#And wondering what my own mother was like as a person before she became my mam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cheralith · 11 months

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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

#spider-man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

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utterlyazriel · 13 days

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let me keep you company

a/n: a wee break from the doom & gloom of wtssf! it's unedited so i want no flack for that thank u <3 enjoy <3 wc: 5.1k whoops synopsis: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

For the record, you had never met a Shadowsinger before.

You'd never even seen one. Sure, you’d read about them briefly in your studies and almost every Fae in Prythian had heard about them in whispers and rumours.

Rumours that increased more so when a Shadowsinger rose to become a hand for the Highlord, his own personal spy. Then became the spymaster of the entire Night Court for the next Highlord.

But beyond gossip and unfinished chapters within the scripts of your libraries, the knowledge of Shadowsingers is far limited. They’re rare. For all you know, Shadowsinger’s are a ghost— moving as a shadow, disappearing in and out of the darkness of the world.

You had never met a Shadowsinger before—so it makes sense that you hadn't an ounce of a clue what to expect.

Staring at him now, 6 feet something of pure muscle, you're a bit embarrassed at your own surprise.

Because he's probably— no definitely— the most beautiful Fae you've ever laid eyes on. His hair is tousled and dark, his glorious tan skin that's mostly hidden beneath the black of his fighter leathers, and his amber eyes that laid on you for only one long moment. Breathtaking is the only adequate word for him.

All that beauty and he's a Shadowsinger.

And it's not like you thought he wouldn't be like, well, any other Fae. But also... you kinda did? Mother, you should've known Freya was tricking you when she said they were all just shadow-y corporeal forms.

But she's also not entirely wrong there. There are dozens of wispy shadows that hover around him in constant motion, dipping and flying around his shoulders and if you look close enough, you can see how he seems to ripple at the edges. Shadows blur the edge of his very being.

You wonder if he can disappear into them all together, if that was one of the abilities granted with them. Does he control them? He must, you think, if the title is Shadowsinger.

But looking at him now, his beautiful face turned to face the Highlord you should definitely be listening to, they flit about almost absentmindedly, as though they have a mind of their own.

One curls up by his ear and you watch it, fascinated, more and more questions springing up in your mind— what do they feel like on skin? Do they make any noise? Is that what they're doing now? Talking to—

A sharp elbow jabs into your side, making you jump.

Your head whips to the side, an instinctive scowl almost overtaking your face before you plaster it over with a smile, realising your mistake. Your mentor, Sergei, clears his throat and smiles awkwardly ahead at Rhysand. You blink and take another moment to realise you've been asked a question.

"I'm— I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" You try not to sound as mousy as you feel but the question comes out as a squeak anyway. He is the Highlord of the Night Court after all. You suddenly feel very foolish for being so easily distracted.

Thankfully, Rhysand regards you with an easy smile. He's leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and his violet eyes dance with humour as he flicks his gaze over to where you had just been staring.

"That's alright. Azriel is a piece of eye candy, I can't blame you for staring," He all but purrs, a hint of mirth pulling at his lips as he casts another glance at his Spymaster. You're taken aback by the casualness of his words.

Rhysand continues. "I was only saying that for the duration of your stay, you'll be hosted in one of my homes, the House of Wind. You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

A smidge of fear pinches at your stomach because, honestly, you aren't overly keen on the idea. But you know better than to turn down the generosity of a Highlord.

You take another glance at the wings of his Spymaster and General and pray that it's not too high up.

"Not... much." You answer honestly.

There's a chuckle from the side of the room and your head swings around at the noise. It's not the Shadowsinger, though he looks as though he's politely trying not to smile, his chin ducked. It's the General, just as beautiful as his brother but in that more rugged way.

He flexes his wings out a bit, showing off their mighty wingspan. "We'll rid you of that fear in no time."

You try for a smile but it might be closer to a grimace.

"Fantastic." You say, not managing to put all your enthusiasm into the word like you hoped.

Another sharp jab of Sergei's elbow in your side. The Shadowsinger, Azriel, huffs a quiet laugh, his amber eyes flashing up to steal another look at you. You try your best not to fluster.

It's going to be a long two months.

—

As Sergei's apprentice, you're expected to shadow him through his allowed time within Velaris.

Which means if he goes to the library, you go to the library.

There's just one problem; the library is down in the city and your temporary home is up in the mountain. The quickest way down is with wings.

Rhysand— or just Rhys as he had told you to call him— had relayed the information that you could ask either Cassian or Azriel to escort you if you didn't wish to take the stairs.

Cassian, the General, had been the one to fly you down and back the first couple of times you had asked and you weren't in any particular hurry to relive the experience.

Cassian was nice and he was more than friendly but seemingly incapable of understanding any fear of heights. You weren't sure if that was just the only way to fly— swooping and dropping fast enough to make you shriek— but it certainly seemed to be Cassian's way.

Which leaves you with the option of either asking the Shadowsinger or taking the stairs.

You get down about two hundred steps before you start to regret your decision. But, also, how in the Cauldron were you supposed to ask him to take you? (Never mind that you had asked Cassian quite easily, albeit very nervously.)

Oh, hi Shadowsinger who I can't stop staring at for both your abilities and your handsome face—care to sweep me into your arms and carry me places?

As if, you snort to yourself.

You take the thousand stairs all the way to the bottom and trot towards the enormous library, pretending your thighs aren't aching with overuse or that you're out of breath. Thankfully, the library itself isn't too far from the House of Wind, carved into the same side of the mountain.

As expected, Sergei is less than pleased with your tardiness.

"Sorry," The word rushes out of you in a wheeze, probably too loud for the library, as you scuttle in the entrance. A few priestesses turn their heads to look at you and you cringe, raising your hands in apology. "Sorry, I'm sorry,"

You focus back on your mentor and try to catch your breath, all while you explain. "I took the stairs and it took—" You huff out a breath. "—way longer than I thought."

Sergei's face softens a bit at your explanation, his face taking on a pitiful smile. "Still not enjoying the flying?"

"You are?" You ask in response. The thought of Sergei, your old-Fae mentor, swept up in Cassian's arms as he dips and dives makes you chuckle just a bit.

Sergei shakes his head as if to change the topic of conversation, deciding you've wasted enough time already. He turns, beginning to head further into the library and you follow behind him closely, eager to brush over your early morning fumble. The cavernous structure within the mountain yawns out ahead of you and you get all of two moments to wonder just how deep down it goes, when—

"You did not ask for a ride this morning."

Azriel steps up beside you, seemingly from nowhere, his steps falling in time with yours with ease. You jump, startled, and your footsteps falter for a moment. You're relieved to say that you only make one embarrassing noise in your surprise.

"I— oh, it's— I mean, I just..." You trail off, feeling flustered. "...like to walk."

You chance a glance up at him. He's wearing that same polite expression from yesterday, as though he's trying not to laugh and you get too caught up in the swirlings of his shadows to remember to be properly embarrassed. Both of you walk in tandem behind Sergei, slowly descending into the lower levels of the library.

"If you insist," He says, his voice low. It sends something warm down your spine and you pray he doesn't notice how your body temperature is definitely climbing.

His amber eyes pin you with another look, his lips twitching into a small smile. "However, if Cassian is giving you trouble, I would be happy to provide a smoother ride."

You flounder for a moment. You don't want to get anyone in trouble.

"I— he's not giving me trouble," You stammer.

Azriel smiles a little wider as if he can tell how polite you're trying to be. He slows to a meander and you realise only after you walk past him, it's because Sergei has stopped himself, turning down one of the many aisles.

You skid yourself to a halt and turn back, praying your flaming face isn't as obvious as it feels. You're not entirely sure if Azriel is accompanying you today but you're sure that Sergei would've mentioned it if he was.

You dip your head in a strange, awkward bow motion. Then point to the aisle Sergei disappeared into.

"I'll be... going this way."

Azriel's smile grows, like you've told a joke, and he ducks his head. He peers up at you through his dark lashes and you wonder if anyone's ever told him how damn beautiful he is. Probably. You're probably the last in a long line of people. Mother, his eyes though.

"If you don't wish to make the hike the other way," He murmurs.

He extends one of his hands and you watch the dozen shadows swarm around it, one of them separating from the pack to dive to the ground. It shoots forward and spins around your ankle, almost happily. "Just let the shadow know. I would be happy to assist."

