#hearing her stomp around the house in her heels is terrifying

[glass-trash-bab]

I think. I also have mommy issues.

Ough the daddy issues are big today

[honeylikesfanfic]

Do not repost without credit.

Warnings: Blood, Gun, Knives, Death, Swearing, Murder and Obsession.

This short horror story was made by me as my attempt to recreate the feeling of early creepypasta stories. Enjoy.

---------

  “Breaking news! Three teens were declared missing and presumably dead this morning! 17-year-old Alex Klerk, 18-year-old Maddie Smith, and 19-year-old Abby Fredrick are missing as of 7:00 AM today. A note was found reading ‘Revenge’ written in blood on their bedroom wall at the crime scene. It's believed there's a killer on the loose in the Colorado Springs area, and it's suggested to stay inside at night and make sure your doors and windows are locked. Additionally, 19-year-old Ava Graywood has gone missing, it is unsure if it's related to the murders as there was no blood found in her room. There is an investigation going on at the moment. Stay tuned for further updates.”

—

  My peaceful slumber was disturbed, all I could see was my dark room, only lit by the moonlight that snuck through my blinds. The dead silence was eerie. My TV must have finally shut off, without the background noise I could hear the creaking of the old house settling. 

   Checking the time on my phone, I noticed it was only an hour till I had to get up for school. “Dammit… I can't sleep.” My bed let out a sound as I sat up from my comfortable position. “Maybe a snack will help.” I grew up in this house for years, I still remember moving here during fifth grade. Carefully avoiding the spots on the floor I knew would creak, I made it to the kitchen. Opening the snack cabinet, I found a box of granola bars. “This'll do.” 

   The sounds of footsteps halted my movement just as I was about to take a bite of my food. Dad shouldn't be awake… And Mom should have left for work hours ago. The noise continued. At this moment I should have run out of the house or woke my dad up, but I didn't… Carefully walking up the stairs, I found my bedroom door was open. I Know I Closed It. 

   As I slowly approached my room I noticed my once-closed window, now open. Facing away from me stood a figure over my bed, a big dark jacket covering their form along with baggy pants. A flash of light from their hand caught my attention, a knife. My breath stutters as a gasp leaves my mouth involuntarily. The figure's head whipped around to me, they had long black hair that mostly covered their face. All I could see was their bright green eyes. So terrifying yet captivating at the same time.

   I thought I was done for. I couldn't fight for the life of me, and my body would not move from my bedroom doorway no matter how much I wanted to run to my Dad. The blaring sound of my alarm broke my trance, turning on my heel. I sprinted to my parent's room to wake my Father. 

   “DAD! DAD WAKE UP THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE HOUSE!” My non-stop shaking finally woke him from his deep sleep.

   “Someone's in the house?” He heaved out of bed faster than I thought he could. “Abby, where did you see them?!” I pointed toward my room, down the hallway. “Stay here.” He grabbed his gun from his nightstand and stomped to my room. It felt like time stopped when I heard two gunshots fire off. “That fucker!” My Father yelled.

“Dad?! What happened?” Entering my bedroom I found my Father facing my window, clutching his side as blood gushed out. The intruder was now missing from my room. “Holy Shit! Dad!” 

“They stabbed me! I'm calling 911!” It felt as if the world was crashing down on me. My Dad was hurt, I know it sounds childish but I always saw him as this Superman figure like most kids do…

   The panic finally set in once I noticed a note on my pillow. ‘Revenge’ was written in bold red inked letters on a sheet of paper.

—

   “Abby, where the hell have you been?! You haven't shown up for school in a week!” Maddie, one of my best friends, clutched my arm as Alex and Ava approached from our lunch table. “Where have you been? No calls or texts, you had us worried sick Abby!” Alex said, running his hand through his brown hair that matched with his bark eyes. My childhood friend, Ava silently watched me, she was always a speak-if-spoken-to person.

   “I'm sorry, there was something that came up at home. I can't talk about it though…” Maddie shook her head. “What do you mean you can't talk about it? Is there something going on with your parents?”

   “No, it's just..” The trio stared at me with eyes of concern, I couldn't lie to them anymore. “You can't tell anyone, but someone broke into my house last Monday and stabbed my Dad. There's a police investigation going on right now, my family and I have been staying at a hotel and only just yesterday were we able to move back to our house. It's only now that my Mom is ok with me coming back to school.” The look those three gave me was something I don't think I could describe, a mix of horror and pity was warped on their faces. 

   “Abby… We're so sorry, is your Father OK?” Alex was the first to break the silence. “Yeah, he was treated in the hospital. I've been in therapy for the past week. I'm just terrified to think what would have happened if I hadn't woken up.”

   The bell rang, I didn't get to eat my lunch. Although I probably wouldn't have eaten anyway. “How about we all go out after school today? Go watch a movie or go to the mall? To help clear your mind a bit.” Ava finally spoke up, a small smile on her lips. Her black hair was in its usual ponytail. Maddie shook her head. “I can't today, I have dance practice after school today.” Ava's eyes narrowed at her response. 

   “It's fine Ava... I'll be fine.” Only a few students remained in the cafeteria. “I have to get going, talk to you guys later!” I said before leaving. I don't know if it was because of me, but the group seemed to be distant today.

—

   Ping!

   The sound of my phone broke me from my book. There was a text from Maddie. 

-

Madds: “Hey! Are you busy right now?”

ABBA: “Hey, no not at the moment. Just got home not too long ago. Why what's up?”

Madds: “Let's go to the mall!”

ABBA: “I thought you had dance practice?”

Madds: “I lied, I didn't wanna bring it up but Ava, Alex, and I got in a fight a few days ago. I don't want to get into detail though it's been resolved for the most part.”

ABBA: “Oh.”

ABBA: “I guess I could go out. Who will be joining?”

Madds: “Just Alex”

Madds: “I'll be over soon!” 

ABBA: “Alright, see you soon!” 

—

   It felt wrong to leave Ava out, I've been friends with her since kindergarten. She was always alone off in the corner of the room drawing or getting bullied by other kids. So when we both became friends I made it my mission to break her out of her shell. 

   “Abby, come on! Stop moping around. Let's go to Spencer's next!” Maddie pulled me by my arm into the store, poor Alex had been forced to hold all of Maddie's bags. I should get a few shirts while I'm here. I rummaged through the clothing racks of discounted shirts, they all ranged from vulgar to just plain fandom shirts, but none spoke to me. I found one that had an anime character on it. I recognized it from one of the shows Ava would often watch on her phone during lunch. Setting the shirt down I left to go find Maddie and Alex. There wasn't much space to move or hide in the store so I located them rather quickly. 

   As I approached the two I noticed Maddie's look of annoyance plastered on her face. “What's wrong Maddie?” She rolled her blue eyes. “Ava's being a drama queen in the group chat. She found out we're at the mall and is now going off.” Great… Don't get me wrong I care for the girl but she was a very jealous person. “It's about as bad as when we went to the movies on her birthday last year without her. Like it's not my fault she has no friends, geez.” Maddie turns her phone off, flipping her blonde hair to the side and heads to the cashier to check out. My phone started to ring, it's Ava. Great… 

-

“Hey, Ava.”

“Don't ‘Hey Ava’ me! You guys went to the mall without me! What the hell?!”

“Ava it's not a big deal, I'll get you something while I'm here.”

“That's not the point! You guys always leave me out of things! I'm hurt Abby, you're supposed to be my best friend.”

Maddie finished paying for her stuff and started to walk out of the store, Alex trailing behind her. 

“We do not! Look, we'll talk later, I just need some time away from stress. Alright?”

   There was no response from her side of the call, only the sound of the call disconnecting. Whatever, she can go pout to herself. If she wanted to, she could drive up and join us. 

   “Alright I think we should all head home, it's getting late and my folks are still iffy on letting me out of the house since the incident.” Maddie sighed. “We've only been out for two hours, but fine. Let's go.”

Alex's sigh of relief didn't escape my notice. I'm sure he was glad this was all over as well. I, however, could only look forward to sleeping in my own bed.

—

   This situation felt familiar. The silence filled my dark bedroom, the only light seen was from the moonlight that escaped through my open window. The cold wind whistled through it. It shouldn't be open, I couldn't move. Only my eyes could turn to my left to see the figure from a week ago standing there with a syringe in hand. Their face was now covered by a mask with a thin black painted smile and two closed grinning eyes.

   “You lied to me, Abby… You promised me we'd be friends till death. I guess it's lucky for you, I never break my promises.”

The syringe was placed on my neck as the liquid was injected. 

   “Don't worry, the other two already met the same fate you will, we'll all be together soon enough. This'll be painless.”

  A feeling of numbness flushed through my body as I grew drowsy, her hand covered my mouth as she raised her knife. The glint of the moonlight hit her blade before it plunged down into my neck…

—

[circe69]

bar fights and strobe lights

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader cw: mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of alcohol, reader wears dress tags: soft!simon, protective!simon, simon saves you from a weird dude, tooth rotting fluff sorry ghost has really really good (non-canonical) rizz but it's not my fault you guys deserve someone who knows how to talk to you!

Tonight was your 21st birthday, and you decided to celebrate by going to a bar with your friends. It was a famous bar, one that you had heard being talked about for months.

You were wearing a black dress, one that fit your curves well and came a few inches above your knees. It's spaghetti straps wrapped around your shoulders snugly, and you had draped your cardigan over the barstool you were sitting at.

The friends you that had come with had selfishly left a few minutes prior to try and find guys to spend the rest of the evening with. You were sitting, drinking a drink on the house and quietly trying to observe people around you.

While trying to make up stories in your head about all the people you saw, a tall man wearing a skull face balaclava caught your eyes. Even when sitting down, he was probably taller than you. He drank carefully, didn't talk to many people. His eyes wandered around the room until they stopped on you.

His eyes widened, watching the strobe lights wander around your figure. He scanned the entirety of you, watching you watch him. He looked scary but so sweet at the same time.

A gentle monster, you thought to yourself.

All the sudden, you felt a calloused hand grab your bare arm. Goosebumps erupted through your skin as the grip tightened. You turned around quickly, finding the face of a man who you'd never seen before. His other hand found your waist and gripped hard, dragging you out of the stool.

You planted your heels into the sticky floor, but it was no use. Your voice was quaky and broken as you yelled out, "Please, let go." His eyes looked cold and dangerous. You cried out again, "Let go!"

A few heads turned, but no one got up. The man kept walking, eyes on the door. You tried to get out of his disgusting grip when out of nowhere, you hear a loud voice call out, "Get your hands off f' her."

His demeanor was terrifying, his boots stomping on the floor as he took his gun out of his holster. It was the man. The man with the Ghost mask.

Ghost slammed the pistol against the man's head, and he dropped to the floor. You were shaking as the man's grip slid off of you, and almost fell over as Ghost caught you. He abruptly picked you up, one arm under your knees and one cradling you around your neck. His feet clanked across the floor as he whisked you outside. His arms were warm under your cold skin, and his large hands made you feel more protected than you'd ever felt.

He set you down on a picnic table, carefully laying you down on the table as he took a kneel on the bench.

"Are you hurt?" His voice had gone from terrifying to gentle within seconds. You shook your head to respond no, still shaken up.

He exhaled, "Bastard. I've seen 'em before, but he's never been as bold as he was tonight." He didn't speak in any tone except for a soft whisper, his British accent calming any fears you had.

He scanned over your body again, and you remembered moments before the incident. You had seen his curious eyes in this state before. You liked it.

His eyes wandered over your body and stopped at your eyes, surprised to see you were watching him the whole time. He placed his hands on both sides of your head, deepening the eye contact.

"You sure you'll alright?" Somehow, he spoke even softer, almost like he was trying not to scare you.

"I'm okay," you breathed shakily. His eyes widened at the sound of your voice.

"She speaks." Ghost teased as he let his hand slide up the distance of your arm slowly. You could see his eyes smiling through the holes of his mask, but you wanted to feel it for yourself, so you placed your hand on his covered cheek, gently sweeping underneath the fabric and stroking his lips with your thumb.

He seemed surprised, but not scared. He melted underneath your touch, slightly opening his mouth to kiss your cold fingers.

"Thank you. For saving me."

You felt his smile under your fingers.

"Anytime," he said, "Just call, 'n I'll be there."

"How can I call you if I don't know your name?" You teased, slightly regaining your sense of humor. He hopped off of you, slightly squeezing your waist as he responded,

"It's Simon. Simon Riley."

"Simon," you repeated, trying to taste him on your tongue. You sat up, placing your feet on both sides of him. He was sitting on the bench, and now you were looking down at him.

"I'm Y/N," you said, holding your hand out.

He took a pen out of his breast pocket and uncapped it. He repeated back your name as he took your hand and wrote a phone number on the back of it.

"Y/N." Simon said slowly, experimenting with all the syllables he could.

"Call me, Y/N. Please." He gently kissed the back of your hand where he had written the number and stood up from the bench.

You were left sitting, gawking at how good this man was at swooning you. From the looks of it, he didn't seem like the kind of person to have any social skills whatsoever, but Simon Riley seemed to prove you wrong.

You whispered to yourself as you hopped off the table,

"Will do, Simon."

[fivelakesinwriting]

can you do a barry one where you’re rafe and sarah’s sister and you’ve been sneaking barry into your room every night while you’re home from college bc your friends with benefits but when ward goes to give barry the money that rafe owes him he says something like “why don’t you ask your daughter who’s she’s been sneaking into her room every night. so ward comes home pissed to wake you up and ask you about it so you go to barry’s house and confront him and it leads to smut

Author's Notes: I wrote her as the Littlest Cameron from Ward's first marriage - because I kinda love that idea. All characters are 18+

Warnings: OBX Spoilers - Only for Season 1 (I assume we've all been there done that..) Swearing, Mentions of drugs/ drug debt, Guns, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos, Smutty.

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

For almost six weeks he had been sneaking into her bedroom at night, completely unseen to anyone. Not even the boy who spent the majority of his days on his couch, passed out or begging for a fix.

This time it was his turn to beg.

He crawled through the window - left open like always for him - and tossed his legs through in to her bedroom. He grunted when her body collided with his in the dark, sending him backwards towards the wall.

"We said 11pm. It's 11:17pm." She mumbled as she pressed on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck.

"Sorry. Got wrapped up in some shit. Thought I forgot?" He smirked as he hitched at the waist to wrap his arms around her, reciprocating her affection.

"Yes." She whispered into his shoulder as her fingertips curled into the material of his coveralls.

Barry only lifted her up in response, always amazed that a girl with a brother the size of Rafe Cameron could be so tiny. He carried her over to her bed and laid her on her back, crawling on top of her to take up the space between her thighs. He placed feather-light kisses down her neck, a smile on his face as she pulled at his coveralls.

"Hey, Tiny. I need to borrow some fucking cash. You don't still have that stupid piggy bank or some shit - what the fuck is this?" Rafe came stomping into her bedroom without knocking and flicked the lights on, his hands pushing all the trinkets and books off her dresser as he searched.

"Rafe, what the fuck! Knock first, asshole!" She screamed as she tossed a decorative pillow off her bed and towards her older brother who stood dumbfounded on the other side of her bedroom.

"The fuck is this? Why is he here?" Rafe questioned as he pointed his index finger at the older man on top of his younger sister.

"What's up, Country Club?" Barry smirked as he turned his face to look at Rafe, as if he weren't on top of his little sister.

"T.C, he has to leave. Now. I'm fucking serious." Rafe grumbled with a stern look, a pinch of his nostrils and then exited her bedroom with a slam of the door.

"T.C?" Barry grinned as he propped himself up on his arms above her and looked down at her embarrassed face.

"Tiny Cameron." She sighed as she pressed one hand to his lower back and the other to her forehead.

"That's cute. Shit's real cute. He take money from you a lot?" Barry asked as he leaned his weight on one forearm to run his fingertips over his top lip.

"Not a lot. Sometimes. Mostly takes it from dad, but he asks for money a lot more often now. I'm assuming it's to pay you." She replied softly.

"Some of it. Your brother got a nice new bike out there and he still runnin' up a tab with me, so..." Barry trailed as he placed his hand back down beside her on the bed.

"Don't get me started on that stupid dirt bike." She sighed as she rolled her head back on the sheets.

"Listen, I'm gonna go. I can hear him pacing outside that fucking door. But don't let him take your money, T.C." Barry winked before he gave her a quick kiss on her lips and pulled himself off the bed, heading back towards the window.

"Fuck you, Barry." She whined with a pout, sitting up on the bed to watch him leave.

"Next time." He grinned, flashing her his gold tooth.

*

It had been close to one week since the night Rafe had caught Barry in his little sister's room, and since then his debt had grown exponentially. Rafe felt overwhelmed and reckless as he entered the combination to his father's wall safe. Perhaps that's why he got caught.

"Dad, I swear I learned my lesson. Okay? Let's not do this. Please." Rafe begged from the front seat of his father's S.U.V as they idled out front of Barry's house.

"Stay in the car." Ward ordered as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.

Ward Cameron walked up the dirt path, lit by the lights of his vehicle and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He saw the young man sitting at the fire pit, a bottle of liquor in his hand.

"Are you Barry?" He called as he opened his wallet and began to count the bills.

"Might be. You lost?" Barry asked as he took a swig of the whiskey in his hand and looked over the clean cut older man standing a few feet in front of him.

"No. My son Rafe owes you money. I'm here to pay his tab." Ward replied with a shake of his head as he pulled out the wad of cash, and folded it in half.

"Big Daddy Cameron, huh?" Barry smirked as he stood up from his chair and took a few steps towards Ward.

"That should cover it. Don't sell my son drugs anymore." Ward growled as he tossed the cash on the ground at Barry's feet and turned to walk away.

"Got no problem not selling drugs to your delinquent son. But it's your daughter who might have a problem staying away from me." Barry replied his stance strong as he watched Ward Cameron stop dead in his tracks, his back rigid.

"Sarah?" Ward asked as he turned around, his eyes wide as he looked the dealer up then down.

"You forget you have more than one daughter, don't you? Talking about the little one. Think Rafe calls her...T.C?" Barry replied as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

Ward Cameron ran a shaky hand over his beard as he continued to stare at Barry. He turned to leave, but changed his mind and stalked back over to him, and stood directly in front of the shorter man.

"Stay away from my family. My son and especially my daughter." Ward growled a finger pressed into Barry's chest before he turned on his heel and stomped back towards the S.U.V.

"Big Daddy Cameron." Barry scoffed with a shake of his head as he crouched down to pick up the bills on the ground. He knew he had just lit a match under the Cameron patriarch, but he was fine with it.

Back at Tannyhill Rafe walked quickly into the house and up the stairs, his head hung low as he blinked back tears. He walked passed each of his sisters' rooms towards his own, stopping at the one of the left.

"T.C, better gear up. Dad knows about Barry. He's coming upstairs. Fire is lit." Rafe grumbled with a sniff and then made his way towards his bedroom with a slam of his door.

"What do you mean dad knows about - Hi, daddy." She mumbled as she scrambled off the bed after her brother, only to be met in the doorway by a livid Ward Cameron.

"How long?" Ward asked as he tried to keep his voice even, despite the way his body shook with pure anger. He had one daughter running around on The Cut, a son stealing from him to pay for his drug habit, and now his other daughter - his baby - was sleeping with that drug dealer.

What had he done wrong?

"Since I got home from school. Rafe introduced us at a party." She replied softly, avoiding her father's gaze.

"Are you snorting that shit like Rafe is?" Ward asked, his voice just a whisper and terrified.

"No, dad. I'm not. I swear. It's not like that with Barry. He likes me. He likes me a lot, and we're just hanging out together." She replied quickly as she reached for her father, her hands on his wrists that hung at his sides.

"But you're sleeping with him." Ward scoffed with a glare down at her. So tiny. Just like her mother. Everything about her reminded him of his first wife.

"I...I mean, yes. We're sleeping together. I go and visit him, and he comes over here sometimes." She nodded with a squeeze of his wrists.

"T.C, he comes here? To my house?" Ward glared down at his daughter.

"Dad, I -"

"I can't look at you right now." Ward grumbled as he pulled his wrists from her grip, rubbed his face and walked out of her bedroom, down the hall to his office.

"Shit." She whispered, pushing her hands through her hair. She walked back into her room, over to her desk and grabbed her bag. She walked over to her window, slid it open as quietly as she could and climbed out.

The knock at Barry's door was a surprise. He was expecting no visitors. He slowly raised his body up from the tattered couch, grabbed his gun from the waistband of his pants and walked cautiously to the front door.

"What you want?" He yelled, gun raised.

"It's me, you ass." Her sad voice sobbed back with a slam of her fist against the door once again.

"Fuck." Barry sighed as he reached for the several locking mechanisms on his door and let her in.

"What the fuck did you say to my dad!" She cried with a push of his strong chest.

Barry stood in the doorway and took each hit to the chest. He knew he may have overstepped a boundary or two that night, telling Ward Cameron he was sleeping with his daughter. But, he didn't like to have people come up to his home uninvited, telling him what to do and who to see. So he bit back.

"Stop. Listen to me. He came over here with your brother in the car, tossed money at me and told me to stop selling to Rafe." Barry muttered as he grabbed her wrists then held them against his chest to keep her close.

"And what did you say?" She struggled in his arms and looked up at him with those eyes that were all Cameron. He wished he didn't like them so much.

"I told him that was fine, but he might have an issue keeping his little girl out of my bed." Barry replied with a slight smirk, his gold tooth taking hold of his bottom lip.

"That isn't funny, Barry." She pouted up at him as she struggled to pull her wrists from his grip.

"It's a little funny."

"My dad is livid, Barry! Rafe is holed up in bedroom doing and thinking who knows what. And I - " She pulled her wrists from his grasp and stepped into his small home, beginning to pace.

"They ain't an issue for you anymore. Rafe's tab is paid, and now Big Daddy Cameron knows about us. So, I don't know what's got your panties in such a twist. But you should take them off if they're bothering you so much." Barry muttered as he ran his fingertips over his top lip, and leaned against the door frame as he watched her.

"No. I'm mad at you." She whispered as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"Nipples say otherwise." Barry muttered with a point to her chest, pushed up under her forearms.

"Don't!" She whined as she covered her breasts from his view.

She was mad at him. It was the first time in the few weeks they had been dating she had felt angry with him. She scowled as she looked him up then down as he stayed leaned up against the door frame. The both of them challenging the other to make the first move.

"Well, are you staying the night or did you just come to yell at me and flash your nipples in my fucking face?" Barry grunted as he pushed himself off the door frame and slowly made his way towards the back of the house, slipping his gun back in the waistband of his pants.

"They aren't in your face." She mumbled but followed him towards his bedroom with a shuffle of her feet.

Barry sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the gun from the waistband of his pants and placing it delicately on his nightstand. He spread his knees and beckoned her over with a wave of his hand.

"I'm mad at you." She stated with her arms crossed over her chest still, looking him over. She did as instructed, though, walking over to his slowly and stood between his knees.

"Well. I don't wanna be mad at you." Barry replied as he placed his hands on her hips to pull her against his chest.

"You shouldn't have said those things to my dad, Barry." She whispered as she uncrossed her arms and placed her palms on his shoulders.

"I was right, wasn't I? You busted out the house and now you're here with me, ain't you?" Barry grinned up at her as his fingertips pushed up the hem of her shirt to touch her skin, still warm from her bike ride over.

"Well, yeah. But that doesn't mean you have to say it to my dad. Asshole." She pouted as she slapped his chest playfully before she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I could have said way worse shit to him than that. Like how you liked to be tied up." Barry chuckled as he placed his hands on her backside and raised his eyebrows at her. He grabbed at her elbows, lifting her arms from around his neck and held her arms behind her back.

"Barry." She whined as she dropped her forehead to his.

"Guess I'll save that one for next time." Barry muttered as he kept his grip on her arms behind her back strong, but leaned in to press his lips to hers.

"Be nice to me." She pouted against his lips as she struggled weakly in his grip.

"No. You gotta make up for your dad coming in and fucking up my night." Barry smirked as he held her wrists behind her back with one hand as the other reached to the front of her shirt, pushing it beneath her breasts.

"I knew you had a daddy kink, Barry. But if you wanna fuck my dad that's a deal breaker for me." She grinned as she squirmed in his grip.

"Get on your hands and knees. Tiny Cameron." Barry growled as he let her wrists go and slapped her backside firmly.

"Ow! Fuck you." She whined as she crawled over his lap and onto the bed.

"About time." Barry mumbled as he stood up, turning the face the bed to see her back arched the way liked. He ran his thumb over his top lip and smiled softly to himself.

He wasn't going to stop selling to Rafe Cameron, that was something Rafe had to decide for himself. And he certainly wasn't going to stop seeing or sleeping with the girl currently in his bed, wiggling her ass at him for his attention.

Ward Cameron would have to kill him first.

Hottie List: @starkey-babie @sodasback @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864 @vinniehcker

*tag list still open if you'd like to be added - just let me know! Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much! xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[obeymeluv]

QUICK! KISS ME! [Bros x Reader]

A lead-up blurb before I go to bed.

School is killing me. This has been in the drafts far longer than I wanted.

No offense if your name is Bethany. It’s a name I picked at random.

The follow-up piece will have the kiss scenarios.

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Some of Asmo’s friends may have used you to get into a special makeup event, but it’s okay! They bought you a lip gloss as a thank you! The shade ‘Sealed with a Kiss’ was not what you thought it’d be

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Being one of the first humans in the Devildom could be uncomfortable and sometimes down-right dangerous! It also had its perks. To you, that meant being close with the Seven Lords of Hell (and Diavolo). To other lesser demons and classmates, you were kind of a ‘get out of jail’ free card.

Were they late to class? Oh, just helping the human out!

Caught sneaking in food or drink when they weren’t supposed to? It’s to split with the human, of course! They thought you’d love to try it!

Everyone was keen not to overuse it and you’d actually made good friends this way. It was starting to feel less like an excuse and more of a way to be included. You were the friendly, reliable human that had won hearts and saved some asses. As a thank you, one of your closer friends (a repeat offender for lateness), invited you out to an exclusive makeup release. She was a VIP member and had early access an hour before the store opened to the Devildom public. 

The fact that she chose you, a human, over some LITERAL century-old friends caused a bit of tension but she could care less. “I’ve seen them every day for over a hundred years. You get one year, and we’re going to make it awesome!” Bethany breezed through the store at a dizzying pace, picking through concealers and opening a box of mascara to look at the packaging. She moved at a pace only demons could manage; you thought you saw her by the nail polish display but when you looked again she was throwing sheet masks in her basket. Hooking her arm with yours, she picked up some foundation on the way back to the coveted display of lip glosses and lipsticks.

