#going off the way he tries to keep the hug from his own mother for longer but still let’s her go when she turns and also reactions with Thor

[jaeeyaaasworld]

Single Mother Next Door - CL16

Featuring: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: reader is a single mother, mention of an awful ex, reader was in an abusive relationship, Charles is literally so sweet that it makes my own teeth rot, GLASSES CHARLES (of course it's a warning)

Requested: Yes/No

"OH MY GOD, LANDO"

Charles yelled without even realizing, his headphones blocking even his own voice.

it was one in the morning and his loud laugh was resonating in the whole apartment.

what he didn't know was that, on the other side of his wall, there was a little eleven months old baby trying to sleep, with little success because of his loud yells.

the baby started crying right on the spot, making his mom run to him from the kitchen, where she was still cleaning.

"oh I know, baby"

you whispered, picking your baby up and trying to calm him down as possible, but as soon as the kid seemed to close his eyes for a little longer another yell came from the apartment next to yours.

you couldn't take it anymore, you had to do your stuff and quickly go to sleep to at least have a few hours of sleep before you had to get up and get your baby in daycare to go to work.

so, with the baby in your arms, you walked out of your apartment and knocked on your neighbor's door a few times.

Charles was turning off his stream and taking his headphones off when he heard someone knocking on his door, making him frown his eyebrows.

he looked at the time and it was 1 AM, who could be knocking on his door at 1 AM?

Charles got up from his seat and walked out of the room to go answer the door.

as soon as he opened the door he was met with a pretty young woman with a toddler in her arms, she was almost panicking as the baby in her arms was crying while hugging her neck tightly.

"hi, I'm the girl that lives next door. I'm really, really sorry to spoil your fun, but my toddler can't sleep and he keeps crying so can I ask you to, please, maybe, keep your voice slightly lower?"

you started rambling, rocking up and down with the baby in your arms to try and soothe him to sleep.

Charles slightly widened his eyes at the sight, gulping the lump that had formed in his throat.

"yeah, of course. I'm really sorry, I didn't know you had a toddler, I never heard him cry so..."

he started, as the toddler got up from your shoulder as he heard Charles' new voice.

his eyes were a bit puffy and his nose was a bit red from crying, he was watching Charles couriosly, making Charles smile at him while bending down slightly to see eye to eye with the sleepy toddler.

"hi, baby. I'm really sorry if I woke you up, I promise I will try to keep it down in the future for you and your momma"

Charles smiled at the toddler, making you smile at the interaction between the two.

"well, I'm sorry if I bothered you. I'm gonna go back to my apartment, see you around maybe..."

you said in an interrogative way.

"oh- Charles, nice to meet you"

he said with a smile.

"I'm Y/n, nice to meet you as well. oh- and thank you for understanding"

you replied with the same smile.

a smile that made Charles realize actually how beautiful you were.

you were tired, slight bags under your eyes as your tired smile stretched yours lips.

"i-it's nothing, really"

he stuttered out a bit and his cheeks turned slightly red as you entered back into your apartment, your toddler collapsing back on your shoulder as he tried to sleep again.

Charles closed his apartment door behind his back, his eyes still widened as he scrambled to search for his phone and dialing Lando's phone number.

Lando was the closest one to him, as he lived in the same apartment building in Monaco just two floors above him.

"what is it? we just got off the stream, Charles"

his friend asked, as soon as he picked up the call.

"is there a chance that you know a mother that lives in this building?"

Charles whispered to his phone, he now knew that his walls were thin as paper.

"I don- I don't think there's a mother in our apartment building, at least in my floor"

he said, thinking about the people that he saw enter or exit the hall while he was in there for any reason, but then he frowned his eyebrows.

"why are you whispering, mate?"

Lando asked his friend, confused on why his friend would whisper like that while he should be alone in his house.

"well, my walls are thin as shit and my neighbor can hear basically everything I say"

Charles whispered again, making Lando burst out laughing at his comment.

"are you serious, mate?"

he asked, still laughing as hard as Charles as ever heard and making the man sigh as he closed his eyes and started rubbing his fingers on his closed eyelids.

"yes, she is a mother and I've been keeping her toddler awake the whole night"

Charles said, making Lando laugh even harder at him and his situation.

"oh my god, mate. I would never want to be in your shoes. did she lash out at you or did she send her husband for you?"

Lando asked Charles, still giggling.

"no, actually she came to my door really calmly and asked politely if I could keep my voice down a bit"

Charles told his friend, throwing his own body on the couch while still keeping his phone to his ear to still hear his friend talk.

"and how was she? hot?"

asked Lando.

"Lando, you only think about this stuff... yeah, she's hot"

he whispered back to his friend and getting another laugh in return, but this time Lando's laugh made Charles smile and let out a small chuckle.

"go to sleep now, mate"

Lando said, a big yawn came from his side of his phonecall, which made Charles yawn with him.

"yeah, I better go to sleep now. goodnight, Lando"

Charles greeted, getting an hum from Lando as he hung up the phone, and he got up from his place on the couch to walk into his bedroom to get dressed in his pyjamas and go to sleep.

a toddler's cry could be heard from the other side of the wall, making him stop in his track and look towards the wall where the cry was coming from.

he knew it wasn't his fault this time, but he couldn't help but feel guilty for waking him up the first time.

so he felt in the right and a little in dept to try and make the baby calm down as soon as possible so that you could go to sleep and finally get the rest you needed.

Charles walked towards the piano in his apartment, sitting in the little seat that was in front of the black and white tiles.

he placed his hands on the tiles delicately and started playing one of his songs slowly and lowly, he was sure that the sound of the music could be heard from the other side of the wall, reaching his neighbor's apartment.

Charles slowly stopped hearing the sound of the toddler's cry, a smile showing up on his face as he kept playing softly for your kid.

after a few minutes he stopped playing, the sound of silence was so good, and just the thought that he was able to make your toddler stop crying fumbled with his heart.

he reluctantly got up from the seat and walked back to his bedroom, laying on his bed with his arm under his head, staring at his ceiling and still thinking about you and your cute little baby.

time skip: a week later

"mate- how is it going with the neighbor?"

Lando asked Charles as they walked into the hall of their apartment building, going towards the elevator while taking their home keys out of their pockets.

"I didn't see her since that day, but that night her kid started crying again and I played the piano for him"

Charles replied, pressing his floor button on the little plate in the elevator, and Lando gasped lightly at what he said.

"and it worked?"

he asked as the elevator doors closed with them inside.

"of course it worked, what did you think?"

Charles chuckled.

"I did it a couple times and he always calms down really quickly"

he said as the elevator dinged and the doors opened to Charles' floor, and as soon as the doors opened a man's voice yelling could be heard.

"please- calm down, there's people sleeping"

a little female voice was heard right after the yelling, making Charles and Lando both step out of the elevator and look more into the situation.

Charles' eyes widened immediately as he saw a man in front of your door, yelling and pushing you into the wall.

"you think I care about the people sleeping on this fucking floor? everyone should know here that you're a fucking whore"

the man yelled again, grabbing your jaw harshly and pushing you into the wall aggressively.

Charles couldn't take it anymore and he decided it was time for him to step in and stop the whole altercation.

he walked up to you two and grasped the man's wrist to yank him away from you, and the two men finished eye to eye, even though the man was slightly shorter then Charles.

"what are you doing, mate?"

Charles asked the man, putting himself between the man and you, as the man scoffed.

"and who are you, huh? her new play thing?"

he asked while gesturing his hands around, making Charles furrow his eyebrows and reach behind himself to flush your body to his back, your hands grabbing his shirt at his sides tightly.

"what if? who even are you?"

Charles asked, nodding his chin towards him and making a step forwards in almost a threatening way.

"you know, the father of the kid you are probably acting like a father to?"

the man said, making Charles realize that he was probably your ex and the father of your kid.

Charles stayed silent, deciding that it was time to end this whole thing right now before it escalated any further.

"when are you gonna let me see my kid, Y/n?"

the man asked, bending his body to the side to look at you, but Charles body blocked his whole sight and he couldn't even get a glimpse of you.

"when he is able to tell me what happens"

you say, getting into your house quickly and closing the door behind your back with a loud sound.

"this bitch-"

the man tried to get close to the door of your apartment, but Charles stopped him, basically getting in his face.

"if you don't get out of this building as soon as I can even think about it, I will get to know where you work, where you live and take everything down real soon"

he said, making the man take a few steps back, his face a little paler than earlier but still trying to be big and bad.

"and how would you do that, huh? who even are you?"

the man asked, making Charles scoff.

"you don't need to know, the only thing you need to know is that here you will probably see my face everywhere in Monaco and you will never be able to forget about what I did to your life"

the man started taking slow steps back, walking towards the end of the corridor, where the elevator was still open and waiting for him.

as this all happened, Charles realized that Lando was still standing there a bit shocked and staring at him like he was crazy.

"can you check that he really gets out? I need to check on her"

he said, turning towards your door as soon as Lando nodded his head at his request and walked to the elevator right after the man.

Charles softly knocked on your door.

"go away"

you said from the inside, making Charles' heart clench.

"it's Charles, can you open the door, please?"

he asked as softly and lowly as possible.

you slowly opened the door, letting him walk inside, careful not to step onto some toys that your kid had left around.

a little sniffle came from you that were behind him and Charles turned towards you to pull you into a tight hug.

"you wanna talk about it?"

he asked you softly, getting a shake of your head in return.

"it's okay, I don't need to-"

his words were cut off by a baby's cry that made you get out of the hug, but Charles stopped you while putting his hands on your upper arms.

"can I go?"

Charles asked, getting an hesitant nod from you and going towards the little bed that was in the living room to get the baby in his arms.

he started swaying side to side, humming lowly the melody of his song that he usually played on the piano to calm him down, while Y/n sat on the small couch that was on the side of the small bed.

the baby slowly started calming down, getting back to sleep pretty quickly so that Charles could place the baby back down onto the bed and sit on the couch next to you.

"he was abusive"

you started, making Charles look at you sweetly.

"you don't have to-"

Charles got cut off by you.

"no, I have to"

you said, taking in a deep breath and continuining on what you were saying.

"he was abusive, but when I got pregnant with Joe I decided that it was time for us to go. I couldn't bare loose my kid because of him, I lost already too much because of him. so I went away but he soon found out where I was working and where I was living and I had to change again. I was able to do eleven months living here, but now he found out and I don't know what to do. I mean- you were here now but you will not be here all the time and I would never expect you to and-"

you started rambling really quickly, making Charles stop you with an hand.

"you can trust me that he will not bother you anymore around here"

he said, drawing a low giggle from you that made his eyebrows furrow.

"did you threaten him or something?"

you asked jokingly as Charles smiled at your soft giggle.

"yeah, something like that"

he replied jokingly, with another low chuckle.

"thank you, anyway"

you suddenly said as Charles smiled at you.

"for what?"

he asked, even though he could imagine what it was for, he still wanted to hear you say that.

"for playing the piano for my son and for protecting me today"

you said, looking at him with a soft smile that made Charles' heart skip a beat.

"that's really nothing"

he said, returning the same smile back at you.

"hey, uhm... I know, maybe it isn't the best time to ask something like that but, would you go on a date with me sometime? nothing soon, I mean- if you're ready soon would be lovely but if you're not it's okay- I'll stop talking, yeah"

Charles rambled in embarrassment, getting a small chuckle from you on his side.

"I would love to, but Joe-"

you didn't even get to say anything that Charles already found the solution to any problem that could have popped up, as he probably had already thought about these type of problems.

"you could both come to my house and I could even play the piano for him so that he could fall asleep while you rest a bit with me"

he tried, making you chuckle and nod your head.

"then... tomorrow at 7 PM?"

Charles asked for confirmation, getting a nod in return as you both got up from the couch and walked towards your apartment door.

"well, goodnight, Charles. see you tomorrow"

you said, opening your arms to give him an hug.

"goodnight, Y/n"

he replied, tightening the hug just a tiny bit before letting go and exiting your apartment to enter his own.

time skip: the day after at 7 PM

a soft knock on Charles' door stopped his attempts at cooking to dry his hands on his apron to go open his door.

the sight of you dressed up in a cute dress with a big bag on your shoulder and Joe on your hip made Charles gasp slightly.

"you look so good"

Charles said, placing an hand on your upper arm to lean over and kiss your cheek, then turning towards Joe and taking him from your arms to throw him in the air playfully.

"and aren't you handsome all dressed up like a true gentleman"

he complimented the little kid, that was dressed up in a toddler sized tux, placing him on his hip and taking the big bag from your shoulder and placing it on his own shoulder.

"you look good as well, so domestic and so gentleman taking all my bags"

you complimented, smiling widely at Charles and getting on your tiptoes to place an hand on his shoulder to kiss his cheek.

"oh- I'm trying to cook you pasta, the last time I tried cooking it was kinda crunchy, but this time, I put a timer on the right time"

he said, placing the bag down on a barstool and still holding Joe on his hip while he went over to the kitchen to check on the pasta he was cooking.

you watched the whole scene from the doorstep of the kitchen, watching your date cook in his kitchen with your baby on his hip like he was his own kid.

"Joe eats the same things we do, right? I did some research yesterday and google told me that eleven months old eat the same thing adult do"

he asked, searching your face for something to confirm or deny what he was saying and getting a sure nod in return.

the timer on his phone ringed and you took Joe from Charles' arms so that he could get the pasta out of the water and into the pan with the condiment.

he plated everything as you sat down at the table with Joe on your leg, Charles placed the plates on the table and you started eating with Charles feeding Joe a few times when you were busy eating yourself.

the conversation kept flowing between you two and Joe soon got full and wanted to get down from your lap, but you tried to keep him in your lap since you didn't know if Charles was okay with your toddler snooping around in his apartment.

"oh, no. let him down, please. it's alright"

Charles said, noticing how you didn't want to let your kid down, so you finally let Joe get on the floor and roam around, you and Charles watching him as he reached a chair to slowly get up on his feet.

"he can walk?"

the man asked as you took a sip from your glass of wine.

"not yet, he's getting ready for it"

you replied, putting the wine glass down and getting up to go clean the dishes out of habit, but Charles stopped you by gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist that was grabbing the plate you used.

"oh no, I'll do it, you can chill with Joe over here"

he said, taking the dishes that you used and took them to the kitchen to place them in the sink, you smiled as he put his apron back on and you leaned on the kitchen island with your glass of wine while watching your son trying to paddle around and falling to his butt sometimes.

you watched around his living room, as Joe got closer to his piano, and the long line of big champagne bottles on his shelf caught you eye.

"what's up with all those bottles?"

you asked him, as you put your glass down to go to your kid as he started crawling towards Charles' couch.

"they're the champagne bottles from my podiums"

he explained quickly to you, since he was trying to load the dishwasher as quick as possible to get back to you and your kid.

"that's so cool"

you said, smiling up at the bottles as you sat on his couch as your son kept crawling around the coffee table in front of it.

you looked at the time and noticed that it was already 9:45 PM, looking at your son and how he started rubbing his eyes with sleep, picking him up from the ground and walking towards the kitchen to let Charles know.

"hey, Joe is really sleepy, so I think is time for me to go back"

you said, a sad smile on your face, you really didn't want to go back to your apartment yet, but you couldn't leave your son alone to get back here.

"or you could let Joe sleep on my bed and you could come back here with me- I mean, if you want to and if your comfortable of course"

he said, rubbing his neck shyly, his cheeks slightly red from embarrassment, making you chuckle.