When you look back up, he’s already gone without a sound. You try not to look so surprised— you’ve seen someone winnow before but you’re almost certain that the way Azriel moved about silently was something else altogether.

“Y/n!” Sergei’s voice echoes down the shelves, reminding you that you’re still late. You throw a quick glance around to check but it's fruitless; you can’t see the Shadowsinger anywhere.

You turn and bustle down the aisle quickly, not wanting to keep Sergei any longer. It takes only a second to notice the sole, black shadow that dances along behind you.

Guess you have company.

—

Okay, so, the shadows are definitely their own little guys.

Mainly because you can’t imagine how Azriel would be controlling them when he’s nowhere in sight.

And this one shadow is being awfully helpful.

The first time you drop your quill, knocking it to the ground as you lean over one of the many intricately carved desks, trying to reach another book, you don’t even notice it fall to the ground.

In fact, you have no idea how many times it’s picked up your fallen quill that you’ve undoubtedly knocked over countless times— only that it had given you the fright of your life to have it hover before your face, gripped only by the wispy shadow Azriel left with you.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, your loud voice echoing in the quietness of the library.

Sergei's head whips up, his eyes narrowing at the intruding sound with evident disapproval. You quickly snatch the quill out of mid-air and sink down in your seat. Gods, the echoes in here were doing you no favours.

“Sorry,” You whisper. Your eyes dart down to the shadow that retreated to your side, flickering around your ankle more wildly. “Er, thanks.”

It feels a bit silly to give thanks to something you’re not sure can hear you. But you figure if it can pick up your quill, you're better off using your manners.

Sergei gives you a somewhat bewildered look and you try to appease him with an awkward smile. It works enough for him to continue his work but not without one more lingering glance of worry in your direction. Great. You're talking to shadows and your old-man mentor thinks you're a bit nuts.

The shadow continues its helpful endeavours, following you when you head down different aisles at Sergei's request. It dances across the shelves, dissolving occasionally just to puff back up somewhere else, pulling your attention this way and that. It's playful. Friendly.

You deduce by the end of the day that you know even less about Shadowsinger's than you had thought. The abilities and personality of just one shadow are uncanny; like a silent friend keeping you company. You imagine that Azriel rarely gets lonely with as many as he has. Maybe you'll ask him.

When Sergei and you wind back up the staircases and he dismisses you for the evening, heading into the city for his own further business, you stand at the mouth of the library and ponder if you'll be brave enough to summon the Shadowsinger.

The shadow is still with you, circling your wrist absently. You peer down at it and think of all those stairs. Somewhat nervously, you raise your hand and try to be as casual as possible about talking to a shadow on your hand.

"Hi." You start, trying not to feel foolish. "Um, well, I guess I'm done for the day. Could— could you, if he's not busy that is, uh, let Azriel know? I don't mind waiting if he is."

The shadow zips off barely before you can finish your sentence and your head swings to watch it go, disappearing somewhere to your left.

You can't help but be a little amazed at its speed—it must be an incredible networking system to have a thousand little spies running around for you. No wonder almost all Shadowsingers tend to end up in the same line of work, you think to yourself, still peering in the direction of the shadow when—

"Y/n."

Even though he's said your name soft and quiet, Azriel still manages to take you by surprise. You jump and turn, all in one motion.

"Mother!" Your hand holds over your chest, relief curling in at the sides as your fright ebbs away. "That was fast."

"You called," Azriel responds, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. He gives you an almost shy smile.

It makes you fluster a bit and you gesture to the exit awkwardly and wordlessly, if only so you don't have to come up with a response to his intense and endearing answer.

Together, you wander out from the library and creep towards the edge of Velaris. It's a beautiful city and more than deserving of its title, especially when viewed from the House of Wind. You turn and cast your eyes up the mountainside, your familiar nervous fear pitching up from your stomach.

Then you look at the warrior beside you, tall enough that he's got what feels like more than a head's height on you, with his wings reaching above even his own head. His jaw is sharp and his eyes are already on you as your gaze trails up his face. Fuck. He's really pretty.

Now you're nervous for an entirely different reason.

"We can still take the stairs if you wish," He says, his hand sweeping back to the path you had followed along this morning. His shadows move with his hands, a black vortex that whirls around and around. "I'd be more than happy to keep you company."

Mother, he's not helping you in the slightest, being so perfectly nice to you. You regard the stairs and think back to how many hours it took before your thighs stopped aching—and that was on the way down.

"No, we can- we can try flying again." You say, nodding to yourself as if it'll help quell your fear. It takes another moment to realise that means you'll be bundled up in his strong arms, held against his broad chest and you feel a little shiver run through your body at the thought.

Azriel notices it too, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "You're sure?" He checks.

You nod, not meeting his eyes, trying to keep your nerve. Flying is already something you're not keen on. Flying whilst being swept up in the arms of a Shadowsinger who you think is the most beautiful Fae you've ever seen? You send a silent prayer to the Mother that you don't do something embarrassing, like puking down his front.

"Let me know if you're uncomfortable at any time," He says softly and then he bends his knees slightly, one of his scarred hands resting on your lower back as the other scoops beneath your knees. He lifts you as though you weigh nothing.

It's impossible not to flush as you get nestled against his firm chest, your hands panicking for a moment as you try to think of a normal place to put them. Around his neck? On his chest? Either of them feels far too intimate for a man you've known only a week.

"You don't have to but I would suggest holding on," Azriel comments with a smile, his chest vibrating with the words. You nod, agreeing with him, but don't make a move to do so, only holding your hands out in front of you to indicate you're not sure where to put them.

The shadows adorning his shoulders move on their own, their friendly presence easing your nerves as they slither down to circle around your wrists. There's a gentle tug and you let them move your hands til they're wrapped around Azriel's neck, moving you much closer in the process.

Gods, your faces are close together. Another couple of inches and you could probably press your lips to his perfect ones—a thought that makes you fluster all over again. Was he getting prettier every time you saw him? For not the first time, you thank the Mother that it was Rhys with the daemaeti gift and not Azriel.

"Ready?" He checks, which is sweet. Cassian had just shot up into the sky the first time, without any warning.

You grip your arms around his neck a little tighter and then nod. "Ready," You say, quieter than intended.

You catch just a moment of Azriel's demure smile, your heart swooping at the sight, before you're both launched into the sky with one flap of his wings.

The noise that escapes you is one you're less than proud of, a squawky sound noise of panic that you bury into Azriel's neck. You expect him to laugh like Cassian had, not meanly but playfully, but instead Azriel's arms just tighten around you. As if he was assuring you that he would not let you fall.

By the time you're up at the House of Wind, Azriel making a far more graceful descent than his brother, you're less freaked out and more ready to point some accusatory fingers in the face of the Night Court's General.

That bastard had been fucking with you! The flight with Azriel proved as much, considering how much calmer and smoother it had been. You couldn't help but say as much as you were placed down from Azriel's hold, glad to be back on solid ground.

"I have some words for Cassian, Mother above," You ramble, straightening out your rumpled clothes from the flight. "Did he think I was kidding when I said I was afraid?"

Azriel smiles at your fieriness, his shadows calmer than they were in flight, moving about lazily. His eyes take a fleeting glance at the house behind you before focusing intently back on you.

"Cassian can have a strange sense of humour at times. He means well." He says. Then he grins. "I should like to see you tell him off— not enough people do."

You hmph. "Maybe I will."

You suddenly realise the closeness between you and Azriel, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. His scent of cedar and mist swirls around you, tantalizing and alluring in a way you've never known before. You take a step back to contain yourself.

"I—uh, well, thank you very much." You say, as sweet as you can. "For the ride."

Your eyes catch on one of his dozen shadows and you smile, observing them for a moment. "And the shadow. It was excellent company."

Azriel brightens, an expression of surprise crossing his face before he schools it away. He smiles, brazen and breathtaking. When he speaks, he sounds a little disbelieving. "You like them?"

You nod quickly, noticing how one of his shadows has snuck off again and circulates your ankle speedily. You laugh at the ticklish feeling of it against your skin.