You weren’t totally versed in the differences between Devildom makeup and human world makeup. In all honesty, there didn’t seem to be a difference. Bethany swatched powdery cream lipsticks on her wrist and followed with ribbons of liquid lipstick. Every now and then she dotted them on your arm; she was adamant about finding a shade the both of you could wear as your thing.  

“This one,” she decided, waving the tube at you and booping your nose with it carefully. “This is our color!” she took you by the hand and joined the checkout line. She had two in her hand but refused to let you so much as hold one, wanting to pay for it first. It wasn’t technically breaking the purchase limit rule; if they tried to nag her she’d just say she was holding onto it so another demon didn’t bully you out of it. You didn’t know if it was her VIP status or the fact that her defense made sense, but you were able to check out without a problem.

A few sour faces and mean glares met you outside but Bethany ignored it all, eager to have a Devilgram-worthy celebratory snack break (snack victory? You know, since you got the makeup?) The plan was to eat, hold down a table at the nearby cafe while her other friends shopped, and have group makeovers (or try-ons) before calling it a day. That plan was interrupted three bites into a croissant sandwich when Lucifer summoned you back to the House of Lamentation. He’d gotten wind of all the girls you’d be with and didn’t feel totally comfortable letting you hang out with them,

Had Barbatos seen something? Did Lucifer feel spurned that you weren’t hanging out with the Seven Lords of the Devildom? He gave no answer, simply asking you to stay put while someone came to escort you back to the house. Bethany was put off by the turn of events but few people dared to complain about the Seven Lords due to their connections with Diavolo (she was no exception). “If we can’t get the full makeover, we’re getting the selfie!” she declared, deftly breaking the seal to her Sealed with a Kiss gloss and swiping it on with help from the front-facing camera on her D.D.D

You busied yourself with opening your tube. Before you could ask for her phone (since the camera was already open), she took the tube from you and tilted your chin up. She dabbed the center of your lips playfully before carefully tracing your lips with the color. The heat rose in your cheeks and she smirked. Being part succubus, she could draw energy from emotions like embarrassment and the feeling of being flattered. Her fingertips pulsed under your chin as she drew on that energy. 

Getting energy sucked could feel like a lot of things -- being light-headed, getting a rush of excitement, all prickly and tingly like your whole body was pins and needles. Whatever it was, it usually faded into drowsiness and kittenish contentment. She probably only touched your chin for seconds but the wash of coziness had you melting against your chair, your cheek cradled in her palm. 

Did she take the pic? What was happening? It felt like Asmodeus had materialized out of thin air, helping you stand and making small-talk with Bethany before pulling you away, out of her aura that was trying to suckle the vestiges of happy energy you offered.

“And what shade did you get on those pretty lips, hm?” the cotton fell out of your head and ears, allowing you to really hear Asmo now that the aura effects had worn off.

“Uh,” you fished around in your bag and looked at the packaging. “Sealed with a Kiss.”

Asmodeus stopped so abruptly it’d almost yanked you back to him. The two of you were barely tangled at the pinkies and now he’d completely laced your hands together. He held your hands captive, drawing them up in surprise and basically dragging you into his torso. You were forced to look up into glittering pink eyes and if you didn’t know any better, they looked a little panicked.

“How long ago did you apply it?”

“I don’t know.” you blinked helplessly at him. That energy suck thing had a way of making your brain tune out and turn to pudding. That aside, who knows how long Asmo stood there and talked to Bethany while you were being siphoned?! “Bethany applied it, not me.”

Asmo clicked his tongue, huffed, resigned himself to only holding one hand. and started scrolling on his D.D.D to find that selfie Bethany posted. You were being dragged along like a child as Asmo’s shoes clicked towards the House of Lamentation. It amazed you how well he could navigate his D.D.D with his long, painted nails. 

Whatever he was looking for, he found it.

Asmodeus tucked his D.D.D into his pants pocket, scooped you up in a way that terrified and amazed you (two people being supported by one set of heels?), and flew to the House of Lamentation. He didn’t always use his wings, as he preferred to decorate them and maintain them with oils, but the fact that he was flying made you nervous.

What had he found? What was the deal?

“Asmo--” you started nervously, the flapping of his wings nearly drowning you out as he pushed himself. Flying against the wind didn’t help. Your hair was a mess and the wind was in your face; the Devildom was always a little chilly but now it was enough to make your face tingly.

“She gave you enchanted makeup. There is a reason humans don’t use enchanted makeup.” Asmo’s pretty brows furrowed as he cut a hard angle and glided over a portion of the square. The tell-tale thicket of trees that lined the winding path back to the House of Lamentation were on the edge of the horizon.

“What’s going to happen?” should you ask that? Did you really want to know?

“You’ll feel something in your lips--some people felt tingling, some people felt pulsing, it can be anything, I think--and then they’ll seal shut.”

“SHUT?!” you yelped. It was enough to make Asmo wince. The startle carried over to his wings; they shuddered and locked; the two of you dropped for a heartbeat or two before he corrected himself.

“If I can’t get some makeup remover on it first.” Asmo panted, tucking his wings in and preparing for a quick descent. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought to teleport first--the panic? Trying to one-up Bethany by walking home and being extra cute with hand-holding?--but a quick touch down could roll into a simple skip teleportation and everything should work out!

“But my lips are already tingly!”

“Ugh, Bethany! I can’t believe you! I mean, I can because it’s you, but really, Bethany?”

“Asmo, focus!” you’d already skipped several feet ahead, clearing the front yard in two teleports. The third put you in the foyer. “I don’t want my lips to seal shut!”

The House of Lamentation was huge but when the occupants had supernatural hearing, that exclamation turned heads. 

“What’s this about your lips sealing shut?” Lucifer appeared at the top of his stairs, his head already shaking.

“DID YOU MAKE A PACT WITH A WITCH?!” Mammon screamed down the hall, clearly not far behind.

Asmo scoffed, lowering his D.D.D with a pout. He was halfway up the main stairs, fingers working at lightning speed. “It’s the lip color!” he explained, stomping his foot. Noisy people were just so annoying! If everyone was talking he couldn’t explain! How rude! 

“All this over some makeup?” skeptical Satan peered over the banister, book and arm casually propped up on it.

“If two people apply the color and kiss, they’re locked in a makeout session until it dries down. When one person applies the lip color, they can use it like a cheat sheet to see who secretly wants to kiss them,” his words tapered out from authoritatively informed to quiet and shy. “It’s from their ‘Liquid Love’ collection.” he muttered into the stunned silence of the room.

You were trying to open your lips and ask why. The magic had already taken hold. Asmodeus could see you trying to move your lips and strain your chin. Luckily, demons could read minds. “It’s because Bethany is stupid.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “Ambitious, but stupid.”

“Please explain, Asmo.” even when using the dear nickname Lucifer couldn’t hide the demand. His demon aura was creeping up his body and slowly becoming jagged and suffocating.

“Bethany has had a HUGE crush on our little human here, and wanted to seal it with a kiss, so to speak.” Asmo’s cheeks got pinker and pinker as he explained. Mostly because he was mad he didn’t think about it. His heart did something funny at the thought of you kissing someone else. Lucifer also looked like he wanted to murder someone about now, and Asmo had to remind himself that he was being looked through, not looked at.   

“Just grab a napkin and wipe it off.” Mammon shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Asmodeus shook his head angrily. “It’s too late now. We need to find someone for them to kiss! Someone’s lips will break the seal on theirs...that’s kind of the point of the enchantment.”

“So they just pick someone to kiss?” Levi’s face was turning tomato red. Would it be him?! It would at least be one of them, right? What if your person wasn’t in the House of Lamentation and you NEVER SPOKE AGAIN?!

“Sort of.” Asmo patted your shoulders with his gentle, smooth hands. He started to rub them like he was trying to warm you up. Partly in encouragement and partly to get your attention because he could feel your brain spiraling down into panic. “They basically follow their mouth.”

“So that lip color is like a crush detector?” Satan abandoned his book at the top of the stairs and was now perusing articles on his D.D.D as he sauntered down the steps. It sounded like he’d found the one that sent Asmo flying to the House of Lamentation.

“Basically.” Asmo sighed. It was the stupidest way to confess to someone, he thought. Demon to demon, it was fine. Demon to human?! NO! The whole thing gave him a headache. The fact that Bethany thought she could just steal your little lips and be greedy with them was the biggest annoyance of it all.

“So,” Satan’s green eyes cut sharply from his phone to you. The corner of his lips curled up in a smart little smirk. He knew it was wrong to find your predicament so funny, but this was a very human thing to get mixed up in. “Who do your lips want? Who do you feel yourself being drawn to?”

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: emma comes home past curfew & y/n's not happy about it

➺ genre; kindergartenteacher!taehyungiverse!! honk honk humour!! sixteen year old emma reminds y/n of herself and she doesn't know if that's a bad thing or a good thing

➺ wordcount; 1.5k

➺ p.s. this takes place far faR off into the future!! i just thought it'd be nice to see emma as a spunky teenager :'))

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

the sound of the front door rattling at four in the morning would usually be something that would terrify pretty much anybody, but for you-

"oh, come on!"

it's really just another day in the life.

"em's home," taehyung reaches over slowly to pat your stomach and wake you up (as if you haven't been up waiting for the past four hours), his voice laced with sleep as he rolls to the side, "i'll go open the-"

"nope." you reach over to turn the lamp on before flicking the covers off and stepping out of bed, adjusting the strap of your tank top before pointing a finger at taehyung, "you're not opening anything."

"okay, well-" taehyung pauses before propping himself up a little to frown at you, "wait, what?"

"you know, i cannot believe her-" you snap, pulling your hair up into a bun as you hurry over to the window, "it's like she likes to be grounded! i told her she could go out with her friends as long as she came back before curfew, but no-"

"well, it's not that late, is it?" taehyung tosses the pillow he's hugging to his chest aside before turning to look at the clock sitting on his bedside table, "it's only- oh. it's 4:18."

you unlock the latch on the window before digging your fingers underneath it and pulling it up with a snap, watching as emma rushes out from the front porch at the sudden noise

"why, good morning, miss kim!" you call out, leaning down against the edge of the open window with a bright smile, "now i can rest well knowing you weren't murdered tonight."

"the door's broken or something!" emma strategically ignores your snarky comment, placing a hand on her hip before sticking her hand up in the air to flash you her keys with a jingle, "my keys aren't working!"

"oh, your keys are fine, sweetheart." you let out a sigh before scrunching your nose, "i triple-locked the doors. better to be safe than to be sorry, right?"

"okay, well-" emma pauses, scratching the back of her neck before gesturing towards the door, "are you gonna open the door for me or what? i really have to pee-"

"you could always take a squat and pee in the bushes." you point out, emma's jaw dropping slightly before she lets out a scoff

"are you serious? i'm not taking a piss in the bushes-"

"well, i guess you should've thought of that before coming home four hours past curfew!" your tone changes as soon as you get to the point and even from here you're able to make out the slight twitch of panic that runs through emma's body

"don't be ridiculous, i'm not four hours past curfew-" emma grumbles, turning to pull her phone out of her purse and glancing at it before pausing for a second and then looking back up at you, "i'm... four hours and twenty minutes past curfew. so take that!"

"you know, i was just being nice and i rounded down, but if you wanna say you were four hours and twenty minutes late, we can definitely say you were four hours and twenty minutes late-"

"mom!" emma whines, stomping her foot down on the ground as she shoves her phone back into her (your!!) purse hastily, "you can't just- are you seriously not going to let me into the house?! you're gonna make me sleep out on the front porch?! i can't- what if the coyotes get me?! if the coyotes get me, you're gonna regret this decision so bad-"

"the only thing that's going to attack you in this neighbourhood are the little girl scouts who won't leave you alone until you buy, like, ten boxes of cookies from them-"

"i'm sixteen, mother!" emma cuts you off with another whine and you can't help but roll your eyes at the sight of your daughter throwing a tantrum on the front lawn, "i'm grown! i should be allowed to go out with my friends and come home whenever i want!"

you thought you were 'grown' at sixteen too

(spoiler alert: that was not the case at all.)

obviously you love your daughter more than anything in the world but you hate that she inherited one of the traits that you're not fond too of: your stubbornness

and look, of course you know that she's getting older and that she should be allowed to go and have (safe) fun with her friends but this isn't the first time she's broken the rules and knowing her, it certainly won't be the last time

and it doesn't help that taehyung always gets to play good cop and you have to be the bad one!!!

like last time when the two of you caught emma climbing into the house through one of the windows and she ended up getting stuck - instead of reprimanding her for coming home late again, taehyung just laughed and immediately went over to help her out

sure, the sight of your daughter flailing around trapped in a small window was hilarious, but someone had to be the serious one in the situation (1) she lied to you about just having a chill night with her friends because you're pretty sure a chill night doesn't involve body glitter and the faint smell of vodka on her breath! 2) she climbed up the side of the house like a maniac and could've gotten seriously injured????) and of course the responsibility to do that fell onto your lap

taehyung's also just not very good at disciplining which is why you usually gently push him aside and take the lead and it looks like it's time for you to turn on your i'm not mad, i'm just very disappointed in you act once again

"you're going to wake your brother up if you keep screaming like that, and you know how fussy he gets when he doesn't get a good night's sleep-"

"he's the world's sleepiest baby, i could blow up fireworks in his room and he'd be fine- dad!" emma's eyes immediately light up when a sleepy taehyung suddenly pops up next to you and you raise a brow when he nudges you aside gently, "oh my god, thank god- mom's literally being insane right now, you have to let me in-"

"what time did you say you'd be home?" taehyung interrupts, "because i think we agreed on midnight when i dropped you off at hope's apartment..."

"i-" emma presses her lips together before letting out a little scoff and rolling her eyes, "okay, yes, we- i said i would be home by midnight, yes." she sighs before suddenly perking up again, "it's not my fault, though! no one goes home before midnight, it's so lame- hope's dad lets her stay out as long as she texts-"

"ah, texts! let's talk about that! didn't you say you'd text us to let us know where you were if you weren't home by midnight?" taehyung points out, crossing his arms over his chest before reaching up to stroke at his chin to feign deep thought, "because my phone hasn't gone off all night... has yours, darling?" he hums, turning to glance at you

"nope!" you chime in with a helpless little shrug and you nearly crack a smile when you see emma reach up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration, "my phone has been dead silent. no texts. not even an emoji!"

"you hear that, emma? not even an emoji." taehyung tsks, shaking his head in disappointment, "you know what this means, don't you?"

"i'm grounded for two weeks, i know-"

"two weeks?? oh, you're grounded for a month." taehyung pauses for a second before looking down at her again, "and! and you have to change all of your brother's diapers the whole time you're grounded. also, i just want to let you know that he had sweet potatoes for dinner and you know how gassy he gets after a helping of sweet potatoes-"

"a month?!" emma roars and your eye twitches at how high her voice goes, "you can't ground me for a month, lucas is throwing this huge party next weekend and i have to be there! are you kidding m-"

taehyung slides the window back down before emma gets to say anything else and he turns to face you with a grin before opening his arms slightly, "well?? what did you think??"

"i think... that was probably one of the sexiest things you've ever done for me." you laugh lightly, happily giving him a quick kiss when he leans in for one

"duly noted." taehyung beams before letting out a quick sigh and then turning on his heels to head to the door, "okay, i'm going to go let our daughter into the house now because i don't think my hydrangeas are going to survive being peed on-"

🎙️give emma some diaper changing tips (talk to my characters/send in a message!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles! mini series!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this one!)

[cheelduh]

How to tie up a cute boy

(Highschool Au)

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Parts: 1  2  3

Word count: 4K

Warnings: Swearing, Scaramouche abuse, no Signora slander this time, shit humour.

Synopsis: "Why are you doing homework?" Childe groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

Note: Unedited yet again besties. Tysm for reading :) I got Childe after losing him to mf MONA, istg it was the most stressful moment of my life.

The clock ticks with its pendulum, ridiculing you as it holds the time. The gentle whirring of the air conditioning in the background serves as the icing on the cake to your pent up aggression.

You try not to glare at your phone too much after receiving a text from Childe that told you not to worry, that his dad picked him up and that he was in the comfort of his home, letting the flu blow over.

It took a lot of convincing from his part earlier that morning to get you to go back and actually attend the rest of your classes, making sure to check up on him every break plus the additional "bathroom breaks" you usually never take while in class.

"I can't let you get in trouble for me." He murmured with a small smile that pumped your blood a little faster than usual. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry your pretty little head."

You do exactly that.

You don't even know why you're so worried. He's sick, not dying. Not to mention, you aren't even his girlfriend let alone his friend to care so much. 

Your intrusive thoughts don't waste any time. You latch onto the one thought that takes over. He's probably dead. Lying in his bed in a heap of pillows, passing peacefully while his parents are in the other room. He's dead.

Okay, he's not dead. You intrusive thoughts sure do one hell of a job. He'll be fine, and in no time he'll go back to being a reckless distraction in your life that you need to surpass. Just another obstacle to add onto the list of things life has thrown at you.

But for an obstacle, he sure is kind of cute.

You refrain from bashing your head on the desk. School isn't really a preferred environment on your list of top ten places to shrivel up and die.

Speaking of death and all that is evil, why is Childe always on your mind? He takes up every nook and cranny of your day, constantly, and truth be told it's starting to boil your piss.

Every time you close your eyes you see his smug smile, and hear his stupid laugh. He's an annoying little prick who gets a rise out of exasperating you. Yet here you are, terrified by the warmth that blossoms in your heart when you so much as hear his name.

The final bell rings at long last, conveniently before you bite your tongue to avoid screaming, and not another second is wasted once you launch yourself out the door. You dodge through the crowd of students in the hall that are buzzing in excitement from it being a Friday afternoon, and you would be too if you weren't so damn hung up over a ginger with a battlekink.

Locker in view, you make a beeline and spend the next two minutes fumbling with the lock in your hands.

"Woah there cutie," Lisa speaks up playfully. "At this rate you'll break the poor lock with your bare hands."

For a moment you're surprised at her sudden appearance, but then remember that it's normal for her to worm her way anywhere.

"It's just—this lock is being dumb okay? It has no reason being a pain in my ass but it wakes up every day and chooses violence." You hiss through your teeth, a sharp metallic ring invading your ears when you lose it and jostle the combination lock against the door of your locker.

Lisa winces, but smiles teasingly nonetheless. "Want me to give it a try?"

"Please."

Lisa has the door open at record speed.

"I love you Lisa." You confess wholeheartedly, gripping at your chest. "I love you so much—"

"Yeah yeah," She waves you off with a grin. "Now hurry up and go save your boyfriend from the common flu. Archons knows he won't make the night."

You flush at the word "boyfriend" and don't give much thought to the insinuation that lies within the rest of her sentence.

Sliding your skateboard under an arm, you spin on your heel just to bump straight into Scaramouche, who's won the scowl of the century on his face. He's the last person you want to see right now, but apparently the universe wants to have a pissing match with you.

"Give this homework to that idiot Ginger." He shoves a stack of papers into you. "Tell him that once he's done circling the drain, I'm gonna kick his ass." He then leans in, murderous glint in his eyes. "And if you ever touch me again I'll take a shit in your cereal. That's not a threat, it's a promise."

You shiver at the thought of him squatting on your Cheerios, hands becoming clammy as you try and justify yourself. "It was an accident."

Your pitiful excuse earns you nothing from the navy haired boy. "It'll be an accident when I murder your entire family, three generations over."

"Hi Mona!" You wave excitedly over his shoulder at the body of students that are totally not Mona. With elation he fails to conceal, Scaramouche turns to look at the speed of light.

You take the chance to make your escape—not before waving to Lisa, chuckling to yourself. He's down bad.

With great expertise you file your way through the flock of students chattering near the entrance. , you confidently place your skateboard down on the sidewalk, ready to—

Wait—where does he live again?

You sigh heavily, ignoring the sadness as you thank the universe internally for pulling the reigns on your disastrous plan. Checking up on Childe at his house? With his family present? Making a complete fool out of yourself? What are you thinking? The possibilities are horrendous. He probably doesn't even think of you like that, he just likes a challenge and you pose as one.

You turn away to make a run for it in the direction of your home, all the while ignoring the nagging worry in your chest for Childe. He's probably fine anyways, you don't need to check up on him, and if you did he'd likely find a way to spin it and tease you relentlessly.

Although somehow, the thought of being teased by him isn't as dreadful as you'd like it to be.

Suddenly, an idea graces you, one that guarantees your misery by sating your obligation to check up on Childe. A litany of curses escape your mouth. Genius really, the amount of ways you can think of doing something that'll end in your demise.

"Adeptus Xiao." You whisper apprehensively, already regretting your decision. "Adeptus Xiao." Glancing around your surroundings, you barely notice the shadow that looms over you at your backside.

"What do you want mortal?" Unbeknownst to you, he strikes out of nowhere, making you jump back several meters. You manage to muffle a surprised shriek.

Xiao is Venti's -6 ft boyfriend, the vicious epitome of an eboy. He has a scaled tattoo covering up the majority of an arm, a few piercing holes in his ears, all matched up with a disinterested look. Somehow, he always appears out of nowhere if you call out his name. It's sort of disturbing in a way.

His amber eyes pierce through you, forcing a shudder of fear and dread to lace your blood, almost as if he can sense you shittalking him in your head.

With shaky hands, you ask, "Can you tell me where—"

"No."

"You didn't even hear me ou—"

"No."

"Please?"

He refuses to at least pretend to think about it for a moment.

"No."

"Why?" You frown, stomping your foot on the ground childishly.

"Because." He retorts with a lack of interest, but doesn't further explain his point. English teachers must love this kid.

"Okay," You say slowly, casually inspecting his form as you come up with an idea, briefly remembering Lumine mentioning it to you. "How about I give you my share on almond tofu Tuesday."

The lack of interest on his face wavers slightly. Bingo.

"What do you want mortal?" Xiao mutters gruffly, arms crossed, face morphing into subtle annoyance.

You wrack your brain for a proper answer. You can't just outright ask him or it'll seem like you have a thing for Childe, which you unfortunately do, but you'd like to keep a semblance of integrity. Ah yes, the homework!

"I gotta deliver these to Childe." You outstretch the pile of worksheets in your hands. "Except I don't know where he lives. Can you tell me?"

Xiao's eyes glint with danger. "Did you summon me for the trivial task of giving you an address?"

You nod furiously.

"Do humans have no shame?" Its rhetorical. Expressionlessly, he closes his eyes with intent focus, doing what you assume to be locating Childe's exact location.

He blinks an eye open, reaches a hand out. "Give me your phone." Palm waiting.

You hand it over to him almost desperately.

One glance at your bubbly phone case and he doesn't even try to hide his distaste. He taps a few times, then hands it back to you almost immediately.

On the screen is maps, and Childe's home is about a fifteen minute walk away.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," He mutters, leaning back against the school gate as the remainder of students walk past the two of you. "Locating demons that need subjugating is but a simple task."

There's a pregnant pause. Demon.

"Childe's a demon?" You gasp, even though you've always had your suspicions. Hence the reason you invest so much in demon-cancelling charms.

"What? No." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, and you note that his irritation grows the more questions you ask. "I had a physics project with him last semester."

That's why the charms don't work.

Your mouth forms an o, in fear that if you keep this conversation going on any longer, he'll snap at you. Especially when your next line of interrogation involves how he's able to appear and disappear into thin air.

It's a magic trick you'll want to master whenever Il Dottore has another conniption fit in the middle of the hallways after Kaeya tells him he looks like he has skid marks.

"Thank you." You say instead, trying to preserve his regard, but by the time you meet his gaze he's already gone with the wind.

—

Childe's home is surprisingly humble, considering the amount of fat stacks of cash he carries around in his fanny pack so care-freely. It's a normal suburban home from what you can tell, a little bigger than normal with a double garage, neatly mowed lawn and a few forgotten decorations from the windblume festival. A series of water guns lay forgotten near the entrance, making their presence known when you stumbled upon them.

It's hard to remain unphased. Especially since such a normal looking home has bred someone as ruthless as Childe.

Maybe it not the home, you think. Maybe it's the way he was raised. You recall a few glimpses of his mother in middle school, but because of your worse for wear memory retention, you can't ballpark her personality type.

As your thoughts wander further down to his parents and early childhood, villain origin story and what not, you're pulled out of your concentration when the door opens. The possible implications of being here are most definitely not in your favor.

Childe's mother is a stunning woman in her mid-forties who sure as hell doesn't show it in that jaw-dropping sapphire dress, topped off with a brilliant smile that makes your knees weak. Like mother like son, you suppose.

With her sudden appearance, strangely enough, you can remember how good her tiramisu bites are.

You take a moment to respond, swallowing thickly, only to stare at her stupidly.

His mother doesn't waste another second before ushering you in, oblivious to your star-struck expression. "Y/N? L/N Y/N? My have you grown. I remember when you were only this tall." She lifts her hand up a little above her waist, the jewels on her fingers dazzling with every movement. "How is your mother doing?"

"She's doing alright, busy with the clinic." You're able to find your words, smiling back at her, able to get somewhat familiar with her warmth. "I hope I'm not intruding. Childe forgot some homework." You say, heaving the short stack up.

"Ajax?" She laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe he's going by that now. I wonder when this phase will be over. He may act tough but he's such a softie, has the biggest heart."

You, in between concealed emotions and giggles that threaten to leak, try to hide the oncoming grin but it's impossible. "Well he's got you to thank for it."

"You flatter me too much Y/N," She fixes the up do, pinning back the blonde hair that deftly frame her familiar cerulean eyes. "I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Her words make you waver momentarily. The fondness you've refused to share, the drawn out stares in the halls, the lingering touches, you don't want to acknowledge it but it's there. Whatever it is.

"I'm so sorry for cutting this short dear," His mother sighs, grabbing her keys off the counter and placing her wallet in an elegant handbag. "My niece is getting married and we're already late. I told Ajax I'd stay if he didn't feel too well but he said he could handle a headache. That boy, I swear, always tries to power through."

You nod in understanding, but wait a minute. A headache?

Scrunching up your face, eyebrows furrowed, you ask. "Headache?"

She frowns, applying another layer of her rouge lipstick hastily in a nearby mirror. "I know dear, how unfortunate. The school nurse said it's a migraine, and I shouldn't fret much, but a mother can't help but worry. If only he weren't so stubborn, like his father."