"are you sure? that would mean that you would have to endure me for the whole night"

you warned him, since you couldn't pick up Joe in the middle of the night to take him back to your own apartment.

but your warning made Charles chuckle and smile warmly at you as he closed the loaded dishwasher and pulled off his apron.

"I could endure your company my whole life and never get tired of it, mon ange"

he said, getting closer to you and placing his hand on your upper arm with a loving smile.

"oh- that's so cheesy of you"

you teased him with a roll of your eyes and a smile.

"I'm gonna play the piano for Joe as you put him to sleep, is that good?"

Charles asked, getting a nod from you as you walked towards his room with the lights turned off as Joe already slumped on your shoulder.

the first notes of Charles song started playing and Joe was already starting to relax on your shoulder as you started rocking your body to slowly pull him to sleep.

as the song was done for the second time you were getting out of Charles' room, pulling the door almost closed behind your back.

Charles noticed you really quickly, turning around in his piano's seat with a smile as you smiled back at him.

he placed one of his legs on the other side of the seat, so that you could sit on front of him.

he patted the seat in front of him to call you over and you sat with both your legs to the outer side of the seat, sitting between his legs as his right hand went on your lower back and his left hand rested on your thigh.

"you look so pretty tonight, have I told you already?"

he whispered in your ear as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his words and his breath on your neck made you giggle softly.

"yes, a few times already"

you said, turning your face towards him and smiling at him, your noses almost touching from how close you were to each other faces.

a small giggle came from him as your noses touched, left to right and then back right to left.

"I wanna kiss you so bad, right now. can I do it? can I kiss you?"

he asked in a whisper, making you smile and nod at his words.

your lips finally touched and the kiss was soft and slow, a soft smile stretching your lips as his hands pulled you closer by your waist and you placed your hand on his jaw, pulling him closer and closer.

he smiled as he felt your lips stretch in a smile, slightly pulling away to look at you and smile widely.

"why are you smiling?"

Charles whispered on your lips, making you chuckle and using your hand to fix some of his hair that didn't want to stay in their place.

"cause you make me feel good..."

you said, pecking his lips just to pull back again and leave him leaning forward slightly to chase your lips.

"... and safe"

you added in a whisper, making him smile widely and turn you around so that you were leaning your back on his chest as he moved your hair to one side to expose your bare neck and shoulder because of your dress.

"I will treat you and Joe better then him, you can count on that"

Charles whispered, placing soft pecks to the juncture between your neck and your shoulder and making you giggle as his breath slightly tickled you.

"I'm gonna trust you on that"

#formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 x you #f1 fluff #charles leclerc #charles x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc one shot #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

[chosopie]

Hear me out: Conquer Sukana who killed y/n bethroned and Y/n, a very high ranking princess convinces Sukana who leave her baby brother, Yuji be. Yuji is a 3 year old who often clinging to y/n since Sukana basically stole the throne. Sukana falls for the beautiful y/n

CONQUERER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

“Master, it would be best if you spared them. They have done nothing against you,” Uraume spoke while he stood by Sukuna’s tall figure that loomed over you and your baby brother Yuji’s shaking figure. “Perhaps, you could even keep Lady Y/N L/N. She is known for her intelligence and her way with the sword.”

You stood in front of your little brother, arms spread open to shield his small body. Your face was covered in sweat and the blood of the man you were betrothed to. Now that he was dead, you were going to be queen—the queen of the foreign conquerer. It was unfair, but this was the rule and tradition every nation had mutually agreed upon. It was survival of the strongest. Those who are strong enough shall take what they can.

“Leave my brother alone or I will show you no mercy,” you spat.

“No mercy?” Sukuna laughed. “And what could you possibly do to me? You’re just a tiny and meek girl.”

You pulled out the dagger that was attached to the band on your thigh and pointed it at Sukuna’s upper abdomen. He quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked you to his hard and toned chest.

“Stab me, girl. Let’s see what you’ve got,” he moved his face close enough to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His eyes shamelessly examined your face, slowly trailing down to your exposed flesh. You wore a flowy purple off-shoulder dress that had a large slit that showed your legs. With him towering over you, he could see the top of your breasts your dress failed to cover.

You spat at him, causing him to move back. He scowled and tightly held your face with his large hand. His sharp nails dug onto your supple skin, leaving red streaks all over your cheeks.

“Do the women here have no knowledge of manners? Know your place. I own this nation now. I own you.” He let go of your face and snatched Yuji.

“No! Get away, monster!” Yuji fought back and tried to squeeze his way out of Sukuna’s arms.

“Yuji!” You screamed and stabbed Sukuna on the chest, carving out a big line that went all the way to his stomach.

Sukuna winced and threw Yuji onto the ground. You tried to run to your brother, but Sukuna grabbed you and held you in place.

“Please! Let him go! Just take me instead, you bastard!”

“Is that so?” Sukuna smirked, his hand effortlessly lifting Yuji from the ground and tossing him to you. You catched Yuji and hugged him tight, your left hand on the small of his back and right hand gently caressing his hair. “I shall take you as my wife,” the fierce man said.

-

Sukuna sat comfortably on his throne, his chin resting on the palm of his hands while he blankly stared at the lavish banquet your people had prepared. There were girls in revealing dresses that danced right in front of him, but his eyes were elsewhere. His gaze was fixed on you, who sat beside him in a beautiful white dress that was elegantly draped on your dainty figure. Your neck and wrists were covered in jewels of all sorts that Sukuna had gifted you prior to your unification.

“Smile a little, my dove. It’s our wedding. You’re more than lucky to have me as your ally. After all, I’m the strongest out there.”

Your eyes refused to meet his piercing gaze. “Ally? I had no choice. You forcefully took me.”

He gently reached for your chin and turned your head towards him. “You gave yourself to me, remember?”

“That’s because I had to protect my brother.”

“And you looked beautiful doing that. You would make a great mother,” he smiled with amusement.

: ̗̀➛ part 2

#rev.writes #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna

[assassinsblade]

Forget Me Not | 5

It is your turn to experience guilt and regret, while Azriel takes some time to himself.

WC: 4.4k

Warnings: TW: SA, brief mentions of suicidal thoughts/ideations!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Angst, feelings, we are all sad but we are taking a turn for the better!

a/n: All of the comments and responses to Part 4 were seriously incredible. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday tomorrow if they celebrate!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

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

Azriel's shadows surrounded him before he could command them to do anything else. Darkness swallowed his vision, his chest, his heart, gods, he was dying wasn't he? Was this what dying felt like?

He felt like he couldn't breathe. Pain was searing through his chest as if a fiery sword was sticking from his ribcage, and he barely felt his knees crashing to the ground underneath him.

He didn't know where he had subconsciously winnowed to until he heard his brother's voice, filled with shock and confusion.

"Az?"

Hands were pushing his shoulders back, trying to get him to unfold from himself, to stop grasping his chest. His chest, his chest, his chest, it burned-

"Feyre, get Madja."

Azriel tried to shake his head, but he was so dizzy he couldn't tell if he made the movement or not. He vaguely heard Feyre's movements shuffle to a halt. Rhys must have stopped her at his attempt to say no.

"What happened?" Rhys questioned, voice strong despite the panic slowly making its way in.

Azriel was sobbing. He didn't know when he had started, but he knew he had broken. His own chokes and cries echoed in Rhys' office, his tears falling onto the cold marble floor beneath their knees. Pain laced across his skin from his fingernails digging into his own flesh, and he felt Rhys trying to pry the grip away.

"Kill me," Azriel sobbed. "Please, kill me. Do something, just make it stop-"

Rhys dove for his brother at the words, pulling him into a tight hug. The embrace did little to help with the overwhelming torture raging within the shadowsinger. He was going to die, he wanted to die.

He had never hated himself more, hated how it felt like his body was going to eat him alive if he took one more breath.

The constant memories shooting behind his eyes like poison: his mother mistreated by the Illyrian men while his hands burned, Mor left naked and alone in that forest with a sign punctured to her womb and him not arriving until hours into her pain, Rhys walking into a trap because he hadn’t seen it and hadn’t stopped it, Gwyn violated and tortured because he hadn’t been aware enough to spoil the plot or get there soon enough, and then you — your bloody body being carried in Cassian’s arms, clothes torn off, having been forgotten by him.

"Don't you dare say that." The male trying to keep him together spoke with such command, but the shadowsinger's pain persisted.

"I can't do this, Rhys. She-"

He couldn't stop crying, he couldn't stop hurting, he felt like he was screaming...

"Feyre," he heard Rhys call distantly. Everything was blurry, everything was awful. His head was pounding, his body was giving up on him, and then he felt delicate hands on his cheeks, a soothing feminine voice, and then nothing.

As darkness swallowed him whole, he saw only the glinting gold swimming inside his chest, reaching like a rope into darkness.

It was quiet for a bit. Safe, surrounded by nothing but shadows so much like his own, and the small golden light flickering inside of him. He would be content to stay there forever. To no longer live as the monster he’d become, to be able to pretend he was nothing, no one, just a fluid existence stretched through space. Like the embodiment of flying through the skies of Velaris, wings splayed wide and air crisp and free all around.

Unfortunately though, Azriel’s peace was short lived. Before he could truly bask in the quiet, he was being pulled out of his mind and back into the present.

Bright light hit his face, shining through the window of his bedroom at the House of Wind. His shadows immediately swarmed the opening, pulling at the curtains until he was once again draped in darkness.

He sighed and sat up, running his hands down his face. He felt overly fatigued, his entire body weighed down with guilt, self-hatred, and the words you had spoken to him.

He did let everyone he knew down. He already knew that, reminded himself of that every single day, but that didn't make it hurt any less coming from your lips.

Rhys, one of the many people he had failed, had not stopped staring at him. Azriel knew his brother was waiting for him to break the silence.

His voice sounded broken to his own ears, weak and cracking even when spoken in a low volume. “I don’t know what to say.”

He truly didn’t. What should he have said? Hey Rhys, thanks for tucking me in after I had a complete breakdown, you can leave now.

“You can start by explaining why you came to my office and begged me to kill you.”

Yeah, Rhys was not happy.

Azriel sighed, feeling his chest pinch at the memories. He wasn't happy either.

You’re no hero. You’re a joke.

Your hands are the ones hurting me.

That’s all you're good for: inflicting damage.

“Azriel.” Rhys interrupted his thoughts.

He swallowed, feeling himself tear up again. He hadn’t cried this much since Rhys went under the mountain.

“She’s my mate,” he finally spoke, voice quiet and chest cracking open at the confession.

Rhys didn’t even blink. Azriel couldn’t meet his gaze though.

“Who?”

Rhys knew who. Based on Azriel’s reaction to the information alone, he knew.

Azriel didn’t answer the question, knowing it was unnecessary. Instead, he gazed at his scarred hands resting in his lap and said, “I went to train, and she was already in there. The bond snapped before she even turned around.”

“Does she know?”

He shook his head, focusing on the sting in his arm. “She wouldn’t have missed if she did.”

He felt Rhys eyeing the slash against his bicep, already weaving itself back together. Then his friend studied the rest of Azriel's body language. The way his shoulders were curved in on himself, the way his fingers traced over the scars on his hands, the ghostly look in the male's hazel eyes despite them glistening with tears.

"What did she say?" Rhys ended up asking after his silent observations.

"Enough."

His brother didn't let Azriel brush him off though. "Whatever she said, she didn't mean it, Az."

Azriel scoffed. "Look into my mind, see how she looked at me, and then you try to tell me she didn't mean it."

"She is angry and grieving, and you are the only person available that she can blame and take it out on. Her anger," Rhys suddenly grabbed Azriel's arm, positioning it so he could nod to the reddened gash, "that anger, is because she cares. She's hurt because she loves you."

Azriel shook his arm out of his friend's grip. "It doesn't matter. I fucked up, and I can't take that back. The damage has been done, Rhys."

"I used to think that too." Violet eyes met his. "Feyre hated me, in case you forgot."

Azriel didn't budge, so Rhys continued. "I know what you're feeling right now. That it'd be alright if she hated you, as long as she's safe. But it still hurts, knowing she thinks poorly of you, and that feeling builds up. But your journey with her is not over. She is a forgiving person, you just need to give her grace while she heals. And you need to give yourself grace, because you're in a painful position too."

He nodded, letting a few tears fall. His palm automatically reached for his chest, rubbing it in an effort to soothe the ache there.

“How did you do it? How did you live with it hurting this bad? After Feyre said…”

Rhys sighed, letting out a small breathy laugh — a genuine one. “It wasn’t easy. I left for those days before Starfall, ignored her letters, sorted out my thoughts. Came to the conclusion that even if Feyre never loved me, I would always love her and I’d be happy to do so. And I have a family who I love dearly, who also loves me.”

The pointed look he gave Azriel was obvious, reminding him that his family was there and worried about him too. They had seen the way he’d turned into a shell of himself, barely sleeping in case you had a nightmare and needed him, barely eating or training, his entire reserve of energy being put into monitoring your safety and wellbeing. And he knew they cared, he really did.

Cassian had been trying to get Azriel back into the swing of training again, wanting him to express some of his heavy emotions in the ring, or at least talk to his brother while sparring and practicing. Instead, Azriel was seclusive and pulled the punches he threw the Illyrian’s way.

Rhys had given Azriel time off from his missions, delegating the work to those under the spymaster to take some weight off of Azriel’s shoulders for a bit. Azriel had at first refused but had given in when Rhys had pointed out that time and attention needed to be focused at home anyway, what with the Illyrians’ growing mistrust of Cassian, Azriel, and himself, the threat of an uprising ever present.

But now with what you had said…

“I think it’d be best if I went away for a bit.” His voice was quiet, resigned, lifeless to his own ears.

“By yourself?” Rhys asked, clearly not liking the idea.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just — I think some space from her would be good. You even said you needed that when Feyre had hurt you.”

His brother’s violet eyes softened with understanding. “You’re right. I did. But I do think this is a bit more complex. What if you went with Amren or Mor to see Jurian and Lucien? See what they have been up to for a bit? You can leave some of the work to them, but have something to distract you should you need it.”

Azriel was quiet as he considered, but Rhys cut in before he could agree too soon. “But you come back. And you come back within the month.”

Azriel nodded. “Okay,” he relented.

“Okay,” Rhys repeated. His hand clasped Azriel’s shoulder in support, giving his brother a meaningful look. “I know I sound like an asshole, but it will work out. I know it. You two are too special, in general and to each other for this not to work out.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the pain that came with his brother’s words.

He swallowed, composing himself before meeting his friend’s gaze with teary eyes of his own. “Tell Mor I’ll meet her on the border in an hour.”

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

You skipped training the next night, too emotionally drained to make it out of your room. Cassian hadn't come to find you, either. Maybe he had even heard of your argument with Azriel.

Instead of going to the training ring, you tried to read your books (pushing away the reminder that Azriel had gotten them for you), took some long baths, tried to write, and listened to music.

Nothing kept your mind distracted from what you had said to Azriel, though.

The instant relief that had coursed through your veins when the anger had seeped into the air, draining from where it had hardened in your chest and allowing you to feel lighter, changed over the course of the day into something just as volatile.

You felt guilty. So, insanely guilty.

You kept remembering the look on his face when you had mentioned Mor, Rhys, Gwyn, his mother…

The way his hands clenched and fiddled with themselves when you had told him you see them hurting you in your dreams.

The tears that streaked down his cheeks silently as you just kept on coming and coming, attacking and attacking.

And he had let you. He had stood there possibly from shock, guilt, care, and just let you tear into him without any retaliation.

