Olson's. It's right across the street from the bakery," Alba replied. "They have fresh produce and the price is reasonable."

"And what are we going to do there?"

Alba looked amused, but she answered anyway, "Shopping, of course. Pick what you want, put it in a cart, and pay. Maybe chat with the cashier for a bit."

"And what makes you think I can't do that on my own?" he asked, stalling for time.

She gave him an exasperated look. "If you could, you wouldn't be paying Wendell's for their delivery service," she said. "Look, you don't have to go with me if you don't want to."

"I said I'm fine, didn't I?" After all that had happened, the last thing he wanted was for her to see him as helpless and useless.

Still, he spent the rest of the day writing up a grocery list and trying to practice potential conversations in his mind. He felt slightly ridiculous—a mundane activity like grocery shopping shouldn't make him this anxious—and was reminded of his first year in boarding school, when he'd had a single line in the school play, spent a whole week rehearsing, and still flubbed it on the night. He hoped nothing like that would happen this time. At least Alba would be there, and he could count on her to keep him calm.

Alba arrived early the next morning, and they drove into town. It was mid-morning on a weekday, so the store was relatively quiet—he was grateful to her for that as well. Derwin was aware of curious stares from the few cashiers and shoppers as he walked through the store, leaning on his cane with one hand and pushing the shopping cart with the other. But Alba was walking next to him, and occasionally their hands, placed side by side on the handle of the cart, would brush against each other, and the pounding of his heart would slow and he could breathe more easily.

"Good morning, Mrs. McLeish!" Alba waved to a gray-haired battle-axe, who nodded back at her and shot Derwin a suspicious glance. "Is Ted busy this week?" Alba asked. She turned to Derwin and explained, "Mrs. McLeish's son is a builder."

"He's just finished up a job in Coral Way," Mrs. McLeish replied, looking proud. "They need a lot of repair over there after the storm."

"If he has a minute, do you think he can come to the Grunauer house and have a look at the roof? It got hit by a big branch."

The moment Mrs. McLeish heard the name "Grunauer", her hard-looking face hardened even more, her eyes becoming two pieces of flint. She looked Derwin up and down before answering. "I just remember, Ted's booked another job over in Sweetwater," she said coldly. "He won't be able to help you."

Alba frowned. "But I thought you said—"

Mrs. McLeish didn't let her finish. "And even if he was free, he wouldn't take a job there," she said. "My Ted didn't take a bullet in his leg in Sicily only to come back here and serve some coward who hid under his medic insignia!" Her words lashed at Derwin like a splash of acid, scouring away his skin and getting under his flesh, making his whole body burn with a shame that felt almost physical. The old woman obviously took malicious pleasure in it.

Alba lifted her chin, her eyes turning almost as hard as Mrs. McLeish. "I'm sorry he felt that way," she said to the old woman. "But I think medics are just as brave as soldiers, if not more, because they have to save others and not just themselves. If you can't agree, then I think you'd better get your baked goods elsewhere. Good day."

Without another glance at Mrs. McLeish, who had gone pale with anger, Alba walked off with the cart. Derwin scrambled to follow her.

"You've just cost your bakery a regular customer," he said. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know I didn't," Alba said. Her nostrils were still flaring, and she gripped the cart handle tightly. "I just can't stand it when people—" She took a deep breath. "Never mind. Let's just shop."

They got the essentials—milk, coffee, eggs, soap—while Alba kept up a stream of chatter, about the best brand of detergent, how the store-bought coffee could not compare to the home-ground coffee her father sometimes got from Cuba, how happy she was that sugar rationing had finally ended. Slowly, the sting of Mrs. McLeish's words faded.

As they reached the meat counter at the back of the store, Alba turned to Derwin and pushed the shopping list into his hand. "Why don't you get some ham and some mince from Mr. Olson, and I'll meet you out front? Oh and maybe a nice roast for your weekend lunches too." He spluttered a protest, but she'd already pushed the cart toward the fresh produce display, after giving him an encouraging smile.

Bracing himself, Derwin turned toward the meat counter. The store owner, Mr. Olson, a barrel-chested, ruddy-cheeked man, stood behind the counter looking at him with pale, impassive eyes. Derwin gave his order in a tiny voice. Mr. Olson picked up a giant ham and started slicing it in quick, practiced movements.

"You're the Grunauer boy, aren't you?" Mr. Olson said.

"Yes."

"Your dad used to come in here all the time." Derwin grimaced, waiting for the inevitable, but Mr. Olson only said, "Sorry for your loss."

Derwin couldn't think of anything to say, so he said, "Thank you."

"Haven't seen you though."

"I don't get out... much."

Like Mrs. McLeish, Mr. Olson ran his eyes from the scar on Derwin's cheek to the cane in his hand. The only difference was that Mr. Olson's harsh features then softened. "Where were you wounded?" he asked.

A tremor started in Derwin's leg and spread until it turned into a pounding of his heart. He'd practiced this conversation in his mind, he could answer the question. Yet why had his throat suddenly gone dry? "Normandy," he said in a whisper, barely audible above the hammering of his pulse in his ears. Perhaps if he said it quietly and quickly enough, Mr. Olson would move on.

No such luck. "Damn," Mr. Olson said gravely, shaking his head. "I didn't even know that any boy in the neighborhood was there. My nephew, he was in the Pacific at the time, same as the Reyes boy. It was bad though, wasn't it?"

In line! In line!

Sarge, there's nowhere to jump!

"Do you still talk to anybody from your unit?" Mr. Olson continued, not noticing that Derwin hadn't answered him. He wrapped up the ham and the mince. There were smears and splotches of blood on his white apron. It made Derwin feel slightly sick to look at them, but he couldn't turn away.

Grunauer, please...