As if on cue, a loud honk comes from outside.

"That must be him!" She exclaims, hurriedly sliding in her heels, turning back to look at your awkward figure. "Ajax is in his room, it's the second door to the right upstairs. I've made some lasagna for the kids, you ought to have some as well, I'll be upset if you don't—" Another annoying honk cuts her off, to which she scoffs, shaking a fist. "That old man, I'll strangle him in his sleep. I must be going now, goodbye dear." She reveals a twinkling smile at you one last time, waving a slim hand before picking up her heels and making a run for it.

The door closes with an unceremonious thud, gust of wind in its trail, leaving a bewildered high schooler in its wake.

Snapping out of your haze, overwhelming tides threaten to drown you whole. Being in Childe's home, alone, with him a handful of stair steps and a wall or two away, your cheeks are set ablaze.

Now that his mother's gone, you take a second to really look. There are a few toys littered in front of the TV, home covered in with soft throws and coordinated cushions, a lazy sectional plopped right in the middle. The marks on the furniture with all the stories, the light hued mismatched frames hanging on the walls and on all the table, so many pictures of those that resemble him, his brothers, his sisters, his family. You can almost hear the echoing laughter in the halls, the childish squeals and pitter patter of tiny feet slapping the hardwood floor.

This is where he grew up. This is where he retires to after a long day full of gratifying fistfights. This is where he was raised to be who he is today, ambitious and reckless, with the absurd dream to one day rule the world. This is his home.

It's...like being wrapped in blanket, safe and cozy, surrounded by all the love in the world.

Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the outlines of a younger Childe, two missing teeth and eyes full of dreams, hugging the side of his father's shoulder because his small arms can't wrap around them. Not just yet.

You make your way over to the staircase, which has even more frames littered across the wall, one that falls short of hiding the marks of a green crayon—another slice of domesticity you aren't quite accustomed to.

The reality sets in, and you come to a conclusion. This home is definitely not an environment for growing psychopaths, Childe just beats the odds like he beats up kids on the daily.

Your fist hovers over his door as you contemplate abandoning the sheets on a nearby table, but his mother was so sweet and polite, so incredibly hospitable, you wouldn't have the heart to make a run for it.

"I can see why he can't stop talking about you."

Three consecutive knocks. If he doesn't answer, you'll leave them at the door.

"Mama," Childe's muffled groans stem from the other side, and oh, you want to revel in the grave undertone of his voice because it's certainly not a common occurrence. "I told you I'm fine. You can go okay? I don't want you to be late, just need to sleep it off."

You blink, lips curling, and then knock again.

"Mama," He whines again, and it has you grinning mischievously. He's a mommy's boy, he has to be. The thought envelopes your heart with a newfound fondness. "Just come in and hurry."

You eagerly take in the room once you slip in, eyes scanning over every little detail, until they zero in on the heap of sheets smack dab on the single bed, a pair of feet dangling off the edge, topped with a comforter thrown over leisurely.

Childe's facing away from you, head dipped in between his shoulders, probably trying to find a position that's more comfortable. He's shivering, sweating at the same time. His mother must've been too preoccupied to notice. This isn't the first time he's used his exceptional bullshitting finesse.

"I can't believe you lied to your mother," You cross your arms, leaning back against the door.

With a jerk, Childe flings into a sitting up position, wide awake and aware of everything that is going on, a stark contrast from nearly seconds ago.

He blinks at you in shock, once, twice, rubs his eyes a bit, relaxes, then leans back, out of it completely. "For a sleep paralysis monster, you sure are kind of cute."

"For and idiot you sure are an idiot." You snort back.

"Wait a minute," He mutters slowly, jaw dropping. "You're actually here?!"

Ignoring his question, you opt to slap the papers on his desk to ignore your clammy palms. "Homework."

"And here I thought you came here all this way to be my personal nurse." He smirks, recovering from his momentary shock fairly swiftly. Doesn't refrain from giving you that shit stain of a bad boy grin, even with a flushed face and concavity under his eyes.

"I can be your personal mortician instead."

"I didn't know you were into role play babe, but I'll take what I can get." He winks, but is punished by a sequence of coughs that earn a wince from you.

"Headache?" You tease after he quiets down, but he remains as cavalier as always.

He sighs, sides of his lips still arched upwards. "My parents barely have any time to themselves, it's so hectic with the kids. What kind of son would I be if I couldn't even give them this?"

He must've threatened Barbara.

"You're," You inhale, briefly letting the silence hang between you two, mulling over what you wish to convey. sweet.

"Irresistible? Hot? Sexy?" He starts casual, arrogant smirk widening.

"Kind of not a complete asshole, is what I was going to say."

"Careful girlie," He narrows his eyes on you, playful lilt in his tone. The comforter is allowed to slip past his shoulders to reveal the goods that lie underneath, the complete naked chest of a post-puberty highschool boy who sprays too much axe. Full pectorals are something to pay for, stringed with smooth muscles that ripple their way over his toned shoulders. "If you keep teasing me like this, I can't promise I'll be the nice guy."

"One more time from the top," You bite back, avoiding staring at him for too long. "Without the congested nose this time."

With great expertise, he weakly throws a pillow at you, and you watch it exceptionally land at your feet, barely grazing the tips of your socks.

"Impressive," You whistle, not impressed.

He pouts, shivers, then is dunking his head back into the welcoming embrace of his plush collection of pillows.

With a sigh, you plop down on his chair, grab a pen and begin calculating derivatives.

"What're you doing?" He doesn't even turn your way, voice muffled.

"Homework," You reply nonchalantly, trying to calm your nerves. "unless you want me to get you something to eat, considering you puked out your gogurt on Barbara's shoes earlier. Congrats by the way, you're hit listed by her fan club."

"Why are you doing homework?" He groans, rolling off to the side and kicking off the blanket to expose himself in nothing but a pair of boxers. "I'm literally right here, naked and defenseless. Why aren't you taking advantage of me?"

He really has an IQ below room temperature.

Burying the formidable obligation to clock him in the face on behalf of society, you slowly get up to approach his bed, to which he grins widely in disbelief.

Apprehensively, you climb onto his bed, and he scoots over, excitement as clear as day. His hair's a wild mess from all the shifting, almost makes you want to card a hand through it. Your heart nestles it's way in your throat at the sight of his blazing blue eyes.

You pity him for what you're about to do.

"Relax Childe," You lean over him with confidence you never knew you had to begin with, face hovering inches before his. Your fists strategically grip the comforter on either side of him. "We have all day after all."

Although you attempt to pay no heed to his quivering hand that snakes up to find solace on your hip, you momentarily shiver at the tenderness.

He's eating this up and leaving no crumbs. Closing his eyes in anticipation, his lips tremble when he tries to close in the distance.

Abruptly, you cross both handfuls of sheets over his body, tying them securely in place to keep him docile. He struggles in your grip, eyes snapping open in surprise. "Wuh-What."

"Did you really think you had a chance?" You cross your arms, stepping back to get a good look at your handiwork.

"Honestly?" Childe huffs, struggles some in his restraints. "I wasn't really thinking."

"Typical," You scrunch your nose up, unscrunch, and then exhale. "You stay here and I'll go make you some soup. Well, not that you can really move but you get the idea."

"You're really going to leave me here like this?" He pouts cutely, melting you, and the sick bastard knows of his power.

"Relax," You wave a hand, "I may be evil but I'm not Scaramouche."

Meanwhile, Scaramouche sneezes as he tries to ask Mona out, falling straight on his ass from the kick back, making a complete fool out of himself. Mona doesn't mind though, finds it endearing.

Back at Childe's room, he raises a brow, expectant.

Going through the five stages of grief, you do something you've been wanting to do for a while, succumbing to the immense feeling.

Closing in the distance between you two, you suck in a breath and gently tilt Childe's head to the side. He blinks quickly, not quite expecting your sudden forwardness, about to say something that doesn't matter as soon as you place a tender peck on the side of his cheek.

Time stops, the world coming to a halt completely. A moment made in history, one you won't ever forget, fresh in both your minds from forward on.

And then you stagger away as if you've been stabbed.

"Soup!" You squeak, appalled by the sheer boldness of your actions. "I'll go make soup while you rest."

Childe, frozen, stares at you incredibly confused, and then beams.

Dear Archons, what have you done.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

i had fun with this one! enjoy :)

You hear the yelling and shouting before you’re even at the front step to the cabin. Looking down at Vice, you mutter, “Uh oh, boy, what are we walking into now?” Vice lets out a little bark and tilts his head, tongue lolling out of his mouth. You sigh and nod, “Agreed. Definitely something stupid. Well, come on then.” You jog up the front steps, holding loosely onto the leash so Vice trots behind you at his own pace.

The shouting gets louder when you open the front door and it’s clear that both Hopper and El are equally angry. Vice looks up at you with wide eyes and you hurriedly unclip his leash - he darts off, making a beeline for El’s bedroom. He’s probably going to hide under the bed and you’ll have to drag him out, dust bunnies and all, when the fight is over. Coward. Jim and El are standing two or three feet apart, faces red with anger, fists clenched at their sides, and voices so loud the windowpanes are rattling. Although the rattling windowpanes could be a result of El’s anger controlling her powers - either way, it’s loud. “Hey!” you call out a couple of times, trying to get their attention, but they’re both so absorbed in the shouting, they don’t notice you. You sigh and raise your hand to your mouth, letting loose a sharp, ear-piercing whistle. The shouting stops and both Hopper and El swivel their heads to face you. There’s matching looks of annoyance on their faces and it would almost make you laugh if you weren’t annoyed by the shouting. “What the hell’s going on here?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. You jut your chin in the direction of El’s room, “Poor Vice is hiding under the bed, you freaked him out so much!” El’s face softens, “Oh no! Poor Vice! I don’t want him freaked out.” “Cares more about freaking out the damn dog than her own dad,” Hopper scoffs under his breath, causing El to turn to him, glaring and opening her mouth to start yelling again. You hold up a hand - the universal sign for stop - and say, “Oh no, no more yelling. You two are going to - calmly - explain what’s going on here.” Hopper looks about ready to explode - his face is red, his forehead is creased in anger, and he keeps clenching his hands into and out of fists. El looks marginally more calm, but you know that sometimes her anger is deceptive, hidden beneath still waters. Sighing again, you cross your arms and nod towards El, “Go ahead,” you tell her, before they can start shouting over each other. As it is, Hopper sputters angrily, barely able to form sentences as he protests the indignity of being told to wait. You ignore him. “Dad is being unreasonable!” El says, tone verging on a whine. You shoot her a look and she pouts. “Unreasonable? Fine, if I’m unreasonable, then you’re grounded for two months and no TV for three!” Hopper interjects angrily. “How am I supposed to see my friends?!” El shrieks back, her eyes flashing angrily. Hopper scoffs, “You’re not! That’s the point!” They’re shouting at each other again and you wonder how you lost control so quickly. You’re still not sure what happened, but then your gaze lands on a crumpled magazine discarded on the floor by Hopper’s feet. You skirt behind him and kick it to the side a bit before bending down and picking it up. Recognition dawns on your face as you take note of the cover. Oh. Some of the pieces are falling into place now. The bright colours and lurid headlines of last month’s Cosmo shine up at you and you wince as Hopper’s shouting grows louder. Sex tips for mutual pleasure are advertised in bold red letters and while you make a mental note to flip back to that article, you can also understand why Hopper’s freaking out so badly. Still, the shouting and punishing is a little over the top. “Hey,” you say loudly, reaching out and grabbing Hopper’s forearm and distracting him, “go take Vice for a walk and cool off.” “What?” Hopper stops yelling and looks at you, confusion clear in the scrunch of his eyebrows. “No. I’m not - she’s in trouble and I’m not coolin’ off.” “Jim,” you say his name quietly, but firmly. “This is a conversation I can handle. Please go calm down before you say something you regret.” His forearm is tense under your hand and his jaw works silently - he clearly wants to continue arguing with both you and El, but you look into his eyes and raise an eyebrow, communicating silently. He frowns deeply, but huffs an angry sigh. “Fine. Don’t think you’re off the hook ‘cause Y/n took over,” he points at El. “Don’t care what she tells ya, you’re still grounded for two weeks.” El opens her mouth to protest, but your hand lands on her shoulder and you cut her off with a silent look. “Go on, poor dog’s terrified,” you tell Hopper and watch silently as he stomps into El’s room and retrieves Vice from under the bed. He emerges a minute later with the dust-covered spaniel tucked under his arm. “An hour okay?” he asks you tightly. You nod and he replies with a terse nod of his own before snatching Vice’s leash off the hook by the front door and stepping out onto the porch. He lets the door slam shut behind him and you wait a minute for his heavy footsteps to fade away before turning to El. “Okay,” you sigh, “lets get comfortable, hon.” “He is being mean!” El pouts, stamping her foot on the floor. You ignore her outburst and traipse into the kitchen, intent on finding a snack to make the conversation easier. El, seeing that you’re not going to play into her mini-tantrum, pouts further and follows you into the kitchen. “He’s concerned,” you say simply, setting a bag of chocolate chip cookies onto the counter. You drop the crumpled Cosmo to the table next and tap lightly on the cover with an index finger. “Because of this.” “The magazine?” El’s face crinkles up in an adorable display of confusion. “Mhm,” you nod, “see, the magazine is for adults, about, um, well it’s about adult things.” “Like good screaming?” El asks, biting casually into a cookie. Now it’s your turn to scrunch your face up in confusion. “Huh?” you ask, frowning at the teen. “Good screams?” “Yeah,” El says, leaning forward curiously. “I heard you and my dad and I asked Max and she said that sometimes bad screams and good screams sound the same and she gave me her mom’s magazine to explain it.” El’s words sink in and your face flushes a bright red. “Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, horrified. “I started to look, but dad saw and freaked out,” she continues, a dark look coming over her face when she mentions Hopper. “That was bad screaming.” “Oh,” you mutter weakly. This was so not the direction you thought the conversation was going to go. “Y/n, what’s good screaming?” El asks, biting into a second cookie. You scrub your hand over your face - a gesture picked up from Hopper - and sigh. “Um, so basically, when two adults, two consenting adults -“ El’s nose wrinkles at the unfamiliar word. “What’s consenting?” “It means you agree to do something,” you say quickly, grateful for a question you can actually answer. El nods and continues to look at you expectantly. Okay, sex talk. That’s a thing that’s happening today, clearly. ———— “That was worse than fighting in ‘Nam,” Jim grumbles as you get ready for bed later. After you had bumbled through a very awkward talk with El, Jim had come back home much calmer. Until you explained what had caused El to seek out the Cosmo in the first place. If it hadn’t been so horrifying and embarrassing, the look on Hopper’s face would’ve been hysterical. He’d only looked even more miserable after you had insisted that they both go back and talk to El again - including an apology from Hopper - just to make sure she understood what was happening. It had been miserable and awkward and you were sure that all three of you were going to have a difficult time looking the others in the eye for a while. And now you were getting ready for bed - only sleeping for a long time, or at least a long time while El was in the house - and Hopper was complaining. “You’re such an ass, Jim,” you shake your head and roll your eyes. “That was not worse than fighting in Vietnam.” “How you you know?” Jim retorts, shooting you a stink eye. “Were you there?” You roll your eyes at him and snark back, “Obviously not, I’m not ancient.” “Ooh,” Hopper narrows his eyes at you playfully, “you’re just askin’ for it, aren’t ya?” He gives you a wolfish grin and climbs on top of you, pinning you to the mattress with his bulk. You giggle and hook your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass. “C’mon, Hop,” you grin, “do I have to spell it out for you?” His eyes are dark and his grin is feral when he dips his head to suck a nearly painful hickey just above your breast. You toss you head back and gasp loudly. His beard scratches your skin and you know your skin is going to be red and chafed tomorrow. But then he sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, and you forget all about the possibility of sore skin. “Jim, oh my god,” you mumble breathlessly, grasping at his shoulders when one of his hands trails down your side and slides under your panties. His thumb presses against your clit and you let out a loud moan. Hopper jolts a little at the sound and suddenly looks around uncomfortably. His hand moves away and you lift your head, a little dizzy. “What? Where’d your hand go?” you mutter, blinking lazily. “Y’think the kid can hear us?” he asks quietly, looking concerned. “Oh,” you frown, “I, uh, hadn’t thought about - I guess she - because of the screams - yeah.” You fumble awkwardly for words, the entirety of the night’s earlier events slipping your mind. “Maybe we should...pause for a bit,” you suggest, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “Yeah,” Hopper agrees unenthusiastically. He runs his hand over his face and rolls back over to lay on his back. His erection tents his boxers and you glance down at him. Tilting your chin at him, you bite your lower lip and say, “Maybe you should hit the shower and take care of that?” “Yeah,” Hopper drawls, and then he gets a look in his eye, “she probably can’t hear us over the water running, right?” A slow smile spreads across your face when you realize what Hopper’s suggesting. “Absolutely not,” you reply, already hopping out of bed and pulling your shirt over your head. The fabric drops to the floor and you giggle when Hopper’s hands wrap around your waist. He presses a kiss against your shoulder blade. “Think we can stick to shower sex until she goes to college?” you ask breathlessly. “Gonna be a hell of a water bill,” Hopper deadpans. “But,” you counter, dragging him into the bathroom, “it’ll be worth it if we never have to hear about good screams and bad screams again.”

tag list: @0hour9am @joemhazzello @technicallykawaiisoul @loonimoonylooni @fangirlinginspace@pixiehex1985 @harleyh1989 @fingersock1 @bitch4bagels @pulplorrd @wearethebrokenones@crazyonesarethebest @thatisthemagic @thatprettymvthafvcka @daniphee @hufflepuff25@pwoperfangirl @laneygthememequeen @ayatimascd @kakyoin-cherryboy @justalittlebum@anxietysasshole @l0ve-0f-my-life @billyrussosbutt @onceuponathreetwoone @hartonsleeve-blog @ithisismyusernamebitch @daydreamerzk @coolgh0st @w0nder-marie @cainanelea @leia-saveourskins @happy-hopper @that-aesthetic-wannabe @winterxblogger @girlwiththenegantattoo@gellus-bitches @anmactireaonair @yipthegoddess @thesimsnextdoor @mybulletproofheart7 @aisling1985 @uglyshirts @groupies-do-it-better​

[wheeier]

trust me

summary: steve coming out to you as bisexual :)

warnings: fluff !! nervous steve, maybe emotional reader bc that would be me

i got teary-eyes writing this but yeah anyways

bisexual!steve harrington x fem!reader

steve had been thinking about it for three months now. at first he didn't believe it – thinking it's not real and he's just insane, because all he know is boys like girls, and girls like boys. poor boy doesn't even know that the word bisexual actually exists. but after robin came out to him as lesbian almost a year ago, maybe the feeling he has was right this entire time. he isn't crazy as he think he is.

steve decided to talk to robin about the situation, since she knows better about this than anyone else.

"i just don't know why you won't tell her," robin says as she puts phoebe cates' standee in place, scrunching her face at her friend, who was visibly stressed out about the current situation. "(y/n) obviously loves you and will accept you no matter what. hell, she's like, head over heels for you. anyone can tell if they see you two together." she finishes as she walks near the boy.

steve lets out a huff, "i know she loves me, i do too. but i'm still scared." he says quietly, thinking anyone would hear, although they were about to close the store and no one was around except them two.

"that's fine. you know, i was so afraid to tell you about me, too. but you've gained my trust, dingus. and you're stuck with me for life." robin pats his shoulder as a way of her saying that his feeling is totally valid and also a way of her saying thank you.

trust. it's a big word for steve. he had trusted so many people in his life, but most of them betrayed and hurt him. he already lost the person he once truly loved and trust, nancy wheeler. it hurt him so much, like someone took his glass heart and dropped it, stomped on it, destroyed it in a thousand pieces.

he doesn't know if he can handle it if he loses you too.

"i'm just- what if she gets upset? what if she runs away?" steve turned his head to robin with a terrified face. "then it's her loss. you're an amazing person, steve. although you're a dumbass most of the time." steve lightly punched her shoulder, making her laugh.

"in all seriousness, just tell (y/n) what you feel when you're ready. i'm sure she won't do anything that would hurt you. i'm telling you she loves you more than anything you could ever think of."

—

a week after that conversation with robin, he was finally sure about what he is and what he likes.

the phone ringing from the living room caught your attention right after you put the pancakes on the plate. "it's just 7 in the morning, who the hell calls this early?" you muttered to yourself.

he immediately felt bad when he heard your frustrated 'hello' on the other line. "babe, hey. good morning, i'm sorry if i interrupted you or anything." you smiled upon hearing his voice. "hey, it's fine, don't worry about it. what made you call this early?" you asked as you sat on the floor. "i..i need to tell you something, but not here on the phone. i wanna tell it in person." you could tell that his voice was mixed with seriousness and anxiousness, which made you assume the worst.

"oh, okay. um.. are you gonna come here? i just made pancakes, i know you love those." you suggested, glancing back at the table as the smell of the pancake filled the house.

steve agreed and told you he would be there in a few minutes so you prepared breakfast for him and prepared some orange juice.

as expected, steve came ringing the doorbell and you fixed your hair a bit before opening the door. you half-expected him to look smiley and happy, but it was different. you stepped aside to let him in and shut the door.

"what is it that you wanted to tell me?" you said calmly, almost comforting that made steve melt. you brushed a strand of his hair away from his face and rest your hand on his cheek. "can we..sit?" he mutters quietly and you nodded.

you intertwined your fingers with his and dragged him to the kitchen where his favorite breakfast lays. he sat beside you, not saying any words. his heart was beating so fast and he's sure that you can practically hear it.

"everything okay?" you asked after putting the pancakes on your plate. you were starting to get nervous, thinking it's really that serious. "how..where do i even begin with this.. uh.." steve started mumbling to himself, you placed your hand on his forearm, letting him know that he can trust you.

steve let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. "you know you can tell me anything, right? whatever that is, you can trust me." he stared into your eyes, searching for any hint of lie – but there weren't any.

he slightly nodded before looking around but you. "i like you, i mean, of course i do, you're my girlfriend. jesus, uh.. you know i love you, right?"

"yeah," your voice was quiet, unable to speak clearly because of the loud beating of your heart, but at least he admitted that he actually loves you. "yeah. of course."

steve took a deep breath, having the courage to look at your eyes. "before i say it, if you get mad i totally get it, but i hope you won't be. i just, don't wanna lose y-"

"steve?"

"-yeah?"

"just get to the point, please. i promise i won't be mad." you gave him a reassuring smile, and he returened you one.

"promise?"

"promise."

there was a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "..i like girls. and.." he started, and you made a confused face. "and..i'm pretty sure i'm attracted to..guys, too." his voice trails off but you were able to catch it. he started to panic when you didn't say anything.

he looks down on his palm, picking his nails like he used to when he's anxious. "robin said it's called bisexual, at first i didn't know what it means but now i'm sure that i am that. and i've been thinking about that in the last three months but i didn't know how to tell you, because.. i was scared that you will leave me," his voice almost broke and when he had the courage, he looked back into your eyes. "but just know that i love you so much and if you don't love me anym–" he was interrupted with your hug, slowly letting out a sob which made him worry.

"(y/n)?" he was relieved when you looked up with a smile, sniffing as you let go of him. "sorry, this should be your moment, i just got carried away." you slightly laughed as you wiped your tears. he didn't say anything, he just looked at you, waiting for an answer.

"steve harrington, what made you think that i would ever leave you?" you held his hands with yours, drawing circles using your thumb to help him relax.

"you're not-"

"mad? no, of course not." you shook your head in disagreement. "why would i be mad at you? in fact, i am so so proud of you," you rest your hands on either side of his cheeks, his eyes still wide. "i know it's hard for you to do this but you did it, you're brave, and.. that's one of the things why i love you too." the tears went back to your eyes, "and i am glad that you did this, it means so much to me because i know that you trust me."

you sniffed, then let out a shaky breath. "i have no reason to be mad at you, steve. there's literally no reason. nothing will change. i'm still (y/n), your girlfriend and you're still steve, the love of my life and the one i would marry someday." steve smiled at your words and was about to make a joke about it, but stopped himself because he doesn't wanna ruin the moment.

"you became true to yourself and accepted it. there's nothing wrong with that." at this point you didn't care about the tears in your eyes, because he was crying too.

when he didn't say anything you just wiped his warm tears and pulled him for a hug, which he returned this time. "i love you so much, steve. more than anything you could ever think of."

his mind recalls the time when he talked to robin — when she said the same exact thing, and she was right.

"me too. i love you."

you were the first one to pull away from the hug that seemed like hours. "hey, stop crying now because i'll cry even more. i'm an emotional mess, remember?" you both laughed at your comment as he wiped your tear-stained cheek. you were glad to hear his laugh again, that laugh that you always admired. "okay." he chuckles as he nods, wiping his own tears too.

he turned to the table, ready to eat the now-cold pancakes you made. you remembered he even said that it doesn't taste the same if it wasn't you who cooked it.

once you both finished eating breakfast and cleaned the table, you headed back to the living room, prepared the movie ferris bueller's day off and he sits beside you, lower than usual so that your chin reaches the top of his head. you notice him look up at you, so you tilted your head down to see. "what?" you grin.

steve quirked an eyebrow, remembering your words from earlier. "so you're gonna marry me someday, huh?" he teased, but he knows you were serious. "no, actually. that was just for show." you rolled your eyes jokingly while a smile was visibly showing on your lips. "of course, dummy. there's no other person in the world that i would want to marry but you." when he smiled, you planted a kiss on his forehead before continuing to watch the movie.

you wrap your arm around his shoulder as you brush his hair with your other hand and not even an hour yet, he was already sound asleep in your arms.

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Walsh

Final Part, PART THREE

Also, sorry this is so long. I just wanted to post the whole thing this weekend. So enjoy babes!

Warning: smut, violence, gore, breaking and entering, sarcasm. So much swearing. Mentions of Shane c*ck.

A/N: funny story, I've hated Shane since the Walking Dead aired originally because I thought he was cocky and I was like fourteen. Well, now I'm a 22yr old adult and GOOODDDAMMMN it, Jon Bernthal is a great, wonderful actor and so, so easy on the eyes.

@thewhitewolfownsme thanks for getting me hooked ;)

Kennedie gets up to look out the window, not one for hospitals, when she sees Walsh heading to his cruiser. She almost knocks, but she didn’t want to make it seem like she actually liked him.