You had never uttered words so cruel to someone.

And you hadn’t even meant them.

Sure, you had been so angry at him. You had felt so hurt and demeaned, that you wanted to do the same to him. But did you actually blame him for what had happened to his friends? Did he hold the responsibility for the entire world in his scarred hands?

Of course not. But you knew that he thought so. And you had used that against him.

Azriel had never meant for you to get hurt. You, on the other hand, had intentionally hurt him.

Did that not make you so much worse?

You cried yourself to sleep that next night, your actions sending you into a downward spiral of shame. Despite taking the tonic Madja had provided you for sleeping, you found yourself at the mercy of your guilt, your mind tormenting you with Azriel’s hurt and your own mistakes.

If you had known this dream would have taken a turn for the worse, creating a scenario that would haunt you even more than the memories of that night, you never would have closed your eyes.

It had started the same as the others: the snow, the alleyway, the blonde-haired male licking up your neck and reaching for your middle. This time though, when you brought the dagger down into the male’s neck, a familiar choking sound echoed into your ear.

Azriel.

The same noise that had escaped his lips after your weaponized words stabbed into him.

Then his hazel eyes met yours, the snow falling from Velaris’ night sky dusting his black hair. And there was so much pain, hurt, and betrayal in his gold and green irises that you felt sick.

“No-” you panicked, reaching out for him as the bright red blood poured down his neck and over your hands.

No, no, no. Not him. How could you have done this? You were hurting him, you were killing him.

Your hands moved quickly, pushing against the wound as sobs loudly slipped past your lips. "Azriel-" you started to say.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His eyes tried to get your attention, but he was already weak, slipping through your hands and falling onto the pavement below.

When the dagger fell from his neck, you saw the charcoal-colored aggressive waves adorning the top of the hilt and nearly collapsed.

You had killed Azriel with his own weapon. The weapon he had lent to help you, you had taken and stabbed him in return. His support, his offer to make amends, his kind-hearted generosity toward you, turned around to tear into his lifeline.

You killed him.

And hurting him did not feel as good as you had imagined in that training ring, both then and now, snow falling onto his tan skin in the alleyway.

As you stared into his empty eyes, somehow still sparkling with the stars of Velaris, you couldn’t help but scream.

Waking from the nightmare was nearly as difficult as wading through it in your sleep. Your ears were ringing, throat sore, and mouth dry. You were so nauseous, your stomach gurgled as if it was warning you its contents could come up at any time.

You didn’t go to the library to read or run yourself another bath in an attempt to relax. Instead, you found yourself throwing the blankets off of yourself, still trying to catch your breath, and making your way hastily to Azriel’s door.

It seemed so similar to that first week after the assault, when you had sought out Cassian before relying on Azriel for a night. Only this time, as you stumbled through the hall, your only thought was on passing Cassian’s door and finding yourself in front of Azriel’s.

You felt so scared, so anxious, and for the first time in months it wasn’t for your own safety.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your toes padded down the cold floor. But it completely stopped when you noticed the difference in the House of Wind.

Azriel’s door, always left cracked with the light on since your first nightmare after the incident, was now closed, with nothing but black on the other side.

You nearly caved into yourself.

Who could blame him? You had been a terrible person. And despite what he had done to you, it was understandable if he never wanted to see or talk to you again.

Just the thought of him being in pain because of you behind that door…

You hesitantly stepped closer, bringing your fist up to the wood.

“I’m sorry,” he had whispered in your dream.

You knocked softly, waiting a few moments before calling out his name. When no response came, you couldn’t help the anxiety that coursed through you, bringing scared tears to your eyes.

Shaking on your toes a bit, you knocked again. Blood flashed across your mind, his lifeless eyes, his look of betrayal.

"Please," you whispered, calling out to him gently.

But you couldn't wait any longer. Your hands slowly twisted the doorknob, your mind not even thinking of the consequences of entering a spymaster's room unsolicited.

You would just see that he was alright and safe, and then you would go back to your room. Plus, his shadows would let him know you were entering, they would warn him of your presence and could push you out if need be.

At this thought, you suddenly noticed the lone shadow that had trailed you for months was no longer at your side. The darkness behind his door swallowed you whole at the realization. He was gone, done, and you along with him.

You spiraled further, pushing into the room and daring to look around.

It was empty. Darkness shaded the clean room, but there was no shadowsinger, no living presence occupying the space.

Was he on a mission? Did he leave without telling anyone?

His choking noise permeated through your mind again, and you found yourself becoming dizzy with panic and anxiety, the guilt and regret spreading so far into your gut you were sure it was physically damaging you.

Stumbling over to his bed, you collapsed onto it, first sitting before bringing your knees up to your chest and allowing yourself to seek out his warmth and scent in the duvet and sheets. He was okay, you told yourself. He was always okay.

But the lack of your shadow friend spoke volumes. He was done with you. Done trying to prove himself, done trying to be your friend. And it hurt just as bad now when he actively decided to leave you compared to when he did it unintentionally.

Because despite it all, you did love him. You had just become so hurt and destructive that you ruined yourself further in the process, striking out at him as collateral.

You buried yourself deeper into his covers, not even caring when your tears soaked into his pillow. And maybe you imagined the footsteps you heard outside Azriel’s door, the way Cassian’s door had opened and closed and a presence had hesitated outside of the shadowsinger’s room as if they were listening and contemplating.

You surely imagined Azriel coming home and allowing you to speak with him, and in these hopes you understood how he felt this whole time. The silence, the darkness, the guilt and self-hatred. And the never-ending fear that you had done something you could never repair. That you weren’t good enough or redeemable enough to repair.

The last image that crossed through your mind before your swollen eyes succumbed to sleep was Azriel’s face when he had seen you that first day in the kitchen with Rhys. His nervous and devastated but hopeful expression.

You hated yourself.

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

In the morning, Feyre paid you a visit.

She did not comment on you leaving Azriel’s room, but the look she gave you was observant.

The conversation had started out small with her asking how you were doing, checking in on your training progress, if you had been reading anything good lately, if you had tried the meal Cassian made last night for dinner.

Then it was silent, and she hesitated before steeling herself like the High Lady she was.

“Azriel left the other night. Whatever you had said to him, whatever had happened two nights ago, I’m not sure he deserved it.”

You didn’t want to ask about the state she had seen him in. You didn’t want to know how deep the damage you had dealt went, because if you pictured his hurt expression one more time, you thought you might actually shatter.

You stared down at your hands in disappointment and shame, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from crying. You weren’t the victim this time around; you didn’t deserve to cry. And your eyes hurt so bad from crying so much.

“I think you two should talk. Your relationship has become so destructive I’m not sure either of you will come out at the end. Talk.” She demanded, her voice firm.

You nodded in agreement, swallowing the lump in your throat down before asking what you had been wondering since last night. “Where did he go?”

“To the mortal lands with Mor. He needed some time.”

Of course. Of course he needed time, and you would give him that. But you needed him to know that you were at least sorry, because you had no idea when he would be ready to return.

“If I were to give you a letter for him, would you make sure he receives it?”

Feyre sighed, thinking about the consequences of the action, before finally softening and nodding. She understood the need to reach out after such an incident, and you noticed her eyes flicker as she doubtlessly thought back to when Rhys left for a bit before Starfall and ignored her own letters.

“Sure. But you must be kind.”

You nodded again, that pang of disappointment and shame flaring to life again in your chest, and you thought of all the things you needed and wanted to say to Azriel.

But when you actually went to put pen to paper later that night, you found yourself second-guessing everything.

You had gone too far in punishing him — for something he was not even completely to blame for — and he probably didn’t want to hear from you. You should let him breathe, give him time to think and unwind without your existence constantly ruining him.

But then you thought of him standing in the training ring, hurt, crying, alone, and your hands were moving.

Azriel, you started the letter. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, but I think I would regret not sending this to you, not telling you everything you deserve to hear. And I don’t want to regret anything else.

First, I need to apologize. Profusely. You don’t need to forgive me or give me another second of your time, but I am begging you to know and understand that I did not mean a word I said the other night. I could name a thousand reasons why the words went past my lips, but they will never unspeak them. I will forever regret that night, more than any other night in my life.

Please know that even in the times when I am carried away by anger, when I am less than human, less than any of you deserve, I have always admired you. Sometimes I think that made the anger worse, twining together with the care I have for you until it became some kind of warped emotional weapon.

I do think you are a hero. And redeemable and brave and a savior. And I’m sorry for ever trying to put in your mind that you are anything but. You have saved me more times than I could mention in the size of this letter, just in the time I have known you. Please know that.

I have no right to ask, not after everything we have gone through the last few months, but when you are ready, I would really like to sit down and speak with you. About everything.

Maybe we can find a way forward. Or at least a way to exist together without any pain.

You don’t need to respond. I will be here, and I can wait as you’ve waited for me to be ready to talk.

Be safe. If not for me then for yourself and your family.

Then you stopped. Because how were you supposed to sign this off? You pictured his frown at reading the letter, at your words he no longer trusted or felt warmth from. You hated that frown, the sadness you had seen from him so much as of late.

In the meantime, you wrote, I will read the books you left me, continue to purchase those tart pastries from near the Rainbow, and find comfort in your bedroom light remaining on, if not just to remind me of your kindness.

I appreciate your help, even when you are not near. And then you signed your name.

You would wait for his response (or lack of) and for his return. And then you would have the chance to talk. You would be able to hear his own thoughts, emotions, apologies, and curses before letting out your own.

Strength was what you needed until then. The strength to self-reflect on the blame you had placed on him, the words you had thrown around so carelessly. Strength that would get you through the oncoming storm, the marching warriors coming for Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys. The Illyrians wishing to overthrow the high lord and his enforcers, coming to take them down in any way they could.

Their marching was coming, the stomps matching the pounding in your chest.

You’d be strong, and you would wait for him to return. You would hold your ground, dagger at your side and heart hesitantly ready to be displayed.

And maybe, if all went in your favor, you two could finally have that talk.

#acotar x reader #azriel angst #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fic

[iheart-alastor]

Hazbin characters dating you Head cannons!

Tried my best on this hope you enjoy!

𝐍𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫!

Warning:mention of abuse but 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘴 of fluff

Characters: Alastor, Angel dust, Husk, Lucifer, Sir pentious,Vox

Alastor

When Alastor first realised he had feelings for you it was mainly shocking for him

Definitely starts to keep a close eye on you either with his shadow or just watching you from afar

Would probably never admit his feelings for you

Probably steals something of yours because it smells like you

If he did ever admit his feelings for you his whole persona would change he would be clingy maybe let's you touch his ears

When you do start going out with him he will be more possessive and make sure each sinner who dares to glare at you in disgust or any rude way is next heard on his broadcast

He would start calling you his doe, my fawn, Mon cherè basically cute nicknames meaning deer or literally dear

He will probably start 'sleeping' in the same bed as you a couple months in but the only reason he does it so he has an excuse to watch you sleep

If you don't eat demon meat or venison or any type of meat sorry but he's gonna try sneak some in food he makes for you

Probably let's you cook food with him

Bound to learn his mothers jambalaya recipe form him

He probably doesn't bake that much so he'd be glad if you taught him some new foods

He deffo talks about the other overlords apart from rosie

Vox

Vox cant stand having a crush at first knowing how addicted to watching alastor he is he definitely begins to watch you too

Buys you gifts but they never say who off

Asks you out on a date to a restaurant and talks about alastor the entire time

He likes when you give him shoulder massages after dealing with val or another argument with alastor

Loves to bake goods with you, you cannot tell me this man hates to bake

Doesn't like cooking but will cook some stuff with you depending on how much you enjoy it

Clingy and doesn't let val near you whatsoever why would he want his baby near a pornstar who abuses his co-workers

Likes when you kiss and praise him

Angel dust

When he first found out he liked you he began flirting with you very bold too he does not hold back like how he does with husker

If he asked you out expect him to be full of joy if you say yes

Definitely wants a sleepover with matching pajamas

Likes talking shit about val to you after a tough day at work

And please when he comes back looking beaten up shower him in kisses and cuddles man will forget val even existed

When around you he liked being sober and not coked up

My man would love if you could bake because bro would love If you baked him some cookies or pastries

Bro don't know how to cook so if you do please teach him

Loves when you and cherri bomb get along

Definitely has a picture of you him and fat nuggets on his door

Husker

He probably found out he liked you if you began sitting at the bar with him having normal conversations and not trying to flirt with him

He starts to be at ease when around you

Would probably talk shit about alastor

Teaches you how to make different cocktails

After a while it's probably you who asks him out but he says yes

Would probably sleep in the same bed as you and you how cats knead something would probably do that to something you own

He so loves when you groom his fur (it almost makes his wings flap)

He starts to lay of the booze when around you so he doesn't look like a complete alcoholic

Liked talking about you to angel dust

Sir pentious

Gets easily flustered around you and he makes it obvious!

So obvious angel helps him to ask you out

If you say yes he hugs you so hard and all the little egg Bois in the background begin cheering

He likes seeing you babysit the eggbois when he can't or they get to playfull

He wraps his tail around you when your asleep so he knows your there

Is such a bottom spoon my guys hugging your hiding his head in the crook of your neck while the egg Bois sleep on you or besides the 2 of you

My guy is the best Baker we even saw it on episode 5

Only you am aloud to eat the food he makes how dare anyone else think they're aloud the cookies he made for you?

Probably watches a movie with you and cries when something bad happens to his favorite character

Lucifer

When Lucifer realised he liked you a lot went through his head by he first made a duck of you now he needed to find out how to handle his crush

He first told Charlie who was in awe and in tears when she saw the duck of you now he had his daughter helping him plan a way to ask you out

He came knocking at your door with flowers and chocolate in the shapes of ducks with the duck he made of you sitting on the chocolate box ofc you had to go out with him!

He probably takes you to a restaurant before going home and watching a movie with you in matching duck pj's and a duck blanket while cuddling

Definitely dreams off you all the time

Love sick in the best way possible as you cured his depression

Likes baking with you and probably throws flour on you before you both start play fighting

Likes when you play with his wings and call him cute nicknames

Charlie would probably think of you as her mother at some point

Gets you duck pajamas to wear with him

Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed the headconnons! Lmk if I should make more in the future I honestly loved making this

More alastor tiktoks because this man's cute as fuck (๑•ᴗ•๑)♡

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #male reader #female reader #sir pentious x reader #vox x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader

[ghostsy]

The Other

yandere ! ITADORI YUJI x READER x yandere ! SUKUNA

WARNINGS: yandere, misogyny, nsfw, implied noncon

A/N: A bit different than usual, less story and more imagine, I just had a Thought TM that wouldn't leave me alone.

read at your own discretion.

❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•◦ ❈

What about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but it’s 19th century Gothic Yuji and Sukuna obsessing over their cute little lab assistant.

Where Yuji finds himself falling in love with the pretty little thing that turned up one night on his doorstep. How could a gentleman refuse a damsel in distress? She’d had nowhere to go, and a woman on the streets is a woman without dignity. He’d done her a favor taking her in, feeding her, clothing her, teaching her everything he knows. Well, almost everything. 

And it’s not that she’s not grateful, no, she’s always eager to please, pretty doe eyes blinking up at him with only the purest intentions of proving her worth. 

It’s when that voice in his head that he swears isn’t his starts to talk. 

Bend her over and spread her legs.