He really was going to be sick now. His chest felt tight. His breath came out in short, shallow gulps. His hands were cold, palms sticky with sweat. Mr. Olson stood with the packages of meat and the blood on his apron, watching him curiously. Without another word, Derwin turned and limped past the shelves and cases of goods, past the astonished shoppers and cashiers. Mr. Olson was calling after him but he didn't stop, didn't even pay attention to the twinge in his leg until he was out in the sun and the fresh air—

No, not fresh air. The smell of exhaust fume hit him, slamming him back into the burning plane, and this time, there was no Ford pushing him out the door. He stumbled blindly, wildly, trying to get away, anywhere but there—

There was a screech of brakes, and Derwin found himself jerked violently backward. Someone was shouting—shouting at him?—while another person was apologizing. Then the scent of frangipani and vanilla replaced the exhaust fume, and the fog around him cleared and he heard Alba saying frantically, "Derwin? Are you OK?"

He had almost walked into traffic. She'd pulled him to safety just in time.

Alba led him to a bench outside of Olson's and helped him sit down. "What happened back there?" she asked. She hadn't let go of his hand, as if she was afraid he was going to bolt again. Derwin held fast to her hand, grounding himself by her sight, her scent, her presence.

"Nothing," he managed to say, as his breathing got back to normal. "Mr. Olson asked me about the war and it—brought back some bad memories, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Alba said. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you on your own."

He shook his head. "It wasn't your fault."

"You want to go home?"

The thought of being in the car, with its smell of fuel and confined space, made his heart race again. "I think I'll walk," he said.

"You almost killed yourself last time walking into town."

"I'll go slowly."

She watched him for a moment, then she said, "How about this? I drive home, get my bike, and give you a ride back on the bike. Can you do that? Can you wait for me here for half an hour?"

"I don't want to be a bother—"

"It's no bother. Here." She stood up and pressed something into his hand. It was her handkerchief, a simple cotton one embroidered with an A at the corner. "To wipe your face," she explained. "You can wait in the bakery, it's cooler there."

He felt like he never wanted to go into an enclosed space ever again. "No, I'll be fine here."

Alba nodded at him. "I'll be right back." She loaded their shopping into the car and drove off, while Derwin remained on the bench, clutching her handkerchief like a lifeline.

The half hour crawled by. Derwin focused on his breathing and let his eyes wander up and down the street, watching nothing in particular, trying to keep his mind blank. He got some more stares from the lunch crowd, but thankfully nobody approached him. Eventually, Alba's familiar figure rolled up on her bicycle, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Your chariot awaits, good sir," she said with a grin, patting the luggage rack on the back. Derwin climbed on, a little awkwardly, because of his leg and the cumbersome cane, and also because he had to hold on to Alba's waist to keep his seat. There was a bit of a wobble when Alba got on, but she soon adjusted to his weight and the bike rolled smoothly down the lane, toward the shelter of the swamp.

"This is just like when I was a kid, taking Beatriz to the soda fountain," Alba said, laughing softly. Sitting behind her, Derwin had to fight the urge to rest his head on her back. "Listen, Derwin, I know you said it's not my fault," she continued, oblivious to his torment, "but I think I may have pushed you too much too soon. You don't have to go with me into town if you don't want to. Just take your time and wait until you're ready."

At that moment, sitting so close to her, feeling the calm and quiet radiating from her, he felt invincible. And along with it came a sudden, intense desire to get better, to break free of this prison he'd built around himself. He would do it, not just for himself, but for her as well.

"No," he said decisively. "If I wait, I'll never be ready. I can try again."

Chapter 11

Here is "Mending Wall" by Robert Frost, in case anyone is interested.

Taglist: @kitkat80

[jqmalikhsgib]

moonlight

three

eddie holds her close as she lies on his chest. he stares at the ceiling before simply looking at his girlfriend. eddie still couldn’t believe it. yn yln was his girlfriend!

she was by far the prettiest girl in hawkins high. sure, others would say it’s tammy but they’d be wrong. yn was breathtaking to eddie. she might be an angel forreal, he wouldn’t know nor would he care. he was in love.

eddie never expected to find love. after his mother died and his father was sent to jail, eddie was constantly shamed by the whole town of hawkins. the ten year old boy was confused. he was just a boy, a simple little boy who lost his mom and dad in less than three years from each other. he was shunned for the crimes his father committed. people expected him to be nothing but a criminal just like his old man. eddie only did what he could do. he put all his anger into his favorite game, dungeons and dragons! he became an excellent dungeon master. it was his rage that made him good. then his uncle introduced him to the guitar.

eddie became good at playing. he started writing music and finding other kids who were labeled as ‘freaks’ to for a band. they were actually pretty fucking good. unfortunately they listened to that ‘devil worshipping’ music. with how closed minded the fuckers in hawkins were, he was only shunned even more. people started labeling him as a cult leader. and creating a club named ‘hellfire’ where you play a game that’s getting bad press didn’t help his case. but eddie didn’t care. he couldn’t have care less about what these dumb fucks think of him. eddie knew he’d make a name for himself, he knew he’d be successful and prove everyone who ever doubted his abilities wrong.

his mother was the only person that pushed eddie. his mom letting him know he was somebody and the whole world will know his name. and still ‘till this day he believed her. her words always left an impression on him. and then he met her.

god, when he first laid eyes on her, she was mesmerizing. the way the sun shined in her hair, her eyes glowed brightly, her smile lit up his heart. she was fucking perfect. finding out she’d been the daughter of a preacher, knowing how this town looked at him, knowing what her parents might think if they saw him. he knew he had no shot with her. not a single bit. but he was so wrong.

when she approached him he thought she’d been confused at first. ‘no fucking way is she actually talking to me. no one she knows my name. no fucking say man!’ but she did. she knew who eddie had been and she didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought of him. she thought eddie was beautiful, unique, intriguing, intelligent, funny, and handsome.