“Where’s Walsh going?” She asks, looking to Rick. He shakes his head and scowls, he didn’t know either. Rick joins her, watching out the window as the horror unfolds before their eyes. A small, petite nurse jogs up to the car and he greets her with a hug and a kiss. He hands off something small, she can’t quite see it, but she can deduce by the way the woman wagged them at him and the way he smiled exactly what they were. Shane looks around to see if anyone saw them before he heads back inside.

“Rick, I don’t want him in here.” She whispers, tears falling down her face.

“I don’t blame you.” He assures, patting her shoulder she sits down. Rick heads out the door to meet Shane before he can get in the door. “You’re a liar too?” He growls as he pushes Shane back down the hallway.

“What?” He asks, his body getting chills.

“Go outside.” Rick orders, jabbing a finger at the door. Shane tries to go back to Kennedie’s room but Rick just grabs his collar and drags him out.

“Rick, what’s goin’ on?” He stammers.

“Tell me you didn’t respond right away because you were eating your lunch.” He seethes.

“I told you, when I was eating the keys fell between the seat.”

“It had nothing to do with little miss muffet and her little lace panties?” He asks, pointing to the cruiser. Shane’s eyes blast wide, nothing but whites as he takes a step back.

“Rick, I can explain-”

“Well you better, because you’ve got Kennedie up there so mad she’s crying.” He jabs a finger up to the window with the half-open curtain.

“Shit!” He shouts, slamming his fist into the hood. “Rick! I messed up once!” He cries, fists quaking at his sides. He paces back and forth in front of the cruiser until it’s black outside.

“Shane, go home.” Rick calls as he walks down the lot to their car.

“I can’t, Rick.” He huffs, sitting on the hood.

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Rick shoots into the night.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna see her. When I got there, she was laying in a pool of her own blood, Rick. I’ve seen dead bodies and I’ve seen a lot of blood, but that made me sick. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t help her. I--I fucked up.” He cries, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, you fucked up, Shane. Unfortunately, I can’t fix this fuck up. She hates you.” He breathes a shaky breath out watching Rick leave. As the lights leave the street, Shane heads inside and slips into her room just to see her, to make her real.

“Pussy. Pussy. Pussy. The only thing that lives in Shane Walsh’s mind. Even when someone is breaking into his best friend’s house, pussy. That must be the way to live, huh? Why don’t you worship me like that? Huh? The way you worship the pussy? I wasn’t even worth a ‘sorry I gotta go’.” She throws her stress ball at him, hitting him upside the head.

“Kennie, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, comes out smooth to me. Didn’t come out at all to nurse Panties.” She hisses, rolling away from him.

“So we’re back to this? The insults and anger?” He asks. She jerks into a sitting position and looks at him with a wild look in her eyes.

“Yes Walsh! We’re back to square one because I trusted you! And you were too busy getting laid in a hospital parking lot to respond to a burglary at Rick’s! So yes! We’re back to the beginning! I trusted you because you said you really weren’t that bad and here we are in a hospital because you couldn’t keep that precious Shane cock to yourself. You gotta share that shit with everybody!” She screams, Shane just stands there and takes it. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to leave.

“Listen, I’m sorr-”

“I don’t want to hear another fake apology come from those stupid lips! Get out Walsh!” She cries, tears pouring down her face.

“Kennedie please don’t make me go.” He whispers, his bottom lip quaking.

“I don’t want you here! Hell, maybe I’ll get lucky and you and nurse panties’ll be fucking on the empty bed there! Wouldn’t that be a goddamn sight!” She roars, kicking her feet.

“Kennedie, I-”

“Quit saying sorry, Walsh. Get out.”

“Please don’t make me-”

“Like you made me trust you and fall in love with you to find out you’re still the same womanizing dickbag you’ve always been? No. You made me. So get out. I swear to god I’ll call security.” She threatens, grabbing her call button.

“Fall in love with me?” He asks, breath hitching in his throat again, that familiar burning sensation in his throat.

“Does it matter now?” She asks, rising to her feet and walking passed him to open the door. “Leave please.” He faces her and sits in the chair.

“I can’t leave.”

“You can and you will.” She grabs her phone and calls Rick. “Please just make him leave. I-I need him gone. I don’t want to call security and make a scene, but dammit he won’t leave. She sits on the edge of her bed crying, sobbing uncontrollably. How dare he make her fall in love with his stupid smile, and those stupid pools of dark chocolate, and that stupid fluffy hair. He stands in the corner by the door, unable to get any closer, but he just looms, watching her cry.

“Shane?” Rick coos, heading into the room. He finds the large man standing in the corner, a terrified look on his face. “C’mon buddy. We gotta go.” He grabs the other man’s elbow and pulls him towards the door. Digging in his heels, Rick hears a small whisper.

“Please don’t. When I leave, all I see her laying in that pool of blood, Rick. I can’t.” He cries, trying to go back.

“Shane, she doesn’t want you in there so you gotta go. You gotta leave.” He pulls Shane from the room. Her strangled sobs mangle his emotions and he steps into the hallway to breathe. Rick’s hand finds his shoulder. “Shane, it’s okay.”

“It’s all my fault. I went by at eight every day but today. Every other day. I checked four times a day just to be sure.” He begs, trying to make it make sense.

“Shane, they got the guys okay?”

“They did?”

“Yeah.”

“Rick. I’m in love with her, Rick. I’ve been in love this whole time. I was excited about cold pizza and movie night. I made breakfast. I took Carl to school. I was nice.” He stammers, listing off everything he did right.

“I know, Shane. But she’s mad at you right now, okay?” Rick tries to reason with this grown man the way he’d reason with his five year old son.

“Kennie?” Lori’s soft voice breaks through her sobbing. She looks up, swiping away the tears and sniffling. “Shane is pretty beat up over you.” She smiles gently, a hand on her best friend’s knee.

“I bet. So am I.” She cries, letting Lori hug her tightly.

“He fucked up, he knows that.” Lori tries to reason with her, but when she realizes what she’s trying to do, she sits up and frowns.

“No no. Don’t you dare try to stand up for him. He did this to himself. And unlike everyone this man child has ever met, I’m not giving into him that easy. He made his bed, let him lay in it a while.” She retorts, rolling her eyes.

“Listen, I know you’re mad at him. I get it, but Shane isn’t good when he’s mad like this. He starts to drink and make bad choices.”

“And who’s fault is that? Mine? I should just cast aside my anger because Shane might get drunk and pass out? He’s a grown man, Lori! He’s not your child!” She shouts, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know that. I’m just asking you to --”

“To forgive him for getting pussy instead of answering a call to your house, where your son was, and where I was shot. I’m sorry Lori, I don’t know what kind of hold the Shane dick has on you too, but I’m forgiving him yet.” Lori’s hand smacks across Kennedie’s face before she can stop herself.

“I would never-”

“Oh shut it! I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, like he’s a fresh piece of steak. I see it. You two probably had some fling before you and Rick got married and now the Shane dick has the almighty power over you.” Kennedie rolls her eyes as Lori stands and stomps out. Kennedie just laughs. Lori would ruin twenty years of friendship over her husband’s best friend’s dick.

“Rick. Let’s go. Shane, get up and leave. You’re being a child.” She hisses, grabbing Rick’s arm and storming for the door.

“What happened?” He asks, looking to Lori with confused eyes.

“I slept with Shane ten years ago, before you ever thought about dating me. Okay? Please don’t be mad. Anyway, I was trying to talk to Kennie about forgiving him but she won’t.” She huffs, getting it all out in one breath.

“Because Shane was fucking a woman in the backseat of the cruiser when he should’ve been responding to a burglary at your house where your son was. Your best friend was shot. And you think she should just forgive him? He fucked up, Lori. He messed up. I know you like to see the best in everyone, but Shane really needs to reevaluate, hunny.” He offers, explaining to her. “And I’m not mad, it was ten years ago.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She heads back into the room and looks to see Kennedie getting up and dressed. “I’m sorry.” Lori calls from the door.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean what I said to you, but I’m not forgiving Walsh. So if that’s what you’re here for, I don’t have anything to say.” She pulls on her jeans and Walsh’s tee shirt that she’d stolen at a party long ago.

“I know. You don’t have to forgive him, but please forgive me.” She asks, sitting next to her and hugging her.

“I could never stay mad at you.” Kennedie chuckles, hugging back. “The doc let me go, so. I guess I’m outta here.” She pats her knees as she rises and heads out the door.

“Let me drive you home.” Shane begs, grabbing at her hand.

“Let you drive me anywhere? No. Fuck you. I actually never wanna see you again. So.” She shoves him away and walks out the door.

“You can ride home with us. Your car is still in the driveway.” Lori calls as Shane gets into the cruiser. He follows them to Rick’s. Rick gets out and gives Shane a confused look.

“Walsh, go home.” She bites, throwing a fist at him. “Oh my god, Lori. I gotta clean the blood off the floor.” She calls, jogging inside.

“No no, we had cleaners come in hunny.” Lori chuckles, hugging her tight before they go in the house. It was spotless, like nothing happened.

“Wow.” She whispers, taking in the memories of the weekend.

“Tell me something though. Were you and Walsh really hanging out and like, not hating each other?” Rick asks as she grabs her bag.

“Yeah, kinda. He was almost nice.”

“Aunt Kennie says uncle Shane is a woman fighter.” Carl states from the edge of the hallway. Walking tiredly to Lori, he gets up on the counter. “Uncle Shane came and made breakfast one morning. He even spanked aunt Kennie, but she spanked him back. Then they both had white on their butts.” Carl gives a sleepy little smile. “Uncle Shane came back for pizza and they laid on the couch like you do with daddy.” He points to Rick and she feels her cheeks flame.

“I thought you were sleeping you little stinker.” She laughs, tickling him as he erupts into giggles.

“Did you know all my other friends have aunts and uncles who are married. How come you and uncle Shane aren’t married?” He asks, yawning and curling against Lori. She looks ove her son expectantly with a smirk.

“It just wasn’t meant to be little dude.” She smiles sadly, patting his shoulder.

A month goes by without so much as a sound from Walsh. As she’s walking to his apartment, she hears a thump and opens the door to find Shane laying on the floor.

“Wow, look what the cat dragged in.” He gives a drunken whisper as he tries to stand up.

“Yeah, lookie there.” She coos, smiling sadly at him.

“You-look--” He covers his mouth a moment before he sucks in a breath and vomits on the hardwood floor.

“Not as good as you.” She laughs, pulling him up off the floor and getting him into a shower. Tugging off his black tee shirt and his jeans, taking a deep breath before pushing him under the water. “C’mon Walsh, stand up.” She coos, trying to help him. Finishing his shower, she gets him walked to his bed and laid down, tugging off his sopping wet underwear and putting on basketball shorts. He’s snoring soundly when she steps out of the room. Her eyes land on the pizza boxes and beer cans like a frat party had been tossed there in his living room.

“Christ, Walsh.” She whispers, folding up all the boxes and stuffing them into a bag, shoving all the bottles and cans into another. Tidying up the couch, she even vacuums the floor for him. Hearing a groan, she looks up to see Shane standing in the doorway, staring at her with the most bewildered expression.

“Ken?” He asks taking a step into the living room to find it clean. “Kennedie, what are you doing here?” He asks, stepping a little closer.

“You called me and told me you had the perfect idea for Carl’s birthday. And when I got here, you were on the floor drunk. I showered you, not fun.” She snorts, scrubbing the couple of dishes in the sink.

“Did you put these shorts on me?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Yes.” She nods, heading for the door. She turns on one foot daintily and gives him a smirk. Eyes dropping to his crotch and back up, “and I really don’t understand the hype. It’s not that big.” He just laughs, leaning against the hallway wall.

“Bah, you’ll sing a different tune someday.” He crows, wagging a finger at her.

“Shut up, Walsh.” She chuckles, grabbing the handle and heading outside.

“Hey, slow up a minute.” He coos, heading towards her. Cornering her against the door, he leans in, his breath warm against her face.

“Walsh, what are you doing?” She asks, looking up at him through her lashes, her cheeks flushing red.

“Ssh ssh ssh.” He hushes, putting a thick finger against her lips. Instinctively her tongue swipes against her lips and his finger.

“Shane.” She whispers, careful where she put her hands. Planting them on his chest was the wrong move. He leans his weight against her now, her hands pressed into his chest.

“Sweet girl, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world. I love you.” He whispers, getting so close to her lips his ghost across hers.

“Walsh, I need you to take a step back.” She whispers, pushing him gently away.

“Why? Can’t you see that I’m in love with you?” He asks, looking to her with glossy, dark brown orbs.

“Because you are still drunk and tomorrow you’ll have that cock slamming into some other whore, so I’m sorry Walsh, but your drunk ass is not kissing me.” She steps out and shuts the door. Leaning against the cool wood door to breathe, she hears a thump behind her.

“I love you sober.” He whispers, sending chills down her back.

Carl’s birthday party was at one, and she was there at eleven with the cake. When she got there, Shane’s Jeep was parked in her spot. Typical Walsh.

“Walsh! Your Jeep is in my spot!” She shouts, seeing Shane’s curly top poke above the sofa. He jumps to his feet and her breath hitches in her throat. His sheer size and chest width made her heart patter, but the button up half buttoned and the denim clad thighs. The silver necklace around his neck placed perfectly against his chest.

“What’s the matter?” Shane asks, looking at her and winking.

“N-nothing. Walsh, can you help me?” She points over her shoulder toward the door. His smirk is sexy and sweet, her eyes drinking him in as he saunters out the door. “The uh, the cake-here.” She slips between him and the door of her honda pulls it out. Carefully handing it off to him as her arms start to shake.

“This all you needed?” He asks, eyes drifting to her as he tries to hide a smile. His eyes drink her in; that yellow floral sundress riding high on her thighs, the sandals on her feet, her curls falling over her shoulder.

“Yeah, of course it is. Thank you. At least you’re good for something.” She chides.

“Better be careful, lady! I’ll drop this cake!” He threatens, calculating a wobble in his step.

“Walsh, if you drop that I promise you I will drop you.” She giggles, pulling open the door.

“Ooh, do it baby. I wanna see you try.” He chuckles, daring her to do it. Sitting the cake on the counter, she heads out to her car to get Carl’s gift. Shane follows her out this time, his hand slips down and grabs her ass, gripping tight.

“Shane!” She jumps, holding her breath.

“What baby? You don’t like that? Sh, I know you do. I love you. And I meant that shit. I can’t explain to you how it felt to kneel in your blood and hold you, not knowing what to do.” He whispers, shivering at the trauma.

“Shane Walsh. Stop it.” He leans her into her car and presses his lips firmly, sweetly, promisingly against hers.

“Just say it. You were right.”

“Aw thank you Walsh, I knew I was right.” He pushes her into Rick and Lori’s garage, pulling the door shut behind them. He drives her against the wall, lips soft and sensual against hers as he holds her against him.

“I saw how you were looking at me earlier. You wanted me.” He huffs into her ear as he lets her hands drift across the bare part of his chest.

“Yeah. No shit. I think you're hot.” She stammers, yanking at Shane’s shirt.

“That’s a first.” He coos, wriggling his knee between her legs. “I think you’re hot. Sometimes when I bang other women, I think of you.” She’s taken aback for a moment before she just laughs.

“Shane, shut up.” She grinds through her teeth as she hooks her arms around his neck and tugs his lips to her neck. His lips go to work and her hands massage his bare shoulders. Shane gets them into a spot between the shelves and totes where they couldn’t be seen and he lets her scoop up her skirt and he grabs her panties. When he pulls them down he chuckles, the same black panties he’d teased her about.

“Goddamn you are beautiful.” He hushes as he leaves open-mouthed kisses across her exposed collarbone and up her neck. He stops on her lips, pressing a hot, delicious kiss there.

“Shane. Will you please do your job and fuck me?” She nips through shivers as he takes his time. Her fingers fumble with the belt and she undoes his jeans in record time. Sliding into her, he takes his time to get comfortable firsrt, before his thrusts are fast and hard, a hand covering her mouth because currently there were about twelve little kids inside screaming. “Shane. Shane please.” She whines softly, gripping his hair as he drives up into her, legs quaking as she reaches her orgasm, she grips his ebony locks so tight his scalp starts to tingle, but he likes it. Ramming into her as she clenches and spasms around him, making his heart slam hard into his chest before he sinks into her once more, spilling his hot seed in her. Slipping out with a soft groan, he tucks himself away and tugs . his shirt back on, buttoning it up like before. Half open shirt, necklace hanging around his neck and his heart still pounding, he looks to her to find her still leaned against the wall, eyes closed and breathing heavily. Leaning forward, he grabs her waist and pulls her against him. Gingerly pulling up her panties, he pulls a dark blue hankerchief from his pocket and wipes his seed from the inside of her legs before pulling her panties on the rest of the way. Her arms around his neck, he stuffs the kerchief back in his pocket and starts to hum, swaying with her.

“I do love you.” He coos in her ear, his wide hands splaying to cover almost her whole lower back.

“I love you too, Walsh.” She giggles, softly sighing as she sifts her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Will you quit calling me Walsh? At some point, when we’re married, people will think it’s weird if you’re still calling me Walsh, and not Shane. Or hunny. Hunny works, or baby. But not Walsh.”

“Hey Shane? Get used to it. It’s hard to even call you Shane. I just wanna throw insults at you but it seems wrong now, cause like Walsh dick really is that good.” She laughs, letting him kiss her face; her cheeks, her nose, her lips, and her favorite, he places the gentlest kiss on her forehead and adjusts her dress before he checks his watch.

“It’s twelve-fifteen, baby.” He whispers, sending chills down her back.

“Goddamn it, Walsh. You truly gotta ruin everything.” She whines heading back into the the house through the back door that leads into the kitchen. Lori’s eyes meet hers with a knowing grin as she hands Kennedie some plates and a basket of silverware. Screeching kids come flying into the kitchen in party hats and swimming trunks all kinds of different colors.

“Carl! Not the kitchen!” Lori yells as she grabs a bowl of pasta salad.

“Sorry mom!” He shouts, racing into the living room. Shane’s hand grips her ass as she walks passed the grill with her hands full and she gasps, eyes burning into him as he grins and he and Rick laugh.

“Those two are trouble.” She huffs to Lori as she sees her best friend chuckle with the men. “You too?” She asks incredilously, staring at Lori as though she’d been betrayed.

“Hey Lori! I’m just dropping off Gavin!” A sweet, high pitched voice calls. As she looks to see who it is, Shane stiffens and holds his breath. “Hi Shane.” She coos, giving him a sultry wave. He nods back and wraps his arms around her waist.

“Let it go. I love you.” He whispers into her ear as he holds tight to her, his lips pressing into her neck.

“Shut it, Walsh.” She nips, slipping from his grip and stepping into the house to breathe. He follows closely behind, stepping in with her and leaning her against the door.

“I love you, don’t you get that?” He coos, thumb smoothing her cheek.

“I just--it feels surreal, Shane.” She whispers, letting him pull her against his chest.

“Listen to me, baby. I love you. The minute you shot back at me with insults I was done for. It was infuriating, it was beautiful. And you packed me lunch like some kind of domestic, sweet little house wife, and don’t take offense to that, but I loved it. Every minute. I was the proudest man in King County to go to work with your pink lunch box in the passenger seat of the cruiser. I wanna marry you. I wanna marry you and--and--get old with you. I love you, you fiesty lil thing.” Tears fall down her face as she grips his face and kisses his lips warmly and happily.

“I love you, Shane. I love you so much.” She coos, hugging his neck.

[lilbabycee]

tidal // steve rogers 🌊

↳ summary: tony doesn’t trust his kid and steve has to play mediator, although those duties don’t come without a reward

↳ relationship: dad’s best friend!steve rogers x stark!reader

↳ request: steve defending his soft girl when she starts crying when someone yelled at her...maybe she thanks him by putting her mouth to good use @donutloverxo + what about dad’sbestfriend!steve x reader?...I need me some Steve please!! (anon)

↳ word count: 5.4k (this has no business being this long)

↳ warnings: angst, smut, dirty talk, slight degradation, some light fluff kinda

↳ author’s note: i do love a stark!reader so this was so much fun for me - enjoy my loves! x

The relationship that you have with your father is complicated. It reminds you acutely of the foamy sea that you used to tentatively wade in and simply stare at with a wide-eyed, childlike fascination when your parents took you to the Maldives or Seychelles or Ivory Coast, each summer a different place and a different tide. There’s a sense of predictability to it, a routine you have in a language that is understandable to nobody but the two of you. He pushes and you pull, coordinating your movements in a choreographed dance so as to safely row your canoe filled to the brim with trust and love through the rocky seas of life. 

He’s made a mark on you that will always be a permanent imprint on your soul much like the way that water stains the surface of the sand but it’s not as if you perceive that as something negative. You attribute the best parts of yourself to your mother and father and although their DNA isn’t housed inside your body, you’re more Tony’s child than he could have ever asked for. He hears so much of him in the tone of your voice and sees Pepper whenever you cross your arms over your chest and pin him with a look he knows too well - her influence is all over your mannerisms - and the both of them in the charming brightness of your smile when you let yourself laugh freely.

The moment he saw you, barely hours old and sleeping deeply - something that he found out that you would carry with you throughout your years - he’d thought you were cute (all babies are cute and the hundreds of other babies he’d seen in the past few weeks were also cute). But when you’d instinctively gripped Pepper’s finger tightly in your impossibly tiny fist and blinked awake sleepily, he’d fallen in love with your pretty eyes first, the way that you stared through him like you already knew him and it was then that he knew you were his as much as he was yours.

Of course, things weren’t- aren’t always as picture-perfect as they seem. He knows that there are days when you haunt his nightmares, dreams where he can’t protect you plaguing his conscience and causing him to crowd you with what he thinks is love. Rather, it’s an overbearing and often patronizing kind of attention that feels like a thousand sharp needles piercing through your skin. You’re very in touch with your emotions, a quality about you that Tony is sure that you must’ve learned from your mother, while he has the tendency to avoid sentimentality like it’s a disease and that’s where those arguments start, the ones that flare up and spread like forest fires.

In fact, you’re having one of them now. Tony knew how this was going to end before it even began but he can’t help but always engage because he’s as stubborn as he raised you to be. His jaw is set and his nostrils flaring as he stares at you - you’re his progeny, his baby, half of his heart who is standing in that way that reminds him of his wife with crystals in your eyes that make him wonder if you ever wear that diamond necklace he bought you last year.

“You never take me seriously,” you accuse, narrowing your eyes at him which causes a fat teardrop to spill over and run down your cheek. His eyes soften briefly at the sight of your emotional state before he looks away, the painful tugging at his heart trying to pull him towards you. He won’t give in to it: that’ll mean you win. “See - you can’t even look at me, Dad-”

“Sweetheart, I take you plenty seriously,” Tony gnaws on the end of the pen in his mouth, still sitting in front of the holograms of all of the data he’s been trying to process for the past few hours. His feet are propped up on the table, casually crossed at the ankles and shoulders completely relaxed, leaning back in his chair and balancing precariously one of the wheels, sitting in the exact same way that he always told you not to. He taps out a rhythmic beat against his leg with his fingers, eyes darting around the room as he pretends to be interested in everything but you. 

His entire posture radiates the feeling that he doesn’t give a shit about you or what you have to say and it makes your heart sink to your stomach despite the fact that you know this man. You know that he’s just putting on a front and he’s really listening because he was the one who drilled into your head that you always have something to say that’s worth listening to. Yet you cannot for the life of you accept that this man in front of you is acting so coldly when his own daughter is trying to tell him how she feels.

The scoff that comes out of your mouth is involuntary and Tony can’t fight the twitch of his lips because it sounds so much like him, but he only lets it linger for half a second, not allowing you to see how affected he is. Both him and Pepper were under the impression that once they had kids, Tony would finally take the steps towards being willing to share more of himself with the people around him. And he did, for a while. But once you hit those teenage years, he was forced to come to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t be his baby forever - you’d grow up and think your own thoughts and breathe your own air in an environment that he hasn’t polluted with his own ideals. 

His heart beat out of his chest every time he thought about it and he had to face the facts: he was scared. And so he went on the defensive, coddling you and trying to shield you from the harsh realities of the world that he had to face from such a young age. Unfortunately for the both of you, you didn’t appreciate being spoon-fed by your parents your whole life: you have a sense of maturity and independence that Tony is terrified of and it manifested itself in rebellion, a phase in your adolescence hat had almost gotten cost you your life in more situations than he cared to admit. 

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” you reply, your head feeling as if it’s under construction because the unbearably loud banging on the inside of your brain is driving you crazy because he’s deflecting and you know it. A river of tears slide their way down to your chin and you don’t even bother to wipe them. “And you keep making jokes like this isn’t serious-”

“I haven’t been making jokes,” Tony points out calmly, playing around with a bunch of numbers that don’t mean anything to you and distractedly manoeuvering some stupid data table that is somehow more interesting than his own child. 

As much as you try, you genuinely can’t help it when you stomp your foot, the loud noise breaking through Tony’s nonchalance and causing him to arch an eyebrow at you. 

“This isn’t some temper tantrum, Dad,” you tell him, the strength in your voice breaking down and causing it to crack. Your hands come up to clutch your head tightly in a futile attempt to bring yourself back to Earth, tired of the way that your emotions throw your brain into orbit. Your feet are on the ground but it doesn’t feel like it, your rage burning your skin and setting a bonfire in the depths of your body. “You fight me on everything - first it was college then it was working for S.I then it was becoming an Avenger… you think I’m still some little kid-”

“Because you’ve proven time after time that you can’t fend for yourself,” Tony cocks his head as your eyes lock, daring you to challenge him on his statement because the two of you know how much validity it holds.

“That was one time!-”

Tony sighs, shaking his head in what you assume is disappointment and while in any other scenario your heart would’ve sunk, this time it stays where it’s been for the past ten minutes, perishing in the flames licking the sides of your stomach. He gathers some of his papers and tucks the pen in his mouth behind his ear before he starts to make his way to the door, leaving you to stare at his back as his hand drops on the handle and he addresses you again. “One time that you could’ve gotten killed, Y/N, so we’re not doing this today-”

“You know what, Tony?” 

You’ve never called him that before - not even when you’re in large crowds and everyone seems to be yelling Dad! - and you know it’s vindictive and a step too far but it’s exhausting being treated like a helpless child. This has the desired effect, freezing him in his tracks and as he turns on his heel, you know that you may have crossed a line but you can’t bring yourself to care because your fury has consumed your whole body and the heat is boiling the blood running through your veins.