"They're incredible." You breathe, meaning every word. "I imagine you must've ge—"

"Apologies, y/n." A smooth voice cuts in, Rhys stepping up somewhere behind you and stealing both of your attention. He dressed in more casual clothes than you last saw, but not quite Azriel's fighting leathers. "Azriel here is needed for some brief business. Do you mind if I borrow him?"

The way he poses the question, as if Azriel is yours, does something wonky to your heart. You flounder for a moment, stepping back and waving your hand in the direction of the Shadowsinger.

"Of- of course, by all means." You trip over the words and hope you don't sound too eager to escape his company. That couldn't be more untrue.

You turn back to Azriel and fix him with a smile, hoping it's not as nervous as you feel. "I'll... see you around?"

Azriel steals a glance to the side where Rhys awaits before he nods with another reserved smile. Hold on, is that pink on his cheeks?

"Let me know if you need any more help getting to and from the library. I'd be happy to assist."

And then with a quick nod to you, he walks off to join Rhys, his wings tucked in tight, careful to not nudge you. You watch them go, unable to stop yourself from letting your eyes wander down. Damn, all that training did wonders. What was that saying? Hate to watch 'em go, love to watch them leave.

Ahead, Rhys abruptly laughs and peers back over his shoulder, letting you exactly how well you had shielded those thoughts. You flush and scurry into the house as if it'll save you from the embarrassment of what's just happened. You only hope he won't pass the message on to Azriel.

—

It continues like that for the rest of the week.

Azriel carries you down the height of the mountain and leaves you with a promise that if you need anything, you can tell the shadow and he'll come to find you.

The shadow keeps its usual playful company. Beyond retrieving your dropped quills, it helpfully turns the pages of books for you. When you're focused on what you're writing, it nudges back any loose strands of hair. Once it even brings you a flower from Mother knows where. One single Lily of the Valley, left resting on your desk.

It makes you wonder; are all Shadowsinger's shadows like this? You can't help but imagine these niceties are shaped by Azriel's own soft nature.

Today, whilst you study in the vast caverns of the library, you get an unexpected visitor.

As you take your time scanning through the books in one of the vast aisles, you realise the Fae coming down from the other end of the aisle is none other than the Highlady herself.

"Feyre!" You greet warmly. The two of you had met before when she had taken duties in your home court and if it weren't too bold, you'd say you consider yourself good friends. Feyre smiles, glowing like moonlight, as she realises who it is.

"Y/n," She says your name sweetly and her hug is just as such. She pulls away, ready to inquire about your studies when she spots the trailing shadow behind you.

"Making friends, I see," She comments. Her eyebrows raise almost teasingly as if she's made a certain insinuation. You take a moment to notice what she's referencing.

"It's nice," You say, a defensive lilt to your tone. You hold out your hand and the shadow jumps at the opportunity to skitter around it playfully. "It's like a little friend."

Feyre smiles at your words but chuckles a little. "Except Azriel is anything but little."

You pause at her words, glancing down at the shadow and back up at Feyre. "What do you mean? I thought— they're not- I mean, aren't they...?”

You trail off, unsure of how to word the question you're trying to ask. Feyre smiles, her gray eyes glittering with mirth as she realises what you're figuring out.

"They're all his. Azriel's. He controls them." She tilts her head a bit, watching the shadow that drifts about your hand and wrist. "True, they roam a bit on their own but... Not like this."

"Oh," You murmur, thinking back to that first day in the library.

The playful shadow that lead you back and forth, picking up your quill and turning your pages. It was him, all along.

Something immeasurably warm starts to glow in your chest, a thread that loops through your heart and sends the valves into overdrive. Its warmth grows, something molten hot beginning to bleed in your chest— and it feels wonderful. It feels right.

"Oh," You gasp as you figure it out.

Feyre grins, watching you piece together what the rest of the inner circle has clued together from the very first day. She stands to the side and gestures to the entrance of the library with a tilt of her head.

"Go on then," She urges you.

For a moment, you think back to Sergei who sent you hunting for a certain manuscript Cauldron knows how long ago but the thought is washed away in an instant. You can feel it now, the strong tug in your chest. The connection that binds you to another.

You stride past Feyre, giving a quick thanks! and all but run up the spiral staircases, heading for the entrance. The shadow pings along with you and as you near the top, you look down at it and say through huffed breaths, "You better go get him."

He's waiting by the time you get there.

Against the setting sun, for a moment there's only the silhouette of him— a warrior with tall wings, the edges of him rippling like a mirage. He might just be one; an oasis in your life, the answer that you've been searching for for centuries. You can't believe you didn't notice.

Your footsteps echo on the marble as you march right up to him and Azriel watches you closely the whole time, his amber eyes soft but his expression hinting at his nervousness. Gods, he's wonderful. You can't believe he gets to be yours and you get to be his.

"How long have you known?" You ask because it's the first thing on your mind. You're nearly panting from the exhilaration of your sudden exercise, from the dawning future that's blooming right in front of you. He's your mate. Gods, how could you have missed it?

Azriel smiles, that same tentative one that's been driving you crazy all week. His wings give a little shake behind him, a giveaway of his nerves.

"I... suspected from the beginning." He chooses his words carefully, wary of how you might respond.

You can't help your little gasp, feeling even more of a fool. You curse, ducking your head before you glare back up at him, no real heat in your gaze. You have the urge to give him a little shove, just for keeping you in the dark.

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

One of his shadows spins up unexpectedly, dancing across your shoulders and tickling your cheeks gently. You startle in surprise but something sweeter curls up in your chest at the tenderness of its touch.

"Believe me," Azriel says with a quiet chuckle, his amber eyes darting over your face intensely. "I've been trying."

You melt. Eyes locked with his, you move slowly, letting your arms drift up to drape around his neck like they've done every morning and evening since he began flying you around. You realise acutely that Cassian's behaviour, his shoddy flying, had likely been on purpose. You laugh a little, eyes creasing shut in pure euphoria.

Azriel's hands find your waist and you can feel the slight tremble in them.

"In my defense," You murmur, pushing up on your toes. You're close, so close, your lips hovering just an inch from a kiss—his shadows go wild around you both. It makes you grin. "I had never met a Shadowsinger before."

"Yeah?" Azriel breathes shakily. "Disappointed?"

He says it like a joke but you can hear the note of sincerity in his tone. His hidden worry that he isn't all you dreamed of. It's nearly laughable how wrong he is.

This close you can see his long lashes and every shade of brown in his eyes. You wonder if you'll ever get used to how beautiful he is. Part of you hopes you never do.

"Not in the slightest," You say, nearly a whisper.

Then his lips are on yours, pillowy soft skin against yours, and it feels like coming home. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you til you're breathless and the glow in your chest could rival the sun in its warmth.

He kisses you and every atom in your body hums and fizzes and comes to life — and all you can do is hold him tight and kiss him back, just as fiercely.

Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, you pant and grin brazenly at Azriel, at your mate, happier than you've ever been. Faintly, you realise that you won't be heading home when the two months of your study are up after all.

Not when you have a man who looks at you so reverently, who kisses you like there's oxygen hidden in the plush of your lips, who holds you like there's nothing more precious in the world.

Not when you know that home is right here, in front of you.

#YIPPEE! written in like... 3 days #no editing less go #love it or leave it #a break from all the doom and gloom of wtssf #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #sloane writes

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kamaluhkhan · 9 months

Text

in my head, i play a supercut of us

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: drinking + smoking. lots of plot + flashbacks. there is some mention of injuries, body issues/self esteem (reader is a competitive swimmer), complicated family dynamics (reader is eldest daughter), slight allusion to alcoholism.

a/n: ohhh this turned out much longer than i expected it to be!! honestly i have so many ideas that this will probably become a series. for now please enjoy the summer, childhood friends to lovers to strangers vibes ;)

you still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn't satisfy you as much as it used to. you still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago. (alida nugent)

now — summer, age 18

driving up to the beach house after so many summers have passed, you’re struck with the memory of your first time swimming.

it was mid-june in cousins; you must have been four years old. you stood on the edge of the pool for an eternity, until your father became impatient and threw you into the deep end. you screamed, imagined your lungs being filled with cold water, drowning in darkness. your neighbour had run over when he heard, and your father had to hold him back from jumping in to save you. instead, your life jacket kept you afloat, and soon enough you were kicking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. you discovered your love of swimming that afternoon and in that your father found his star athlete. you also realized your love for conrad fisher, the boy next door.

your summers in cousins, the friends you’d met here, conrad fisher — these composed your metaphorical lifejacket, once preserving your childhood. you’d taken it off for too long, spent years in the deep end alone, keeping yourself afloat, moving towards a carefully constructed future. now it all started to crumble, and here you were again, a different person; you wondered if the others were different, too.

it wasn't your first choice to come back to cousins, but you were determined to make the most of it. after unpacking your things, you decide to make your way to the beck house, right next door to your own family’s.

you knock once, twice, three times. there's no answer, so you figure that everyone is either in town or at the beach. you start to walk away when you hear the front door open.