He’d had years of experience tuning the other inside of him out, and begrudgingly grew used to the snide remarks about the so-called useless pussy on legs. But it’s only when his more ignoble half begins to make suggestions with less than savory intentions that he finds himself wavering. He tries to reason that it isn’t him, not really. He can keep it under control. He always has. 

It’s the small things really, how she bites the tip of her pencil in concentration during his lectures, determined to be of some use to him. Pretty lips parted oh so delicately, hugging the tip to her teeth.

Let me out. I want to see that whore mouth painted white with my cum.

Or when she blinks dumbly at him from under butterfly lashes, a sheepish giggle and warmth on her cheeks because something he said went in one ear, through her ditzy little brain, and out the other.

Dumb little thing would sink down and suck our cock dry if we told her it was in the name of science, wouldn’t she? 

An involuntary twitch of his fingers sends his heart leaping to his throat.

Why don’t you find out?

He drowns it out until the cover of night shields him, locked inside his chambers before giving an inch to the monster. Stroking his cock to the image of her laid out naked and moaning beneath him, legs spread and welcoming. Where the thought of licking the sweat from the skin of her neck has him hurtling off that cliff, and into the resulting ocean of shame.

Little things build up, he finds, and even with her painfully female brain, she begins to notice something off. Though, he finds himself grateful when it isn’t disgust that meets him, but concern. Oh, bless women and their nurturing sensibilities.

She’ll fuss over him like a true lady, mothering but not smothering. Anything he needs to help soothe those pesky migraines. And he’ll finally realize an acceptable way to indulge in his impure thoughts. He’ll make the street urchin he turned lady his wife.

He ignores the rumbling of low laughter that rattles his brain at the thought, deep enough to shake something important but easily forgotten in his bones.

He’ll make all the appropriate preparations for a courtship, determined to woo her as a man would, as a man should. Dress her up, and take her on a promenade through the finest parts of town, introducing her to the finest people at the finest parties.

But he reasons that was his first mistake. Because when he watches her laugh, all airy and bright, intentionally tempting, entirely too close to that brooding dark-haired duke he liked to call brother, white hot fury spills into his veins. That distant familiar desire, heady in all its glory, bloodlust, is his only warning. And the other, who’d been quiet for quite some time, smugly returns. 

A whore is a whore no matter the clothes. You thought she’d choose you?

He’ll down glass after glass of scotch, determined to ignore it, but too focused on the brush of her delicate fingers alongside the Duke’s sleeve. There’s a look in his friend’s eye he’s never quite seen before; it’s soft, warm, and it’s all it takes for him to rush to the water closet and hurl up the contents of his stomach.

Pathetic. A man doesn’t wait to be chosen. A man takes what’s his. There’s only one between us. Let me out. 

A man takes what’s his. It’s a thought that settles too comfortably in his mind, and he resolves to keep her close. No more outings with those snobbish lords and ladies. Just to save her the embarrassment of exposing the unrefined nature of her peasant birth any more than she already had.

It’ll work for a time, but it’s just a little while later that his brother turned traitor starts turning up on the manor’s doorstep with his own intentions of courtship. Excuses of their preoccupation with scientific breakthroughs and studies only keep him at bay for so long.

I’ll do what you can’t. Let me out. 

He begins to wonder whether the beast had been wrong when he catches her wistful stares out the window, too conspicuously asking about the wellbeing of a man that isn’t him. A whore is a whore. When she comes back from town with the excuse of restocking food or supplies, why does she take longer and longer to return each time?

Let Me Out.

He’ll question why it isn’t enough. Why he isn’t enough. He isn’t, not if her attention still turned elsewhere. There’s a beating at the door of his mind that threatens to split at any moment. Finally, mercifully, she’ll relieve the struggle with two words.

He proposed. 

He proposed. He proposed. He proposed. He doesn’t hear anything after that, not as she sputters out empty placations and gratitude. Not when she solidifies her intentions of leaving him.

He just responds in kind with two earth-shattering words of his own.

Come out.

#yandere jjk #yandere itadori #yandere sukuna #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere itadori x reader #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #i wrote this today so if there's grammar mistakes no there's not

[downbadf0rficppl]

you're on your own kid

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You had a rough childhood, what with an absent father and a piece of shit mother. When a family dinner goes wrong, how do you stop your brain from spiraling? How do you convince yourself you're not alone? A certain blue-eyed, metal-armed avenger, of course.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Eating Disorders/Weight Related Talk, Blood, Injury, Kinda Self Harm, Child Abuse [PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!!]

You squirmed in your seat, fidgeting with your sleeves. It was awkward being at home after so long. You hadn't been home for four years almost - and it had probably been even longer since you'd sat at this table. Your mother sat across the table from you - her gaze heavy on your head. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, your brother had joked.

He was sitting next to you, his knee gently brushing against yours. A placating movement. He was trying to keep the peace - enjoying the first meal that you had had as a family in a long while. You don't know what it was that made you seek them out. Maybe if you had waited a week, you would have thought about the facts, rather than the feelings. Maybe if you had waited a week, you wouldn't be sitting here with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

You sat in silence, playing with the food on your plate. Your mother was of the almond variety, weighing out plates before passing them around the table. You didn't have much to talk about. Things hadn't ended well the last time the two of you spoke.

Your brother chimed in with the odd question - 'How's your gardening coming along, mom?' or 'How's the new job, sis? What's it like working for the Avengers?'. You'd humour him until your mother's disapproving stares became too much and then you'd shut up. He'd give you a sad sort of pitying smile, before returning to his food.

Dinner was long - even it was less than the traditional three courses. Your brother packed up some extra food, and took it home - he only lived about a half mile away so it made sense for him to go home. You made to go with him but your mother insisted you stay with her. "I made up your room, just the way you like it."

You doubted it. But you smiled anyway and hugged your brother tightly. He whispered that 'you would be fine' and 'it's only one night' and maybe for a second you believed him. As soon as he left, you headed to bed, claiming that 'The trip was long, ma, I'm super tired.'

The look on her face screamed that she didn't believe you. But she waved you good night and headed to the kitchen to find her favourite bottle of scotch.

You opened the door to your childhood bedroom to find it almost the same. The pink walls and bedcovers were suffocating, the blinds drawn shut to create this overwhelming feeling of being trapped. You were. Trapped.

You took your jumper off, laid it over your vanity chair, and jumped onto the bed. It was comfortable, but lying there staring at the ceiling brought back all the horrible memories you tried to suppress. Diet pills and weighing scales, small plates and vomiting, screaming and crying, sirens and hospital bills. Tears streamed down your face as curled up onto your side.

It was almost midnight when you heard your mother walk up the stairs. You knew she was drunk - her steps were loud and out of sync, and the bottle in her hand frequently tapped the banister as she tried to stabilise herself on it. You half expected her to keep walking, cross the landing, and fall dead asleep on her bed.

Instead, your door creaked open and you came face to face with her. Her glassy eyes were rimmed with red - she'd been crying too. Her eyes raked over you and suddenly you wished you'd never come back at all.

"Such a shame," she whispered, "You could have been so much more."

"Ma?"

"You were always... the best. The prettiest. The skinniest. You could have been incredible. Instead, you are... nobody."

Her words cut deep but you tried to ignore them. You were somebody. You worked for the Avengers, you were a top-level agent for SHIELD. You helped save the world.

"I tried my best. To help you. But you were ungrateful," Your mother stalked closer, her sadness giving way to anger, "conceited, convinced that you could be anything more than what I made you. But you were wrong. I created you. Without me, THERE IS NO YOU." She launched the bottle at your head and it shattered at the wall behind you.

She kept screaming, but you tuned her out, slipping off the bed and grabbing your jumper and keys. You ran past her, shoving her hard as she tried to grab you and ran out to your car. She watched you go screaming abuse after you, telling you to 'never step foot inside her house again.' You weren't planning to.

You drove like a madman back to upstate - traffic was pretty light considering the ungodly hour. You parked haphazardly - Tony would probably murder you for it in the morning but you couldn't find it within yourself to care. You trudged upstairs, footfalls far too heavy for someone is literally a superspy, but this was your home. You weren't running from anyone in here.

You were so stuck in your own head that you didn't realise that Bucky was sitting in the living room, watching as you walked into the kitchen. He'd heard your footsteps and he was worried. You never walked that heavily.

"Everything ok, doll?"

You looked up at him, not registering a word he said. He stood up and walked over to you, fingers reaching up to stroke your face.

"You good?" He whispered, his forehead almost touching yours.

You pulled away from his touch, even though your body was screaming for you to collapse into his open arms. "Yeah, Buck, fine. See you in the morning for training." You stepped past him, heading for the stairs.

"Yeah, doll. See you in the morning."

The morning came around far quicker than you'd hoped. You had barely slept, tossing and turning all night, your mother's words ringing through your head.

Eventually, you realised it was a futile effort. You might as well get up and be productive. You found yourself in the gym just as the sun came up, face to face with a heavy bag. You clenched your wrapped fists before shaking the sleep out of your system.

Your hits were precise, measured, calculated. If there was one thing no one could fault you for, it was your skills. You were an impeccable agent. If only your mum could see that. You took your rage out on the heavy bag, pouring every ounce of resent in your body into your punches. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the exertion making your breaths heavier and your knuckles sting. You kept punching, time slipping away from you.

You heard the door to the gym open, and someone was talking. Their voice was muted, almost as if your head was underwater. Between the punches and your tiredness, nothing registered in your foggy mind. From the distance you could hear footsteps, getting louder almost as if they were walking towards you.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand brushed against your shoulder. You spun around ready to cuss out whichever stupid rookie decided to bother you so early in the morning. You were surprised to see familiar eyes boring into yours.

"I called your name, you know," Bucky said, his hands moving to rest on your waist, "twice. I even dropped my bag next to yours to get your attention."

"Sorry, I was thinking."

"I can tell," Bucky's thumbs drew circles on your waist, absentmindedly, "Where's that pretty mind been at lately?"

"What do you want, Barnes?"

"I'm worried. About you. You haven't been yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Nothing." You sighed, removing yourself from his grasp, "Missions, reports, meetings. It's tiring."

"Maybe you take a holiday? Try and relax a bit?" You could hear the genuine concern in his voice but you still rolled your eyes.

"Maybe you mind your own fucking business, Barnes? Don't you have other shit to be doing apart from hovering over me?" You grabbed your stuff, refusing to make eye contact with him, and walked out.

"I'm still seeing you for training right?" You hear him call after you, but you keep walking. You let out a shaky breath as soon as you got into the elevator.

He didn't see you for training. Or after.

You'd skipped training in favour of going on a run with Steve and then you had to file a few mission reports. You'd holed yourself up in your office, manila files piling up on the corner of your desk your fingers brushing over the keys with seasoned speed. Bucky had wanted to stop by but given your odd behaviour in the morning, he'd decided against it.

You were glad. You hated that Bucky could see right through you, even when you tried your best to hide it. Especially because you were irrevocably in love with him.

You'd been in love with him ever since you'd started working at the compound. Bucky was one of the few people to notice you and your efficiency. You became one of his preferred mission partners, a fact of which you were very proud. You quickly became one of his favourite people, period, and Bucky even went so far as to blow off Steve to spend time with you.

It hurt you to keep him at arm's length but you knew it was for the best. You remembered what your father told you the night before he left. You're on your own kid. You always have been.

You were given a mission assignment in the evening, with strict instructions of 'wheels up at 0600.' The early pickup time wasn't strange and you were itching to get out of the compound. You packed your bag up, leaving it by the door, and headed to bed.

Another restless night of sleep was the last thing you needed, but you were up and at the hangar waiting for Captain Rogers by 0600. He smiled when he saw you and handed you a coffee. You smiled. Your first real smile since you visited your parents.

"Good luck out there." A voice calls from behind you. You freeze. Bucky jogs towards you both, his eyes betraying his tiredness. Steve's face breaks into a grin at the sight of his old friend. Steve throws his arms around Bucky.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back," Steve says, his joking tone making Bucky laugh.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

You want to smile at the sight of the two of them together but you held yourself back. You walked towards the quinjet, ready to get this show on the road when you hear Bucky clearing his voice behind you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Onto the quinjet?"

"Not without a hug, you're not." You sigh but trudge down the steps to give him a half-arsed side hug. He pulls you in tight, and whispers into your hair, "When you get back, we're gonna talk. Okay?"

You don't respond, brushing him off and climbing into the jet. Steve follows you in, dropping his bag next to yours, before turning back to wave at Bucky.

"Don't worry, Buck, I'll take good care of your girl."

His girl. That sounded nice. You shook the thought away before elbowing Steve in the sight. Jokingly of course, but he still doubled over for effect. Bucky burst into laughter.

That was the last thing you saw as the door went up.

The mission was hard. Not terrible - no one died, which was a win in your book - but it wasn't fun. Multiple shootouts, car chases, and three hours of hiding in a dumpster later, you were ready to nap for a week. But, alas, Fury had set a debrief at 8 the next morning, which meant that you had - you checked the clock on your microwave - 6 hours at best.

You dropped your bag on the sofa and headed into the bathroom. You unzipped your utility vest, dropping it on the floor. You needed to disinfect it - god knows what had stained that vest. You pulled up your compression shirt, wincing as the flecks of red came into view. You quickly stripped it off, dropping it in the washing basket, before whipping back around. You caught your own reflection in the mirror and tilted your head, taking in your reflection of your body. Your mother's words played back in your head. Maybe your mother had a point.

You quickly shook your head, dispelling those horrible thoughts from your mind. But still, you continued to stare at your body, scrutinising every feature. I mean, sure you weren't as skinny as you used to be, but that's because you had muscle now, right? And the hamburger you had for lunch was a treat - you know for completing the mission? The super important mission that you were on because you are important and you are somebody and you have value and you are someone without your mum. Don't you? And it's ok that you can't see your ribs because actually you have abs now and that's way more attractive. Right? And.. and... and....

SMASH.

Broken glass was shattered all around you, fragments piercing your skin. Your mirror now had a fist-shaped hole in the middle, from where your sadness had quickly bled into anger.

You cradled your bloodied fist in your hand, sinking to the ground as sobs racked through your body. Glass dug into your knees as they hit the floor and you curled your hands into your chest. Hurtful 'what ifs' swirled through your head, stealing your breath and making it almost impossible to breathe.

Pounding on your door broke you out of your thoughts. You tried to regain your bearings. It was 2 am. You were in your apartment, the apartment that was miles away from the compound, that you lived in alone. Who the hell would be at your door right now?

You were silent, breath bated as you waited for the stranger to go away. They banged on the door again.

"Doll, I swear to god, if you don't let me in, I'm going to break your fucking door down."

You knew that voice anywhere. The knowledge that you weren't alone, that he was here for you, that Bucky wouldn't make you suffer alone brought new tears to your eyes. Fresh sobs burst from your chest as you tried to move. Glass shards were stabbing into your legs, and one of your hands was bleeding profusely. Bucky, your safety net, was so close and yet so far.

"Doll? Doll, I can hear you. Doll, please, please let me in." You could hear the panic in his voice as he struggled with his conscience. You tried to move but the pain was excruciating. A pained scream erupted from your lips.

A loud bang came from your front door, followed by heavy and fast footsteps.

"Where are you, doll? Come on, just come and talk to me." He said, sweeping through your living room. You whimpered from the bathroom, his enhanced hearing focussing on even the smallest of sounds.

He quickly found his way into the bathroom, his eyes raking over your hunched figure, before flitting to the broken mirror and the shards of glass on the ground.

"Oh doll," he whispered, bending down to scoop you up from the floor. He cradled you gently as he carried you from the bathroom into your bedroom. "What happened, doll? Talk to me."