“What did you just call me?”

“Anthony,” you inform him matter-of-factly, hands on your hips while the hardness of his eyes halts your racing blood flow, the iciness freezing your bones while hot rage seeps out of every single one of his pores so palpably that you can almost see the steam spilling out of his ears. “You can fuck right off until you decide that I can be trusted enough to make decisions for myself and you know what else? You can-”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on in here?” 

You bite back your next words as soon as that rich timbre caresses your ears and the rigid posture of your body begins to slowly melt at the sound. You don’t even have to look behind you to know that it’s your dad’s best friend - ever the hero - coming to diffuse the ticking time bomb that is this argument between you and your father.

“This isn’t your battle to fight, Rogers,” Tony doesn’t peel his eyes off of you at all, not even sparing his friend a glance. 

And as much as you don’t like Tony at the moment, you can’t help but agree with him.

“Steve, he’s right,” you tear your eyes away from your dad, turning around so that you can glance over at the golden man whose presence alone has wrapped you in a comforting safety blanket that already makes you want to stand down. 

“No, neither of you are,” his blond hair is pushed back away from his face and you’re momentarily distracted by the hard lines of his jaw and the thick beard that covers them. He’s speaking in that same low voice that he uses to rally the Avengers when he’s clad in red, white, and blue, and you have to discreetly squeeze your thighs together at the sound. 

The rational part of your brain knows that this is not the time to be ogling your dad’s best friend but you can’t help the way that your heart starts beating double time when he enters a room and how his warm gaze sets your entire body alight, not unlike the way that your unbridled anger is making you feel right now; the only difference is that Steve triggers a deep desire for something unknown tucked away so secretly that it only awakened when you met him.

But you know he’d never do that to Tony - shit, you don’t know if he’s still holding a candle for a love once lost all those years ago and frankly, you don’t want to risk embarrassing yourself by feeling the poison sting of rejection dealt from the sickeningly sweet lips of America’s apple pie. The lethal mix of sugar and malice would only rot your heart and you don’t know that you could survive the decay.

“In fact, both of you are acting like children,” he booms, his hands landing on his hips while he shakes his head disbelievingly at your familial dispute. Steve opens his mouth as if he’s about to continue, but Tony simply holds a hand up and it almost immediately shushes the supersoldier.

“No need, Capiscle,” Tony cocks his head to the side almost mockingly, his eyes still glued resolutely on your wet face. “I just wanna say this: if you are going to be so ungrateful of everything that your mother and I have sacrificed for you, then you can get the fuck out of my house. You have no idea what we’ve had to go through just so that you can live a safe, healthy lifestyle in which you don’t have to want for anything. The fact that you have the audacity to speak to me like that is a testament to how much we’ve failed as parents because you are the fruit of all of our labor: a spoiled little brat with no conception of the real world because everything revolves around you, doesn’t it princess?”

He spits the endearment out and you can only assume that it is because it has left as bitter a taste in his mouth as it has yours. Throughout his heated rant, your hands started shaking and at first, you couldn’t figure out why but you soon realized that it’s because Tony’s never yelled at you like that before. He barely even raises his voice at you because he’s never wanted to be anything like Howard but today, it seems as if he could no longer contain all of the pent up frustration that he’s had with you that has been building for years. 

And because of this, you’ve been rendered speechless with no visible emotion on your face save from the seemingly endless stream of tears that spill from your glassy eyes. You don’t know what hurts more: his words or the fact that he’s still staring at you like a stranger.

“Tony, that’s enough,” Steve intervenes when the silence between the three of you stretches on for what feels like an eternity. He positions his body so that he’s blocking you from your father’s cold stare. “I’m not gonna let you talk to her like that-”

“Oh, come on, Cap,” Tony scoffs and you don’t have to be able to see him to know that he’s folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t even know what-”

“And I don’t need to know,” the broad man in front of you interrupts him loudly and you can do nothing but watch the altercation happen because even if you tried, you can’t pick your feet up off the floor. “Whatever she’s done or said to you doesn’t warrant you speaking to her like that. You’ve fought her at every corner, what do you expect? For her to just lie down and take it? She’s your daughter: you should know as well as I do that she’s as hard-headed as you. You need to take a step back and stop being a backseat driver - she’s an adult now and can make her own choices, Tony.”

And with that, Steve circles an arm around you and lifts you up into his arms, his waist trapped between your legs and your arms gripping his neck. A moment passes when Steve breezes past Tony where your gazes meet and the usual sweetness of his hazelnut eyes has turned bitter with guilt and resentment. You avert your stare as quickly as you can to bury your face in Steve’s muscled shoulder and as your cheek rests on it, you’re reminded all too vividly of the way that Bucky or Sam or Steve (or your dad) used to carry you to bed when you had fallen asleep between the pages of your textbook or face down next to a cold bowl of whatever Pepper had cooked for you that night. 

Really, you’re almost convinced that you must’ve dozed off during the short trip from Tony’s lab to your bedroom because when you finally snap back to attention, you’re still in Steve’s arms but he’s standing still in front of your bed. And neither of you say anything for some time, letting the moment breathe while Steve soothes you silently, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your spine as quiet sobs wrack your shaking body.

“Hey, hey,” he hushes you, eventually sliding you down his body and placing you on the bed. You’re sure that your face still reflects your previous mental state but you feel significantly better now, the hive of bees that were slamming at the insides of your heart have tired both you and themselves out and are now resting. You look up at Steve with wide eyes, wet lashes brushing your skin lightly as his baby blues drill into yours so deeply that you’re sure that he must be able to see inside your head by now. “I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay because the answer seems kind of obvious, but I will ask if you need anything?”

You hesitate before giving him an answer, torn between confessing those powerful feelings for him that you’ve tried so hard to repress and letting him go. Instead, you grab one of his hands between both of yours, tugging on it so that he kneels in front of you. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me back there,” your eyes flick up to his quickly and you can’t help it when you start to play with his fingers, consciously having to stop your mind from wandering to unsavory places. “I-I know you and my dad are, like, best friends, so I never would’ve asked you to put your friendship at risk and stand up for me like that… it was, uh- it was really sweet of you, Steve, so thank you-”

Steve jerks his head back and for a tense second, your heart drops because you’re sure that you’ve offended him but then he says:

“Y/N, you don’t have to thank me- not at all, I mean- it was the human thing to do,” Steve insists, forcefully grasping your chin in his large hand to make him look at you. The disbelief that sparkles in his eyes lights up your soul and makes a shy smile spread across your lips. 

He leans in to plant a chaste kiss on your cheek like he usually does, but you decide there and then that you really are tired of having your dad take the reigns from you every day. You want to be able to confidently grab life by its metaphorical balls and take a leap of faith off of what is admittedly a very steep cliff. So you grip his face between your hands and redirect his lips to your own. 

He’s completely unresponsive for several seconds, causing a scorching hot wave of embarrassment to flood your face - a part of you wants to hold out hope and pray that maybe he’s just shocked by your bold move but you’ve learned not to cling onto unrealistic expectations so you move back, eyes squeezed shut because you can already taste the sourness of rejection on your tongue. 

But he knocks all of the breath out of your body when he climbs on top of you and crashes his lips back on yours, cradling your face between his wide palms as he slides his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and raw as your teeth clash with his almost violently but the feeling of his soft lips on yours soothes that ache, their warmth curing the hurt in your heart. He swallows any breath you have left in your lungs as your lips move in tandem with his. 

When you pull away because you think you’re about to suffocate, Steve presses his lips down the column of your neck, sucking a bruise right underneath your ear and playfully biting your earlobe. The rough sensation of his thick beard on your sensitive skin makes you giggle breathlessly and your chest heaves as his hands move smoothly down to your waist, hooking his thumbs in the waistband on your shorts. 

But then his hands stop moving and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. He lowers his head to your abdomen, resting his forehead on your stomach and your hand instinctively weaves through the golden strands of his hair. 

“Steve?-”

“You want this, sweetheart?” he kisses your stomach and moves right in between your legs, looking up at you as his thumbs still toy with the stretchy material of your black shorts. 

“Of course-”

And you don’t get to finish your sentence because you gasp as Steve whips off your shorts with unprecedented speed. He takes your panties right with them, throwing them somewhere to the side - you don’t care to notice where because Steve’s eyes are more black than blue and his gaze is locked on your core. 

This is when you get an idea.

When you take your t-shirt off, you’re only left in the black bralette that you normally wear around the house, so you whip that off too without any preamble. Steve’s eyes are so focused on the bounce of your breasts that it gives you the opportunity to muster up all of the energy you can, locking your legs around Steve’s waist (your eyes can’t help but travel to the obvious bulge in his blue jeans) and flip him over so that you’re sitting right on top of his erection. 

“Wh-”

You shush him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt so that he gets the message to take it off. He does as he’s told but narrows his eyes at you. You almost don’t notice because you’re staring at the glorious expanse of his sculpted upper body. You’ve always thought that he looked like a Greek statue and right now, the way that the sunlight streaming through your window bounces off of his smooth skin and brings out the green in his eyes only emphasizes the fact that he’s a true work of art, a masterpiece in his own right. 

Pushing yourself up so that you’re nose to nose with the supersoldier on his back underneath you, you lean down just enough so that your lips ghost over his when you speak. 

“I’m supposed to be thanking you,” you press your lips against his momentarily, watching the way that his eyelashes flutter when you slowly slide your hand down his powerful chest, over his muscled stomach and down to his jeans-clad crotch to boldly palm his dick. 

“Honey, you don’t have to-”

You cut him off with another quick kiss, moving down his body with the grace of a trained dancer (you can thank your mom for over ten years of ballet) so that you can unbuckle the black belt at his narrow waist. Steve props himself up on his forearms, staring down at you with hooded eyes and your eyes keenly follow the swipe of his tongue over his cotton candy lips.

You take your time pulling his zipper down, noticing how his eyes follow the movement of your hands as you push his jeans down his thick thighs. Your mouth is close to watering at the sight of his white Calvins which are very obviously tented in the front and you snap the elastic band of his boxer briefs playfully before pulling them over his erection.

It’s impossible to stop the way that your eyes grow comically large at the size of his cock, something at the back of your mind wondering whether or not you’ll be able to fully take him down your throat. He’s heavy in the both of your hands, the tip flushed red and leaking pre-cum. 

But it’s the cocky little smirk on Steve’s face that steels your resolve. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Too big for you?” he teases you in a surprisingly steady voice, inhaling again to continue his jeering, but his head falls back and his breath audibly stutters because you flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe up the underside of his dick.

“You were saying?” you taunt right back, a smile of your own gracing your face. He doesn’t have a reply to that, instead moving his hand down to grip the back of your neck tightly, guiding you back down to his cock.

The tip of your tongue swirls around the head of his length before you take the bulbous tip between your lips, sucking lightly and enjoying the way that his blunt fingernails are stabbing into the skin of your neck. You don’t tease him for much longer, one hand on the base of his manhood while you relax your throat and attempt to take all of him in your mouth. Your fight your gag reflex tooth and nail, reveling in the quiet sighs and moans from the man above you.

What you can’t swallow you work with your hand, your other hand coming up to toy with his balls and roll them between your fingers and palm. He controls the speed at which you bob up and down his cock and you keep watching the array of emotions on his face, feeling the power and control that you have over him surge through your body.

“God, doll,” he groans, his lower lip between his perfect teeth. “You’re such a good girl, takin’ all of me like that.”

His words spur you on and you really push your boundaries by taking him all the way down, so close that your nose is being tickled by the dark blond hairs at the base of his cock. What you’re not expecting is the way that Steve applies pressure to the back of your neck that’s just enough so that you can’t move. Your eyes sting as he keeps your head down, making you swallow and choke as small tears leak from your eyes. You’re forced to breathe through your nose as Steve groans when your gag reflex kicks in, your throat constricting around the heavy weight of his dick.

“Such a good little slut, huh?” he smirks, running the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby, suckin’ your dad’s friend off like a little fuckin’ whore.”

You can’t help the way that a loud moan falls from your lips, though it’s almost entirely muted by the thick cock in your mouth. 

“Oh, you like that?” Steve’s confidence is only making you wetter. He eases up on your neck, allowing you to withdraw about an inch before he pushes you back down. “You like being called a slut, pretty girl?”

You nod as best as you can under the circumstances, fighting back another moan.

“That’s good, honey, because you’re gonna be my little cockslut from now on, hmm?”

And finally, he pulls you off of him completely, reveling in the way that your eyes are glossy with tears and your lungs gulp down huge breaths as thin strings of saliva hang from your lips. 

“Messy girl,” Steve reprimands you condescendingly, but his voice sounds strained and he looks like he could cum just from drinking in your disheveled state. “You’re gorgeous, doll.”

You can’t stop the smile that grows on your face at the praise, and Steve cups your face gently and leans in to give you a sweet kiss. 

“You gonna let me cum in your mouth, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips, nudging your nose with his. 

“Yes, sir,” you tease playfully, not wasting any more time and wrapping your lips around his dick once again, running the tip of your tongue against the prominent vein down the side while you bob your head up and down. You’re more determined than ever to push him over the edge, wanting to be the one who has complete control over his pleasure. 

“That’s it, just like that- shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you after he takes your face between both of his hands and fucks your mouth, your jaw relaxed as he uses you to chase his orgasm, eyes closed and head hanging back as he loses himself in the throes of desire. 

You bask in the sense of satisfaction that you get from the way that his cock twitches in your mouth and the shout that he gives when the evidence of his release floods your mouth. You happily let it slide down your throat, sucking on his tip lightly as you do. The tangy taste lingers on your tongue and as you pull off of him with a pop, you have to wipe around your mouth because you’re sure that he’s made a complete mess of your face. 

“Holy fuck, darlin’,” he heaves, pulling you up to rest against his chest but not before you take the time to admire how beautiful he is. A light pink flush that’s started at his cheeks has traveled down his neck and bloomed on his chest - you love the way that it’s burning the tips of his ears. With your chest pressed against his, he ghosts his fingers up and down your back while his lips press against your shoulder.

“Your dad’s gonna kill me… and I didn’t even get you off, baby,” he mutters, only a second away from pouting and it makes you grin. 

“He won’t because he’s not gonna find out… and I didn’t want you to,” you reply simply, lightly circling one of his nipples with the tip of your nail. “Besides, you have plenty of time to do that later.”

Steve readjusts himself so that his back is leaning against the headboard and you’re perched in his lap, straddling his thighs. His brows are knitting together and a frustrated frown mars his pretty face. 

“No, I want to,” he insists, warm hands landing on your hips and rocking them back and forth so that your clit catches on the muscles of his legs. You bite your lip so as to suppress a moan. “It wouldn’t be-”

“Y/N, babe, are you in there?”

The two of you still as a knock followed by Tony’s soft voice bleeds through the door. 

“Shit,” you curse quietly, scrambling off of Steve and grabbing the nearest article of clothing that you can find. 

“I know you don’t wanna talk to me right now, but I don’t wanna leave things like this so I’m comin’ in, sweetie-”

“Dad, no!”

But it’s too late, the door opening just enough to reveal your father’s face whose whiskey eyes immediately land on yours. Thankfully, you were able to pull on Steve’s shirt and your shorts, but you can’t say the same for the six-foot-something supersoldier who has skillfully rolled underneath your bed, still naked as the day he was born. 

“What’s going on in here, hon?” Tony quirks an eyebrow at you as he pops his head around the door, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as his eyes scan the room. 

“Nothing,” you say breathlessly, running a hand over your face as you silently pray that your dad won’t catch his friend hiding beneath your bed with no clothes on. 

“Okay?” he draws out the word, obviously confused as your eyes meet his. “I just wanted to say so-”

“We’ll talk about it later, Dad,” you try to smile and move towards him so that you shoo him away from your room.

“You sure?”

“Positive,” you affirm, putting your hand on top of the one he has wrapped around the side of the door and squeezing it reassuringly. 

“If you say so,” Tony lets go of the door, spinning on his heel and starting to stroll down the hall. You let go of the breath that you weren’t aware you were holding. “And give Bucky back his shirt!”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as your heart warms watching your dad throw a wink at you over his shoulder, knowing that the choppy seas have stilled and the water’s calm once again, the tide returning to its regular routine. You shut the door with a click before turning back to see Steve sitting casually with his back resting against the side of your bed.

“So, uh,” a cheeky smile graces his face. “Same time tomorrow or?”

tagged: @literaturefeen @evnscvll @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18​

[thesightstoshowyou]

Jason Voorhees x Reader

Part 2

Read Part 1 here

Warnings: Violence, gore, blood. Just Jason doing what Jason does best (murder).

           Water rushes over the dish in your hands, rinsing away soap, and you place it in the drying rack with a quiet clink. Pancake is slumped on top of your feet, snoring noisily. You bend awkwardly at the waist to grab the next dish so you don’t disturb him.

             It is when you are scrubbing grease from the pan in your hands that you hear it; shrill, terrified, cut short at its peak. You drop the pan in alarm, the clatter waking your dog. He leaps to his feet, listening as intently as you.

             Another reaches your ears and yes, it was a scream. You hadn’t been mistaken. You hear it from the open window in front of you. It comes from the trees, possibly the camp you know is nearby. Quickly, you dry your hands and rush to the door, sliding into your boots and lacing them with trembling hands.

             “Stay,” you tell Pancake, shimmying out the door and slamming it shut so he can’t follow. You’re down the steps and halfway across the clearing before you pause.

             Maybe you shouldn’t just run blindly into the woods at night, chasing shrieks of terror. What could you do to help, anyway? Maybe you should go back to your house, call the cops….

             Another frightened shout, this time male. Your heart leaps into your throat and you sprint into the trees, previous train of thought forgotten. The police would be an hour away, at least. You’re here now. If you can help, you should.

             You race past bush and bramble, vaulting over fallen trees and dodging low hanging branches. You can’t hear any more cries for help. The forest quiet, save for your panting breaths and stomping boots. Are you too late?

             You burst through the trees into the camp, skidding to a halt, eyes darting wildly around and searching for signs of life. Through the trees ahead you can just make out the smooth, silver surface of Crystal Lake shining in the light of the full moon. To your left are cabins, three of them sitting side by side.

             When you round the first one, you stop dead in your tracks, air leaving you in a rush as you clap a quivering hand over your mouth. Before you lies a corpse, a young man, his dark eyes wide and terrified, staring at nothing. An ax protrudes from his chest, blade embedded so deep in his shredded flesh you can only see the wooden handle rising above him.

             Who on Earth has the strength to do such a thing?

             “HELP ME, OH GOD, HELP ME!” You nearly leap out of your skin. Whipping around you see a young woman moving toward you. She’s limping, her left leg dragging uselessly behind her. Tears streak down her panicked face. Her arms extend as she reaches for you.

             You take one step toward her, hands reaching for hers. Then, out of the shadow of the nearest cabin, seeming to appear out of thin air, emerges a hulking shape. It is a man, huge and monstrous, wearing a faded hockey mask and wielding a machete, blade dripping with blood.

             In one brutal swing, the blade cleaves through her right arm, severing it completely from her body. You scream when she does and leap back as blood splatters against the ground at your feet. The woman falls to the ground with a heavy thud. She writhes in agony, screaming and clutching her mangled stump.

             Her shrieks abruptly cut off when the man plunges the terrible blade through her sternum. A wet gurgle bubbles up from her throat, her arms flopping to the side. She twitches once and falls still.

             You’re frozen, horror rooting you to the spot. You feel disconnected from your body, not believing what you just saw but being unable to deny what is right in front of you. You try to suck in a breath but all the air around you seems to have vanished.

             A disgusting squelch brings you back to your senses. The man rips the machete from the woman’s chest and slowly stands. He turns to face you, huge hand gripping the blade’s handle with purpose.

             When he catches sight of you, he freezes. A beat passes between you where you simply stare at one another. In the darkness, you cannot see his eyes under the mask. Then, he drops the machete as though it has burned him. He hastily looks around him, then back to you.

             His movement causes your limbs to jolt back into action. You turn on your heel and flee. A scream rips from your throat when you hear him pursue, heavy boots clomping up behind you. You urge your legs to move faster, but there is no use.

             The man seizes you around the waist, lifting you off the ground as though you weigh nothing. You shriek and sob as he tosses you over his shoulder, gloved hand holding you tightly around the hamstrings. You thrash, kick your legs, and beat your fists against his solid back but you might as well be hitting the ground for all the good it does you. He is completely unperturbed as he easily makes his way into the trees.

             You tire after a few minutes of struggle, panting and falling limp against him. Your heart beats so hard against your ribs you think the man can probably feel it. You wonder where he’s taking you. What will happen to you? Who will find your body? This thought makes you shudder, a hitching sob catching in your throat.  

             “W-where are you taking me?” you ask, voice tremulous. The man doesn’t answer, instead maintaining his silent, steady pace. You glance around you, as much as you can, and are surprised to find yourself breaking through the trees and entering the in the clearing where you live. You can hear Pancake wildly barking through the open kitchen window.

             The man strides up the stairs to your porch, heavy boots thump, thumping against wood. Then, he lifts you off his shoulder and gently places you on your feet, even making sure you are steady before releasing your waist. Immediately, he turns and stomps back down the stairs, hurrying back the way he came. You’re stunned, but only for a moment.

             “Hey!” you shout. What the hell, why are you yelling at him? He’s leaving! This is a good thing! Do you want an ax through the face? Rationality seems to have left you in your confusion and fear.

             You jump down the stairs after him. The man turns to face you. In the moonlight, you see blood dripping from his mask, and more dark gore coating the front of him. He tenses as you approach, and you begin to rethink your reckless actions. You stagger to a halt before him, uneasy.

             The man reaches out and places his hand on your chest before shoving you backward, hard enough that you fall and land on your ass with a grunt. He then turns and stalks away, back toward the forest, back to the gruesome camp site. You watch him go until he disappears into the gloom. This time, you don’t follow. You can take a hint.

[untaemedqueen]

The Lions Den

Mafia!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 6.

Warnings: Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), Mental Health Issues

TagList- @ayyyocee​​​​​​​​​, @mysugabear03, @wisebtsgot7prune​​, @imaforeigner​​​​​​​​​, @yeonkiminnie​​​​​​​​​​, @stories1907​​​​​​​​​​, @ppersonna​​​​​​​​​​, @brilee64​​​​​​​​​​, @gooplibrary​​​​​​​​​​, @vivpurple7​​​​​​​​​, @xjoonchildx​​​​​​​​​, @brightwingr5​​​​​​​​​, @yaniposts22​​​​​​​​​, @rjsmochii​​​​​​​​​, @taeslittletiger​​​​​​​​​, @pjmcth​​​​​​​​​, @bts-chub​​​​​​​​​, @kpoppingthempills​​​​​​​​, @kim-ji-hyeons-world​​​​​​​, @jikooksgirl19​​​​, @yoong-i​​​​, @ruinsofangels​​​​, @absolutefantrash​​​, @chiminies-noona​​​, @eclectically-esoteric​​

Sequel to The Bird Cage

"No?! What do you mean you can't fucking find him?" Jimin yells into the phone as he paces the bedroom. Three knocks come at the door and you call for them to enter as you watch your husband pour a large glass of whisky.

Mirae enters, a small nervous smile plays on her lips as she hands you a cup of tea. "Thanks." You whisper before Hawon runs into the room.

"YOU FIND HIM! YOU MAKE SURE HE'S FUCK-" Jimin looks over at his daughter before putting his hand to his forehead. "Follow the trail of blood to wherever you can."

He throws the phone onto the gold caddy before sighing gently. "Hi baby girl." He says to Hawon as she runs over to him. She hugs his leg tightly and he takes a deep calming breath through his nose before picking her up. He presses her to his chest before closing his eyes.

"I came to see mommy and baby." Hawon murmurs into his bare shoulder. Mirae shuts the door behind her as she leaves and Jimin hugs Hawon tightly to his body before kissing her temple. 

You know he's absolutely terrified. Terrified to think of the consequences of Jeongguk's poor choices. He was worried for his family, worried for his crew. He doesn't want a retelling of the whole Kim Shin business. Your life was threatened, so was his daughters but now, his crew and his family would be in danger. The Ims are many and yet, they are one. You know this well from the stories you've heard while out with Ryu and Haeun. 

Their mafia was like yours, you hurt one you hurt them all. And, Jimin can't let his family get hurt. "You want to see the baby?" He asks gently to his daughter before looking over at you.

She nods into his shoulder and he walks over to the bed before setting her down carefully. She jumps at you, hands wrapping around your waist before burying her face into your stomach. You giggle gently before running your fingers through her hair. Jimin stares at the both of you, eyes flitting from your daughter to your face before putting his hands over his face. "When is the baby coming?" Hawon's voice is muffled as she talks into your stomach.

"In a few months, baby." Your eyes flicker to Jimin as his shoulders shake gently. He grunts loudly before shaking out his hands and looking up at the canopy of the bed.

"The baby is going to be strong like daddy. Because daddy is strong. Isn't he?" You ask your daughter. His eyes snap to yours, rims turning pink as he lets out a breath. 

"Yeah! Daddy is really strong!" His plush bottom lip gets tucked between his teeth before nodding. 

"Daddy is going to protect us because he's the strongest man alive. Isn't that right, Daddy?" Jimin stands up before kissing you gently. "Yes. He is." He mumbles before walking out of the bedroom.

Stepping out of the car, you can hear Yoongi behind you mumbling about how wrong this is. You roll your eyes before turning to him. "Speak louder if you want me to respond." Your manicured finger pushes into his taught chest as he lights a cigarette. 

"Jimin specifically told you and all of us that you're not allowed to come to the casino." He mumbles before pointing his finger and pushing it into your shoulder.

You scowl at the tall man before folding your arms. "I have to tell Rina to take over The Bird Cage." 

"You could have called." He quips as you turn on your heel. "Shut up!" You mutter before entering your casino.

Walking through the hallway, staff members bow and you find yourself feeling comforted by the familiar surroundings you've worked so hard to put in place. This was your baby, you worked hard to get it up and running and you take pride in it being the best casino in Seoul. That being said, you know you'll never hear the end of it if you don't listen to your husband. Some things really aren't worth a fight and this is one of them.

Rina is more than capable. You searched and searched for her after Two died wanting to give the family money. But, she didn't want the money, she wanted a job. She was just like Two you came to realize. She was loyal, trustworthy, so sweet and she looked so much like Two you had an overwhelming sense of maternal care for her. It was mostly irrational, built out of guilt from the loss of your maid but as you worked you kept her close. 