"excuse me!" laurel park's voice calls. you turn around, and the shock on laurel's face is clear. "y/n! oh my god, i almost didn't recognize you!"

"four summers can do that," you note.

you hear your name from inside the house, and before you know it, belly conklin excitedly runs out and tackles you in a hug.

"hey, bells," you laugh. you notice how dressed up she is, something that changed from the oversized t-shirts and patterned shorts you remember her always wearing. "cute dress. where are you off to?"

"oh. there's a high tea at the country club. sort of like an introduction for the debutante season."

you raise an eyebrow, looking past belly towards laurel. "is this a lemon jelly belly situation?" you’re referring to the code phrases you used to exchange for different situations, depending on different flavours of jelly beans: pear, toasted marshmellow, lemon. it might have been childish (you were kids at the time), but it always worked. more than anyone, you know what it’s like to be pushed into something too quickly, too soon. even after all these years, and even though belly is only two years younger, your instinct is to defend her at all times.

"possibly," laurel sighs.

"it's not," belly insists, giving her mother a pointed look. "i wanted to try something new this summer, and susannah promised it would be fun."

the two of you walk back towards the house. when you reach the door, laurel brings you into a tight hug. the three of you walk into the kitchen, and you find yourself taking the seat you had once claimed as your own — a stool at the counter, third from the left. belly settles down next to you, and laurel grabs a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge while you reach over to take three glasses from the drying rack.

belly explains more about the debutante season, and mentions that steven and jeremiah are both working at the club this summer. she doesn't get around to what conrad is up to, because laurel suddenly checks her watch, then sighs.

"i hate to cut this reunion short, but belly, we'd better leave if we want to make that tea of yours."

"right." belly looks at you with a frown, like she's worried you'll disappear if you're out of sight. "i'll see you later?"

you smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "i'll be here all summer," you promise, and belly beams.

"you’re coming to my book party?" laurel asks, though it's more of a statement than a question.

"yeah, sure," you promise, sipping your sweet tea. "i'll see you guys there."

with one final see you later and another hug from belly, you're left alone in the kitchen. you wonder if the fishers still keep the cereal in the same cabinet; if their cupboards are filled with the same sugary snacks you were never allowed to have, but you and the boys would sneak when the adults weren’t looking.

"y/n, my little mermaid, is that you?"

susannah always called you her little mermaid — inspired by your love of swimming, yes, but also that one summer you were convinced that mermaids were real, so you and belly spent hours looking for clues on the beach and painting your nails iridescent turquoise. all the adults scoffed at you, but susannah was the only one who played along, who allowed you to believe that magic was real.

instantly, you rise from your seat and hug susannah.

"you have no idea how happy i am that you're here this summer," susannah whispers. as you break away from your hug, susannah places her hands on your cheeks. she looks happy and healthy, if a little tired. you can't help but think of the years you’d been gone when susannah and her family were dealing with so much. there was only so much connection texts, calls, and emails could provide. to be here now, seeing susannah fisher alive and well?

it was almost too much.

tears threaten to spill, but you swallow them. instead, you reply: "so am i." and, certainly more than before, you mean it.

“conrad’s out back if you want to come say hi. i’m painting his portrait. he’s been a bit down lately, but if anyone can make him feel better, it’s you.”

you feel your cheeks heat up. you finish the rest of your sweet tea and put your glass in the dishwasher, not quite feeling ready to face conrad — there was a complicated history between the two of you. unresolved tension, hurtful words, that sort of thing.

“i’ll, uh, let you keep painting. i should go get ready for laurel’s book party.”

“alright. i’ll see you there, sweetie.”

“yeah,” you confirm. you start to walk away before hearing susannah’s voice again:

“and, y/n?” you turn around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

later that night, at laurel's book launch party, you watch conrad pour another glass of wine, and wonder whether or not you should join him. his eyes catch yours from across the room, but he quickly looks away. belly ended up having a date, she'd texted you earlier, and you were roped into a conversation with your mother and susannah before you could find stephen or jeremiah.

"they grow up so fast," susannah muses. she then wraps an arm around your shoulder. "i can't believe that our eldests are 18! conrad’s off to brown in the fall — how about you, y/n?”

“princeton,” your mother boasts, draining the rest of her cup and grabbing another from a tray passing by. that’s her third glass, by your count. “we were so proud. it’s the best women’s swim team in the country.”

“stanford is a close second,” you interject. “besides, we don’t even know if i can start swimming for real by then.”

you’d broken your ankle a month and a half before. it didn’t need surgery yet and you were out of your cast, but you couldn’t return to your usual level of activity for a while — which meant no training camp, like you’d been going to the past few summers.

“you know, i did always picture you on the west coast,” susannah smiles at you. “all those beaches and sunshine.”

your mother frowns, ignoring susannah. “don’t be ridiculous. if you spend the summer doing your physical therapy and resting, you’ll be back in the water before we know it. your father and i agreed — that’s why you’re here.”

you resist the urge to argue with her and instead block her out as she brags about your siblings getting top prizes in their academic decathalon. the twins were thirteen now and had plans with their friends tonight, sparing them from attending this event. no offence to laurel or susannah, of course, but you’d rather be with your friends.

when you look for conrad once more, you notice that he's been roped into a conversation with laurel and someone who your mom had pointed out as cleveland castillo. even after all these years, you can tell when he needs backup: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching the room for an out.

after excusing yourself from the conversation, you make your way over to conrad.

"hey," you greet, nodding at laurel and cleveland. "mind if i borrow this guy? we've got some catching up to do." if either laurel or cleveland said anything more after yes, then you don't hear them, already pulling conrad away.

you lead him to the back corner of the room, near a small couch. neither of you make a move to sit; neither of you say anything. up close, you could see the shadows under his eyes, the creases in between his brows. he was always quiet, the more calm and thoughtful one of the group, but always with soft edges, especially when it came to you. now, quiet could have been replaced with brooding, and all those soft edges seem sharper.

“so,” you start. you grab the wine from conrad’s hand and take a sip. “are you gonna keep ignoring me, or are you gonna welcome me back?”

“when my mom said you were back, i didn’t believe her.” conrad looks at you, his face still. “i wish you hadn’t come back.”

stung, you take a deep breath. after everything, conrad thought that was the best way to greet you? if cold and closed off was how conrad wanted to act, you could play that game, too.

“fuck you,” is all you say before joining jeremiah and steven on the other side of the room.

steven’s eyes widen once they land on you. "no fucking way. y/n!" steven exclaims. "thought you'd never come back here, man." there’s a joyful undertone to his comment as he smiles. same old steven: always blunt, always laughing.

"yeah, well, i’m here.”

jeremiah just beams at you, picking you up and spinning you around.

“jere,” you giggle, half scolding, fully floating.

“sorry, sorry!” he laughs, setting you down. “i just — i can’t believe you’re here. how come you didn’t tell me you were coming?”

“yeah, well.” you shrug. “i thought you liked surprises.”

“well, i do. especially if it involves seeing you.”

"yo, speaking of surprises — what if we ditch this party and surprise belly at the drive-in?" stephen suggests.

you shake your head, though leaving was very tempting.

"or, instead of ruining your sister's first date, we get some booze, light a fire, and go get drunk on the beach," you suggest.

"oh, i am so down!" jeremiah exclaims. "you've got my vote."