eddie still has yet to believe she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. and here he is, six months later dating her. six months of kisses, six months of hand holding, six months of tight hugs, six months of i love you. six whole months since you gave him a chance. he thanked his lucky stars every single second of every single day. he promised he wouldn’t mess this up.

it’s one reason why he hesitated to make love to her. he knew it would be her first time. he didn’t want to hurt her and he knew how much she vowed to stay a virgin until marriage. but then her words made his heart flutter. “‘m not worried ‘bout that eds. i know in my heart you’re my forever. in a way, im giving myself to my husband.” he spent the rest of the night worshipping her body. eddie simply looks at her once more. kissing her forehead gently before whispering in her ear “goodnight, wife.” he truly been lucky.

looking at her now has only made his heart hurt. that night was something he’d cherish forever. it was the moment he knew, or at least thought, he’d marry her.

then he woke up one morning hearing the rumors about her family suddenly moving. he didn’t believe it at first. but when he passed by her house and saw the for sale sign, his heart shattered. he assumed her family found out she’d been dating eddie and took her away. the one thing that made eddie really happy in a long time. eddie wasn’t sure why he assumed something would actually be great for once. he should have known better.

the night she left he was reminded of the last thing his father told him before he got arrested for good. “the munson men are cursed, kid! i should have known your mom being my ticket to happiness was just a sick joke god played on me. we munson men, we’re only good for being a slave for the man, or being criminal, no in between. we don’t get the fairytale happy ending. it’s no princess waiting in the castle for us with a shit ton of doe. we are who we are. if i taught you anything kid, remember that.”

he was absolutely right. what a fucking fool he’s been to fall for it.

“hey, why don’t we all go to the play room, yeah? maybe start building something with the legos?” nancy grabs all the kids, including kali. eddie hadn’t notice the little girl who looked identical to him. he’d been too busy staring at her. 

she gives him an awkward smile. looking down at her feet before clearing her throat. “it’s so much i have to tell you, eds. i just don’t know where to start.”

eddie simply shakes his head. “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, yn. i know your parents probably found out about us.”

her eyes begin to water. he could tell she wanted anything to hold his hand, hug him, and kiss him as if it were their last. he knew that look. it’s never changed.

“it’s deeper than that. i—eddie what my parents did wasn’t okay. what this town has done to you was never okay. seeing you as some kind of—it’s disgusting eddie. you were just a young boy when it started. i don’t know how you did it, eds. i still don’t! you’re the strongest man i know.”

eddie gives her a half smile. he didn’t have much to say. he wanted her to speak. mostly because he missed her voice. it feels good hearing her again.

she simply closed her eyes before sighing. eddie assumed she was holding back tears. he had been doing so the moment he saw her face.

“just gonna rip this off like a bandaid. eddie, the reason why my parents forced us to leave was due to my pregnancy,”

she looks at eddie. he just gives her a blank stare. she frowns not knowing if he heard her. but as soon as his hands connect with his mouth she knew he did.

“i—they just barely made friends in this town. my father being a preacher, he couldn’t risk this town looking at his daughter as the ‘town slut.’ or the ‘freaks mistress.’ so he moved us and forced me to sign my right away to my, our kid. after a few years i couldn’t take it anymore. her seeing me as her older sister and not her mother, it felt so wrong eddie. i—i tried to get to hawkins but i didn’t have enough money. not for food, clothes, shelter, nothing! i knew i had to get my life together to being a single mom. so i moved in with my grandmother and saved and saved and saved. i worked many jobs, barely getting any sleep, making sure our baby was fed, telling her about her dad. i sacrificed a lot to get back to you, eds. so we could get back.” when she finished eddie stared at her. he soaked all the information in.

she bites her bottom lip before hearing footsteps running towards her. she looks down as she feels arms wrap around her. “im hungry, mamma.”

eddie simply bends down. he looks at the little girl. she had her hair in two simple braids, she was wearing an orange rugrats t-shirt, a pair of overalls, and a necklace with an e on it.

eddie cried. he couldn’t believe it. he was a dad! eddie was a father to the cutest kid. he didn’t even know her but he already loved her. she had his eyes. he knew he’d do anything just from one look. this little girl already had him wrapped around his finger. he still couldn’t believe that he was a father.

“mamma.” the little girl whispers. she gestured for her mom to bend down.

“why’s the curly haired man crying? did i do something, mamma?” the little girl questioned.

eddie simply laughs through his tears.

“no, baby. it’s just—remember how mamma said one day she’s gonna take us home to daddy?”

the little girl simply nods her head. “well baby, the curly haired man is crying because he’s your dad and he loves you. he’s just feeling overjoyed.”

“oh! can—can daddy take us to dinner?”

eddie noticed she was going to decline. eddie simply shakes his head with a smile before nodding at his daughter gently.

“yeah, let’s—let’s get some food.” eddie whispers.

eddie watches as his daughter plays in the mcdonalds playroom. she was definitely a mini version of himself. he’s learned that she’s a talker.

the whole time they’d been eating she told eddie pretty much her entire childhood. eddie listened to every word. he loved listening to her babble.

he couldn’t believe that just a few hours ago he was just a man. a man who suffered for the last six years without the only woman he’s ever loved. now that same woman is back in his life and brought him someone precious to spoilt.

god, eddie felt like he now had a purpose in life again. he still had so much work to do within himself. with everything that happened in the upside down. he’s so grateful that dustin and steve carried him out. he would miss this very moment of his life if he died down there. he owed everything to those two. he owed everything to the doctors that saved his life as well.

“so, we should probably discuss somethings.” eddie turned. he completely forgot that the woman he loved, the woman he still loved, was right in front of him.