You enter the casino floor, weaving through bodies of patrons before noticing Kirsoon as he blocks off the steps up to the office. Yoongi walks past you, placing his hand on your shoulder to stop you as he begins to converse with Kirsoon. Your eyes flicker across the floor before you’re narrowing your eyes at a man at the poker table. His form looks oddly familiar even in his oversized Balenciaga hoodie and black pierced cap. “Yoongi?” You call to him before folding your arms and raising your eyebrow. 

He looks over at you before following your gaze. “Do you want him kicked out or something?” He asks, putting his hand on your back. 

You strain your eyes before pointing at the figure, “Isn’t that...Namjoon?”

“Namjoon? What? No. He’s at…Oh my God. That’s Namjoon.” He mutters before lighting his cigarette. You giggle gently before looking up at your office. “Why is Kirsoon guarding the staircase?”

“Hyunwoo is counting the money he gathered last night.” Kirsoon says to you, hands behind his back as he nods up the stairs. You hum gently before looking back at the figure. “Let’s have some fun.” You tell Yoongi, making him raise his eyebrows.

The walk to the poker table was very quick and you wish it would have taken longer to think of a witty remark to give your crew member. You take the empty seat behind him before looking at Jenny as she looks up from the other side of the table. You put your finger to your lips before winking at her. The corners of her lips turn up into a smirk before looking at Namjoon.

“Adding on.” She says before pulling a stack of chips from underneath the table and putting them in front of you. Yoongi holds up two fingers before sitting down at the table. “Adding on two.” She whispers quietly in response.

Namjoon flicks the corner of his cards before pulling from his cigarette. He hands the two cards back to Jenny before picking his head up. “You coming over tonight?” He asks her and your eyes widen before looking over at Yoongi. His lips press into a straight line before his nostrils flare. 

“Dealing.” Jenny whispers as her cheeks tinge pink. Namjoon furrows his eyebrows as Jenny throws two cards in front of you three. “Baby girl?” Namjoon asks before taking off his hood. 

“Yes, Sir?” She clears her throat before putting three cards face up on the green felt. “Are you coming over?”

Oh this is good. Better than good in fact. This is prime real estate for embarrassment. “I didn’t know staff members of the Bird Cage were invited into the Den?” You say before picking up your two cards. Namjoon chokes on the smoke from his cigarette before coughing loudly putting his forehead to the wooden lip of the table. Yoongi slaps his back hard before laughing loudly. 

You peek at your cards before placing them back down on the table and throwing two chips into the middle of the table. “Aren’t you supposed to be looking for an Im?” You ask the brainiac before leaning back comfortably in your chair. 

He pulls from his cigarette before closing one eye at the rising smoke and shaking his head. “Hoseok is out looking for them. I have the afternoon off. To spend time with this one.” Namjoon mumbles before pointing at Jenny. She clears her throat before narrowing her eyes far across the casino floor. 

“I-I think Yukwon needs some help over there...Weird. I’ll just-” She mutters exasperated before stepping down off the step behind the table. You shake your index finger slowly at her before pointing it at the ground. She lets out a shaky breath before Namjoon clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Hey, Y/N. Listen, what me and Jenny have is just-” You put your hand over Namjoon’s mouth before smiling at Jenny. “Are you guys dating?” You wrinkle your nose at her and she fixes her ponytail before looking at the green felt of the table.

“Why don’t we mind our business?” Yoongi whispers over Namjoon’s back. You scoff before picking up a poker chip. Your fingers flip the chip before raising an eyebrow at Jenny. 

“Just tell me if you both are dating. You do sneak into my house at all hours of the night, I see.” Namjoon mumbles against your palm and you snort gently before crossing your legs. Jenny smacks her lips together before rubbing her hands over the stack of cards in her hand.

“I mean we aren’t like- dating, dating. We’re just…” She tapers off before narrowing her eyes at the end of the room once more. You hired Jenny personally, she was a really sweet girl that came over from America with very little. She wanted to start a new life here and you gave her the opportunity to prove herself. She’s done very well and she’s very beautiful, clearly, which is why she’s been sneaking into the house with Namjoon. 

Namjoon grabs your wrist delicately before prying your hand off of his face. “We’re dating.” He clarifies for you and you squeal happily, stomping your feet on the metal foot rest of the chair. 

“Excuse her, she’s pregnant and hormonal.” Yoongi says to Jenny before standing. You roll your eyes before patting Namjoon on the back, “Very nice job. Jenny, I hope to see you around the house.” 

You hop off of the chair before turning around to her as she whispers fiercely to Namjoon, “During the day, Jenny. I hope.” She bows her head to you before giving you a shy smile. Yoongi pulls your arm towards the staircase as you watch the two lovers interact. 

“They’re cute!” You whine happily as you ascend the staircase, “Cute until you find out what they do behind closed doors.” He mutters out as he lets go of your arm.

“What do they do behind closed doors?” You whisper surprised as he opens the door to your office. “Think collars, pets, master.” He rattles off counting on his fingers. 

You widen your eyes before looking down at them over the second floor railing. “She likes that stuff?”

“Not everyone is a pillow princess, Y/N.” Yoongi mumbles before entering the office without you. “Hello?! What are you insinuating?!” You yell as you follow after him. 

Rina stares at you before looking at Kirsoon, her mouth hangs open out of surprise and you can't help but giggle at her expression. "You-I-What?!" Rina says before shaking her hands confused.

“You’re going to have to take over The Bird Cage for a few months, until I’m three or four months pregnant.” You tell her calmly as her eyes widen. “I mean first of all, congratulations, but Y/N listen, I’m not a boss, okay? I don’t know how to direct people or make people listen to me! I’m Rina, just Rina!” 

You watch as she brings her hand up to bite her nails and you frown as you watch her grow anxious in front of your eyes. “Kirsoon, get Rina a glass of whisky, please.” He nods gently before walking over to the gold caddy and pouring her a glass. His eyes delicately watch as she bites the skin around her nails almost to the point of bleeding. 

“You’re very smart, Rina. You graduated with honors at Korea University. You just need to gain some confidence. I believe in you, most of the staff here listens to what you say even if you’re just speaking freely. Like when you commented that the most expensive alcohols should go on the top shelf of the back bar not the bottom.” She hums with uncertainty before grabbing the glass of whisky from Kirsoon and thanking him gratefully. 

“Y/N, I don’t know. I just- what about Kirsoon! He can run it!” She suggests, eyes lighting up with positivity before looking over at the tall, stocky man. “He owes me three million and nine hundred thousand dollars.” You whisper to her and she immediately shrinks in size before clearing her throat awkwardly. 

“He will be here with you to help you, of course. He’s not just a moron, he’s useful.” Rina pouts before chugging the whisky and putting the back of her hand to her lips delicately. “I just… I have to do it don’t I?” She asks in a whisper.

You fold your hands together before sighing gently and nodding, “You do. I trust you to do a good job and I know for a fact you wouldn’t let me down, hmm?” She shifts in her seat before closing her eyes. “I’ll work hard to make you proud.”

You can see her avidly trying to will herself into this. She’s one hundred percent capable and you know she’s going to do just fine. “I’m always available to talk to you, I trust you one hundred percent, and I know you care about this place.” You tell her before she’s opening her eyes. Her light brown irises meet yours before nodding.

“I’ll make you proud.” You begin to smile before Yoongi enters the office with his phone pressed to his ear and Namjoon by his side. 

“Hoseok found the Im.” He says quickly before pocketing his phone. You stand up before looking at Rina, “The office is yours, Rina. Take good care of it.” 

[mommymooze]

Big Girls, Big Hearts

The Golden Deer are devouring their lunch on a sunny fall afternoon. The conversation is lively as they are quite the boisterous bunch. Rumors are spreading about strange things happening in Remire Village. Everyone is working themselves into an anxious state about the perplexing rumors being overheard. Hilda decides it is time to lighten the conversation.

“You know, every year they hold a ball at the Academy. The students get the chance to get to know each other better in a more friendly environment and its sort of a reward for working so hard as well as a possible way to find future partners.” She grins widely.

“A ball?” you ask. “With dressing up and dancing? I’m a commoner. It’s only for nobles, right?”

Hilda scoffs. “No silly! It’s for everyone! Dancing and romancing!  Time to find love and intrigue, hugs and kisses.”

“Um, this is an optional event, right?” You ask nervously. You’ve never been to a ball. Never had to learn to dance. You would rather beat up 500 bandits than go to a single ball.

“Come on (y/n) . You are the bravest person I know. What’s so scary about a little dance? Getting to hold a special someone in your arms for a bit, maybe even a kiss in the moonlight…Ooooh so exciting!” Hilda clasps her hands together daydreaming wistfully.

“Maybe I can catch the plague by then.” You grumble at your empty plate in front of you.

“No! Don’t even think that. We are going to get you ready and dressed up and you will not believe how beautiful you will look.” Hilda stomps her foot at you.

“Yeah, like putting lipstick on a pig, but with fat swollen lips because I’m allergic to it.” You further groan.

“Pish Posh! We can accentuate your good qualities yet keep you comfortable. I may let you wear shoes with less than 3 inch heels even.” Hilda puts her finger on her chin plotting further ways of dressing you up.”

“Balls are for petite cute girls like you and Marianne. My arms are like tree trunks. I am bulgy and lumpy. Not a sweet and delicate flower such as yourself.” You moan on, hoping she gives up soon.

Hilda puts her hands on her hips. “Yes, I can be a delicate flower. I also wield an axe just like you. Those things are heavy and take strength to swing around. Yes, I will admit to having a few muscles. Not everyone wants a delicate maiden that falls over from the slightest breeze. Some want a good hunk of warm and loving body to squeeze them back until they can’t breathe. Everyone knows you are incredibly strong. Didn’t I hear about you carrying Dedue to the infirmary not that long ago? I bet Felix or Sylvain couldn’t do it at all, but you just whisked him up and hauled him across the monastery like he was a little kid and ran him up the stairs to the infirmary.”

You blush furiously. “What was I supposed to do? I walked into the greenhouse just as he slipped on the wet rocks and he was knocked out. I couldn’t just leave him there.” You are hiding your face in your hands, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

Hilda laughs. “(Y/n), We watched you carry him bridal style running to the infirmary. I heard that when he found out he blushed for a half hour straight.!”

You want to crawl under the table, settling for crossing your arms and burying your face in them.

Hilda tugs your arm, “We are hitting up the dressmaker in town. Gonna get you a killer dress, show off those muscular toned abs and legs, and get you set up for the night of your life.”

“Nightmare of my life more like.” You mumble to yourself.

-----------------

The battle at Remire is terrifying. Thomas turns into a really creepy ghosty old guy. The Flame Emperor shows up being threatening. The worst part is the villagers. They are going crazy killing everything, even their own families. They didn’t know they are attacking their own loved ones, their own friends. The Deer try so hard to rescue as many villagers as possible. You work to subdue as many of the possessed ones you can. They are still someone’s family and hopefully the madness is temporary. When the battle is over you look at the village, not much is left of it. The smell of smoke and burnt everything is thick in the air, choking everyone, making their eyes burn.  Finally, after the cleanup is done and all the villagers are treated for injuries, it is time to head back to the monastery.

The Golden Deer are unusually quiet as they silently march back to the monastery. Even Hilda is quiet after what she had seen. Ignatz makes his way over to you as the group keeps walking back to the academy.

“You ok?” He softly whispers to you.

You take your sleeve and wipe the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, I just got a lot of smoke in my eyes there. Thanks.” You mumble back, hanging your head a bit lower than it was before.

It is a long walk back. Everyone finally makes it into the monastery gates and the group splits up, everyone going their own direction.

Claude takes you aside. “Are you going to be okay? I’d be happy to chat if you want to. The professor is a great listener too.” He says with a look of concern in his eyes.

You don’t know where your tears are coming from now. They haven’t stopped since you were in Remire village. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Professor Byleth comes over and puts her arm around your shoulder, leading you to her room. She pulls out a tea set and prepares tea.

“You know I lost my parents in a fire. Watching the village burn brought the whole thing back.” You stare down into your teacup.

“I’m sorry.” Byleth responds. Her face is not extremely expressive, but you can tell she is being very sympathetic from her body language.

“Do you think I can talk to Seteth about helping them out some? Isn’t this something like what the church would do? It is so late in the year and many of them don’t have secure homes to live in.” You ask, the tears slowing.

“My father and I spent a lot of time at that village. That was where the church found us.  I will talk to him as well.” Byleth nods.

You return to your room to try to sleep after such a nightmarish week.

---------------------

The next morning you check with Seteth about assisting the village. You find that he has already spoken with Captain Jeralt and Lady Rhea feels that this is an excellent idea. After a few days of gathering supplies and materials, a small caravan heads out to Remire. Professor Byleth, the Golden Deer, Shamir, Jeralt and all his former mercenaries who had been incorporated into battalions, Alois and some of the Knights of Seiros, and surprisingly, Dimitri and Dedue.

The town elders meet with your group, discussing their wants and needs. Repairs to the structures that are salvageable should begin quickly. Tasks are divided between those that are experts in certain areas assisted by warm bodies that can lift, move or hand things to others. Ignatz is working on a map of the to be reconstructed village. Since assistance has arrived so quickly, there are fewer residents that will be leaving for other towns, happily staying now that they have some support. Everyone has something they can do. Cutting trees, clearing branches, gathering wood and kindling, sifting through burnt houses for useful items that can be salvaged like utensils, plates, and tools. The young go with the old to fields gathering heather, reeds, and straw for thatching the roofs.

You start with gathering salvaged bricks together to repair buildings. Even Lysithia can carry a few bricks at a time, you tell her 30 are needed at this house, 15 needed here. A few Knights head off to a local riverbank for sand and water to make the mortar.  You clean and prepare the bricks, measure the materials and have someone stir the mortar mixture. Soon you find yourself up on a ladder with a full mortarboard spreading an even layer of the compound, then place a brick, lay more mortar between it and the next brick. Starting with the smaller repairs first there are now several restored residences that will keep the wind and weather out.

As the sun goes down, everyone gathers in the center of town around large cauldrons full of soup, together with fresh baked bread made by the residents from the supplies brought by the Academy volunteers. Many of the townspeople are crying thanking everyone for their help. The Knights certainly push that this is by the grace of the goddess and the church. Others are simply happy to help in any way they can.

You grab some soup and take a seat near Dimitri and Dedue. They greet you and welcome your presence.

“I am surprised by your bricklaying knowledge. I had no idea of your talents.” Dimitri smiles.

“My older brother was a bricklayer, I helped him out often when I was growing up. I can’t wait to get my hands on some hammers and nails once the brickwork is complete.” You grin. “I am surprised to find the two of you here.”

“Hey your Princeliness, Dedue, (Y/n). Mind if I join you?” Claude takes a seat next to you. “We really appreciate your help. We did not expect other houses to send anyone.”

“I am very interested to see firsthand the reconstruction after disasters such as this.” The prince says excitedly. “It is wonderous seeing everyone come together with a single mindset of rebuilding. Everyone is helping in so many different manners. The strong are carrying bricks and trees, cutting wood, lifting loads. The weaker are preparing food for everyone, gathering materials and completing more delicate work. I am amazed at how much has been accomplished in just a single day.”

“Agreed. Many hands make light work.” Dedue nods. “I am happy to lend my strength.”

“Both of you are certainly welcomed with open arms. There is plenty of heavy lifting to do.” Smiles Claude. “I hope we can replace a few homes before we leave. Talking with the elders, there are some families doubled up in the same house. At least if each family has their own place it would be much more pleasant making it through winter.”

“Another important thing is to provide these people support and comfort.” You softly speak. “Let them know there are others out here who care for you as your fellow man. I do not know any of these people, but I do know about losing things to disaster. People that had no idea who I was helped me, kept me going when my life was crushed by disaster. Now here I am, helping out someone else that I have no idea as to who they are. I just want to help them. I hope it keeps them going as well.”

Dedue nods and smiles. The two house leaders agree that this is a great learning experience for everyone. You take the empty dishes leaving them to chat amongst themselves and head over to Byleth who is sitting with her father and their former mercenaries.

“Byleth, Jeralt. I wanted to thank you personally for helping bring this together. It didn’t sit right with me leaving these people behind and in such a ruined state.” You say, a smile finally crossing your lips.

“If Seteth would have said one word about not helping with this I would have punched that ‘No’ right off of his face.” Jeralt laughs. Byleth smiles. “This is a great learning experience for everyone. I think all of the classes should complete a project like this. Hands on learning is the most practical. Even Lorenz is finding some hidden talents as a result of this experience. I think he has a greater respect for Leonie too. That girl can turn a pile of trash into 100 different useful things.”

After dinner there’s not enough light to work on building without making it dangerous. So you decide to knit a sock or two. That way you can talk to everyone and when you’re done, someone has a new pair of socks. Win-win! There is plenty of chatter to go around the campfires with everyone in the village telling interesting stories of its history, or funny residents who did silly things, famous village romances or deeds. They also share stories of when the Blade Breaker came to town to save or help them. Being in a village isn’t all peace and quiet. There were some exciting and spicy tales shared until the cobwebs filled everyone’s heads and it was time to sleep.

The next day is just as busy with more homes being made whole by the end of the day. Construction is started on two different houses. One for a larger family, one for a smaller. Everyone gives their all in some way or another. Gathering kindling, firewood, food, finding the animals that were scattered by the calamity. Suddenly Saturday morning arrives, the last day the group from Garreg Mach will stay for rebuilding. What a difference everyone has made! Every family in Remire has their own place to stay without having to share. There are a long row of stalls for wares in the new Marketplace. There is even a barn and stable to keep horses for the community. Firewood is stored to keep the homes warm. It is everything the smaller village needs to get them through the winter. There is a celebration in the village center and tears are shed. However, these are all tears of joy as new friendships have been forged and the feeling of a job well done can be left with the people. The march back to the monastery is full of high spirits and happy hearts.

---------------------

Back at the monastery you look forward to a warm bath and sleeping in your own bed. Just as you’ve changed into your nightgown there is a knock on the door.

“Um, I was just about to go to sleep. Can we talk tomorrow?” you anxiously respond to the knock as you stand at the door.

“It’s just me.” Says Hilda. “Come on. We’ve got some girl talk to do.”

You roll your eyes as the chipper pink ponytailed girl comes bouncing in your dorm.

“You haven’t forgotten the ball now, have you?” She winks.

“Oh yeah, that.” You stammer. You kinda sorta did forget.

“Tomorrow we’re going to town and getting a dressmaker to take your measurements. I know exactly what you need to wear.” She bubbles out excitedly. “I think you would be adorable in yellow. I saw the most darling shimmery satin material that would make you look like a princess.”

“A muscular, big shouldered princess.” You whine.

“Girl, you have no idea how to work with what you have, and you have a lot going for you.” Hilda smirks. “Now, I’ve been thinking. I know that you can’t wear lipstick, but I was hoping you can do some lip gloss. It has different things that go into it. Some are even flavored. Have you ever tried any?”

“Um. No.” You shrug sheepishly.

“Great! Hold still now.” Hilda has you in her grip as she plunks you down in your chair and starts carefully applying some gloss to your lips.  “There. How is it?”

You mush your lips together. They aren’t tingling or stinging. They don’t feel like they are getting fat. She pulls your mirror from your dresser to show you your lips.

“They’re just shiny.” You say, looking confused.

“Shiny is healthy. Gloss makes your lips slippery. It’s really good for you in the winter. When the cold air hits them, they stay soft and won’t peel. Your lips are really pretty. They’ll be lined up around the building wanting to get a turn to kiss those cute shiny lips.” The pinkette grins.

“But this is a dance. Where is the kissing coming from? Do I have to? I’m so confused.” You plunk back down on your chair with a big frown.

“Listen and listen good. Pretty soon we’re going to graduate, everyone is going to go their own way and you’re my friend and I’m just trying to help you get the most out of life. The ball isn’t just a celebration for nobles. It’s a chance to get to know the other students better in a different environment, a casual and fun environment. So many people have met the love of their life at this very same Academy event! Who knows what will happen on that glorious evening? The magic is calling for you, I can hear it!”

You look at her like she has two heads.

“Come on! Loosen up! I told you I will get you through this. Let’s start with the dance lessons. If you are dancing with a guy, he’s supposed to lead. If you dance with a girl, then either of you can lead, just agree who is to lead before you start. So I am going to lead. That means you put your left hand on my shoulder on the same side, and put your right hand into my palm on the other.” She grabs your hand and waits for you to put the other on her shoulder. “Good. Now don’t stomp on my feet, you have socks on, so put your toes on mine so you can follow me. The lead person is going to take their right foot and step forward, since you are following, you take a step back on your left foot. You will be moving backwards mostly, so the lead person watches to make sure you don’t crash into anyone…” Hilda goes through the basics of the box step for the waltz. You don’t quite crush her toes, and just maybe you do get the hang of it a bit. She tells you to look at her face, don’t look down. Stop looking down. Looking down will mess you up. You crash and fall over on the bed laughing once and she makes you get up and try again.

“Enough for your first lesson. You did great.” Hilda smiles. “So tomorrow after breakfast, we hit the dress shop.”

You yawn, “Sure…” and wave as you see her out the door. You would have bad dreams about going to the ball and stomping on everyone’s feet, but you’re too tired to even do that and actually just have a good night’s rest.

-----------------

After breakfast Hilda practically drags you to town.

“Maybe I should just wear pants.” You grumble.

“Come on, you would look so cute!” She giggles.

“Cute is a bunny or a baby chick. I feel more like a silly goose.” You whine.

She hauls you into the dressmakers where a tall redheaded woman with a lowcut red dress assists you. “Hello dahlings.” She greets you at the door. Hilda curtseys, so you do too.

“Madame Palmyre, I’ve brought you another beauty in need of a dress for the ball.” Hilda proclaims.

“Hmmm. Hmmmm. Well. Athena. Hmmmm. No, Artemis! With the shoulders of Atlas. Oooooh. Yes.” Madame coos and ahhs as she walks around you touching your shoulders, lifting your head, raising your arms. “We must measure, quickly!” and shuffles you to the back where you are hastily stripped to your undergarments.

Madame’s hands work at a fast pace. She’s put special strings around various parts of your body, writing numbers down. Hilda stands next to her and they chitter and chatter with each other for a while. You decide to put your clothes back on.

“Lovelies, I shall have it ready two days before the ball. She will be magnifique!” Madame Palmyre raises her right hand with a flourish and a wide smile.

Hilda drags you to the cobbler to see what sort of shoes would be best. You glance at the boots longingly.

“No. “The Goneril girl shakes her head. “Cute. Not clunky.”

“Hilda, I have feet shaped like a duck.” You groan.

“Come on, work with me.” Hilda finally finds the shoes she is looking for. “Check this out. There is almost no heel, the toe is rounded but the way it is made, it gives you room for your wider foot to be comfy. Still cute!”

You look at the shoes, then at your friend. “I know you know what you are doing. I am so clueless. Just promise me I won’t want to cut off my feet by the end of the ball and I will wear whatever you want me to.”

“Gotcha, fam!” Hilda smiles as she puts in the order. The cobbler takes your measurements and says they will be ready next Sunday.

Hilda takes you to the final store of the day, which is great because this is really getting confusing and exhausting and overwhelming.

“Hey Mattie!” Hilda greets the owner. “We’re here for lipgloss and earrings.”

“But I don’t have pierced ears.” You look at her puzzled.

Hilda grins. “You will.”

You are a brave girl in battle. You fight and punch bad guys in the face. Intentionally letting someone stab holes in your ears is a whole different story. You were brave when they created the first hole and stuck the earring through. But when they stabbed your other ear with the needle, the needle that kept getting bigger the more you looked at it, the tears were shooting out of your eyes like rain.

“It’s done, its done. You’re fine! Look! So pretty!” Hilda is patting you on the back showing you the mirror. Mattie gives instructions to turn the earrings frequently and keep them clean. They should be well healed by the time of the ball. She helps you pick out some mint and honey flavored lip gloss.

You feel exhausted and overwhelmed. Not even fresh treats from the bakery tempt you. You just want to go back and hide. And maybe punch out a Duscur bear. Do something more familiar and relaxing.

That night you can’t sleep well. You always sleep on your side and no matter how you crunched up or mauled your pillow it still hurt your ears. You are going to die from lack of sleep long before the night of the ball. That is a welcome end, you think to yourself.

--------------------------

The next morning, dark circles hang heavily below your sleep deprived eyes, you barely make it to class in time. Lysithia notices something different as soon as she comes into the room.

“Your ears are pierced. That is so cute! I’ve been thinking about it. I may do that too some day.” The white haired girl muses.

“Hey (Y/n), Lysithia! Look who has more holes in her head! Just kidding.” Claude says as he taps his own earring while looking at yours.

Hilda strolls into the classroom followed by Marianne. They come to sit beside you.

“My ears are killing me. You better take good notes. I am going to sleep through class.” You warn the mischievous pinkette.

“And you’ll be cute doing it too. Yes, sometimes beauty can be painful, but it will go away soon.” Hilda tries to reassure you.

“I wish I could use magic on it, but it might make your earrings stick to your ears.” Marianne comments looking at her hands.

You rest your hands on your books and your chin on your hands. Nothing is touching your ears and you fall asleep before Hanneman comes in and starts his lecture about crests.

----------------

The excitement surrounding the ball continues. Your stomach starts to twist in knots every time you hear the word “Ball”. You have your new shoes and Hilda makes you practice dancing in them and walking around your room in them so they are broken in enough to not hurt you on the night of the..you know.

Hilda drags you to town the Sunday before the ball to get a fitting for your dress. She’s being a real stinker, because she makes you wear a blindfold so you can’t see it.  It comes with a special bustier, lifting your bust to be plump like a partridge (Madame Palmyre’s words). You had no idea what a bustier is in the first place. They picked and primped on you for a few minutes and then took the dress away, letting you get back into your comfy clothes. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, but you certainly wouldn’t battle in the dress, you chuckle to yourself.

Hilda continues with dancing practice. Marianne joins so you can observe them dancing as well. Marianne, the best dancer in the Deer glides gracefully across the floor. You feel like you are stomping around like a moose with four left feet. You are getting better though, you hardly step on Hilda’s feet any longer.