You looked up at him, trying to figure out where to start. You blanked. You couldn't find a good place to start the story that would cause you the least pain. Your mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out. Bucky rested his hand against yours, trying to reassure you to take your time, but the sound of your wince drew his attention to your hands.

"Doll, your hands." He grabbed your hands gently, peering at your knuckles. They were mauled, glass sticking out of torn-up skin, "What did you do?" He stood up, walking into your kitchen to grab the first aid kit he knew was under the sink. Watching him walk around like he owned the place made some small part of your heart happy - it was almost as if your dreams, your darkest-held fantasies, were coming true.

Bucky kneeled in front of you, placing the first aid kit beside him. He brushed all the glass shards off your legs - luckily none of them had been embedded into your skin. He cleaned any small scratches before turning to your knuckles. The sight of your knuckles made him wince and you started to pull them away. Bucky leveled you with a look that said, let me take care of you. You let him. He sterilised a pair of tweezers and got to work pulling the shards of glass out of your knuckles. You sat in silence for a while, Bucky diligently working on your knuckles, and you watching the swiftness with which he worked.

"Why did you punch the mirror, doll?" Bucky asked after a while.

"I was angry," you whispered, your voice deathly quiet. Now that the rage was gone, all you had left was embarrassment.

"And why were you angry?" Bucky coaxed, his eyes pleading for some answers. He pulled out the last shard of glass before swiping an alcohol wipe over your knuckles and bandaging them up. He packed up all the items back into the first aid box and went to put it away and wash his hands.

You were still sat on the bed contemplating your answer when he got back. He knelt in front of you again, before he rested his hands on your face, "Why were you angry doll?"

"I didn't like it." You whispered, pulling your body away from him.

"What didn't you like?" Bucky's eyes stared into yours and you suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. You tried to remove yourself from his all-seeing, mind-reading gaze, but he didn't let you. He pulled you into his lap, and you hid your face in his neck. His beard tickled your forehead as you nestled into him, trying to seek out the comfort you so desperately needed but didn't know how to ask for.

"Me." You said, your head turned away from him as you stared at your hands.

"What?"

"I didn't like me." Your voice started to shake as you tried to find the right words to tell him the truth, the whole honest godforsaken truth, but you couldn't.

Bucky seemed to read your mind, "It's ok, take your time. We don't have to talk about this today. We can come back to it later, when you're feeling up for it, okay?" You nodded, burrowing further into him, "You wanna sleep?"

You nodded again, and Bucky shifted, wrapping his arms around you so he could gently place you down on the bed. He removed his arms from underneath you and tucked you into bed, gently kissing your forehead as you turned to leave. You whined.

"Pleasedon'tgoBuck-" You mumbled, sleep quickly pulling you under. He smiled, perching himself on the end of the bed.

"You sure you want me to say, sweetheart? Not sure you'll ever get rid of me if I stay?"

"I promise. Never want you to go." You said, clinging to his arm and pulling him back into bed.

You slipped into an easy slumber as Bucky shuffled around in your room. Maybe you didn't have to be on your own anymore.

fin.

buy me a coffee

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky imagine #no y/n #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

[fairestwriting]

I saw and loved your piece about an S/O that's like a heater. What about the absolute opposite? I'm always kinda cold. Would love to be warmed up by Jack :) thank you ever so much!

Ace Trappola

Knowing how easily you get cold, Ace is ready to be a little bastard and put his cold hands on your neck first chance he gets. What he didn't know, though, was that even your neck already felt like an icicle in this weather, maybe even colder than his hands?

Despite his occasional little bastard-ing about it, he thinks it's sort of endearing. He tries to play it cool most of the time, to be the suave boyfriend who lends you his jacket when you're cold. This fails pretty miserably because he starts freezing his ass off, but you can tell he cares.

You can get your revenge for his little prank (which he will repeat, because even if it doesn't startle you a lot, it still startles you) by making he experience how chilly you feel whenever you cuddle up to him. He'll get startled and complain about it all dramatic, but you can sense that he feels sort of proud that he's warming you up now.

Deuce Spade

Takes every opportunity to fuss over you, gets all worried if he doesn't see you wearing a jacket. Like Ace, he'll lend you his without hesitation, except he manages to be "cooler" about it since he doesn't get cold as easily. He's still all worried about you, though.

He's easily flustered by touch no matter the circumstance, but he's also dead set on keeping you warm. Initiates hugs a lot more, the possible excuse of "not wanting you to catch a cold" makes him a little bolder. It's hard for anyone to pry you off each other.

He probably has things like scarves and sweaters his mother knitted for him that don't fit anymore, and if they fit you, he's downright overjoyed to hand them over. Some of them look a little silly in the way that homemade knit clothing usually does, but it's kind of impossible to refuse him. He loves them, and he loves seeing you on them.

Jack Howl

Yeah, he is the ideal boyfriend for this scenario. Having lived in a cold place for most of his life, he does know a lot about how to stay warm!

...Which means, he knows when he doesn't have to be cuddling you for you not to freeze, but one time or another, he'll use it as an excuse to stay glued to you for a bit, saying it's the best you can do now to stave off the cold. He blushes while he mumbles out his very clear lie.

Even harder to pry him off you than it is with Deuce. Whether it's summer or winter. You know, he is way warmer than a human, so when it's hot, it's his turn to cool down on you. It's the perfect excuse to get all that PDA he's usually too shy to go for.

Epel Felmier

Out of the three who would try to play the "cool boyfriend giving you his jacket when you're cold" trope, Epel is the one who actually pulls it off perfectly. He does get worried, of course, but he's not nearly as fussy as Deuce, and he's pretty tolerant to cold. Maybe a little too much. You two will be an interesting sight during winter, when he's walking around wearing a scarf and gloves at most, and you're all bundled up.

If you like hot apple cider, or apple pie, or anything warm that involves apples, you're getting an endless supply of it. Some from leftovers he gets after visiting his family on werkends, and some made by his own hand.

(He's a little embarrassed to admit he made them, though, because while they're good, aesthetics really aren't his forte. But he's trying his best.)

Sebek Zigvolt

Still runs considerably colder than you, but it still spooks him. You're not fae cold, sure, but still? Is that really normal for a human? He expects answers.

Winter is... not very kind to either of you, needless to say. It's not that he gets cold in the traditional way, but it does a number on his energy. Even then, he'll still spare some to scold you if he thinks you're underdressed.

...Sometimes Sebek exaggerates a little. It's honestly just because he doesn't know a lot about how warmth works for the human body. But giving you a second pair of earmuffs when you already have one on is still one of his ways of showing that he cares about you.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #sebek zigvolt #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #lis writing

[steddiealltheway]

Thinking about Steve on this Mother’s Day.

He comes home and notices a familiar van parked in his driveway, but no one is in it. It’s strangely eerie, and Steve knows that Eddie usually waits for him, but maybe he’s in his backyard.

Steve goes to his front door and tries to unlock it but notices it’s already been unlocked. Okay. Time to get the bat.

He runs back to his car and grabs the nail bat out of his trunk. Maybe Eddie’s just playing a prank on him, but he can never be too sure. He makes his way back to the front door and slowly opens it.

Oh.

There are balloons covering his place and he can hear shushes and some giggles. “Hello?” Steve asks playing along a bit. But he also wonders who all is there.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” A chorus of people shout uncoordinated as they jump out from behind things.

Steve takes a moment to take in all the kids, Eddie, and even Robin staring at him in anticipation.

Steve doesn’t know what to do except laugh. He’s close to tears as everyone approaches him and Eddie decides to turn the moment into a group hug.

“How did you get into my house?” Steve asks as he squeezed in the middle.

Dustin replies loudly over everyone else, “Eddie broke into your window! It was so cool!”

As the group hug breaks apart with a few people - Max - pretending like they’re too cool for it, Steve makes eye contact with Eddie and who looks as proud as he was when he hot wired the RV. He’ll have to lecture him again about not breaking into his house, but that will come later.

“How did you guys get out of your own Mother’s Day celebrations?” Steve asks.

“We told them that we were keeping our gifts for them at your house and had to stop here before coming back,” Dustin says excitedly.

“Hey, Dingus, that wasn’t your plan. Stop taking credit for it,” Robin says looking like she’s holding back from hitting him on the back of the head. She turns to Steve and continues, “Don’t worry, the gifts stayed at Eddie’s house before being moved to mine after careful consideration.”

“I told Joyce what we were doing,” El says looking at Will with some concern before turning back to Steve. “But she made you a cake.”

“That’s where it came from?” Mike asks. “Shit, she’s gonna tell my mom. She’s going to tell all of our moms.”

“Shit! Abort mission!” Dustin yells and runs and hugs Steve. “Bye Steve! Happy Mother’s Day!”

The other kids run out the door saying quick goodbyes to Steve. When the door closes, Steve looks back at Robin and Eddie and asks, “Did they grab the gifts for their moms?”

Eddie and Robin look at each other then rush to the front door and open it in time to see the kids raiding Eddie’s van and getting their bikes out of the bushes they were hidden in. “I’m going to say yes,” Robin says.

“Be careful!” Steve yells as they bike away somehow managing to hold their presents and biking at the same time. As El climbs on the back on Will’s bike and they take off, Steve sighs, “When do I have to tell them they’re getting too old for that?”

“When you teach El how to ride a bike, Mom,” Robin laughs and nudges Steve. “But hey, I have to head out, too,” she hugs Steve and says, “Too bad there isn’t an Aunt’s Day.”

“I’ll drive you back,” Eddie tells Robin as she salutes him and walks to his car.

Steve does his signature mom stance and looks at Eddie. “Did you plan this just so you could break into my house?”

“Hey, who said I planned this,” Eddie says with a wide grin. “But if I did, then no, that was not the sole intention of this. Plus, Dustin was the first to say we should briefly celebrate Mother’s Day with you, so it really wasn’t all me-”

Steve cuts off Eddie with a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers as Eddie squeezes him a bit tighter. When they pull away they stare at each other for a few moments.

A loud car horn interrupts their moment. “Come on love birds, I need to go!” Robin yells.

Steve curses her under his breath then smiles at Eddie. “Better head out.”

“I’ll be back after I drop her off. And hey, there’s a surprise for you in your room. Happy Mother’s Day,” Eddie says with a bright grin and walks towards his car.

“Wait!” Steve says and hesitates as Eddie turns around, “Does this mean we have to celebrate Father’s Day with you?”

Eddie laughs loudly as Robin groans. “Absolutely!” Eddie replies as his laughter dies down and he gets in the van.

Steve waves at them as they take off. Once they’re out of sight, he takes off up the stairs to his room. He opens the door and spots a pile of poorly wrapped gifts on his bed then a note that says “CAKE IS IN THE FRIDGE” with a poorly drawn smiley face on it.

Steve takes a moment to collect himself and he whispers under his breath, “You’re not going to cry about this.” He pinches his nose and smiles as his vision slightly blurs.

Even with how brief the visit was, it absolutely made Steve’s day. “Happy Mother’s Day to me,”Steve laughs as a tear escapes down his face.

He really loves his kids.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #mom steve #steddie #robin buckley #stranger things

[fic-over-cannon]

Words Left Unsaid

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.

tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief

rated mature | wc: 8.8k

a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.

Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?

It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.

“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”

Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.

“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”

You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.

“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”

She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.

Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.

“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”

Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.

“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”

You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.

You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.

Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”

You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.

Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.

A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.

The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.

The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.

The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.

So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.

The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.

“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”

He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.

“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.

He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.

“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”

His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.

The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.

“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”

“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”

Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.

“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”

“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”

Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.

“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”

“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”

“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”

Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.

For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.

Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.

It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.

“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”

“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.

And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.

“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”

“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”

“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”

You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.

“To nepotism I guess.”

A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.

“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”

School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.

He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You good?”

“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”

“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.

“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”

Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.

You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.

You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.

Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.

Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”

“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.

The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.

High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.

Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”

“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”

Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.

Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.

It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.

“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.

“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”

“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”

Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.

“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.

“Oh I do, do I?”

He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.

“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”

Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.

“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”

You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.

“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”

He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.

You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.

Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.

Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“I— thank you.”

There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.

“You planning to breathe any time soon?”

He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Pinky promise.”

Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.

“What’s wrong with your side?”

“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.

“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”

He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.

“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”

He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.

“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”

“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”

“But you’d tell me if they were?”

“I tell you everything important.”

It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.

“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”

It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.

“So you going to open that or what?”

And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.

At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.

He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.

April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.

On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.

“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”

“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”

“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”

Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”

“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”

Her words don’t make any sense.

“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.

“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”

“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”

It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.

To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.

Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?

Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.

The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.

It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.

By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.

You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.

You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.

You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.

Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.

You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.

In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.

There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.

Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.

Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.

#jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine #jason todd #soulmate au #tw grief #sunnie writes 🌻

[cheriladycl01]

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 5

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

Credit to russellius for the GIF

There was a pretty decent break between Brazil and Las Vegas, you spend the first week with Geri and Christian and their kids. You'd had a blast riding their horses, going for bike rides and lots of baking.

They of course let you stay with them in the spare bedroom, you went on a massive shopping spree with Geri getting some new clothes as you hadn't gone home and talked about everything you normally would with Suzie. You couldn't lie, you really missed her, especially the hugs she gave you.

However on the weekend before Vegas, Lewis had texted you seeing if you'd wanted to stay with him in Las Vegas for a bit. Lewis had known you since 2009, you were 9 years old. You always came to as many race weekends as you could, obsessed with F1 as much as your dad. You loved the fast cars and the smell of the fuel.

Here was were you were introduced to Suzie, it was perfect time really. You were a 9 year old girl, about to enter here teen years without a mother figure. And Suzie and you, got on like two peas in a pod.

In 2012 when he became the executive director in Williams you travelled with him. Your mum didn't want anything to do with you, so that left you to be home school. It wasn't easy in Williams, they were tight on money and resources despite Toto's financial contributions to the team and no-body had time for you it seemed.

The next year when your dad moved to Mercedes, that had a slightly bigger budget and more time around the paddock was when it became easier.

The engineers helped you with your math's and science while marketing and legal would help you with your English. That's where your love of engineering came from.

Lewis would often stay with you, he and Nico were like brothers and they couldn't help but see you like a little sister with the relentless teasing they put you through.

As you got older, Toto paid for you to have an online tutor so you could sit your GCSE's at some point. 2016 was probably the worst year you had on record apart from everything that's happened in 2023.

You could tell that when they started to compete for the championship in 2014 that things were getting tense between them, they tried to keep it to themselves but you could tell with the post race interviews and how they didn't want to hang out as much together with you.

But in 2016, when Nico won and their friendship had pretty much crumbled as far as it could you, you were also sitting those GCSE's and it was a really tough year for you. Lewis and Nico now spoke to you separately, their sides of the garage never crossing over like they used to.

So you not only had the stress of your GCSE's, the stress of your two role models no longer talking and with that your own childhood best friend cutting you off because of how much you travelled and your commitments not being strong enough. And to top it of Nico was confirmed to be leaving the sport which would mean you wouldn't see him as often.

However, despite everything that went on you came out with some really good grades, thanks to Lewis and his help when it come to studying.

You actually met George the year after when he became a junior driver for Mercedes. You had just turned 17 and he was 20 and part way working his way up through the feeder series into Formula One.

You actually had a crush on George all the way back then, Lewis convinced you it was just a silly little school girl crush you'd soon get over and motorsport men were a walking red flag. Which you found out was true with your first heartbreak when you dated an F2 driver that was the same age as you. You dad of course was hesitant at first, and he was right to be. He cheated on you with one of the insta models 7 months into your relationship.