“hell yeah.” steven grins and throws his arm around your shoulder. "you always did know how to show us a good time."

then — summer, age 11

you had plenty of bonfires before, on the beach with your parents, but that summer marked the first one with just the kids. you begged and begged, and eventually the adults were okay with it since conrad had earned his boy scout badge for fire safety in the spring.

it was the beginning of july, and an unseasonably cold evening — basically, perfect bonfire weather. jeremiah helped susannah make hot chocolate for everyone. belly wanted s'mores, so you had biked with her to the store earlier that day for the ingredients. everyone was stuffing their faces with slightly burnt marshmallows as melted chocolate and graham cracker crumbs decorated your cheeks, and you chased it all down with lukewarm chocolatey liquid. you were kids and it was summer; life was sweet, life was good.

"conrad," steven announced, turning to the boy who was pushing a marshmallow deeper into the fire. "i dare you to go dunk in the ocean." a grin erupted on steven's face, and in the glow of the fire, he looked like the cheshire cat.

"no way, man. it's freezing."

you knew the real reason conrad didn't want to go into the ocean. one night the week before, when the parents were out to dinner and the other kids were asleep, you and conrad had stayed up to watch jaws together, having rented it secretly from the local video store. ever since, conrad had been coming up with excuses to not go swimming at the beach.

"what's the matter, con? you scared?" jeremiah taunted, wearing a similar cheshire grin to steven’s.

"what?" the marshmallow conrad was trying to roast fell into the fire. he huffed, and belly handed him another one. "i'm not scared. it's just freezing."

"come on, man. you’ve gotta do it. besides, there's a fire and hot cocoa here for you when you get back," jeremiah reasoned. ten-year-old jeremiah was never very concerned about following the rules, except when it came to truth or dare.

"i'm good," conrad snapped.

"aw, i think he's scared," steven laughed.

"i'm not scared —"

"what if i went with you?" you interrupted him.

"but it's not your dare," belly pointed out as she continued carefully assembling a s'more. nine-year-old belly was competitive, so it was very important to her that the rules of any game were followed.

"yeah, but if connie —"

"is scared," jeremiah coughed under his breath.

"wants company," you continued, ignoring jeremiah. "then, it'll be more fun, right?" you were a mix between jere and belly: you were competitive, but you didn’t particularly care about following the rules. especially when it came to your friends, even more when it came to conrad.

conrad smiled at you softly. "right."

reluctantly, jeremiah, belly and steven agreed to the terms of the dare. you removed your beach cover up, and conrad his shirt, leaving you both in your swimsuits, dry even with swimming in the pool a few hours before. you ran to the water, pulling conrad with you. you stopped at the edge of the sand, waves tickling your feet and the light, and warmth, of the bonfire a recent memory. it was much cooler here, closer to the water.

"ready?"

conrad nodded once. "ready."

hands still clasped together, you jumped into the ocean, leaving the comfort of the shore behind.

now

jeremiah finds stale marshmallows in the kitchen and steven makes a bonfire on the stretch of beach between your two houses. you head home to change out of your silk mini skirt and back into denim cutoffs. you switch your cream blouse for a short-sleeved button down, left open over your favourite bralette. when you get back to the beach, the boys have invited some people over, most of whom you don't recognize.

"here," jeremiah hands you a lukewarm beer, which you accept gratefully. then, he throws an arm around your shoulder. "come on, there's some people i want you to meet."

jeremiah introduces you to a few guys he works with at the club, and some girls who are doing the deb thing with belly.

"jeremiah mentioned you’re a swimmer." gigi, one of the debs, smiles, eyeing the way jeremiah leans against you. "what's that like?"

the girls all wait expectantly for you to answer.

"intense," you decide. you leave it at that. the fire flickers a few feet away, vibrant and alive.

you want nothing more than to go back to those summer nights when you were kids. you want belly to be looking at the stars for elaborate constellations while jeremiah burns marshmallows to a crisp. you want steven to be laughing and making outrageous, impossible dares. you want the five of you together, huddled around a small fire that conrad had carefully crafted. you want conrad to be okay.

"i hear that competitive sports can like, really fuck with a girl's self-esteem and body image," gigi continues. you don't necessarily think she means it as an insult, and it's certainly not anything you haven't heard (or felt) before, but you still bristle.

"like i said: intense," you answer cooly.

"hey, man, when are we gonna get the marshmallows going?" steven suddenly appears, his face slightly flushed. he holds hands with shayla, who, as jeremiah pointed out earlier, steven is dating.

"in a bit. i asked con to pick up chocolate and graham crackers for s'mores." jeremiah looks around before saying: "speaking of: look who's here!"

jeremiah runs off to meet his brother, while you stay back and take a sip of your beer.

"looks like he brought nicole, too," steven observes.

who the fuck is nicole?

nicole, you learn as the group sits around the bonfire and roasts marshmallows, is the girl conrad is either dating or hooking up with. jeremiah isn't quite sure.

the night grows darker. the air is warm with smoke from marshmallows roasting, the smell of burnt sugar dancing around. people start to leave to go to other parties, and soon enough it's only steven, shayla, nicole, conrad, jeremiah, and you. having less people around made it harder for you to ignore conrad. nicole is nice and pleasant to talk to, but you can't help but feel something churn in your stomach when you see how close nicole and conrad are to each other. plus, she's wearing a red sox cap, and you know for a fact that conrad hates the red sox, unless that obviously fundamental part of his personality changed too.

jeremiah must have noticed, because he suggests a drinking game for the group to ease the tension.

"never have i ever gotten a tattoo."

you’re the only one to take a sip of your drink.

"i meant a real one," steven rolls his eyes.

"i do have a real tattoo." you remove the button down and point to the left side of your rib cage.

the others take a closer look, except conrad, of course. he was always an expert at pretending not to care, but so were you. tonight is a prime example: since the bonfire, you hadn't said a word to each other.

"why a starfish?" nicole asks. she leans further into conrad’s arms.

you look at conrad, briefly, then shrug. "i like the beach."

the game continues until the fire dies down, and you’re left with a burning sensation from conrad glancing in your direction, at the starfish etched on your skin.

then — summer, age 13

"that's disgusting," steven said, scrunching his nose.

"no, steven, that's friendship," you replied, just as jeremiah leaned over to take more from your cup, and vice versa.

"right, friendship." belly raised her eyebrow at you, and you rolled your eyes in response. you then decided to take an interest in your formerly white sneakers (after so many summers, they were now decorated with sand and sea water and permanent marker doodles. your mother hated them.)

that summer, belly became convinced that jeremiah had a crush on you. she said that he was absolutely lovestruck and that you were too blinded by years of being best friends with him to notice. jeremiah had made you promise not to tell belly the hilarious irony of the situation — that it was belly he so clearly loved.

"see, steven. friendship can be sweet!" jeremiah grinned, chewing the chunk of bubble gum he had fished from your cup. that was the type of cheesy thing only jeremiah could say and make others laugh unironically.

years before, when you were just kids, you and jeremiah believed you had solved the most complicated problem in the world. you loved bubble gum ice cream, but hated the bubble gum chunks. jeremiah loved bubble gum chunks, and didn't care if the flavor clashed with his favorite rainbow sherbert because he loved you even more (platonically, of course).

during the whole interaction, conrad was silent, looking out towards the beach.

the five of you had walked to the nearest ice cream shop (there was no baskin robbins in cousins, but some nautical themed place with 50 flavors and unlimited toppings). you decided to come back and sit on the porch of the fisher house (where there was a decent amount of shade) rather than on the beach. it was one of the hottest afternoons of the summer, late july, when the sun was at its peak. those who'd been coming to cousins their whole lives knew that being at the beach in such weather was only good for swimming.

you glanced at conrad, who took another bite (an actual bite) of his chocolate ice cream. he was sitting on the railing instead of the stairs like the rest of you, so you had to crane your neck slightly. you tapped his ankle, which was decorated with a temporary tattoo. the night before, the two of you had found a few left over from when you were kids and, having a sugar rush from too much cream soda and root beer (and maybe stolen sips of sangria when the adults weren't looking), decided it would be hilarious to see if the tattoos still worked. so, conrad had a cartoonish-looking shark on his ankle, and you had a similarly cartoonish-looking starfish on your arm.