“nance told me that you almost died, eds.”

here it goes. the seriousness of his life. he knew they’d have to talk about it at some point. he wasn’t quite ready to tell her everything. she didn’t need to know everything! it’s not like she’d believe him anyway. who would believe that a simple fantasy game could be reality?

“i—i did.”

“im sorry, eds. i—i couldn’t imagine what you went through. nance didn’t tell me much. she said that you tried to save the town even after they tried to pin you for murder. may i ask who died?”

eddie clears his throat. he didn’t know how to answer her. telling her that the girl he had a crush on before meeting her, was inside of his house. it would probably devastate her. she knew of his crush on the cheerleader. she’d probably think they’d been together.

but he knew her as well. she could sense a lie a mile away. he didn’t wanna lie to her.

“chrissy.”

“cunningham? how did she—how did she die?”

eddie scratches the back of his head. he bites his bottom lip before looking into her eyes.

“it’s hard to explain, yn. she just—it was the most terrifying thing i seen in my life and im still facing the hell it put me through.”

thankful his girl was understandable. she never pushed eddie into revealing anything he wasn’t ready for. that’s something he’d always love her for.

“i hope this won’t affect whatever this is.” eddie points between the two.

“eddie, we’ve both changed over the last six years. i had our daughter and also had to deal with my toxic parents. you had to deal with seeing someone die and almost dying yourself. we still have so much to work on, eds. for the sake of our family, for our daughter, i think we both need to have professional help. nance tells me you’re already in therapy. that’s great, eddie! means you want to get better. and that’s exactly what kali needs. she needs both her parents to be stable and happy! im looking for a therapist myself. i think until we can figure things out for our kid, we shouldn’t be seeing each other. not romantically. i don’t think either of us are ready for that.”

eddie nods his head. he wants her back. wants to be with her and only her. but he knew mentally, he wasn’t ready for that just yet. eddie had a little ways to go before starting a relationship with anyone. he loves her with his whole soul. but he couldn’t ruin something so pure and beautiful when he’s suffering. he needs time to grow. especially now that he’s a dad.

“i love you eds. ill always love you. you’re my person, okay? and i—i want us to be together. i just want us to be together properly. we deserve to give kali, and ourselves time to learn each other again and time to heal.”

“i agree. i just want to be apart of her life yn. your parents took six years away from me. six years of not knowing where you were or if you were safe. and six years of not knowing i had a daughter. promise me you won’t take that away?”

“i could never! so, we’ll figure this out?”

eddie looks at his kid once more. he gives her a simple nod. “we’ll figure this out.”

[salllzy]

The daughter of the Ocean and Nature #1

Sarah Morningstar, formerly DeCoux rarely made mistakes, she wouldn't have lived as long as she had if she did. Her parents were nothing to scoff at either. Order and Chaos. Or as they were more commonly known? Alastor and Lucifer Morningstar. Landing in a new universe that was filled with Gods and other Pantheons hadn't been their intention, but Heaven hadn't let them be, in the end? Heaven had waged a war against them that had ended up with them cast out of their home and universe. They had avoided the other Pantheons and Gods, they didn't want to get dragged into the middle of petty squabbles and wars. They had enough of that when they had been in their home universe. Charlie had married Vaggie and she wasn't sure what the pair of them were doing, the last she had heard? They were travelling around the world, now that they didn't have the constant threat of death looming over their heads. She was happy for them, just like she was happy for their parents. But that didn't mean that she didn't feel lonely. She did. Her relationship with Emily had crumbled into nothingness when Emily had chosen Heaven. In the end? Sera had won. So one night when someone had come up to her and had offered her comfort? She had taken it. Sarah just hadn't expected the consequences of her actions. She had ended up pregnant and it wasn't by a mortal man either. Truthfully, that would have been preferable. No, instead she had ended up carrying the child of Poseidon. The Greek God. She didn't tell her family, she knew what would happen if she did, instead, she hid and for nine long and painful months? She endured change after change. Yet in the end, it had all been worth it. So very worth it. Her daughter was perfect. Sarah knew that she couldn't keep her daughter hidden, at least not forever, her family had the right to know their granddaughter and niece and she wouldn't, couldn't rob them of that. So she had braced herself for their disappointment. Only it didn't happen like she had expected it to. Yes, they had been hurt and disappointed, but not because she had gotten pregnant, but rather because she had hidden it from them. Her papa had understood, while the rest of them didn't, she found it difficult to explain to them why she didn't go to them. She knew that her papa would never shun her, but the rest of them? They were held together by a bond, one that they could break should they find her lacking. Perhaps there was some part of her that knew, they wouldn't do it, but the much larger part? The part that others seemed to find lacking and inadequate? That was the part that didn't quite, years of being shunned and neglected because she is different didn't go away. Even if her family had grown slightly. Wounds like that didn't go away overnight, if they ever did. It was a lesson that she was still learning, that she was good enough as she was. That she didn't need to change in order to please others, her relationship with Emily had seen her try to remove some of her worst bits in an effort to please Sera. Not that it ever worked. Red eyes glanced down at her daughter, so tiny and defenceless and so reliant on her. Her little fawn, her little Persephone.

[bnhaobservation]

What do you think the todofam will be like after the war?

It's something I've been wondering as well.

Let's start with a premise.

This story is aimed mainly to a Japanese audience which sees things according to their culture. Some things that for them are a given aren't for who's not Japanese and vice versa. So, it gets twice as difficult for us to follow the message Horikoshi wants to deliver.

Also... this is going to be long and actually should have been longer. I tried to keep it as short as I could but this might have caused to make it not perfectly clear so I apologize in advance.

Lastly, what follows are just my two cents, feel free to disagree.

Said so let's tackle the matter from a realistic perspective.

If BNHA were not a story but the real world, the Todoroki family is finished. Not because Enji abused his family, but because one of their members (Tōya) is a murderer.