Lewis did a lot for you and you guys were close, so you almost felt like you couldn't say no even though you didn't want to anyway.

You got the first flight you could out to his LA mansion.

"Hello" he greeted you as you'd found him in the airport with his security. There was of course Paps so it was only a short amount of time before people knew you were here with Lewis.

He drove the pair of you back to his LA home, you guys spent the rest of the week surfing, go-karting and walking Roscoe. Everyone knew you were here by now so you posted a photo dump on the Wednesday to Instagram, photos of everything you guys had been up to.

Everyone in the comments was so excited that big brother Lewis was back.

"So, I think now that we've had some time to chill out we should talk about the serious matters on the table" Lewis says as he spoons some of the vegan dish his private chef had made you guys.

"Mmmm?" you hum as you gobble more of the delightful food down.

"I miss you in the Mercedes Garage and the red bull top doesn't suit you" he says making your head whip to the side.

"Excuse me!" you nearly choke on your food.

"Look, I know what Toto and George did was foul... and others have made it into this whole dramatic show, but I miss teasing you in the garage and I miss you telling the engineers something was wrong and trying not to laugh! I miss you! Everyone does, George, Toto, Suz, all the hospitality and mechanics and the engineers!" he offers looking at you.

"I'm not coming back to Mercedes Lew, I've found my place in Red Bull, they've even let me help on the 2024 car! My dad turned me down straight away when i asked, they trust me there and they like my ideas! I'll talk to both of them okay, I promise but Red Bull stuck their neck out for me hiring me... so I owe them!" you admit, knowing Red Bull helped you a lot, as much as you'd helped them.

"I know I know, but just talk to them soon. They are both suffering and they regret what they did!"

You drove in Lewis car all the way to Nevada. It was only a 4 hour drive where you guys did make stops along the way. You guy's parted ways as you got there. He needed to be present for media duties and you had to be with Red Bull making sure the car was up to standard.

You checked in with everyone you hadn't seen for the two week gap, checking in with the mechanics making sure they though the car was looking okay after the race.

And before you knew it Max was coming out of FP1 in 4th, FP2 in 6th and FP3 in 4th. It was a new track and everyone was getting used to the it and how the car performed on it. In Practices it was more for the driver to get the feel for the car.

Max qualified P3, but because Carlos had to take a 10 place grid penalty he was moved up to P2. He was on the front line next to Charles Leclerc and if he got a good start he could finish again P1.

Vegas was a stressful race for everyone. Charles and his Ferrari was made for the layout of this street circuit it seemed. Lando had a really bad crash which had everyone worried.

Ferrari, once again fucked up their strategy as you called Max to box when the safety car was released. Charles had only pitted a few laps prior. Now Max and Sergio were on the fresher tires.

"Warm those tires up Max then when DRS is available go for that overtake on Turn 3 for P1" you advise as he rolls out of the pits behind the safety car that Charles was already following.

Eventually you had both Red Bulls in the front ready for a 1-2 podium. But on the final lap Charles went for the overtake on Sergio and broke the Red Bulls up, there was no way he'd catch up with Max but you told him to hold his position.

Again Max Verstappen had one his 18th race of the season and you'd been his race engineer for a whole new track. He'd pulled you into a massive hug, along with Christian who was impressed with how quickly you were adapting to the new role.

"Amazing driver guys! Straight to Abu Dhabi now!" Christian grins, nothing could now ruin his mood. Max had been confirmed Champion of the World a few races back but Red Bull still wanted to prove they were winners.

And that you did, you went to Abu Dhabi and one again by a landslide. You all celebrated the end of the season and Max asked you to come up on the podium with him again. However, George had come P3. so you were up on the Podium with him and Charles too.

The champagne was brought out and all the guys showered each other before coming over to you. They soaked you with the rest of the champagne the dark team gear sticking to your skin.

"Omg" you squeal as someone pulls back your top and dumps some of their champagne down your back. You swivel round to see George. Everything is so loud around you right now. Charles and Max are off celebrating the podium together a little further away from the pair of you now.

"George" you say looking up at him and he sheepishly takes a step back.

"George, no! I'm sorry I didn't speak to you sooner" you say looking at him, only for his head to cock to the side where he couldn't here you.

"What?" he shouts coming closer.

You lean in right up to his ear so that he can actually here you.

"I'm sorry I ignored you for so long. I was being childish. Lewis... Lewis talked some sense into me." you say.

"You-" he starts confused. He was the one that owed you an apology not the other way around.

"Y/N listen to me. Meet me tonight and we will talk about everything I promise!" he shouts making you able to hear him over the crowd.

"Okay!" you nod, before turning around and the Red Bull team all cheer as you hold up the trophy.

"Oh and George, Congrats of P3!" you grin, before joining Max and Charles.

Maybe it was time for you to talk it out. Maybe even to reach out to your dad! Lewis was as always right!

Taglist:

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#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell imagine #gr63 #gr63 x reader #gr63 imagine #lewis hamilton imagine #toto wolff #max verstappen imagine

[hunterwritings]

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐛𝐢-𝐡𝐚𝐧

summary: bihan has a hard time expressing his love for his family in words and it can cause his child to lose faith in him sometimes warnings: small violence, small mention of blood, wife!reader, mother!reader, child is around 8? idk, bi-han is a little mean at first, notes: i've been thinking about this for a while and its making me go crazy | also this got a lot more angsty than I thought it was going to be 😭| wc: 1794

"Agh!" The sound of a thud echoes as you watch your son hit the floor.

You had your arms crossed as you watched him and another child sparring. Training to be a warrior of the Lin Kuei was not an easy thing to watch for a mother.

You knew your child was strong, having both his father's strength and your own, but it was still hard for you to watch. Your eyes peer to the side to see Bi-han standing next to you, watching closely at his child. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind those piercing eyes: Was he worried about your son getting hurt? Or was he mentally ridiculing him for not being able to fight better? Either way, you knew you'd never get a straight answer from him.

An exhale escapes your mouth as you turn your attention back to your son, he had gotten the upper hand and was able to pin down his opponent until he was incapacitated.

"Stop." Bi-han said firmly, watching as both the boys let go of each other and stand up back in their starting positions. You saw that both of them were sweaty and had small scratches on their faces and small drops of blood on their knuckles.

"(S/N) wins. You will continue on with this training at dusk." He explains as the boys bow in front of each other before being dismissed.

You watch as your son turned to his father with hope in his eyes, and all Bi-han did was give him a small nod before walking away. Light in his eyes faded as his face fell and you thought you could hear the sound of your heart breaking. "(S/N) you did so well!" You compliment him as you walk up to him and kneel down in front of him.

He avoided your eyes, keeping his gaze down to the ground. You could practically feel the disappointment on his face. "It's okay honey, you did very good." You try to reassure him, pulling him into a hug.

"Now let's go and get you some food and I'll help patch this up." You say pulling away from him and gesturing at the small cuts on his hands. He just nods and keeps his eyes down. You stand back to your feet and he reaches up and grabs your hand tightly.

Some time passes and you manage to patch up his small injuries and feed him dinner before tucking him into bed. Once he's lying down, you quietly leave his room and make your way over to your shared room with Bi-han. You found him fumbling to take off his arm gauntlets as he just lifted his gaze to meet yours before turning back down to his arms.

"Bi-han." You speak. He doesn't respond.

"Bi-han." You spoke louder now crossing your arms.

He finally averts his attention to you and bitterly asks, "What have I done now?" Oh boy

You raise your eyebrows at him, your mouth slightly agape. You knew you didn't have to say anything, Bi-han knew what he had done wrong. He sighs deeply while looking down and turns to you and gives you a dejected look. Your gaze could burn a hole through his head if you had stared any harder. "There is something you want to talk about?' He asks, much softer this time.

"Yes, there is." You bluntly answer.

"You cannot treat your child this way, he walks around believing that his father has no appreciation for him." Your words were like poison to him, you knew that he felt guilt by the way he turned away and tried to avoid your eyes. You stepped closer to him, not allowing him to avoid you.

"Do you wish for him to grow up believing that his father doesn't love him?" That struck a nerve. "No." He says, turning to face you. By the look on his face, you could tell that the thought alone had hurt him. He had memories flying in his mind of how he felt towards his own father, how he vowed to never let his child feel the same way he did.

"That should not even be a question, he should know that already - it should be common knowledge!" He argues, trying to defend himself while also mentally cursing himself out.

"It is not common knowledge to him, he is a young boy. He cannot just assume that you love him, he has to be shown love and compassion, Bi-han." You explain, lying one of your hands on his cold cheek. "It is hard for you to say that, I know, but you must try. It is the least he deserves." Your voice was soft now, no longer arguing.

His expression had changed; what was once defensive and angry, was now sad and full of shame. it wasn't your intention to hurt him, but you had to let him know or else this behavior would just continue.

"You are a good father, Bi-han. You care about your family more than anything and you would go to the ends of the Earth to protect (S/N), let him know that. Trust me, he will be grateful. I know you want him to be a powerful fighter, if anything, your praise will make him even stronger." Your words must've impacted Bi-han, who was now looking down to the floor. His face was cradled by your hands, you could almost see a gloss going over his eyes from the way the moonlight fell on his face.

Before he could respond, you heard something moving around your door. Instinctively, the two of you whipped your heads around to look at the door, not seeing anything strange in particular. Until you see a small hand wrap around the edge of the door and small eyes peering from behind the cracked door. You chuckled in relief, lying your hands on your hips as you look at him.

"You are seen, young one." He pushes the door open and walks into your room. "Grandmaster." He stops and bows in front of Bi-han before standing back up. "You are supposed to be in bed." Bi-han advises, his normal cold exterior now posing as a cover-up for his vulnerability showing through just a moment ago.

"I know, I'm sorry father, I just - um." Your son struggled to get the words out, keeping his eyes down as he fidgeted with his fingers.

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" You ask softly as he nods. "Aw honey, was it a nightmare?" He looks up at Bi-han, not wanting to seem cowardly in front of him. He doesn't answer you but you know that he must've had a bad dream.

"Here, we'll come put you back in bed, okay?" You softly say as you reach out your hand and he tightly grabs ahold of it. You begin to walk him out of the room, looking back over your shoulder to Bi-han and urging him to follow you. He almost hesitates before eventually following you.

You make your way to his room and he crawls back into his bed. You pull up the sheets for him before sitting on the edge of his bed next to him. Bi-han stays in the doorway, as if he didn't know how to continue or he didn't want to do anything wrong.

"You don't have to feel bad for coming to find us if something is wrong, know that." You tell him as he nods. You lean in and give him a soft kiss on his head. "We love you very much, (S/N)." You add as you hold his head in your hand. A large smile spreads across his lips as he looks up at you.

Your head turns over your shoulder. "Bi-han?" You only say his name, but he's smart enough to know what you are asking. He takes a deep breath before going to the other side of his bed and sitting down. Your son's face dropped, thinking that he may be in trouble for something.

Bi-han kept his eyes down on the bed, looking up at you and back down to the bed. "(S/N)." He starts, finally looking up to give his son eye contact. He takes another inhale and exhale, trying to stall and be able to find the right words. "You are a good fighter." He starts, unable to keep the eye contact and constantly looking down. Your son's expression changes from worried to beaming, you can practically feel him healing already.

"You train to become a strong warrior, it is why you are always fighting. You have shown a lot of progress and it is gratifying to know that you have been learning all this time. I have no doubt that you will become one of the best members of the Lin Kuei." He finishes, looking to you as if he is asking, 'was that okay?'.

He looks back to his son, whos eyes are full of happiness and he has a large smile plastered on his lips. Bi-han looked down with a small smile on his face. Then, your son sat up from under the covers and wrapped his arms around his father's neck and hold him in a close hug. Bi-han's hands reached up at held him closely. As he hugged his child, Bi-han peered over to you with a relief-filled smile on his face. You knew this was healing for both of them, your son has positive reinforcement from his father and Bi-han knows that his child still loves him. He pulled away from the hug and brought a small kiss to the top of his son's head as you did earlier before he crawled back under the covers and laid his head on the pillow, his expression still full of light. "Goodnight, my love." You say before both you and Bi-han stand up from his bed and walk out, closing the door behind you.

"See? Doesn't that feel better?"

Before you could even look up at him, his arms are wrapped around you, holding you so tight you thought he might break your ribcage. You felt the shakiness of his hands wrapped around you torso and felt his chest heaving up and down against yours. "I don't want him to feel resent towards me, as I did my father." His voice was shaky, like he had been holding that fear in. "He won't, Bi-han. He's infatuated with you, he looks to you for approval." You explain, holding his head closely.

You knew this had changed something in him, a problem he had silently be ignoring. It made you happy, knowing how much he cared and now knowing that he will put extra effort into making his love known.

#— hunterwritings #hunterwritings #mk1 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat #bihan #bihan x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #sub zero #bi han sub zero #sub zero x reader #bihan mk1 #bi han mk1 x reader #bi han sub zero x reader

[weird-addiction]

If you're still writing for hotd, could you do a aemond x twin brother reader (platonic ofc). When aemond loses his eye, his brother takes his own eye on the opposite side as a form of solidarity. They have a close relationship and reader claims cannibal as aemond claims vhagar. I know it's a lot but I thought it was a good idea. Hope you have a great day

~snake anon 🐍

One in the Same

Pairing: Platonic!Aemond Targaryen x Male!Twin!Targaryen!Reader

Genre: Neutral

Warnings: Gore, taking out an eye, typical violence, threatening someone

Being the twin to a prince was never meant to be easy, well, others at the bottom would say different. That is because they have never been in his position before. Y/n was the fourth child of Alicent and Viserys, the younger twin to Aemond Targaryen. 

They said that the gods flip a coin to determine a Targaryen’s fate when they are born, one side was greatness, the other was madness. If this was indeed true, Y/n’s side of the coin would be sadness. There was not a day from the day he was born that he did felt like a void was inside of his heart, and the only way to fill it was to be close to his twin at all times. 

Since childhood, Y/n clung to Aemond’s side no matter what they were doing. Training, eating, in the library reading, the one thing they did not do was sleep in the same bed. Alicent tried everything to keep Y/n a part, as she was worried that in the future that their closeness would prevent them from finding wives, however Y/n still refused to let his brother go. 

Aemond was dragonless, so was Y/n, they were the only ones without dragons and boy were they bitter for it. 

See, Y/n was what you called the ‘the silent but deadly’ type of person. He told everything, every feeling, every emotion to his twin and no one else. And for this, he had no idea how to express himself to others freely. 

So, he did it through violent means. 

“Behold! The Pink Dread!” Aegon, Jace and Luke all said in a mocking way as the pig stood before them. 

Aemond kept his emotions inside, he would not show them that this got to him. His twin however, did not have the same reaction. 

Y/n did not hesitate as he grabbed Aegon by the collar, his fist raised as he was about to punch him. Aegon was surprised to say the least, as he flinched back from his brother’s raised hand. Jace and Luke were also shocked to see this, as Aegon was the eldest among them so no one went against him. Seeing Aegon’s own younger brother do that to him was not something they expected. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t make you unable to see Sunfyre for a week, brother.” Y/n spat, his hand did not loosen its grip. 

“I-I’ll tell mother!” Aegon said out as a last resort. 

“Mother? Mother would thank me for knocking some sense into you.” Y/n’s eyes narrowed, the dragon burned within him brightly. 