"you okay, connie?" you asked. you only got a nod and a small smile in response. more and more, as summer crept on, conrad would be laughing, loud and lively, one second (exhibit A: using those temporary tattoos the night before was his idea -- we don't want them to go to waste, y/n, he grinned mischievously) and the next he'd be silent, closed off (exhibit B: since you came back from your ice cream excursion, he'd barely said a word).

even though you couldn't really read minds, you had an aching feeling that you knew what conrad was thinking in that moment, because you’d been thinking it, too: time was passing too quickly. in a few days, it would already be august, and september was just around the corner. the summer - your childhood - was as temporary as yours and conrad’s tattoos: vibrant and saturated, slightly faded, then gone.

"i wanna go swimming. anyone wanna join me at the beach?" jeremiah suddenly asked.

"i've gotta pick up the twins from day camp, but i'll try to meet you guys later." you knew that wasn't true though — things were getting more and more tense between your parents, your father storming out angrily after useless arguments and your mother passing out on the couch after one too many glasses of wine. someone needed to watch your siblings, and neither of your parents seemed pressed to find an actual babysitter.

"i'll stay with you," conrad said.

belly and steven took jeremiah up on his offer. once the other three were gone, you stood up. "scooch over." conrad shifted slightly and you went to join him on the railing, your knees practically knocking together.

"so. did the tattoo help you get over your fear of sharks?"

conrad took another bite of his ice cream, this time with a giant chunk of chocolate. "i don't fear sharks," he replied. then, he turned to you and shrugged. "i just respect them, you know?"

you bumped your shoulder against conrad's. "right. you respect them so much that you avoid the ocean at all costs."

conrad smirked. "says the girl who avoids eating on the beach because she's scared of seagulls!"

you were laughing, teasing each other, not caring that your ice cream was melting, when mr. fisher opened the front door, car keys in hand.

"oh, hey kids. we were wondering where you were."

"we went to scoops ahoy," you explained. you took a bite of your ice cream and resisted the urge to spit it out once you realized that it had a chunk of bubble gum in it.

"better watch the ice cream, huh, y/n?" mr. fisher said, smiling like he said the funniest thing in the world. he patted his stomach to further his point. "if you want to keep up at those swim meets."

you suddenly froze, mid bite. you cleared your throat and dropped the spoon back in your half-empty cup, suddenly queasy.

"dad," conrad said, not raising his voice, but definitely irritated. "what the actual fuck."

"language, conrad," mr. fisher scolded. without another word, he got in his car and drove away.

"he shouldn't have said that," conrad said instantly.

"it's fine," you replied, too quickly to be true. you set down your ice cream between you and conrad. "it's nothing my own father hasn't said to me."

being a teenage girl was brutal, and competitive swimming amplified that, especially the older you got. there was always someone faster, someone more skilled, someone better. ice cream churned in your stomach at the thought. was your father right: had you wasted your summer, not practicing your technique and stuffing your face with sugary treats?

conrad picked up your ice cream and handed it to you. he then took the spoon from his own cup, and stated: "fuck dads who are jerks."

you couldn't help but smile. somehow, he always knew what to say to make you believe that you weren't alone, that things would be okay no matter how fucked up the world was.

"fuck dads who are jerks," you echoed, raising your spoon.

"and,” conrad paused. he looked at you with gentle eyes. “to always being there for each other."

you smiled at him, heart soaring. "to always being there for each other."

you clinked your spoons together, and ate your ice cream, and shifted closer so your legs pressed together — and it didn't feel like a temporary promise.

now

you always loved mornings in cousins. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water at its most peaceful.

the morning after the bonfire, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. as quietly as you can to avoid waking up the rest of your family, you make a fresh pot of coffee and pour some into your favourite mug. it’s from the rainforest cafe: bright green with a cartoon frog on it. you brought it back from a swim meet in niagara falls when you were 10, and got one for the fishers as well. theirs was orange with a cartoon iguana. conrad would use it all the time; you imagine it collecting dust in the kitchen cupboard now.

you make your way down to the beach, and notice someone already sitting at your usual spot by the water.

conrad doesn’t say anything when you sit next to him. he’s wearing a red hoodie over his clothes from last night, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. he glances at you as you sip your drink.

“morning,” he whispers.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time conrad spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply.

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, conrad lights his cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. in turn, you offer him your mug. a peace offering — you both accept. the space between you becomes open, comfortable.

“since when do you smoke?” you exhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs.

conrad takes a long sip of coffee, looking out towards the ocean. “since i quit football.”

“i thought you loved football.”

“i loved it,” conrad answers. he takes another sip, then gives the mug back to you. “i don’t love it anymore.”

you take another drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

“once you love something, you never really unlove it,” you muse, even though you know exactly what he means — when it comes to sports.

“don’t misquote spirited away at me,” he laughs, and you can’t help but smile. the first time you'd watch that movie was when you were 8. all the kids crowded into the den of the fisher house on a rainy day. susannah prepared an impressive spread of candy, popcorn, and soda for you all. you drank dr. pepper from a twizzler straw and cried when chihiro reunited with haku.

conrad glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his brown hair, the hazel of his eyes. golden, radiant.

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure nicole would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope conrad doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, conrad knew you too well.

“you don’t get to do that,” he snaps.

“do what?”

conrad scoffs. “be jealous.”

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, con. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your house, the beach and conrad further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

#conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher angst #if you can't tell i am very very excited about this series!!#saf writes

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lxkeee · 3 months

Note

Hi!! I absolutely adore/love your works!🥰💕 Also if you do accept a request can you do platonic with reader as the second child of Lucifer and Lilith!

If your requests are closed you can just ignore this and have a good day/night!😁

TO-DO LIST

—Father! Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter! Reader [Platonic]

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Synopsis: Lucifer promised himself to do better, making a to-do list to keep track of what he needed to work on. Including mending his broken relationship with his second daughter.

Notes: will be making a male version of this later.

Additional Notes: anon didn't specify what scenario it is so I just winged it and made up a scenario of my own.

Progress, sure it's slow but progress is progress no matter what the speed of the process is. Lucifer sighs softly to himself, his right hand holding a fountain pen and his left holding a notepad. Moving his hand as he fluidly crossed out something from the paper.

Organize my room. Done.

He smiled proudly at himself, admiring his work. His bedroom is now neat and tidy, the pile of rubber duckies are now stored away properly. Some are used as decorations but the others were hidden somewhere. He made sure to display his proudest creations, such as the backflipping and fire breathing rubber duckie he recently just made.

He promised himself and Charlie that he'll be better. He thanked himself for allowing himself to visit his daughter's hotel. There, he was able to reconnect with her.

His eyes became heavy as his gaze landed on the very last goal he wanted to achieve. Reconnect with [y/n].

Reconnecting with Charlie was easy as the girl was like an exact copy of him. [Y/n] on the other hand is the copy of Lilith, his ex-wife.

Sure, she has his qualities but personality wise. Lilith.

He and [y/n] stopped communicating with one another after he and Lilith split. Guilt. He felt guilty.

He avoided his second daughter as she reminded him so much of her mother.

It's not [y/n]'s fault, nor is it his. He was just grieving, grieving over a love that lasted for so long and suddenly fell apart.

He couldn't process it properly and hurt his daughters in the process.

He doesn't even know what [y/n] is up to lately. Last he remembered is that she took over some things around the kingdom as he was quite useless during these past seven years.

What a shitty father he is. He couldn't protect his daughter. He wonders how much his daughter is going through by temporarily taking his place for the meantime. He could just imagine those filthy sinners looking at her with those disgusting eyes. The harsh words, the objectification.

He just wants to shelter and adore both of his daughters, okay?

Lucifer sighs softly, hand gripping the notepad.

He wants to reconnect so badly but he's being too much of a coward.

He doesn't want to admit it but he's doing all of these tasks because he's prolonging the inevitable of talking to [y/n].

Running away like he always does.

Before he could self destruct like he always does when facing a problem, he could remember Charlie's words, “Healing takes time and you shouldn't rush things if you're not ready. Take one step at a time.”

Lucifer calms down, right. Take my time. I should use this to think about what I should say to her.

Progress, just like Charlie has said.

Slowly and surely, goals that were written down are crossed out one by one.

It took a few weeks at most but he's finally done. Taking out his pen and crossing something out of the notepad.

Try to understand sinners. Done.

His eyes landed on his final goal. Reconnect with [y/n].

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his fast beating heart. He's nervous, that's an understatement because he is downright terrified.

Finally picking up his phone, tapping on to the screen to look for his contacts.