A seinen manga "Theseus no fune" (テセウスの船) digs with what happens to a family of 5 after the father, Sano Bungo, was accused of murder.

The mother, who was at the time pregnant, was denied hospitalization to give birth to her child.

They had to hide their identity because each time it was discovered they were forced to move. People would also refuse to hire them if they were to know of it. The main character, the youngest child of the man, the one that was born AFTER his father was accused of murder, and who should have been named Seigi (justice) is named instead Shin (heart) because "there's no justice for the son of a murderer", has to take his mother's surname (along with the rest of the family), have to wear a mask to hide his face to work, so that he won't be recognized, had to give up on becoming a teacher and, although he managed to marry, his wife's relatives refused to accept the marriage. When the wife dies during childbirth, her parents attend tot he funeral but claim they couldn't tell anyone about it because otherwise people would know she married the son of a criminal. They also demand their grandchild to be handed to them because she can't grow up with the son of a murderer.

Note that said son of a murderer, never had any contact with his father as the man had been arrested before his birth, and therefore Shin clearly couldn't be responsible for his father's crime.

We see something similar happening in BNHA for people who're involved in minor crimes.

Tobita tried to help someone but failed and was accused of preventing a Hero from saving him.

He was expelled from school and his family was implied to be targeted with bullying (see the graffiti with insults on the gate?)

It got so bad even his family chased him away.

Jin goes through something similar. Due to being involved in an incedent he's fired and no one wants to hire him ever again so he ends up homeless.

It's implied the same happened with Himiko, though we don't know if she ended up on the run just after attacking Saito, knowing her parents wouldn't want her back, or after trying to go back home and being rejected.

While Himiko's house might have been further devasted AFTER she joined the league, we can see that the gate was already damaged when her parents still lived there just after she had attacked Saito.

Note that none of the three over mentioned characters had yet committed murder. Tobita wanted to help, and the man who he had been unable to save will recover in 6 months, Jin ended up running over a guy who ran in the street without warning but only broke his arm and, as far as we know, Saito didn't die due to Himiko's attack.

Yet, they're shunned by society and with them their families who turn their back to them.

Now picture how much worse this would be for someone who committed murder.

Tōya/Dabi himself touches upon how bad they should have it now.

'Hitotsu kikitēnda ga Shōto… omae ittai donna tsura shite? Obieru shimin to issho ni U.A. ni komotteiraretanda? ENDEAVOR no musuko Dabi no kyōdai yakusai no nikogori mite~e nate me ~e ga!!'

「一つ聞きてえんだが焦凍…　おまえ一体どんな面して 怯える市民と一緒に雄英に籠っていられたんだ？　エンデヴァーの息子荼毘の兄弟　厄災の煮凝りみてぇなてめェが！！」

``I have to ask you one thing, Shōto... What the hell kind of face were you wearing? Were you able to stay holed up in U.A. with the frightened citizens? Endeavor's son, Dabi's brother, it's like a broth of calamity/disaster/misfortune! !”*

*okay, technically he says 'yakusai no nikogori' (厄災の煮凝り) which litterally is a "jellied broth of disaster/calamity", but the fact he chose the nikogori is also due to how the kanji used to write it are 'ni' (煮 "boil, cook") and 'gori' (凝 "freeze").

The people in U.A. should have wanted Shouto in it as much as they wanted Deku when he first showed up there, not even a bit, even though Deku did nothing wrong...

Something many fans often miss of this scene is that when Deku enters in U.A. all his classmates are there, except for Shōto, and that Heroes supporting Deku like Present Mic and Best Jeanist are there, but not Endeavor and Hawks.

Where are they? Just outside.

It will be Ectoplasm who will call them in when all is finished.

Why Shōto isn't with his classmates supporting Deku? Why Endeavor and Hawks remain outside?

It's not because they don't care but because they would make matters worse.

And Shōto, poor kid, is completely innocent, Enji might have responsibilities for what Tōya did but Shōto? Whatever he did wrong?

Yet, same Tamura Shin from "Theseus no fune", he's likely hold accountable for his brother and father's crimes as well as the rest of his family.

The story glosses it over, we see nothing being done against Shōto or the rest of his family, and his classmates act mostly supportive so he doesn't seem to have it bad, but the story likely doesn't show it because, for Japanese people, it's a given Shōto would have it bad, it's unnecessary to esplicitly show it and it would probably be too dark of a subject so Horikoshi skims on it, as in Japan it's public knowledge.

That's why Natsuo said all that awaits them is pure hell.

It was bad enough Tōya had killed people before but now he had attempted to nuke Japan and the Todorokis don't expect they will be 'forgiven' because they actually stopped him almost getting themselves killed in the process.

In a way Tōya has cornered them, their best option was actually to die with him.

So if we go for a realistic ending Enji will have to drop his job and the same goes for Fuyumi and Natsuo, Shōto should leave school, the family should live in hiding, being bullied and ostracized and this regardless of them having saved the day and of Tōya's fate (if he dies or lives, if he gets jailed, sentenced to death or spared due to his body condition being so disastrous he might end up needing permanently hospitalized... assuming they'll be willing to hospitalize him).

They would probably do better change name and country and attempt to start a new live under another identity and away from Japan... if the likely scarring burns they gained will allow them to live in hiding.

Now... this is a realistic fate for them.

BNHA however is a story, and it's a story which is also making a point of criticizing society. It doesn't hold just the Todorokis but also society as accountable for what Tōya did.

It's a story with a moral and if society doesn't get 'punished' or 'redeemed', or, more specifically 'atones', the moral ends up being that society can do any sort of thing to people and it will never be punished and if you retaliate you'll be squashed down. Not exactly an uplifting moral.

The League of Villains is born by society's sins. Generally for me the most meaningful thing is this scene.