Aegon managed to shake himself free, himself and their nephews left quickly so as to not anger him anymore. Y/n turned back to Aemond, wanting to comfort him. But, Aemond was already down the pit to see for dragons. Y/n notified a guard and Aemond was taken out before he became ashes. 

“What are you doing?! Are you trying to get killed?” Y/n looked him over for injuries. 

“I’m fine.” Aemond replied quickly, hiding his disdain for dragging him out. 

They were escorted back to their mother who was watching over Helaena with her bugs. 

“Do I have to have you both confined to your chambers-”

“They gave him a pig!” Y/n yelled, cutting Alicent off. 

Her attention went to the younger, then back to the elder to confirm if this was true. Aemond’s face said everything. 

“You both will have a dragon. One day. I promise.” Alicent brought both of her sons into a hug before leaving to talk to her husband and her eldest son for pulling such a trick on his own brothers. 

The dragon did not come to them, even them trying to claim other older dragons did not work. Y/n suggested they go to Dragonstone to take a shot with the dragons there, Alicent allowed after much persuasion. 

Once they arrived on Dragonstone, they went directly to where the dragons were kept. The dragon keepers standing there waiting for them. 

By the end of the day, Y/n had managed to fly around with a dragon so large that the shadow covered all of Dragonstone. Even the keepers were surprised, and when he landed, everyone was stunned. 

Y/n Targaryen had claimed the legendary beast that is Cannibal. 

Y/n climbed down from the dragon’s back effortlessly as he pats its side, running to hug his twin and ask the older about his own dragon. Aemond was impressed by his abilities, but rather sad as he himself was unsuccessful as claiming a dragon. 

“It’s ok! You’ll have one! You will have a dragon with wars and conquests under its belt! I promise Aemond!” Y/n exclaimed as he hugged his brother tight. 

Well, that would come true only a year later as came the death of Laena Velayron. By the end of the funeral, Aemond had run off by himself as he heard the sad roar of a dragon in the distance. 

On the other hand, Y/n was freaking out as he did not see his twin anywhere near him. He wanted to go find him but the guard said he needed to go to bed, but how could he sleep without knowing that Aemond was somewhere else? How could he sleep without knowing if Aemond was safe?

Well, he did not have to wait for long, the guards soon came and escorted him down telling him something had happened to his brother. This made Y/n practically run down the stairs to such a gorey sight before him, his twin flame, his brother who he loved so much was sitting in a chair getting stitches across his eye. Running to Aemond’s side, leeching to the elder’s side as he looked him over for other possible injuries. 

“How did this- what happened?” He quietly asked. Aemond responded with one eye movement, gaze shifting over to their nephews. 

“Which one?” Y/n’s tone now held venom, wanting vengeance and revenge to the one that did this to his twin. 

“The one that I broke the nose of.” His response made Y/n realize, of course, it was not hard to see who he was talking about after all. 

“Lucerys. Of course. Those..bastards.” Y/n truly hated saying that word, he wanted to be close to his nephews, but what they just pulled was not going to be forgotten and forgiven so easily. 

Alicent came over to the twins, giving them concerning glances. Pushing them behind her as she watched Rhaenyra come into the room. The twins held each other’s hands as they waited for what would happen to them. 

“My son has lost an eye!” Alicent exclaimed, gesturing to Aemond who sat in the chair. 

“It was my sons who were attacked, and forced to defend themselves.” Rhaenyra retorted back. “The legitimacy of my son’s birth were put loudly to question.” 

Y/n and Aemond both looked at each other and smirked, they couldn’t help it, everyone who had eyes could see it of course. 

“What did you actually do?” Y/n asked under his breath. 

“Claimed Vhagar. They say I stole her.” Aemond leaned into his forehead against Y/n’s.

“That’s stupid. You can’t steal a dragon, the dragon chooses its rider. Otherwise, I would not be alive talking. Cannibal would have eaten me.” Both of them then tuned out the rest of the conversation. Well, until their mother decided to grab the dagger sitting at their father’s belt and attack their half-sister with it. 

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?! It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!” Alicent yelled as her wrist was caught in Rhaenyra’s grip. 

“Exhausting wasn’t it? Hiding under a cloak of your own righteousness. Now they see you as you are..” Rhaenyra said back, struggling with holding the queen back. 

Alicent yelled as she forced her hand with the dagger down, the sound of fabric slicing and dagger went through the room. Rhaenyra staggered backwards, Corlys was behind her and managed to hold her before she was going to fall more. 

Aemond stood up with the help of Y/n, walking over to their mother slowly. 

Seeing that Alicent had cut Rhaenyra, Y/n wanted this to end. Grabbing the dagger from the floor before anyone could notice, and what he did next made everyone gasp in shock.

Sliding the dagger across his right eye, with force, the same thing that Luke did to his brother. The blade dropped to the ground again, this time, with way more blood than the last. Clutching his eye in pain, Y/n turned to look at both parties, blood dripping from his socket.

“Now, we are all even. I took my eye, there is no need for Luke’s.” Y/n spoke sternly.

Alicent looked in horror as another son of hers had lost an eye, now it was two eyes instead of one; and it was all from two of her own children and none from Rhaenyra. 

“Your mistake has caused my other son to take his own eye. Is this what you wanted? More of my children mutilating themselves for your sake?!” Alicent yelled, and only silence followed. 

Y/n was sent to the maester immediately as the eye also needed to be taken out. Unlike his twin however, he screamed through the entire process and held onto Aemond’s hand for dear life. Soon, the same stitches covered the scar over his eye, the opposite of Aemond’s. 

For the years to come, the people of Westeros knew the twins as the single-eyed princes. However, no one tried to get close to them. Or rather, it was the twins themselves who refused. They stayed true to each other rather than to marry some stranger they did not know. 

Aemond had a sapphire in place of his missing eye, while Y/n had a ruby in place of his. 

Two spirits stone cold but the sparks of two stones together burned brightly in between them. 

Two of the biggest dragons in the world by their side. 

No one will ever cross them ever again. 

#🥀mukuro’s way #reader insert #male reader #male y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #x male reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x male reader #house of the dragon #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire

[morgy-doo]

school bus graveyard realtionship headcannons

^ such cuties

Ashlyn Banner~

insanely protective

when you are in the phantom dimension this girl is mostly focused on making sure you don't get hurt/die

keeps you away from Aiden in that dimension so you don't end up getting roped into something stupid

Altho she isn't the most affectionate person, she will grab your hand and squeeze it tightly when she is nervous

she begrudgingly...after ALOT of begging, allowed you to play with her hair, when it is undone it is super wavy from being in those plaits all day

if you every get seriously hurt/die in the demon dimension, she will act calm and collected at first, but then totally lose it

she wont cry until she is alone of course

refuses to leave you alone until she knows you are better

after that she doesn't let you leave her sight

she just wants to keep you safe and close to her

Aiden Clark~

your more of a mother/father than a girlfriend/boyfriend-

CONSTANTLY bouncing off the walls

literally-

at one point in your relationship he would tell you he had a cute date planned....you had no idea that it was skydiving

he loved it

you not so much

in the phantom dimension he is using you to back him up in arguments

and he definatley tries to show off for you at one point

when they get locked in the mental assylum, he paints his face as you instead of the clown because why not

he found it endearing, you found it absolutely terrifiying

if you die then he will go silent, not as energetic or bouncy until he knows you are okay again, he constantly brings you things to entertain you with while in the hospital

he just wants you to never get bored of him

Ben Clark~

the most sweetest boyfriend ever

he will buy you flowers out of nowhere just to see you smile

sometimes he feels bad that he cannot say how much he loves you verbally

constantly has hand cramps from writing huge paragraphs about his love for you

the type of boyfriend to just pick you up and hug you when you are mad

you help him calm down when his temper starts to flare up

he really enjoys doing soothing activities with you such as pottery, painting, and baking

he is AMAZING at baking

he loves making you food

in the phantom dimension he likes to have you on his back

to reassure him that you are still there and safe, and also as a way to have quick access to you when you are in danger

if you die in the phantom dimension he will have this deeply disturbed look on his face

he honestly looked after you better than the doctor did

he brought you home cooked meals, your clothes, some things to cheer you up

he wants you to feel loved and to know that he will always be there for you even though you cannot hear him say it

Taylor Hernandez~

such a sweetie

she is so good at reading your feelings and can tell when you are upset/ when something is bothering you

she has pictures of you two together all over her wall so she always has something of you with her

she loves matching outfits with you

she 100% owns a shirt that says "i love my boyfriend/girlfriend" and has no shame in wearing it

she has this ritual where she kisses each picture of you before bed each night and saying "i love you y/n" over an over until she has kissed each picture

Tyler was just stood in the doorway of the room terrified-

in the phantom dimension you both make a vow to protect each other

and she will protect you with her LIFE is she has too

if you die in the phantom dimension she would never forgive herself

she would think its her fault as she didn't stick to her side of the vow

she let you get hurt

will sob infront of everyone

honestly needs more comfort then you do

when you are on the road to recovery tells you all these silly stories about her and Tyler to see you smile

she wants you to never leave her

Tyler Hernandez~

this one is a mixed bag

lets just say you will be very aware when he has entered the room

you slowly help him start to enjoy baseball again

he invites you to practice to show you off to his team

you are now lumped into his protection pile

congratulations, you are now one of his top priorities

he wont say it very often, but he adores you

and he misses you very much when you aren't around

he plays guitar for you when he is feeling especially loving, he teaches you the songs his dad taught him

when you are in the phantom dimension he gets very angry very easily

he is just so overwhelmed and worried about keeping you AND Taylor safe.

he is terrified he would of failed in his job of protecting you

if you die in the other dimension he would be angry at everyone but mostly at himself

he would close off, he wouldn't speak to anyone and he ends up flunking some of his classes to see you at the hospital

he is very aggressive to everyone else but when you are getting better at the hospital he is all gentle smiles and sweet tones

he owes it to you for letting you down

he wants to be able to feel that he can provide and protect you

Logan Fields~

he thinks he doesn't deserve you

why would you pick someone small and pathetic when you can have the full package like Tyler

despite his self doubts he treats you as best as he can

he is the most cliche person ever

has definately watched the sun set with you

study dates are a must

you both defo have this little potted flower that you have "raised" together

he tells you ALL about flowers as he has alot of knowledge about them

when you are in the phantom dimension he always has this dreaded feeling sitting in his stomach

as if he knows something is gonna happen to you and he wont be able to stop it

the feeling would eat him up inside

if you die in the phantom dimension, he would be determined to be the reason you got better, that it wouldn't happen again

he wants you to view him as worthy of your love, and he would do almost anything to earn that

#SBG #school bus graveyard #sbg #Ashlyn banner #ashlyn banner x reader #ashlyn school bus graveyard #aiden clark #aiden clark x reader #aiden school bus graveyard #ben clark #ben clark x reader #ben school bus graveyard #taylor hernandez #taylor hernandez x reader #taylor hernandez school bus graveyard #tyler hernandez #tyler hernandez x reader #tyler schoolbus graveyard #logan fields x reader #logan fields #logan schoolbus graveyard

[90smaximoff]

Three reasons.

g¡p!stepsister!wanda x fem!reader

summary: once you got a new stepsister who couldn’t keep her eyes out of you, you knew your life wouldn’t be the same.

words: 2k

warnings: smut (+18), g¡p wanda, stepcest, mentions of pervy behavior, masturbation, blowjob, dirty talk, degradation, cum eating, wanda being an asshole, yk, (also bad writing i wrote this in less than an hour) if you feel uncomfortable don’t read.

Since your dad married Wanda’s mother, a lot of things changed in your life. First, you had to move to your new stepmother’s house, your dad said that was bigger and that would be comfortable for all the family. Second, you got a new step sister, first, you were interested in her, living with another teenager made you anxious but you find out that most of the time was like Wanda wasn’t even there, she’s always in her own room, and months passed with just basic words being shared between you guys. 

But, soon, you started to think that your step sister was wanting to fuck you. Nothing that you’re disgusted by, after all, Wanda was hella hot and you two didn’t have the relationship of sisters. 

First, you noticed the way she stares at you. Her beautiful green eyes seemed to be wanting to devour you every time she was near you, always looking away when you catch her staring, in the living room, kitchen, or even some expensive restaurant that your dad takes the family, she always have an eye on you, not that you would do something about it.

Second, happened on a normal thursday, when your shower had broken for some plumbing issues and your step mother suggested to you take your shower in Wanda’s bathroom instead for a couple days, which none of you seen any problem. 

Everything would be very normal, if wasn’t for the fact that when you were leaving the bathroom, with nothing but your towel around your body and your wet hair, Wanda was waiting, really close to the door. You almost bumped into her, but noticed her taller body before, stopping and standing just a few inches away from her face. Wanda didn’t make a single movement to move away from you, actually, she didn’t seem bothered at your lack of distance.

“I know what you’re doing.” You whispered under your breath, in a tone that only she could hear. 

“Yeah? And you like it?” She gives you a smile that makes your knees buckle and for a second all you wanted was kiss her lips and take that cocky smile off her face. 

You didn’t respond after that, taking every strength in your body to get away from her and go to your room, not even looking back to see if she was looking at you. 

The third, and last reason you was sure Wanda wanted to fuck you, was when your friend was throwing a party. You dressed real nice, a little black dress that hugged your body beautifully and your make up made with perfection, you looked at the mirror and had sure you was looking good. 

When you enter the dinning room, just to tell your dad that you was leaving, he almost chocked with his food. The whole family was having dinner, including Wanda who had a similar reaction to the way you dressed. 

“You’re not going dressed like this!” He shouted and you roll your eyes. “At least put a jacket. And Wanda’s taking you.” Wanda’s eyes widened a bit, but she agreed promptly. 

You tried to argue, even knowing that was useless, your dad was protective over you and you knew it, so the best you could do was put a jacket and message your friend saying that your step sister was taking you and her ride was no longer needed, And that’s what you did.

Wanda opened the door of the car for you, but nothing between you both had been said until half of the way.

“You can leave the jacket in the car, if you want, i’m not telling your dad.” You looked at her and she seemed to be focused on the road, so you murmured a “thanks” and unbuttoned your jacket, putting it in the backseat. The rest of the road was a comfortable silence, even through both of you had a lot to say to each other. 

Wanda parked one street before your friend’s house, saying something about how probably there’s a lot of cars in front of the house already. The street was desert and dark and honestly you was kind afraid of leaving the car, but it would be only 2 minutes walking. 

“You know, you look pretty hot in that dress.” She commented, out of nowhere before you leave. 

You looked at her, chocked by what she just said.

“What’s wrong with you?” You asked in a harsh tone. Since what happened in the bathroom, you’ve been thinking a lot about her, how she almost don’t talk to you and still make sure to check you out every time she sees you.

“What?”

“You don’t even talk to me, Wanda! We’ve been living together for almost six months and i don’t even know you but you still act like you want to fuck me, checking me out all the time, waiting for me to leave the shower and now telling me that i look hot! What’s wrong with you?” This time, your tone was just honest, you keep your eyes on her all the time and she seemed to be surprised at your vent. Seconds passed and she didn’t say anything. “C’mon, just be honest, this don’t have to get weird.”

“You want me to be honest?” She finally speaks, giving you a cocky smile and making a nose crunch like she wanted to say something she couldn’t.

“Yes, please!”