Finally seeing [y/n]'s contact, her profile a rubber duck version of her that he had made.

Taking a deep breath, trying to remember what he planned to say. Finally, his fingers hit the call button.

Ringing. It's ringing.

His fingers taps along the table of his office nervously, waiting for her to accept his call.

“Father...?” [y/n] answers hesitantly from the other line and his heart almost leaped out of his chest. He cringed a little, after his relationship with his second daughter fell apart. She started calling him father instead of dad. Which sounded way too formal for his liking.

Taking a deep breath, he needs this to be perfect.

“Hey sweetie... I am just calling because I am wondering how you have been?” he says, stuttering a little.

The other line went silent for a few moments before she answered, “Are you okay? This has been the first time you've called me in the last... 5 years. Do you need something father?”

He could practically hear doubts in her voice, imagining that she's raising an eyebrow at him at the moment.

“Are you busy at the moment...?” he asked softly and he could hear the deep sigh from the other line, he could practically hear the disappointment from the sigh she let out.

She probably thought he only called her for a favor. What a bad father he is, really.

“Not at the moment, why?”she asked.

“Can I visit?” he asked hesitantly and the line went silent once more.

“Why...?” she asked, he flinches from the question.

“Can't I visit my daughter now?” he asked, jokingly. He can practically imagine her deadpanning at him.

“Surprised to hear you still call me your daughter, I'm sure I didn't feel it for the last seven ish years.”

He flinches, yeah. He hurt her a lot.

“I know [y/n]... I was a horrible father to you and you didn't deserve that treatment but... I want to be better. For you and Charlie... So please? Can I see you...?” he pleaded softly, tears rolling down his cheeks. He could hear her breath hitched from the other line, followed by a sigh.

“Alright, fine. You can come over.” she says, defeated. No matter what he did, she'll always look for her dad.

The phone call ends and Lucifer takes a deep breath, calming himself before eventually teleporting to the other side of the pride circle, where his daughter's office is located.

He immediately teleported to her office, seeing her working on her desk, typing out on her laptop.

Without giving her time to process, he immediately went to her side. Pulling her up from her seat making her yelp in surprise and hugging her.

“Dad?!” she yelped in surprise, surprised by the warmth her father gave her after seven long years. The male hugged her waist. [Y/n]'s eyes soften as she returns the hug.

“I know I treated you so horribly and I cannot justify my actions. You have been nothing but the best daughter to me and I pushed you away. For that I am sorry, please forgive me.” Lucifer pleaded softly, crying silently against her suit.

“I should've been there for you as you lost your mother but I made it all about me. You had to take over my work while also grieving. I should've been more competent but I pushed all my responsibilities to you and for that I am deeply sorry for hurting you.”

[Y/n] stayed silent, crying silently as she hugged her father. She misses him so much.

“And for that, I hope you know that I am very much proud of you. I love you my dearest princess.” he says softly and it was enough for the girl to finally breakdown, sobbing into her father's shoulders as she kneeled down to reach him. Lucifer held her, holding her body protectively.

“I am grateful that you are my daughter more than anything.” he says, running his hand through her hair. His other hand rubs circles on her back for comfort. “You've grown into such an amazing woman and I am very proud of you. I hope you forgive your father for making you do his work. Don't worry, daddy's here now...” he cooed softly, still holding into the crying girl in his arms. He promised to be better. One step at a time.

General Taglist:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lxkeee answers #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lxkeee updates #lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar

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vex91 · 4 months

Text

Yu Jimin - Forced marriage

Pairing: Yu Jimin x Female Reader (CEO AU)

Fandom: Aespa

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: yn's father is in a debt so he gave his daughter to his boss's daughter for money like for marriage bc he is filthy rich so she hates her father. jimin and yn don't want each other, later jimin learns about this, she didn't know that her father did this and start to be kind to her. you can make yn play hard to get or not, whatever you want.

Summary: To pay off his debts, your father decides to make you marry one of the richest CEO's daughter and the fact that none of you wanted that marriage made you both hate each other.

A/N: KARINAAAAAAAA @1luvkarina something's for you😂 Thanks for requesting anon❤

3rd's POV

You hated Yu Jimin.

It wasn't anything personal with the woman, you hated her because of yours and hers parents who decided to control your life without any care about your own feelings.

You always loved your father, he never failed to make you feel loved and he supported you through everything you went through as a teenager but that was until you were 16. Your father borrowed some money from shady people and soon after he borrowed even more not realizing how badly it will end for him. The debt quickly became much too big for your family to pay off. Your parents were devastated, they tried to not talk about anything debt related around you and you thought it was because they didn't wanted to worry you but on your 18th birthday you found out the truth about why they whispered around the house whenever they talked about their debt.

The truth was your father found a solution to their problems. He contacted a very well-known CEO of a famous company in Seoul, Mr. Yu who was also your father's boss and after talking about different options they agreed on having you marry his daughter Jimin who was soon to inherit the company. When your father told you about it you were furious, you couldn't believe your own father could just sell you like this just to solve his own problems and your mother agreeing to that made you even more devastated. Their assurances of their love for you didn't do much for you, you could see that you didn't mean much to them since they were willing to just force you into something like that without any problems.

Your wedding was your nightmare. Jimin was nice and all but ever since you officially met you could feel how much she also hated the fact she had to marry someone she didn't wanted to marry. You both pretended to be happy and in love during your wedding but the moment you guys entered your shared house, you both completely ignored each other. There was no reason for you to argue when you could just pretend that nothing happened and live not getting into each other ways. That's how you spend the next few months as a married couple, you ignored each other most of the time and going on dates with other people, only acting as a couple in front of her parents whenever they visited.

One night Jimin came back from a tiring day at work to see you at your usual spot on the window. You made yourself a very comfortable space there with pillows and blankets so you often used it to rest or sleep if you didn't wanted to sleep with Jimin. Your wife observed you for a while as you read your book before moving to the kitchen to make herself something to eat "I made you dinner. It's in the fridge" Your voice cut through the silence but not for long as silence soon took over again. Jimin silently opened the fridge to see her favorite food prepared. As she warmed it up she continued staring at you "Do you need anything?" You asked looking at her having enough of her stares. Jimin hesitated, thinking if she should touch on the subject.

"Why did you marry me?" You looked up at her confused. You wondered what made her ask that since she never cared about it until now. You were silent trying to think of what to say until Jimin said something that made you furious "Did you pay my father to marry me? That's why he was so adamant in making me marry you?" You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was she really accusing you of paying her father so you could marry her?

"Excuse me?" You stood up and went over to her "You heard me" You were shocked and angry, you hated how this whole situation made you feel so many things at once, especially the pain you felt when on your 18th birthday "You think I wanted that? Marrying you was the last thing I wanted actually but well I didn't had a choice since my father clearly already signed the agreement with your father before even telling me. Just for your knowledge not everybody is obsessed with you" Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down, Jimin on the other hand was stunned. She wasn't sure what to say, guilt eat her up as she realized that you just like her were basically sold by your father.

She tried to reach for you but you quickly stormed off to your bedroom leaving Jimin standing alone in the kitchen with all her swirling thoughts.

2 hours passed since then and you were still laying in bed looking at the ceiling. Jimin's words hurt, they reminded you of how betrayed you felt and how much you hated your current life. Jimin still didn't came back to the bedroom and at some point you thought that she decided to sleep on the couch but that thought soon left your mind as you heard the door opening. You turned around to face somewhere else and listened to her quiet footsteps getting closer and soon a hand shook your arm. You stayed still not wanting to even look at her at that moment.

Jimin sighed before talking "Y/N... I know you don't want to talk and I understand that. Just know that I really regret saying everything I said back there, I didn't know about your father. I'm gonna sleep on the couch tonight" She finished and you heard her leaving some bags next to the bed and leaving. You moved around and took the bags to see what was inside and the sight shocked you. It was your favorite meal you ordered a lot during evenings. The fact that Jimin payed attention to that was completely surprising to you but the fact that she went and bought some for you despite the late hour was even more shocking.

Inside was a note.

I wasn't sure which sauce you preferred so I bought every kind they had. I hope you enjoy the food and maybe we can talk tomorrow?