Why? Because in my country if you are and adult and find on the streets an unsupervised kid of 5 and turn your eyes away, it's a crime even if he doesn't look in such a poor shape like Tenko.

All those people pretending not to see him would get in troubles. In Japan they aren't so strict but for me the scene looks particularly strong because it's basically a crime.

So I've really no sympathy for those people and, if the story wants to have an uplifting moral, society has to change, hold itself accountable for how it hurt Tenko and the others and atone toward them.

In the same vein society should reform and not mistreat the Todorokis the way it did with Tobita or Himeko's family but support them.

This however narratively presents some huge problems.

Society is a broad concept and BNHA didn't offer us one or more characters that could work as stand in for it.

The characters we get familiar with, often represent the best part of society.

For example we know there were corrupted Heroes, we know the HPSC had Lady Nagant kill corrupted Heroes but... did we ever met them? Nope.

Stain, who wanted to change society and erase corrupter Heroes who ended up attacking?

Some Hero who abused his power to commit crimes? Some Hero who actually was in league with criminals? Some Hero who actually was negligent in his work? Some Hero who, at least, throwed trash on the streets?

Nope. He attacks Īda's brother and Native... who overall seemed two decent guys.

This creates a clash of our perception in the story, the League attacked society but the characters we were presented with were usually great people.

The League undoubtedly perceives society as evil and worth being wiped out because they met the worse of it but... we didn't.

That's why many readers feel like the League should be jailed for terrorism but no one thinks the "Star Wars" rebels in the first trilogy should met the same fate for... the exact same crime.

In "Star Wars" first trilogy the empire is always represented as evil, all its soldiers are represented as evil and we've zero sympathy for them when they get wiped out.

But in BNHA society is not the empire, society is common people who've families and feel... innocent enough not to deserve what the League unleash on them, especially since BNHA had too few 'bad guys' among the good guys and, conveniently or not so conveniently, wiped out the HPSC before it could take the blame for many problems and we are instead way too often presented with 'good guys' characters.

So Horikoshi has to find a way to deliver the message that if said society ended up under attack, it was actually due to its shortcomings.

Tōya told Enji the past never dies and you reap what you sow...

...but this applied to society too.

In response later on Enji will realize he'll have to atone to him and apologize to him.

In theory society should do the same... so that the story could have an uplifting moral of society learning from its errors and never again repeating them so that people will be better and the League of Villain will never be reborn in the future... however... it's much easier for us to apply all this to Todoroki Enji than to the BNHA society.

It's very fairy tale to assume that society will say "hey but if we didn't mistreat those guys first, they wouldn't have done what they did, shouldn't we also make amends?"

I don't really know if Horikoshi will be able to pull this off in a convincing manner, or if he'll be allowed to do it because one of the problems in his story is he can't allow to come to pass the idea that what the League did was an acceptable response.

We see it in the attack at Central Hospital.

In theory the story should end with a similar situation.

Shōji acknowledged that the Heteromorphs were hurt and persecuted but turning to violence wasn't acceptable

...and then somehow the Heteromorphs changed their mind and stop fighting and the people said they heard their voices today and they're sorry for not realizing it sooner and everyone cries and all's well that ends well and many readers hate this arc (for which SO MUCH could be written) and label it poor writing and it's actually a very minor bit so...

I don't know if Horikoshi now has used the people's response to it to perfect his ending in a way that won't have backlash.

So back to your question, what about the Todorokis?

Hopefully since Horikoshi wants to go to a positive and uplifting ending, the Todorokis will be spared from a fate that will be hell.

After all they made a big deal of how things were being recorded on videos. Society might be impressed by how this family came together to save everyone and might feel bad for them as well as partially responsible.

If society will come together instead than ostracizing and mistreating people, the Todorokis might not be end up driven into a corner.

In the same vein the Todorokis will likely come together as a family.

That is because I'm assuming that the idea Horikoshi wants to come to pass is that you've to PREVENT people from going bad, not punish them once the deed is done and by coming together they prevent the situation from worsening.

So, I'm willing to bet the plan is that Natsuo is wrong and no, it won't be hell for them from now on, though it likely won't be easy.

I don't know if Tōya and the rest of the League will survive, because it would be damn convenient for Horikoshi to have them die, so that he won't have to face the whole punishment thing.

If they're dead they can't be punished nor society can be asked to atone to them for what they did to them, and so Horikoshi can focus on society coming together and supporting the people who're less 'cuplable' and reforming itself easily enough in such a way that would fit the kind of fairy tale nature of BNHA.

At the same time killing the league off is such a goddamn easy solution for the problem I really pray he won't go for it... but I recognize with the League he kept the bar really very high.

So I would love for Tōya to survive and heal and be given another chance and this time, with support from his family and society, become a better person, and the same goes for the rest of the League, but I don't know if Horikoshi can, is willing and will be allowed to pull this off.

We can only wait and see.

For now, I think it'll probably be safe enough to assume that at the end the Todoroki family will come together and they won't be in hell but Fuyumi will be allowed to continue to work as a teacher and Natsuo will be allowed to continue to study and will marry his girlfriend. I aslo think Shōto will be allowed to become a Hero. As for Enji he might retire. I know people would want to see him jailed for his family abuse but since no one in his family is willing to file charges against him I'm pretty sure this won't happen. Likely he also won't divorce from Rei.

Tōya's fate through remains a mystery.

I'd like for him to end up hospitalized and for his family to stay and support him, for Enji to atone to him and finally look at him but well, we can only wait and see for this.

As much as I hate the idea we were told Tōya (who shouldn't have managed to survive away from Garaki's support) survived till now due to his grudge to his family, if he were to let it go he might just die... albeith in that case he would probably die in peace because he would finally feel loved by his family. We'll see.

Thank you for your ask!

[siriuslygay1981]

Ugh...just thinking about Effie watching her boys suffer.