“Okay, i’m gonna be honest! I want to fuck you, God, i want to fuck you so bad since the day i met you, but you’re my stepsister, this is wrong. Jerk off thinking about you, it’s wrong, stopping by your room door hoping to get a glimpse of you naked, it’s wrong, thinking about bending you over in ever surface of that damn kitchen every time i see you cooking, it’s wrong. Fuck it, it’s all wrong.” She says, letting out a loud sigh like she just takes a big weight off the shoulders.

It was your turn to be surprised, that was the first time you heard Wanda says more than two phrases for you and you surely wasn’t expecting that, all the thoughts of everything she just said running through your head. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t think about this or nothing of that turned you on.

“Yeah… this is wrong.” You looked into each other’s eyes and in the next second, you were kissing. 

You wasn’t even thinking straight, all you feel was Wanda’s soft lips guiding your in a desperate kiss, like she was waiting a long time for that, you put your hands on her face and she didn’t think twice on putting hers on your uncovered thighs. Even with that weird position in the car, that was one of the best kisses on your life.

The kiss became heated, Wanda slide her tongue in your mouth and gripped your thighs, making you almost let out a moan as you bring your hands to her bulge, feeling it get bigger at your touch and hearing Wanda let out a moan on your mouth, smiling, knowing what you was about to do.

When you feel that she was already completely hard, you opened her belt, breaking the kiss for a moment for her to lift up her hips and bring her pants down, with her underwear. Her cock was big, nothing scary, but pretty hard with a pink tip leaking precum, you almost lick your lip at the sight and quickly put your hand around the base. 

Wanda groaned at the contact of your small warm hand and sit back to her seat, putting one hand at your hair and caressing slightly. 

“I’m so hard for you.” She whispers, watching how you jerk her off, slowly bringing your hand up and down her cock, caressing the tip with your thumb before going down to her base again. 

“Yeah, your cock is so fucking big, can’t wait to have it inside me.” You says, jerking her off a little faster at each word, seeing her close her eyes and moan just at you talking dirty to her. 

You watched her carefully, her expression of pleasure would be on your mind all the time by now. 

Without thinking much, you lowered your body and put your mouth around her cock, feeling it heavy against your tongue, you couldn’t see Wanda from that position but for her moans and her hand at the back of your head holding your hair in a ponytail she definitely likes it as much as you. 

You hollowed your cheeks and swallowed her length, holding the base with your hand and stroking the rest that didn’t fit in your mouth, feeling her cock hit the back of your throat and reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, you bobbed your head up and down, in the same pace your hand was moments before. 

Wanda watched you mesmerized, your hot mouth on her cock was driving her insane and all the kinky nature of fuck her stepsister just makes it all hotter for her, she wanted to fuck your throat and cum all over your face but she didn’t know your limits, and honestly after fantasizing about you for so long wouldn’t take to much for her to reach her climax. 

“Fuck, that’s it, you like sucking your stepsister’s cock, don’t you? Fucking slut.” Her words made you feel the familiar discomfort between your legs, wanting to have some relief for yourself, but right now suck Wanda’s off was the only thing you wanted to do. Her cock feels heavy and hot on your mouth, her moans and groans was making you shiver and she was right; you liked suck your stepsister’s cock. 

You nodded the best you could with your mouth full and the discomfortable position on the seat.

Wanda didn’t take long to get closer, your tongue against her shaft and your hand stroking her cock was too intense for her, she starts to thrust into your mouth unconsciously, lifting her hips making her cock hit deeper in your throat.

“I’m gonna fucking cum and you will swallow all of it, don’t you, hm? Bet you want all of my cum, it’s that what you want? You want to be my cumslut?” Just a nod of your head and she explodes inside your mouth, painting your throat and mouth with white streaks, which you gladly swallow, savoring her taste and licking your lips at the end. 

You sit back at your seat again, giving Wanda a few kisses on her neck while she catches her breath and you slowly stopped your movements with your hand. 

“You taste so good.” You whispers against her neck, making her smile and caress your hair. 

When she stopped pant and you take your hand out of her cock, you waited for her to say something, anything, maybe just kiss you. But she did nothing. 

You were kinda disappointed by that, but didn’t say anything about, just got back to your position and pulled the mirror of the seat, checking yourself to make sure you wouldn’t got off of the car looking like you just sucked someone’s cock. 

The whole time, Wanda said nothing, all she did was look at you. 

When you’ve done and had sure you looked pretty even with your make up and hair a little messy, you looked at her again. 

“Don’t need to pick me up, Hailey’s giving me ride to home.” She nods her head and you got out of the car. 

Oh, how you wished she had said something, or even just kissed you. 

#marvel smut #mcu smut #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda smut #mcu x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #wanda imagine #wanda mcu #wanda marvel #mia’s writing

[multific]

Push and Pull

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: A couple of months ago you were arranged to marry Aemond Targaryen. The Princess of the East they called you, somehow you fell in love at first sight with Aemond. But now, your insecurities come forward regarding the woman from his past.

Aemond was beyond confused.

Just that morning, you told him how you never wished to be his wife.

And now, there you stood, crying your heart out as you kept going on about Alys.

Aemond would be a liar if he said he didn't love Alys, he sure did. His relationship with her however had to end when his mother announced his marriage to the Princess of the East. 

Aemond broke off his interest with Alys the moment he was told he would marry someone.

He didn't wish to bring suffering to a woman. While he did love Alys, he knew his duty as a prince.

Then you arrived.

And what a lovely Princess you were. Much like him, you were reserved and he often found you with your nose in a book. 

Your beauty took his breath away.

You were much like him, yet so different.

Aemond learned that you were the fourth child in your family, meaning no one really took care of you.

All your siblings were boys.

But nothing broke Aemond's heart more than seeing you cry so much.

"I know you wouldn't even look my way if it wasn't for our marriage. I know I will be never her." you whispered the last part.

It made Aemond move.

He was now standing in front of you, he grabbed your hand as your other hand grabbed his wrist, afraid he would hurt you.

"I do not want you to be her. I want you to be you. Princess of the East. My Wife. As you are. I do not want you to suffer."

But it was clear, you didn't believe him.

And he was not blaming you for it.

Everyone often reminded you just how beautiful Alys is, how much Aemond loves her.

"I will not lie to you, I do have feelings for her, but I also have feelings for you. You are my wife, the woman I will live with for the rest of my life. I wish to have a great relationship with you. So we could try and be happy."

Aemond let go of your hand but you didn't let go of his. Holding his wrist, he felt you pulling him closer.

Your other hand came up to his shoulder and started to push him away.

Pulling him and pushing him at the same time. 

It was confusing. 

He was confused.

You could see it in his eyes.

"I want nothing more than for us to be happy. But I refuse to live in the shadows of another woman. Refuse to be a second choice because I know you would go running back to her the moment you would be allowed to. Your duty keeps you here, your mother keeps you here. If I cannot be the only one you love, I don't wish false promises of happiness from you." Aemond looked straight into your eyes, his free hand moved to remove his eyepatch.

He honestly thought you might get scared or disgusted but no, you didn't even blink as you looked into his eye and the sapphire which replaced his lost eye. 

"I want to have you as you are. You are my wife. You are my only love. I do not wish to have anyone else. She is the past, you are the present and future." he tried to take a step but your hand on his chest pushed him, while your other on his wrist pulled him.

It was clear to him, you were conflicted.

You wanted to be held by him but you were also scared of empty promises.

He understood, bringing your hand to his lips he kissed the back of it.

"I swear on my dragon's and my own life. I am not lying when I say these words to you, Y/N." suddenly your hand on his shoulder stopped pushing. Instead, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him close with both of your hands, arms moving around him, Aemond hugged you back.

You really hoped you didn't make a mistake by trusting him.

You really hoped he was not lying.

You weren't sure what you would do if you found out that he did.

But somehow, as his breath tickled your neck and he pulled you close, smelling your hair, you had a feeling he really wasn't lying. 

He will have you as you are, his perfect wife. And you will have him as he is, a great husband who promised you the sky and the stars as he pulled you in for a kiss.

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[starrycassi]

Ballister's been through this many times. Ambrosius comes into his room, hysterical, to announce him of some ridiculous upper crust rule or ball or challenge that he's got to participate in. He knows the drill by now; listen to him, reassure him and help him get ready, be it brushing his hair or co-writing a speech for him to give.

The Goldenloin family puts up an act for people to show off Ambrosius and his many qualities every so often. He doesn't really care, not anymore. He used to panic alongside Ambrosius, when they were thirteen. He's seventeen, now, and the novelty of it has worn off — it's just kind of funny, really, to see his boyfriend suffer through hours and hours of whatever bullshit he's supposed to do now.

This upcoming event, however, is doing a number on Ambrosius's nerves. He's pacing back and forth the room, and he hasn't even looked at Ballister yet. His tic — the one in his left eye, is back, and his lips are red and swollen in the places where he's been bitting them. It's barely five am, and Ballister knows that this is going to be a long day.

"You're going to get nauseous if you keep spinning around, Amber" he tries to start the conversation, voice soft and words slow. Between them, Ambrosius has always been the worst when it comes to keeping his emotions under control. Ballister's learnt, by now, that sometimes it's just better to give him space.

"I'm nauseous already. Some spinning won't hurt, I'm sure" he snaps back, almost screaming. Ballister decides that talking to him won't be possible right now, and goes back to the project on his table, making sure to hold the screwdriver at the right angle.

After fifteen minutes or so, Ambrosius finally stops. He whines, letting his body weight drag him down on Ballister's mattress.

"What is it, this time?"

Ambrosius's silent, only whining a bit more after the question, like a wounded dog. That's new. He usually loves to go on rants about how everything is going to go wrong and how the whole world hates him in secret. Ballister puts down the tools, quickly scribbles down what he's supposed to do next to avoid future mistakes, and sits down next to his boyfriend, threading a hand through the other teen's hair.

They stay like that some minutes, Ballister working his way through the blond strands and Ambrosius simply lying there. Ballister's starting to think that he's fallen asleep, when Ambrosius finally speaks up, face still buried in pillows.

"They're marrying me off, Bal"

The world stops spinning.

Ballister goes static. His whole body freezes, and his heart stops beating. He can feel the blood on his veins going cold, so cold his bones feel stuck, too.

This was a expected situation, kind of. Captain Gloria, Ambrosius's mom, had been married off, too. She didn't like her husband in the slightest and they never talked to each other. Ambrosius told him all that.

She had also promised to keep her son away from that predicament. But Ballister knew better than to trust mothers. His own had abandoned him some years ago, after all.

"What... How? What?"

Ambrosius sits up, criss cross, hugging a pillow. He's such a kid. His eyes are already watery, and he's got a red nose, probably from slamming his face into the pillows.

"Not- well, not actually marrying me off. Mum doesn't want that, y'know" He shrugs, looking at his own hands. "But she can't really... just go against tradition, I guess. So, uh, there's going to be a tournament, figths, you know? And I know I'll probably win, she chose combat because she knows I'm good at it, but what if I don't win?"

He takes a deep breath, grunting. Ballister's brain is struggling to catch up, so he can't do much more than nod, encouraging his boyfriend to keep talking.

"It's not going to be like here, only us, cadets and students, where I know I will undoubtedly win. Actual grown ups could get in there, Ballister. My mom's been screaming to anyone and everyone about how ridiculous everything is, but- I guess rules are rules. I haven't slept. We stayed up all night on the phone, she tore down the whole family's library, called all of our lawyers, we tried every single article and law ever written. Nothing. The best we can do is... hope"

"The Captain's right. This is ridiculous, Ambrosius. What do you mean grown ups? Why? That's fucking creepy. Can't you guys just... say no? You're a Goldenloin, surely you-"

Ambrosius grunts, again, tugging at one of his hair strands.

"It's not that easy!" He screams, shutting Ballister up. "I've been getting proposals for... for forever! It's not really a matter of love as it is a matter of money, Bal. I've been getting proposals even from before I was actually born. Political alliances and all that. Mom's been doing her best, I know she has, but when a heir has said "no" enough times, then a duel or something can be called up, and an actual tournament would be way easier than just fighting every single idiot that wants to get my last name!"

Ballister's never been happier to be an orphan commoner than right now. His only worry when it comes to marriage is whether or not he can afford a pretty ring.

It's not like commoners don't marry for money. Arranged marriages were a pretty common thing around him, young kids marrying older people to try and get their families ahead, forced by their parents, their "spouses" or their economical situations. He just... never really had to worry about it, ever since he became a knight.

"That's incredibly fucked up, Ambrosius"

"I know ! I am well aware of how weird this must be for you, Bal. And I have absolutely no backup plan. My mom's confident that I'm winning, because Goldenloins never lose, but I'm not her! She can still beat me when we spar together, what am I going to do if someone else wins? Just... get married?"

Trying to come up with a solution, Ballister stutters and stammers his way through a sentence.

"You could, uh, get married and have a divorce, right?"

"No! Totally no! You don't get it! Whoever wins gets to ask whatever they want from my family, money, land, my hand- whatever, and then that's irrevocable!"

Stressed out, Ballister screechs. Of course he doesn't get it. No one ever bothered to explain this to him. He knew that parents could force their kids to marry (Captain Gloria once told him the story, very drunk and very mad at her departed dad) but not that a whole fucking event could be staged even if the family said no.

"It's not my fault I don't get it, you twat! Do you think the knigth training automatically gave me political marriage bullshit training, too? Well, no, it didn't! I'm so sorry for not knowing you weird ass nobility traditions, Ambrosius, I didn't realize I was supposed to!"

Getting up from the bed, mad at the world for being unfair and at himself for snapping, he runs his hands through his hair, with the impulse to simply rip it all off. It quickly gets replaced by guilt. Ambrosius has done nothing wrong, and here he is, being an asshole instead of helping.

"Amber... Shit, I'm sorry. This is just-"

Chuckling humorlessly, Ambrosius waves his hand in the air. He looks up at Ballister, and shakes his head.

"You're right. Sorry. I just forgot. I always do"

They already went through this, too. Ambrosius is good at keeping Ballister up to date, always happy to explain the situation, but sometimes things just... slip his mind. It isn't anyone's fault, but it's still annoying when it happens.

"Sorry, too. For calling you a twat"

Ballister leans down, tentatively. Ambrosius doesn't hesitate to lift himself up, and they share a quick kiss. All is forgiven.

"So... what now?"

Silently, they both try their best to think. Ballister's mind is blank, just screaming at him to get a sword and go decapitate however wrote the fuckin rules. He ignores that voice, per usual. The fucker's probably dead, by now, anyway.

Ambrosius is the one who gasps, and smiles all of the sudden, so bright that the sun should be jealous. He bounces on the bed a couple of times, clapping to get his boyfriend's attention.

"We're both idiots!"

Ballister frowns, confused. An awkward smile is all he can offer Ambrosius, wondering if his man finally went crazy.

"I see no correlation between our supposed idiocy and the problem at hand, Amber."

"Come on, Bal! This is easy. I have the best plan" he giggles, like a kid that just got a new toy. Ballister can tell that this plan probably will suck and get them in more danger than necessary. And he's so on board. Always on board, when it comes to Ambrosius.

"Which is?"

"You!" Exclaims Ambrosius, rolling his eyes. "You're my plan"

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to compete and win, Bal"

Perhaps he never should've become a knight, that way he never would've fallen in love with this absolute trainwreck of a man. Is it too late to go back to being a random kid and forget about all this? Probably.

#goldenheart #nimona movie #ballister nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister boldheart #nimona (2023) #ambrosius nimona #ambrosius x ballister #nimona #ballister blackheart #i should be doing homework #forced marriaged but he's trying to save his boyfriend from it #tournament au