Soon, too soon, the fateful day arrives. The ball is this evening. They have classes in the morning so that everyone can get ready or in your case, panic in the afternoon. You just know you have a fever, you’re sick to your stomach. You should go to the infirmary so they can pronounce you on the brink of death and give a written note excusing you from the…the thing.  Class finally ends, before you can escape, Hilda, Annette, and Dorothea grab you and physically take you to Hilda’s room for hairstyling and makeup. You try to excuse yourself because you forgot your lipgloss, but they are on to you and will not let you go. You have no idea how they can fit so many females in the same room and still have room to work on them all. You hope you can escape when getting lunch, but no, they are too evil and have lunch brought in for everyone.

“(Y/n), I have the perfect jewelry to match your look.” Hilda giggles. She holds up gold crescent moon earrings, bracelet, and a matching necklace. Many “oohs” and “ahhs” are heard from the others. The stones in the bracelet are perfect, they are a pale yellow and black, matching the colors of the dress. Hilda sends you off to your room with Annette and Dorothea to get you into your dress. The songstress shows you how to put on the sheer and dotted with gold sparkles thigh high stockings without ripping them, teaching you how to fasten them to the garter belt. They adjust the lacing of the bustier so that you can breathe easily and move, yet your bust is enhanced, which is quite embarrassing, but then you look over at Dorothea and she’s super enhanced and ready to spill over the top of hers any second. Finally they help you lift and pull the dress on. Soft yellow chiffon at the top, gathered under the bust into its empire waist. A black airy stretchy panel starts there and goes to the bottom of the dress, flaring out a bit. The front is just past your knees, the back a few inches above your ankles. It visually pulls your waist in. Dorothea has that perfect hourglass figure with a waist so tiny that you could almost enclose it with your hands. You have much more um, meat, around your waist, the muscles alone make you twice as wide as her, but with the black panel it flares so you really do look, dare you think it, feminine. You thought the slightly puffy sleeves would make your shoulders bigger, but they just give you more freedom of movement. This is the most comfortable and beautiful dress you have ever worn. Madame is a magician.

Dorothea nearly has tears in her eyes. “Our baby looks all grown up.” She sniffles.

“Wow.” Declares Annette. “I need to meet this seamstress. She really knows her stuff. Its like you’ve been magically transformed. If I didn’t know it was you under there (y/n) I would say it was a different person.

“Come on, you are going to make me cry.” You were emotional before, but seeing the whole outfit, you do feel like the princess Hilda wanted you to look like.

Suddenly it is time for everyone to head to the ball. Many of the women head off to meet their dates. Hilda and her date, Marianne, look adorable together. They have the same purple flowers in their hair and their dresses complement each other perfectly. They walk with you toward the sound of music playing. The students are filing into the large room for the dance, the variety of colors and styles are striking. Everyone looks so beautiful.

You wander over to where the Golden Deer have congregated on the side of the room. Raphael is wearing a shirt that fits across his chest, although his muscles in his arms still look like they are about to burst through the sleeves.

“Hey, (y/n). Glad to see ya. You sure look pretty.” Raphael grins. You take it as an amazing compliment, he usually only notices food.

Ignatz is nervously pulling at his collar. “I haven’t been to a Ball before. The monastery really went all out for this. The food, decorations, and presentation are a work of art.”

The house leaders are called to the front accompanied by Hilda, Hubert, and Mercedes. They perform a special dance together that includes changing partners. Of course, Claude has to ham it up by dipping Edelgard who is a bit shocked but recovers well from the unexpected move. The special dance ends and the surrounding students now fill the dance floor.

Leonie sits next to you with a plate of appetizers and sweets. “Go grab some food, (y/n). They have some amazing things on the banquet tables. I tried this gray stuff, it’s delicious.”

You quickly shake your head. “My stomach is so jittery. I’ll stick with apple juice.” You weakly smile as you take a sip.

Looking to the left, there is an anxious Lysithia trying to drag a dressed-up Cyril out to the dance floor. You laugh because he looks more nervous than you. Hilda has Marianne out on the floor, the couple gliding along smoothly like the floor is made of ice. Annette is smiling widely as Ashe is guiding her safely around the other couples. They look too cute.

“Ahem! (Y/n)” you suddenly hear a male standing next to you, breaking you from your trance.

You jump a little in your seat to see the Prince of Faerghus bowing low and asking you for a dance.

You stand up and stammer, “Oh, yes. Thank you.” You place your right hand into his left as he leads you among the dancing couples. Hilda’s dance practice pays off as you have yet to stomp on the Blue Lions leader’s feet or trip over your own. You chat about how happy he is having participated in the rebuilding of Remire and how some day he will rebuild Duscur as well. Just as the song ends, he bends closer to your ear.

“I think Dedue would like to have a dance with you as well. He is a bit shy, but if you wait patiently close by him he may gather enough courage to ask you, unless of course you ask him first.” Dimitri smiles as your face turns completely red.

You can feel the burn of the blush all the way to the back of your neck.  You curtsey as the song ends and he leaves to find another partner. You just happen to be close to where Dedue is standing, the tall man is against the wall, his hands behind his back, eyes flitting from couple to couple. You decide to stand not far from the Duscur male.

Watching the students dance, Claude pulls Professor Byleth out onto the floor. You laugh at the shocked look on her face. Balthus is dancing with Manuela. He has a grin from ear to ear as he twirls her around, making her laugh. Perhaps this is what everyone needs, to have a night to forget about their problems and issues going on and simply enjoy themselves, if just for a little while. You find yourself swaying with the music as you look over at Dedue who takes a step towards you.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” Dedue asks softly, smiling pleasantly.

“Yes. I was not looking forward to it, however now that I am here it is nice. It is good to see our friends simply being happy.“ You answer him. “Would you like to dance?”

Dedue bows, “It would be my honor.” He says, taking your hand in his.

He is so incredibly tall. The top of your head is well below his shoulders. You have to crane your neck to look into his face, but it is worth it to see his gentle smile.

The white haired man looks down at you, “You are small.”

You nod as you smile, trying not to laugh because compared Dedue, absolutely everyone is small.

Dedue continues, “You are very strong.”

You blush, mashing your forehead into his chest. This giant man just said you were strong.

He is not finished. “And cute.”

Your ears are burning because you are blushing so hard. You’ve never been cute before. You’re having a hard time looking into his eyes while you are blushing so hard, so you decide to focus your sight on his strong handsome chin. Breathe, don’t forget to breathe.

“You have many wonderful talents. Not only fighting and helping Dimitri.” You tell Dedue, daring to look in his eyes again. “In the village I was impressed by your construction skills. Your assistance helped us complete more buildings than we had originally planned. Thank you.”

You both smile at each other as you continue to dance for the rest of the song, as it ends, you curtsey, he bows.

Before you take one step toward exiting the dance floor, Claude mysteriously appears behind you, taking your right hand in his. He kisses the back of your hand.

“May I have this dance, my Deer?” Claude smiles widely at you.

“I cannot say no to our Leader-man. That would be against the rules. Not that you pay much attention to rules, Claude.” You laugh as you place your left hand upon his shoulder.

Dancing with Dimitri and Dedue had been proper and elegant. Their steps carefully measured, in perfect time with the music. Dancing with Claude is like holding on to a leaf in a whirlwind. You moved up, then down back then right then spun and twirled. One time he had spun you around you thought he was trying to fling you into the middle of the orchestra. You think it strange, then funny, then you begin to laugh. He twirls you away from him, then pulls you to twirl the opposite way around toward him, your chest lightly crashing into his as you laugh together.

His steps suddenly fall back in with the tempo of the music, you following. Your laughter calming, you gasp a bit as you are slightly out of breath, and dancing very closely with Claude. You feel his right arm around you, his fingers close to the center of your back, his chest is warm against you.

“Hilda told me that if I play my cards right that I might get to dance with a beautiful princess tonight.” Claude purrs softly in your ear. “I think I have a winner here.”

You blush profusely, trying to look away from his dazzling emerald eyes and failing. Claude’s grin is as wide as you have ever seen it. Suddenly the music concludes. The orchestra takes a brief break.

He bows and you curtsey back.

“Thank you, princess (y/n).” Claude Grins.

“Thank you, Duke von Riegan.” You smile.

Hilda runs up to drag Claude off to gossip about who knows what as you grab a seat and catch your breath. You will have to honestly thank Hilda for making you go to this. You catch your breath in the quiet during the orchestra’s break. Your heart has simmered down after beating at such an excited rate for so long.

You glance about the room. Looking left you see the orchestra has returned, preparing to begin, to your right you see two different redheaded gentlemen headed your direction. Oh my…

[thedemisedroyal]

Dangerous Betrayal | TVD/TO

The Vampire Diaries & The Originals

AU Story

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚂𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽!

• A U T H O R •

Elena felt very uncomfortable as Caroline walked away with Stefan on her arm, walking to the outside of the mansion to go dance. "I wanna apologize to you for being such a world-class jerk, the other night when I tried to kiss your sister. No doubt she didn't tell you, I wanted to apologize because I know I insulted you as well. I would have apologized to your sister but I can't seem to find her." Damon started off sincere, a glum look upon his face. Elena nodded, she was on guard a bit,"Yeah, she's back at the house. Jenna told her she wasn't to leave until she finished cleaning her room. She might show up later on though." The eldest Gilbert simply explained, Damon nodded, looking around the room before continuing.

"My therapist says I'm..sting out, trying to punish Stefan." Damon spoke, Elena furrowed her brows in confusion. "For what? And why go for Esme?" She was immensely confused by the man,"It's all in the past. I don't even want to bring it up. Let's just say that the men in the Salvatore family have been cursed with sibling rivalry." He pointed behind him to the registry," And it all started with the original Salvatore brothers."

"The Salvatore name is practically royalty in this town, until the war, there was a battle here—" Elena interrupted,"The Battle of Willow Creek." Damon muttered a 'right', letting Elena talk for the time being. "I know, we talked about it in class. Confederate soldiers fired on a church with civilians inside." Elena boringly told, she already knew such information.

Damon nodded,"What history books left out was the people that were killed...," Damon started to walk around Elena, and more towards the door. "they weren't there by accident. The are believed to be union sympathizers. So some of the founders on the confederacy side back then wanted them rounded up and burned alive." Elena follows right behind him, crossing her arms across her chest.

The raven haired man continued on with his history lesson, "Stefan and Damon had someone they loved very much in that church. And when they went to rescue them they were shot. Murdered in cold blood." He gulped, looking Elena, finally, in the eyes, he had a look of sorrow in his eyes. The brunette narrowed her eyes at the wall, in thought,"Who was in the church that they wanted to save?" She asked, Damon slightly shrugged,"A woman, I guess. But it was said in old tells that Damon had another woman he cared about in there, said to be his old best friend of his." He stopped for a moment,"But doesn't it always come down to the love of a woman?" He rhetorically asked, slighting smirking.

Elena took a deep breath,"Look, I'm sorry that you and Stefan have this thing between you but I can't get in the middle of it, Damon. Nor Esme. I just...I hope you two can work it out." The wilder Salvatore nodded,"I hope so too." He whispered, but she was still able to hear him.

Soon, the two made their way out, but, Damon stayed back for a little while, walking back to the registry. He had a sorrowful look upon his face as his thumb softly grazed the name that was written beneath Stefans. It spelled, in a beautiful cursive, Samatha Salvatore, Damon frowned a bit, his eyes getting a bit teary,"Little sister..."

• E S M E •

"Ooh, she lookin fine." The girl muttered to herself as she fixed her lipstick and hair in her hand mirror that Esme kept in her purse. The girl did in fact, looked very beautiful, wearing a long and flowing flower dress, colored a cyan/turquoise with pink and white flowers covering around it. It had a long slit in the middle to show off her long gorgeous legs but it was still appropriate looking.

She snapped her mirror closed, and put it away, fixing her straps of her dress and continuing her very long walk to the Lockwood Mansion. Slightly wobbly as her high heels got stuck in the grass, tripping on a rock here and there. "Why the fuck did I wear these damn heels. You fucking idiot!" She scolded herself, stomping her way to the mansion instead.

As she finally made it to the busy and full house her eyes wondered across the crowds of people. Unfortunately, she saw none of her friends nor family, so the brunette went to go explore the 'museum'. Jordan had felt this magnetic pull towards upstairs, so out of her instinct, she followed it.

Walking up the stairs to see the second floor was completely abandoned, not a single soul was up there. She then entered a room that held all the founder families's old things, like necklaces, journals, rings and more. The younger twin walked to the side that held the name Gilbert, but she ignored it as she was pulled to a black velvet box, something the girl didn't recognized.

Jordan picked it up, opening it to see a black and red ring. It was a pure black steel band, with dark blood red gems decorating it around the band. In the middle was a circle shaped, dark blood red gem in the middle, designed beautifully.

She took the ring out and placed the black velvet box back into the table. Her pointer finger slightly grazing across the detailed band, and final stopping at the big gem in the middle. Images flashing in her mind, first was a man, curly, dirty blonde hair, but his back was facing her, his hand folded behind his back. The next one was her mother, but her actual mother, the Firstbeing Queen, she had a sadistic smile upon her face, so similar to her own. Then finally, it was her, her eyes were completely black, with dark blood red patterned veins running down beneath her eyes, with hints of black.

Jordan gasped a bit as she was taken back to reality, she clutched the ring, calming herself. But she felt frightened by the ring, so she quickly grabbed the black box and put the ring back. Though she couldn't put it down as she heard someone coming her way, it sounded like Caroline and...Damon?

The Gilbert couldn't exactly tell what they were talking about, before she could think the two already made their way into the room. The girl swiftly turned around, hiding the box behind her back,"Oh hey Esme! Where have you been!" Caroline bubbly asked, Damon sent a soft smile towards the girl. Esme forced a smile,"Hey Care-Bear, sorry I'm late. I had to clean my room because Jenna told me I couldn't leave the house unless I did." Esme spoke happily, moving her hand to her purses back pocket, stuffing the box inside the pocket. It may have terrified her but maybe it had answers she so desperately needed.

***

Esme rubbed her sisters back, trying to show her support as Elena was glum after her fight with Stefan. The two made their way to the bathroom to freshen up. "Hey." Elena and Caroline spoke to each other, but Caroline and Esme sent each other a genuine smile through the mirror.

Elena made her way for the mirror to touch up her makeup, but Esme went to the side to fix the straps on her high heels, something she kept tripping on. It was silent until the blonde spoke up,"So how are things with Stefan?" She questioned, Esme cringed a bit, knowing the fight between her sister and the younger Salvatore.

The younger twin watched her sister her a bit uncomfortable at the question, she plastered a obvious fake smile,"Great. Just great." Caroline quirked a brow,"Really? Well, my radar must be off cause...," The blonde bent down to watch her apply lipstick properly, without any smudges. " I was getting all sorts of other vibes." Elena took a big inhale, fixing her hair, but Esmes eyes were still on her best friend.

Spotting something unusual on her body,"What is that?" Esme questioned, walking towards the Forbes girl, Elena tok tied her head to the side, furrowing her brow in confusion. Caroline hummed, still applying lipstick, the. Standing up straight to face the younger daughter. Esme moved her hair, her hand going to her scarf where she saw something of of the ordinary, but Caroline pushed her hand away,"D-Don't." The blonde stuttered, making the twins even more suspicious.

Esme quickly pushed up her scarf when Caroline didn't notice, showing the two a massive bite mark on her neck,"Oh my god, Caroline! What happened." Elena asked, in fear and confusion. "Nothing, okay." Caroline defensively told, slightly backing away from twins. "That is not nothing! Did somebody hurt you?" Esme harshly spoke, already getting defensive of Caroline, someone had gruesomely hurt her.

"No, okay, it..." The Forbes paused for a moment? Skating her head,"Nothing, it just.." Esme packed up for a moment, connecting the dots,"My mom would kill me." Caroline went back to the mirror, slightly scared as she fixed her makeup again, to avoid conversation. But something caught her eye, the same thing she saw when she was fixing her shoe.

Esme pulled down Caroline knitted white jacket, showing another bite mark that looked more recent,"Did Damon hurt?" Esme asked, Elenas eyes widened,"Did Damon do this?" The elder twin asked again, Caroline slightly shook her head, pulling back up her jacket, quickly,"No! Of course not!" Caroline defended, Esme immediately went to pull back down the sweater but her arms were pushed away.

"Just leave me alone, okay, Esme? God." The Forbes yelled, that's when Esme knew this was serious. Caroline rarely ever, near impossible, that she got yelled at by the Forbes. The twins looked at the blonde in disbelief as Caroline stomped her way out of the bathroom. The twins locked eyes before Esme's face was filled with anger, and she followed Caroline's lead.

Elenas eyes widened, she knew that look of Esme's, she had that look thrown towards her before. "Esme! Stop!" She yelled after her younger sister, running after her. Though the girl paid no attention. As she walked to the outside where Damon was last seen, the lights flickering and things slightly shaking as she walked passed them.

Esme quickly walked down the steps, making her way to Damon, who was already facing towards her with a clear smirk on his face, Esme pushed him, harshly. "There is something seriously wrong with you. You stay away from Caroline or I will go straight to her mother, the sheriff. You got it? Say away from her." Esme defensively told the raven haired man, her eyes shining a neon scarlet red, but only for half a second. He quirked a brow, confusion running through his eyes. Esme walked off, rage soaring through her,"Bastard." She muttered, in the corner of her eyes she could see Elena walking away from her and towards the fountain.

***

Esme walked around the mansion for the fourth time, she couldn't find Caroline nor Damon, and she was starting to get worried. So she and Elena split up after her other altercation with Stefan, Esme searched thoroughly inside while Elena went outside. But it had been nearly twenty minutes already and she hadn't found Caroline, and she didn't see Elena anywhere. So, she made her way outside as well to find her older twin.

As she walked, she was able to see Elena holding Caroline in her arms, Esme was able to hear Caroline sob into her sisters shoulder. Elena turned around, feeling the presence of her sister, as she was right, the two locked eyes. Sending each other a saddened look, Elena then turned to lay her head against the sobbing Caroline's shoulder, trying to comfort.

Esme would have joined but her head started to ring, she turned her head a bit, holding the side of it. It stopped, but was replaced by voices, "Thank you for staying so late." A males voice, she furrowed a brow, straightening her stance as she looked around the empty grounds.

"Did you get the Gilbert watch?" A woman's voice then appeared, Esme immediately recognized it to be Sheriff Forbes, Caroline mom.

'What did they need the Gilbert watch for?' Jordan questioned in her own mind, she knew where the exact location of the watch was, with Jeremy, knowing about the fight Elena and him had about it. But she didn't see the purpose or the importance of the watch.

"She claims it's packed away in her parents things." Mrs. Lockwood, Jordan knew the bitch. She was the definition of two-faced. "I can get it." A males voice pitched in, but this time, she had no idea who he was. She didn't recognize his voice, it sounded familiar, yes. But, Jordan didn't exactly know who he was. "Good, we're gonna need it." Sheriff Forbes spoke again, there was a second of silence.

"You sure?" Mayor Lockwood questioned, with Sheriff Forbes responding,"Five bodies all drained of blood. I'm certain." Jordan felt her heart drop, they knew. "They've come back." The unknown man spoke again, Jordan felt her heart race. She has to find out what they know, and why they want that damn watch.

[aroaceslytherin]

A03 AU HP Fanfic (Finally Here!)

Chapter 1: Karma Killed Her (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31582727/chapters/78143753) (mention of abuse and homophobia, some transphobia)

QUITE LONG

1953 Walburga winced as the maids pulled tighter on her corset. Her nails dug into her palms. Her arms hanging loosely at her sides. Today was her wedding day. Yesterday was the day she had been practicing her posture. Her mother hit her quite a number of times whilst screaming; ‘Upright! Left, right, forward, back. Let him lead! Your wedding must be perfect or else it will surely lead you to a life of solitude!’ For as long as Walburga could remember, she had been a little unsteady on her feet. She would chase her brothers down the hall and clip a corner to close which resulted in bruises on her shoulders, falling on her arse and limping for a week, or that one time she stained her mothers floorboards with a broken nose. That was a day she would never forget. FLASHBACK She could already hear the furious steps of her mother’s heels as they climbed the winding stairs of their manor. “CAMELIA WALBURGA BLACK!” Walburga groaned internally as the witches mended her nose. “Mother, I have told you. I cannot help it that I stumble!” Irma growled, hitting her daughter over the head with her palm. “You need to listen to the etiquette teachers! Practice makes perfect after all, and you are to be the perfect heiress someday! We already have your husband chosen, and I am not having you ruin anything with your clumsy nature! I will see to it you go twice every-day from here on out!” Walburga opened her mouth to protest. Her mother clamped her mouth shut, pushing the medi-witches out of the washroom. “Enough, ladies!” She knelt in front of Walburga, tilting her daughter’s head up so grey eyes met hers. “You are growing up, dear. I cannot have you muddying up your dresses anymore as you chase your brothers ‘round this house! It is unladylike! You are soon to be eleven! Tis’ time you act like a grown woman!” Irma pulled her daughter up and shoved her to the door. “Dinner is downstairs getting cold, I suggest you eat before you get none. AND CLEAN UP YOUR BLOOD BEFORE BED OR YOU GO HUNGRY FOR A WEEK!” END FLASHBACK Walburga tousled her curls through her fingers and admired her dress in the floor-length mirror before she headed out of her bedroom and into the halls. Her heels tapped softly on the hardwood floor as she made her way downstairs. She tripped once she got to the bottom. Though not over herself. “ALPHARD!” She screamed, picking up the two-year-old dressed in a black ruffled dress. She hoisted her on her hip, supporting her with one hand under the baby's bum. Walburga stormed through the house looking for her younger brother just shy of one year. She found him outside in the greenhouse, taking a drag. She groaned, shifting the squirmy brat to her other side.

“Alphard Roland Black!” She yelled through gritted teeth, pushing through the greenhouse doors.

He hadn’t noticed her until she grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground, stomping on it with her heeled boot; putting it out.

“Fuck’s sake, what?!” Alphard yelled, hands to the side. Walburga thrust the baby into his arms. He took her with a groan of protest and disgust. “I don’t want this.”

“You are on baby duty!” Walburga huffed, crossing her arms and scowling at him. “We expected you to be keeping these kids from being in our way, and you are out here smoking fags?!”

“Why are we doing this? They are Cygnus’ after all! Besides, this whole cousin marrying cousin thing is absurd!” He waved his hand in a circle, rolling his sharp grey eyes.

“Mother is against people knowing he had kids out of wedlock and in his teens. Why are you so against everything she teaches?”

“So is Cygnus!”

“NOT!” Walburga screamed. “He merely broke one rule, you go against everything!” She swiped her hand through the air firmly to signify her point.

“WALBURGA!” Their mother screamed from the porch. “Get back in this house this instant!”

Walburga poked her brother in the chest with her sharp nail painted black. "Watch the brats or I will have your head.” She growled as she hiked up her dress with a huff before heading back to her mother. “Heaven forbid my kids act like him.” She murmured under her breath.

Upon approaching her mother, Irma cast cleaning charms on her then pushed her inside. “I thought I told you to stop going after Alphard, you are twenty-five for crying out loud.”

“He was smoking again and was not watching Bellatrix like you asked. I tripped over her.” She felt her mother’s grip tighten on her shoulder at the mention of her brother with cigarettes again. Walburga shrugged her off and headed to the front parlour with a huff.

***

Hours later everything had gone well. Walburga was proud of herself she had not made a fool of herself as the new Lady Black. There was laughter and chatter between the whole of the Pureblood society and, as suspected, no mud-bloods, half-bloods, or traitors had attended.

Walburga greeted everyone by name; to be polite. She danced gracefully this time (as the bruises, cuts, and welts from her mother had reminded her) with the various partners she had taken up as they moved throughout the ballroom. She felt confident, proud, and more-so like a lady than she had when she woke up that morning.

Walburga jumped in her skin when her brother surprisingly came out of nowhere then grabbed her by the wrist.

Alphard spun his sister into his embrace. She grimaced at his breath.

“You smell like you had gone and drunk all of our liquor." She took his hand and placed a hand on his shoulder as they began to waltz. "Where are the children, brother mine?”

“Sleeping, darling. Don’t you worry.” He smirked that notorious Black lineage smile that most everyone in their family wore proudly. “Congratulations, sis.” He kissed her on the cheek, spinning her twice before dipping her. “I am afraid I may have to leave permanently.”

“What?!” She hissed quietly, pulling herself up before darting her grey eyes around the vast room to make sure no one around her heard. “You cannot! Must you?”

Alphard brought the rhythm back before they tripped over each other. “I cannot handle mother any longer. You ratted me out, it was worse than last. I am an outcast here and you know it.”

“Who will help with Bella and Andie?” Walburga asked, politely declining another dance as her brother spun her again.

“Mother said you are to take them until he is of age. By then, though, he may just not be a suitable father.” Alphard bowed to her as the next symphony started. He grabbed her two hands in his, pulling her to him before kissing her forehead. “I love you.” Alphard handed her off to the male that had asked her for her hand last time before fleeing and never looking back.

____________

As the evening drew on, Walburga grew tired and tipsy. Several people had left or retired to the hallway to have a proper chat. As she danced with Orion, she noticed William Lestrange and her mother talking in a corner.

“Pass me to him, please. I need to get closer to my mother.”

Orion obeyed and took the next lady into his arms. Walburga heard her congratulate him as she moved through the sea of people before landing in the arms of a man that was close to her mother.

“...such a beautiful bride. People will talk for years to come. You must be satisfied.”

Walburga’s heart filled with warmth. She worked hard for tonight and was glad she could stay focused on being poised and graceful all night; careful to not trip during the dances. Walburga focused her grey eyes on her mother to listen on what she was going to say. She waited all night to hear a good thing from the person who gave her life. All she wanted was approval. To make her mother proud by being the best lady. It seemed all throughout childhood her mother nagged on her for not being the best. Finally she could be accepted!

“That girl is a lost cause!” Her mother bit out at William. Irma’s face twisted into a sneer as she gripped her wine glass tight. “No grace, frighteningly terrifying, always muddying her dresses and chasing after her brothers! I should curse her to having a son just like Alphard with mannerisms like her so she at least knows the pain I went through! Months of work and she still can’t sit upright, walk poised, or stand with dignity! Forgets proper etiquette and table manners! Was troublesome until she went off to Hogwarts, I was glad to be rid of her! Now she’s off troubling someone else and for that I couldn’t be happier!”

Walburga felt like someone had just stabbed her in the heart.