Her first child, her baby...dying before he can raise his own sweet child. So many life experiences taken away from him so young. She hurts thinking of all the years she got and all the years James couldn't have. James who had wanted something more, who didn't want to be an auror but had put aside his dreams to help the war effort. James her sweet brave boy. He wore his heart on his sleeve, his love all consuming. She couldn't shield him from the world, she hasn't been able to for years by the time she left...it didn't stop her from trying though. In the end his heart was what got him killed, she did not think about how that made her feel.

She feels deep sadness at seeing what Peter had become, once a sweet young boy helping her set up the table when the other kids were rough housing outside. She can't help but feel a burning hatred, not towards her Peter, her sweet Pete...but towards this person that wears her boys face. The young man who betrays friend after friend, the one taking lives...that's not her boy, not her petey. He gave her a handful of flowers on mother's day, his face pink. Her Peter held James up in the sidelines, when no one noticed James breaking down...Peter could. Peter who she taught family recipes to because besides James, Peter was the only other decent cook. She thinks back to the boy with wide blue eyes, freckles dotting his nose and his cheeks, his blonde hair just slightly too long. She remembers brushing it out of his face tenderly and telling her how proud she is of him. She knows he always felt like he was being left behind, like he didn't quite deserve the role he had in all their lives. To her, she lost Peter too. Maybe he was the first one she lost...

Remus whose suffered every month for years and has a bad view of himself because of prejudice. How could her smart boy be so so stupid. He was worthy of love and it pained her to see him hunch over, trying to hide himself. She watched as he gave himself to their headmaster, to use because he shared a kindness that no one else had shown him. She couldn't tell him that he owed Dumbledore nothing. She wishes she could come back just to give that old bumbling man a piece of her mind, manipulating Remus was unforgivable. Remus who was sarcastic but so so sweet, smart and also so dumb. She didn't miss the way he smiled at Sirius, the way the two looked at each other. She cried for hours after Remus got the news. She wasn't sure if he'd ever open up again. How could such a kind soul be given such a cruel fate- he was once again alone and she wasn't sure she could handle it. But...if he got through it so would she.

Sirius who never had the love he deserved. Shunned and hated at every turn. How could they think Sirius, her baby, could ever betray his other brother. Sirius who was never shown unconditional love, who still flinched when she moved suddenly. She seemed to be the only one, besides James, to see the way Sirius stiffened when a voice was raised, even with no malicious intent. Sirius, betrayed and framed. Her second son, taken from cruel hands just to be stabbed in the back by one of his own. So suspicious of love that he suspected one of the closest people to him. Still grieving his younger brother, still in so much pain. He hadn't yet gotten to live, hadn't really been free for long. A handful of years at most and then he was sent away because of his last name.

The world wasn't kind, it seemed even less so towards the ones she held dear, to the generation cursed to fight in the war. She watched the eyebags deepen, their softer edges hardening and becoming ragged and barbeb with wire. It was unfair, it was gut wrenching, her boys were strong, they held on for so long for as long as they could and she was so proud of them. But...she felt relief, as bad as it sounded, when they finally were able to rest. They had fought so hard for so long the least the world could do was reunite them and give them peace. She hoped they weren't too hard on themselves, for the small stupid mistakes, the miscommunication, the stupid arguments and the silent treatment, all the times they could've spoken up or taken a moment to really think.

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

Facts about our remaining family ? Maybe the other consorts as well if it’s not too much.

Nour is 24 years old—2 years older than MC. They've always played the nurturing mediator role among your siblings. If anyone could calm down Ember or Farah when they were worked up, it was Nour. They are particularly good with fire magic. Their mother is Consort Najaat, who of all the Emperor's consorts, was the most manipulative, constantly trying to pit Nour against their siblings and leverage them to elevate her own standing at court. Nour has never been the best at navigating the intricacies of court, finding it far too complex and overwhelming, much to their mother's frustration. Their relationship with their mother is very strained.

Farah is your fiery-tempered youngest sister. She is 11 years old and the daughter of Consort Soleil. Soleil had two other children: Farah's older twin brothers, Castor and Ember. Having been too young to join the rest of her siblings on the battlefield, Farah grew up largely alone at the palace, always waiting for the brief visits from her siblings whenever they had to return to the palace. After the deaths of your four oldest siblings, Farah was inconsolable for months. Now that you and Nour are home, she has been extremely clingy, insisting on following you both everywhere, making it hard for you to get any work done. Farah's mother Soleil has never gotten along with Najaat, the two of them constantly trying to outmaneuver each other to elevate their own influence. Soleil isn’t afraid to use her children as pawns, though she was devastated by the deaths of her sons.

Consort Safina was the mother of your two oldest siblings—Parim, the imperial crown prince, and Aurora, your eldest sister. As the mother of the heir and the second-in-line, Safina held much more sway over court than the other consorts, making her a target for Najaat's and Soleil's scheming. A harsh and imposing woman, Safina makes no secret of her deep distaste for the other consorts and their children, and has always endeavored to keep Parim's and Aurora's interactions with their siblings to a minimum. It is also no secret she is the emperor’s favorite, a fact she does not hesitate to leverage to her benefit.

Your mother, Consort Phoebe, has always been much more subtle in her machinations. If there is an opportunity to undermine the other consorts to her own benefit, she will take it, but she always covers her tracks and makes sure to always appear dignified and above it all. Even if no one else is able to pin a plot against the other consorts on Phoebe, you know her too well to recognize the signs of her handiwork. She focuses much effort on your training, making sure you are a model royal and is constantly maneuvering to improve your standing at court as well. Though she refrains from directly pitting you against your siblings, you know that hasn’t stopped her from subtly attacking their reputations.

Consort Helia is your father's most recent consort, with a baby on the way. Being far too naive and trusting for her own good, she has not adapted well to being part of the royal harem, making her an easy target, but she has been mostly shunned by the other consorts. You don't know her as well as you'd perhaps like to, having been away from the palace for a long time during the war. Now that you are home, Nour has been making an effort to include Helia when they can.

Your father, Emperor Solis, has never had much time to be a father to most of his children, too busy running a kingdom and leading a war. He is your emperor first, father last. He expects much from his children—they are all expected to do their part in adding to their family's honor and legacy.

[graysonshmayson]

AITA for “stealing” my dad’s son?

Ok, stealing is hyperbole, but that's just what my brother says. I also find your theories as to what the “family business” is hilarious (my favorite guess is mafia), but I really can’t tell y'all for privacy reasons! No, a child technically doesn’t have to fulfill the role in the company, it just makes sense for the role and also is sort of a habit now? It’d actually be kind of weird if it wasn’t a kid. But that’s all I’m saying on that. 

Ok so I’ve already made a few viral posts about my relationship with my dad about my brother in this post and then about him not taking care of himself in this post. I really recommend you read them for full context because there’s only so many times I can repeat the same backstory. Short version: my (M28) dad (M48), took me in after my parents were murdered and I then created and fulfilled a role in the family business until I moved out and started my own at 18 due to our tense relationship. A lot of stuff has happened since the last post: first of all, y’all remember T (M17) from the last post? He is now legally my brother! My dad adopted him a few months ago after his parents died which honestly was a crazy ordeal that could be its own post. Secondly, J (M19) is alive??? He legally died for a time, but it turns out he did not die like we thought and came back a few years ago. Anyway, he comes home, and is furious with my dad because the guy that killed him was still a free man and he thought our dad didn’t do enough to catch him. Honestly, he wanted our dad to kill him. Which my dad did not want to do because, like, murder is generally wrong. He was also super mad about my dad “replacing” him in the job like a) he didn’t replace me and b) T forcefully volunteered for the job. Like made my dad accept him. Anyway, J got super vengeful and started getting involved with crime, and literally drug trafficking and all sorts of shady things. The third and most pertinent update is that my dad had a surprise son! A couple years ago, an old fling came around with a kid and said that he needed to take care of him for the foreseeable future while she took care of things following her father’s death. The kid, D (M14), was super angry and violent, clearly raised in a tough situation and mourning his grandfather. 

Here's where my frustration with my dad begins: by the time D showed up, me and dad were like fully okay again. We talked, I visited and helped out, etc. but he didn’t want D at first. He didn’t trust him, and didn’t even want to give him a chance because he was raised by his mother and her father, which is a whole terrible mess of a situation that I can’t even get into. Don’t get me wrong, D was and is extremely difficult. When we first met, he tried to start a fight and told me to “remember who is the blood son”. But he’s just a kid . Yeah, his behavior was troubling at best, but it was because of his awful home situation and reconciling his idolization of his grandpa who was actually a terrible person. He’s as mouthy as he is precocious, but if you really spend time with him, you can see that he’s a good kid under it all. So D shows up, and pretty quickly wants to get involved with the family business. I could tell pretty quickly that even though he tried to act all nonchalant, he really wanted to prove himself to our dad. My dad flat out rejected him at first. He barely wanted D staying with him, let alone being involved in the work. I had to fight this man to give his own son a chance, just like he did for the rest of us. Do you know how hard it is to convince your adoptive father to not shun his own son? It’s kind of scary. 

To give him the benefit of the doubt I can understand his concern. He nurtured me to the best of his ability and I scorned him, and then J died and came back hating his guts and a criminal and T is becoming so much like him it scares him. I think he was scared that he would fuck up another kid (not that I think he really fucked us up. He did his best). I helped D pretty much every day, whether he liked it or not and he eventually formed a mutual trust and respect with our dad. I don’t doubt that my dad loved D, but it frustrated me that it took all of my weedling to get him there. I think that D deserves the unconditional love that he wasn’t given growing up, and having to earn it like that from your own dad? Cant have felt good. He eventually took my old role from T, and has been doing it ever since.

Flash forward to a point around a year ago, my dad goes missing. He frequently drops off the map for work or something, but never this long. He was literally presumed dead. As the oldest, I took control of the family business which I honestly did not want to do. After years of trying to be independent from him, I really can't stress how reluctant I was to take the job, even though both T and J were vying for it too. But I was the best suited for it, so I did it. Because of this, I was working very closely with D. If he had it his way, D would be in charge of the company and he was not happy with taking orders from anyone but his father, so it was really tough to just gain basic respect from him at first. Eventually, though, we made a really good team and even though I was in a position I didn’t want, I felt very fulfilled by our work. I was so proud of D and the progress he had made. I think that while he and dad had a good relationship, dad didn’t really help a lot when it came to expressing emotions or anything like that. And boy, I have been to enough therapy to help with that. So then, a while ago, dad shows up again from where he had been, let's say indisposed , and all the sudden I’m out of the business again, because obviously I gave him his old role back. 

But I don’t know, if I’m honest it feels wrong sometimes without D. Sometimes he’ll come to the city where I live and help me out instead and it makes me really happy. I’m so glad he feels like he can come to me to talk to, or get away, or whatever. He has like one friend besides me and dad so I worry about him a lot. And when we’re all together again, I feel sort of proud when he looks to me instead of dad. Like in my head I think my dad is on thin ice. I worry that if D fucks up bad enough, he will never forgive him. I’m not shy about sharing my opinions on situations involving D with my dad which I can tell he resents it and has led to several arguments. I really can’t tell if I’m overstepping here. On one hand: he’s not my kid and I should probably respect the boundaries set by his father. On the other, sometimes it feels like I’m the only one in this kid’s corner. And I always will be. I don’t know if I can say the same for my dad. So should I keep trying to assert myself as a mentor in D’s life? Or stay out of it?