William bowed down and kissed Irma’s hand. “I am all the more impressed by what you have achieved.”

Her mother smiled sweetly. “Thank you dear, I do what I can. No matter how ungrateful that little brat can be.” Irma ended bitterly.

Walburga thought that her mother. No, Irma. Had always put family first, no matter what.

Toujor Pur, after all.

It was like something had lifted and now all that stood before her was a wicked bitter hag full of jealousy.

I don't need her after all.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered to the man, biting back her tears as she let go. “Thank you, but I-I can’t, can’t be here right now.” She hiked up her dress and fled the ballroom. Toujour Por meant something to her.

I will teach the true meaning behind being pure, keeping the family pure, having magic coursing in our veins, Dark Arts, and family first always- no matter what! None of this behaviour my mother engages in any longer!

***

A few years later Walburga fell pregnant. All she wished for was to give her husband a healthy son to be their heir to stop the gossip, ridicule, and outcasting on how people noticed how hard it was on her. How they thought she actually could not fit the role. Her wishes had not come true. Her first pregnancy had been twin girls; Syfrin Ophelia - later to be Sirius Orion - and Rosier Azalea II. However, she had some faith to her first born...

Walburga held her daughters close to her as Orion stood beside her. "No heir, yet, Camelia."

"Syfrin is a boy."

"That is clearly a girl. Well, Camelia?" Orion started, taking their first-born in his arms. "What odd things run in our family?"

Walburga smiled. "I am not sure, why?"

*

Within two years, she had two more kids. One boy; Alastair Rigel, later to become Alice Fleur. One girl; Regina Adelene, later to be Regulus Arcturus. All four of them tested her nerves just as much as the first four. She never got a full night’s rest again, but she never lost her patience.

Syfrin/Sirius was lively, clumsy, challenging, and loud like Bellatrix, Rosier, and Alastair/Alice where as Regina/Regulus was patient, quiet, obedient, and carefree like Andromeda, Pandora, and Narcissa.

It was too much; her brothers drank themselves to death, Alphard disowned for being gay, Cygnus only having kids because of their family and then her having to adopt them. People within their circle ridiculed them because there were no boys and that Cygnus murdered Druella just hours after Pandora and Narcissa’s birth. They then ridiculed her for having no suitable heir and taking in his daughters.

As her children grew, she repeated ‘Toujour Pur’ and provided constant reminders that muggles were mud-bloods and they were to stay away from them for they were filthy. Walburga would tell them the world was hurtful and cruel. That family came first always.

Her first-born never seemed to understand. They pestered and tested Walburga with inappropriate questions. They seemed unable to sit in a chair right, refused to sit up straight or hold a fork correctly and ate everything with their hands. No matter what Walburga did; this kid was just as clumsy as she used to be. They were a challenge.

She would never hit, she would never yell. Before she lost her temper, she would walk away then come back and talk to her kids about the problem and what she expected. She promised herself she would never become her mother. She would cry herself to sleep at night thinking Syfrin/Sirius would never pick up on her teachings. She was afraid Regulus would follow in their footsteps even though he was currently following hers. Her adopted daughters also did better than Sirius.

*1971

Walburga was glad when she sent Sirius and Rosier off to Hogwarts. Their prefects could finally show them the right way. Andromeda, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Pandora would be there for a few years and they would listen to them. When the first owls arrived from Bellatrix, that is when Walburga knew something was up.

Orion stood beside her, sipping his wine. Watching as she picked up the letter. Her hands shook as she looked at Bellatrix's handwriting.

Everything she had built, everything she had taught him… it all went up in ashes.

Walburga slammed the letter down as she stormed off to the kitchen.

“Not a word.” She said sternly at the cooks as she approached the cupboards and retrieved the plates. She took them to the cellar where she smashed them against the grey brick wall until there weren’t any left. As she looked at the damage, she sank to her knees and screamed with tears streaming down her face.

Walburga wanted to die, or even murder her daughters when they were born. All they had done since they conceived them was make her life burdensome and painful. Ever since the day they were born, they were a traitors to the bloodline. She was ashamed they were even hers. They had sorted her son and only chance of a good male heir into Gryffindor.

Walburga saw it was coming.

She had one chance left to make things right; Regina.

Her youngest. Obedient, calm, collected, and poised. Never clumsy, boisterous, or rude. A proud Slytherin. Top marks in Dark Arts. She even became a Death Eater after Bellatrix. She understood it was pro-muggle activism keeping knowledge from proper witches and wizards and supported it. Regina never disappointed her even though she was not a suitable heir. She could give a suitable heir, though. Walburga still worried when she hung with her sisters and continued to look up to them.

*1976 September

It was another Summer with the kids home from Hogwarts. Walburga dreaded going to the ball with her dysfunctional family but she couldn’t afford to stay away.

Where Regina/Regulus accepted dance requests and focused on finding a suitable heir, Sirius had not and smoked cigarettes in a corner.

Regina/Regulus had worn a black sparkling ball gown despite the arguing that had followed when Walburga presented it to her; "Why won't you wear this dress?" Walburga asked, hands on her hips as she stood in the middle of Regina's room. Regina/Regulus shrugged. "I do not feel comfortable with them, mother." Walburga folded her arms. "I have come to terms that you are not a suitable heir but that you can give me one, and now you are telling me you would rather wear a suit over a dress? Do not tell me you are like your sister and want to be a man!" Regina/Regulus hung her head, toying with the tulle fabric of the ball gowns skirt. In the end, Walburga won. Whereas Sirius wore a suit with a leather jacket. Which had also ended in a fight. She wasn’t even trying to look for a dance partner or suitable future husband. People made jokes that she was a wizard interested in wizards or even a witch interested in witches. *sometimes they could not tell which gender Sirius wanted to be* Walburga knew who her friends were though; mudbloods and traitors. She didn’t even try to keep his interests or relations with all those harlots and men a secret. For reasons unknown to her, she had recently just stopped doing that in the past year.

I need answers.

Because of her children, Walburga was an outcast. No one talked to her. It forced her to interact with the only people she could; her brothers and her husband. That is where she currently stood, with her family, waving away her brother’s smoke clouds as she tried her hardest to ignore the nausea that clawed at her throat as her husband and brother just kept drinking.

She knew the three of them were trying to forget about Syfrin/Sirius.

Alphard, however, was not. He was proud of Sirius for being himself and acting like him; looking up to the "cool" Uncle.

Walburga had hated her brother ever since the day she had dug into him before he had left her house…

FLASHBACK 1961

Walburga was holding two month old Regina/Regulus as she stormed downstairs to the servants’ quarters where her brother slept in the extra room spending his days drowning in whiskey, smoke, and stupid muggle painting.

“I will not have my children raised around a smoker! What is all this?!” She gestured to his canvases and paintings, kicking one down and stomping on it. “I want you out of this house by sundown! You don’t belong here anymore, you fag! My son does not need this kind of influence! He will marry a weathful, beautiful, young dame and give us wonderful heirs for years to come! In order for that, you must leave!”

“I will still be at the dances and family gatherings as mother insisted when she disowned me and sent me to you, but fine! I’ll leave this bloody house for all I fucking care! Have fun raising eight kids on your own!”

END FLASHBACK

When Alphard glanced at Sirius, it ignited something in Walburga. She grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off to a nearby powder room. She threw out the girls giggling inside and locked them out before putting up a silencing charm and glared at her brother.

“Have you been seeing my daughter!?” Walburga seethed, crossing her arms.

Alphard took another drag.

She pulled it from his hand, throwing it in the ashtray before pushing her brother toward the counter with her hands around his neck.

He winced as she pushed him further into the countertop; the smooth edges pushing painfully against his spine. Alphard watched her eyes turn almost black. There was no more grey colouring or happiness in Walburga. She had turned cold, like their mother. There was no turning back from that for a Black…

Once you go black, you never go back.

“I will ask again.” She growled. “Have… you… been… visiting… my… child?!”

“They have been coming to me.” Alphard choked out. His throat was on fire and his wrists were hurting from squeezing the counter. “They had questions.” He choked out. “I answered.” She squeezed tighter. His vision blurred. “Stop!”

Orion ran in and yanked her backwards. “Honey, stop!” He yelled, squeezing his hands into her shoulders. “You are going to kill somebody!”

Walburga shoved Orion away. “What do you fucking care?! You are just drinking away your life with my brother, ignoring your children like always! I’m stuck taking care of eight kids, one of which wants nothing to do with our family and our traditions!” She grabbed her husband’s wrists, her voice gone dark as she spoke her next words. “You do anything you can to stop her from burrowing further into this rabbit hole of hers!”

“You have been making him hurt your son already! He has bruises, scars, and told me a complete list of spells yo-”

“SHUT UP!” Walburga screamed, slapping her brother. “YOU did this to her! I told you to stay away from her, no matter how persistent she got!”

“He is fifteen!” Alphard argued.

“AND DOING EVERYTHING YOU AND CYGNUS DID WHEN YOU TWO WERE YOUNGER!” Walburga screamed even louder. Alphard was right… Walburga was too far gone now. “She is a disgrace. An outcast, a traitor, a freak! I should have just killed all of them.” She glared at her husband. “I am taking the children home.”

*nine at night*

Walburga was quiet the rest of the evening as she dragged her children home.

Sirius was laughing, Regina was glaring at him, and Bellatrix was complaining.

Why is this my life?

Once they got home Regina/Regulus went up to bed, the girls went outside to giggle about boys. Walburga grabbed her wand and aimed it at Sirius’ back.

Petrificus Totalus!

“You are the worst thing that has ever happened in my life!” She circled her then gripped her chin and tilted it up so their grey eyes met. “Your father has done enough, it’s my turn! I cannot save it any longer, I-” she swallowed thickly.

Say it, you cannot stand loving someone like this anymore. He is not your son. Never has been. Sirius stared at her as she tripped over her words.

Her leather jacket angered her, the long hair she insisted on wearing as a boy, his tattoos she knew she had *very unladylike*, her piercings, her “friends”, her choice in being Sirius over Syfrin, ending up in Gryffindor and being portrayed as a boy by the castle, teachers, and students. She slapped Sirius after letting go of their face.

“I hate you.” She spit it out; literally.

Walburga grabbed the broom from the kitchen and went back to the entrance between kitchen and living room. Her heart pounded, ached in her chest, she did not want to do this to her baby but she had hurt her. She needed to be shown not from her father how much pain she put to her mother, but by Walburga herself… the person she hurt.

“I hate you.” She repeated, tears stinging her eyes.

She could not take it anymore. Sixteen years of humiliation, pain, disobedience, talking back, shouting, screaming, yelling, smashed family heirlooms and antiques, broken books, smashed walls, knives through the tables and walls, fork marks in the table. Walburga’s blood ran cold as she brought the broom up and brought it down hard on her child.

Sirius fell to her knees, biting her tongue to keep from screaming out. Walburga picked her up from under her armpits and brought the broom down on her back once more. “I hate you, you are a disgrace!”

“A faggot like your bastard Uncle!” The broom came down on Sirius' shoulder blade with a deafening crack.

“Hanging out with Mudbloods!” Walburga swung the broom again.

“How dare the fates let you become a bloody Gryffindor! You can have suitable heirs as a girl!” She hit Sirius with the broom three more times with the last sentence.

Again and again, the broom came down on her child. With every hit, Sirius winced. Sirius had disrespected her with everything she was. Walburga had done her best to never hit or yell. She now had enough and could not take it anymore. She poured all her anger and disappointment out on her child. The one person who should have been her heir!

“I hate you! Is that through your skull yet?!” She screamed, pointing her wand at Sirius. “Crucio!” Sirius arched her back, screaming vociferously. Walburga could feel the strength grow within her as she punished her kid.

She struck again… her neck, her hands. Walburga smiled as she watched Syfrin draw away from the sting as she trembled. Walburga could only guess it was from the crying.

She grabbed his long curly hair and pulled her head back to meet her dark eyes. “I… hate… you…” Walburga seethed.

Sirius squeezed her eyes shut, warm tears trailing down her face.

Walburga smiled the Black lineage smile as she threw her forwards at the coffee table.

Sirius' body landed on the top of the table with a hard thud and a pained moan.

“For so long I have had to deal with you… keep up with you… I had your father do my dirty work because I could not go through with it but I have had quite enough! You simply could not have told how much I hated you through your father, but you figured out how much he hated you. It is my turn. You needed to see how much I truly detested you and I did it all in one go.”

Images of all the times Syfrin acted out, disobeyed, stumbled, fallen, talked back. It fuelled her anger. Syfrin deserve no one… not those friends… not her sisters… nor whoever she was seeing.

“You deserve no one!” She continued beating and cursing at her child until she was tired. Walburga had been waiting to punish them. Now that she was finally doing it, she felt like she couldn’t stop.

Walburga watched her daughter turned potential heir turned to a disgrace weep on the table. Blood seeped through her clothing and onto the floor.

I’ll deal with that later.

Her long hair had become plastered to her sweaty tear-stained face. For the first time in sixteen years, Walburga felt content.

“You can drown in your misery for all I care. Just get up to bed before your father gets home or you will deal with him as well. Might as well stay there so he can do more damage anyway, you deserve it.”

She leant over Sirius as the front door opened.

“Too late.”

Walburga gripped her daughter's hair, pulling at the nape of her neck.

“Did I say you are a faggot? I found letters from your so-called friend. Everything you are doing and have done is amoral! You have always been an outcast, a blood traitor, and disowned. You haven’t been my son for years.”

She looked up to find Orion looming over them. He had heard everything she just said.

Sirius whined as she tried moving away but Walburga pulled her up by her elbows and held her back against her own body. “I’m going to enjoy watching your drunk father do the same things I just did to you.” She growled into Sirius' ear.

*eleven thirty*

Sirius climbed the stairs in weak agony.

His parents were downstairs cleaning up the blood, the evidence, and the smashed plates from earlier.

His sisters had gone up to bed through the basement cellar to avoid the scenery of him getting beaten.

He stood on shaking legs in front of the bathroom mirror, locked inside until he left.

Sirius inspected himself; his left eye was purple and swollen, his lips had cuts and dried blood, some blood was still coming out of his mouth, his hands were bleeding, his back was killing him.

His father had beat him harder than he had in the past. Sirius had two assumptions; he was drunker than usual… or, since his mother had not given his father any instructions, then he had done what he wanted to do.

Sirius hung his head and gripped the porcelain sink as more tears escaped his body. How he even deserved this he hadn’t known. Who was he to stop himself from being clumsy, gay, a boy ninety percent of the time, or uninterested in dark magic?! It was who he was!

Without even looking up, he brought his fist up and smashed the mirror to bits. He spun on his heels and punched the wall above the toilet paper holder; leaving a vast hole in the plaster and wallpaper. It left him feeling elated.

He took out his pocket knife from his slacks and added a few more cuts to his wrists before pocketing it again. Sirius became nauseous and threw himself over the toilet where he threw up blood, his dinner, and some bile. He growled as he flushed it down.

About twenty minutes later, he went to his youngest siblings room. He knocked on the door as he entered. Regulus ran up to their brother and wrapped their arms tightly around his middle. Sirius hugged Regulus tight, kissing their head.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered.

“I love you, too.” Regulus replied. “But you can’t leave.”

“I have to! Did you not hear what was going on downstairs?!” Sirius yelled, gesturing to the staircase outside the room leading to the living room he just left. “Do you not see the condition my body is in?!” He gestured to himself.

“YOU FUCKING PROMISED! YOU WERE THERE TO PROTECT ME!” Regulus had hot tears stinging their grey eyes. “You should not have come in. You should have just left!”

“I wanted to say something before I left.”

“Bullshit.” Regulus growled, grabbing a photo album and throwing it at Sirius’ head. Sirius ducked. “You promised! All you do is hurt us!”

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut. “It's not me.” He choked out, the last thing he wanted was for his brother to hate him.

“NO!” Regulus yelled, punching the wall beside Sirius’ head, baring their teeth. “If you want to leave, then leave!” They whispered through their teeth. Regulus' body shook with adrenaline.

Sirius watched Regulus’ cheeks turn from pink to a burning red. Their sad grey eyes were like daggers to his heart, much more so than his mothers. He had been close to his brother. Sirius shoved Regulus away, causing the youngest heir to stumble back.

“FINE!” Sirius growled through clenched teeth. “I thought I could protect you and get you to follow me.”

“They need me!” Regulus whispered, grey eyes searching the grey carpet below them.

“You do not have to do this. Just tell them.” Sirius pleaded. Regulus glared up at him. Sirius nodded. “Alright. Do not tell me I didn’t try. I love you.” He turned out into the hallway and headed to his room as his heart shattered. No one in this house loved him anymore, so he would just go to someone who did.

“I love you. I’m sorry.” Regulus whispered after him.

Sirius heard them.

***midnight***

Walburga sat happily at the table in the sitting room. Humming, she stirred her tea with a small silver spoon and ignored the loud noises from upstairs. Walburga didn’t care about what was going on. If there was damage, she would have someone fix it later. She knew Saiph would outlash at his punishments. Someone trampled down the stairs. Bumping against something every few moments.

“I’m leaving,” Sirius barked, “And you will not be seeing me anymore. I will not be coming back.”

“I would not want you back anyway.”

Walburga didn’t bother getting up. She sat and watched her son/daughter as he stormed out the front doors. With the slam of the front door, everything felt lighter. It should not have felt nice but it had. Sirius was a Gryffindor, he always had been. He never fit in with their Slytherin house, their Dark Arts, the Death Eaters. That was Regina's job.

Walburga was confused when she heard someone else come running. She stood and entered the living room. “Regina.” She said calmly. Regulus stopped in his tracks, looking up at his mother. “She disappointed us. You know that, right?”

Regulus nodded. “But-”

“You will not disappoint us too, Regina. Got it?” Walburga warned.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Regulus/Regina answered sadly. Walburga didn’t catch her tone as she was too busy pulling out her wand and changing the wards.

“She is an ungrateful brat. I did my best, she still had not listened. Then Hogwarts went and sorted her into the wrong house!” She whirled on Regina, taking wide steps until she gripped her chin, locking their eyes together. “You are still focused on finding a suitable heir, yes?”

Regulus/Regina nodded. Though she was just fourteen, she knew how important marrying wealthy pure-blood men was to her mother. She just could not help how he felt towards a certain someone at Hogwarts or how he felt to his own body. She needed to be on her mother’s good side, no matter how hard it got at times. She could have her fun without her finding out, do her duties as a Death Eater on the side, and still have everything be completely alright when she graduates.

Right?

“I know how much it means to you that this family stays together, but unfortunately Syfrin had other plans.” Walburga would see to it that she would not suffer from her older sisters. She would be seen as the one and only suitable heiress of the House of Black who would hopefully bring up suitable heirs in the future.

Regulus followed her to the tapestry and watched as she pointed her wand at Sirius' name; in which the tapestry and every pure-blood paper had re-wrote istelf to suit who Sirius was when he changed who he was in the family. Regulus intended to do that someday as he watched an intense beam come from Walburga's wand.

With satisfaction, Walburga watched the name of what she thought to be her last rotten spawn become burnt off the family tree.

**1977**

Walburga took a trip to Hogsmeade a week after the kids had gone back to school. She did her best to keep herself out of sight from prying eyes as people would surely talk. She had just wanted to see if she could spot Regulus having a bit of enjoyment for once before she headed to Knockturn Alley to find the ingredients she needed to ward the house from Boggarts and Dementors once again.

She had found Regina/Regulus just moments before she turned toward the alley.

Her blood boiled.

She was with her brother, laughing at whatever Potter was saying! Walburga pulled her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

How dare she!

Yet she could not do anything for fear of exposing herself.

Moving on from her disgrace of children, she turned toward Knockturn Alley and right into ‘Cobb & Webb’s’ where she had bumped into…

“Peter?” She questioned. His blue eyes darted around the alley.

What is a sixteen year old doing down here? Isn’t this one of Sirius’ friends?

“Why are you here?”

“I, uh, I’m…” he stuttered. “Sirius doesn’t know.”

“Death Eater, are you?” Walburga thought aloud. Peter nodded.

Why in the whole bloody world did Syfrin become friends with the shyest, drawn-back people? SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN A SLYTHERIN! At least she would have proper friends that…

Walburga stopped herself and looked at the timid Pettigrew with a sinister smile. She pulled them off to the side and sat him on a bench.

“What are they having you do?”

*1978*

When Regina/Regulus was eighteen, the house became empty and quiet.

Walburga had not heard from her baby in weeks.

She had gotten no letters from her about how Hogwarts was going.

No letters from the Death Eater headquarters.

Walburga had waited for Regina to return for months but she knew by now that she was dead.

The tapestry gave it away.

Regina had been a good girl, she did not deserve the cold hands of death.

*1981*

Now here Walburga was, getting ready for the trial of her firstborn.

She had not seen Syfrin in five years. Walburga refused to attend her wedding to Remus Lupin; the monster, the tainted half-blood. He was just another faggot to deal with. She hated that Sirius had the ability to conceive and bear a daughter with that monster. It left a bitter taste in her mouth that he had even considered the blood-traitor and the mudblood half-blood girl as the child’s Uncle and Aunt alongside her brother. She destroyed Sirius' room when Regulus had become a Godfather to those two’s tainted spawn.

Walburga sensed deep inside she was not getting the full story… that someone was lying to her. If she found out that one of her children lied to her, they would feel her wrath. She could handle punishing Syfrin again, but punishing Regina or Narcissa would crush her spirit even more than it had five years ago when she hurt her eldest son. Narcissa and Regina were the ones who followed their footsteps religiously. Cygnus and some boy named Tom had caused Bellatrix to become too far gone. Andromeda went and married a mudblood Hufflepuff; getting herself disowned.

Entering the courtroom, Walburga sat in the front row. She needed to see everything. A sinister smile crept onto her face as she muttered spells that made them not hear Sirius' cries, as well as whatever she said turn to lies. They deserved this. She had murdered her friends in cold blood and that monster of a husband hated them. Peter was out of the picture, her friends were dead, Remus was hated, outcast, and alone. As soon as Sirius was behind bars in Azkaban,

Walburga was free.

*

Two Aurors dragged Syfrin/Sirius into the courtroom.

It had only been a few months since she had been arrested and time was not nice to her. Walburga could tell she had not slept, that she had been crying and inflicting pain on himself. It made Walburga happy.

If you had just been in Slytherin, none of this would be happening.

Sirius struggled against the restraints, growling menacingly at the Aurors as they struggled to get him in more restraints. He screamed as they threw Crucio spells at him. “I did not do it! It was not me! Are any of you daft bastards listening to me?! You are all full of bullshit and this is fucking… you all need to burn in fucking hell!”

I used to wash your mouth out with soap for that mouth of yours. Can’t believe someone actually kisses your ashtray, liquor filled, vile mouth and those kids of yours are not terrified of their so called parent; a drunk, smoke and drug addicted, vile parent.

Walburga sat there smirking, her eyes trained on her screaming traitor daughter.

Her cries fell on mute ears.

No one was listening.

She put this on himself.

The more she struggled, the happier Walburga was.

He abandoned his families, his brothers, his friends, lovers, and more.

There truly was no one on her side…

There never had been.

The Wizengamont found Sirius guilty and he was dragged out of the courtroom screaming vile curses and laughing maniacally.

Even if you had complied nicely in a calm manner… impossible in this family… they still would have hauled you off. Glad to be rid of you.

*

Walburga was still smiling as she got home.

It was unsettlingly quiet with all her children gone, her husband, heiress, and brother dead, and her other brother living off on his own. She put her veiled hat down on her bed.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw something that made her skin crawl.

It could not be real…She despised her! Everything about her mother made her skin crawl and her blood boil.

I refused to turn into her! I did everything in my power to be different!

She turned slowly towards the mirror on her vanity dresser pushed toward the far end of the room.

“No.” She whispered.

She approached the mirror slowly, locking eyes with her own reflection. “No.” She repeated, shaking her head. “No, no, no, no!” She was smiling back at herself with the same malicious smile her mother had when she had beaten her. The smile she knew was plastered on her face when she beat her first-born. She screamed as she punched the mirror; shards of glass rained down on her, the vanity, and the green carpet below.

Walburga found herself on her knees screaming through her tears. She blindly reached for her wand, finding it on her vanity in a pile of glass. She let the shards cut her as she picked up her wand and herself then stormed off to Sirius’ room.

She kicked his door open then stood staring at his destroyed Gryffindor decorated room for a moment. Walburga could feel the tears flowing down her cheeks as she ripped photos of Sirius’ friends and himself off the walls…

“TRAITOR!” She screamed.

She tore posters and banners down, destroyed his bed further and wiped all the makeup and ink pots off his vanity. She ripped his clothes from his closet, wanting to burn the dresses he had stolen from his sisters.

“Faggot.” She growled, storming off to Regulus' bedroom.

Her heart shattered when she opened the door to her youngests' room. There was nothing out of place in the room and everything was neatly in its place, yet there was a weird feeling emitting off the walls of the room. Regulus had kept everything straight and tidy, but something still felt off. Walburga tore through the room as the front doors slammed open. Walburga looked up from where she knelt on her daughter's floor.

“Dementors.” She whispered to herself. Walburga shook her head and continued searching through her child's clothes, journals, and closet. She pried open a hide-away door that hadn’t been shut all the way.

“Lumos.”

Her heart broke.

“Alphard!” She growled.

She stood up from the small painting room Regina/Regulus had made, coming face to face with a painting that was full of emotion. It was gold, green, silver, and orange with streaks of black weaving through the colours.

“No.” She whispered, thinking back to her daughter smiling at James in the pub.

She backed up into her hanging suits. A Gryffindor tie fell from one of the hangers. ‘J.P’ was embroidered on the bottom. She picked it up in shaking hands as she bit her bottom lip. Tears threatened to spill. She could hear the Dementors and Death Eaters below tear through her house but she did not care anymore.

Walburga let the tie slip from her hands as she exited the closet and fell to Regulus’ bed in body wracking sobs.

“When did this happen?” She asked herself as her muscles tensed and her body became numb.

No one heard from Walburga Black after the trial.

Dementors and Death Eaters raiding her house for the locket was all over the newspapers.

They had killed her…

Karma killed her.

***

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Feel free to comment your thoughts or questions! I am sorry if it does not make a lot of sense or things are confusing, I just wrote what felt right. Hopefully future chapters will help connect some puzzles.

(Updates might be slow and out of place... bear with me, I work an overnight job)

Next up? Lyall Lupin and Hope Howell.