From Jimin <3

Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

#vex writes #🌙 anon #aespa x reader #aespa reactions #yu jimin x reader #karina x reader #yu jimin #karina

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vaspider · 1 year

Note

youve got a lot of really great thoughts on a transphobia and homophobia, tbh more critical thinking than most people on here, and i was wondering how much you knew about the theory of rapid onset gender dysphoria/if youd be comfortable sharing your thoughts on the ridiculous idea

It was explicitly invented by transphobes as a means of delegitimizing trans identity, and that invention was backed up by a "study" in which the person running the study never spoke to any trans people or to any professionals providing care for trans people, only spoke to the parents of trans minors, and those parents were specifically recruited from forums for anti-trans parents.

The paper which supposedly coined ROGD was taken down for a while and corrected. Further studies have found no basis for ROGD.

What's really interesting is in the cache of emails which became public earlier this year from a former detransitioner there's a paper trail which pretty clearly indicates that the term was actually created on a very heinous website called 4th/wave/now (forgive my anti-search slashes, these people are awful) well prior to the study.

Hey, you want to guess where the parents for this study were recruited from? If you guessed "the one where the term was invented," you're right!

But wait, there's more!

It appears from the journalistic work done by Mother Jones, Jude Doyle, and Julia Serano, that this term was created by an anti-trans activist who works extensively with right-wing think tanks and who went to great lengths to hide that she invented the term.

Jude Doyle:

Finding anti-trans narratives that would “sell” to the general public was a constant concern for this crowd, and Shupe says it didn’t much matter if the narratives were based in fact or not. Marchiano, for instance, eagerly watched the spread of the ROGD theory — “[transfeminist writer and researcher Julia] Serano has already written a takedown,” she exulted in one August 2018 email. Shupe suspects Marchiano’s role is larger than the public knows: “Marchiano never explicitly said she is the inventor of ROGD, but the evidence points to her, and she’s listed as a contributor to the [Lisa Littman] study on PLOS One,” she writes to me. “My ‘opinion’ is that Marchiano and the 4thWaveNow folks are behind the ROGD study, and Littman merely fronted it for them to make it appear unbiased.”

Jude Doyle again:

On July 2, Shupe sent Marchiano a link to Jones’ blog post telling her “you’ve upset Zinnia again.” (Shupe had a tendency to send Marchiano news of ROGD, and to attribute the theory to “you” — that is, to Marchiano — whether Marchiano was explicitly named or not. In the communications I’ve reviewed, Marchiano does not reject the attribution.) Marchiano responded by saying that Jones had done something to “make her nervous” — namely, she’d dug up a blog post about ROGD that Marchiano had written under her own name.

Julia Serano:

If all of this is true — that Marchiano ran YCTP and invented ROGD — then it would follow that Marchiano was also likely skepticaltherapist, the supposed parent of a trans child who invented the idea of “transgender social contagion” in the first place.

Julia Serano again:

Also on March 15, 2016, at 6:07am (so very early in the day, likely before the aforementioned YTCP piece is published), skepticaltherapist posts her final comment on 4thwavenow before mysteriously disappearing. In a reply to someone named Starrymessenger, skepticaltherapist says: 'I wanted to mention that this month’s Psychotherapy Networker is focusing on trans youth issues, and the tone of each article is uncritically celebratory — lots of mentions of “courage,” and “bravery.” You may need a subscription or at least an account to comment, but I have so far.'

At the time of this comment, "Lisa" is the *only* person to have posted a comment on this particular Psychotherapy Networker article, as the 2nd comment doesn't appear until later that evening (7:30:15 PM on March 15th; both 4thwavenow & Psychotherapy Networker appear to be based in the U.S., so the should be only a few hours apart, if at all). Therefore, "Lisa" and skepticaltherapist must be the same person.

Did you catch all of that?

This is a fraudulent "diagnosis" explicitly invented by an anti-trans psychologist who at times has used sockpuppets to manipulate online conversations, claimed at times to be the mother of a trans child, or maybe it was her friend who had the trans child, or maybe she just knew somebody who just randomly decided he was a trans boy after going on tumblr. (Boy, does Lisa Marchiano hate Tumblr, lol.)

After inventing this diagnosis and pushing it on a forum for parents who don't like that they have trans kids, Marchiano then approaches a different researcher and uses this other researcher to launder this term, launching it into the verbal stratosphere, while explicitly working with right-wing groups who used this "evidence" to manufacture anti-trans bills. This list of right-wing groups and individuals includes the Alliance Defending Freedom, the "American College of Pediatricians," -- not to be confused with the American Academy of Pediatrics, the legitimate organization, ACPeds is a fringe right-wing group.

They literally made all of this up, this idea that transmasculine people specifically are being "infected" by online sources, and then they laundered it through a shitty study and tried to hide the laundering they did, so that shit like this can happen:

The president of the American Principles Project, a member of the coalition, recently told the New York Times that his group’s goal is to eliminate all transition care, starting with children because that’s “where the consensus is.”

This isn't about protecting children or any bullshit like that, and it's not about this fallacious "disorder" because it doesn't exist -- and they know it doesn't exist. They know it doesn't exist because they were the ones who made it up.

Like... what else is there to say? It's like if I made up Purple Big Toe Disease and claimed that all people taller than 5'10" and born on a Tuesday have Purple Big Toe Disease and should not be able to buy aspirin, because it's G-d's plan that people who have Purple Big Toe Disease should not prevent themselves from feeling the pain that G-d has planned for them, and then I asked someone to write a paper about PBTD and pretend I wasn't the one who made it up so I could point at the paper and be like le gasp, PBTD is the number one problem! We need to stop everyone over 5'10" and born on a Tuesday from being able to buy aspirin! And then some dude in South Dakota starts writing up bills in consultation with a bunch of Evangelical lawyers to deny basic health care to people over 5'10" and born on Tuesdays.

If it sounds fucking ridiculous, it's because it is.

#trans issues #the lie of ROGD

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adventuringblind · 9 months

Note

Hi this is my first time requesting anything but would you be able to do single mother!reader x the F1 grid. The love interest could be anyone you like xx

In Your Arms

2023 F1 Grid x Leclerc!reader, Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Genre: flangtsy (fluff and angst, get it? I'm a genius)

Request: yep :) Though I'm not sure if this is exactly what you wanted. Sorry if I didn't get it right 😥

Summary: Max Verstappen takes on the role of lover and father to the girl he’s seen go through hell

Warnings: mentions of r*pe and SA but no graphic depictions. Mentions of being drugged.

Notes: this feels heavy in the beginning. Written in second person

Masterlist

You didn’t know how it happened. It was supposed to be a safe place. Security is everywhere.

Though security probably didn’t have reason so suspect an engineer of doing something so awful. Defiling someone’s body without their consent.

You’d come to see Charles’ home race. Granted you live in Monaco and spend majority of your down time with drivers, their partners, and families. You’d grown up around them having gone with to see Charles race and then Arthur.

Your three older brothers had promised to keep you safe. Lorenzo felt that he had to fill your fathers shoes after his passing. Not that he saw you as helpless, but you’re always going to be his baby sister.

You wonder where they are now as you sit in Charles’ driver room. Your clothes crumpled around your body and hair tossed in every direction. You want nothing more then to peel away your own skin.

Something was in your water. She blamed it in chemicals or something, but the more you drank it the thirstier you became. Having downed the whole bottle in five minutes.

The dizziness set in after that. Body now lax and head foggy.

Charles had picked up in your now rather sick complexion and suggested you watch from his room in the motor home. An offer you gratefully took.

Right before the race, someone came to the door and opened it without knocking. A stranger in red who’s face you can’t make out.

Your phone had been buzzing nonstop with texts from your family about her location. Texts you didn’t answer. Limbs to heavy to reach for the phone.

One thing stuck in your mind is what Max is going to think of you now. You’d only been dating for a year. Would he look at you with pity in his eyes? Wonder why you didn’t fight back?

It was funny how you and Max came to be. Much if it having to do with Charles being sick of you two making heart eyes at each other growing up. He’d went as far as to throwing you in Max’s driver room and telling the two of you to confess.

Needless to say it worked.

The hours seem to drag on. Your phone still buzzing. You want to answer but you can barely move. The vertigo no letting you move further then an inch at a time.

Charles is the first to find you. Though you don’t know it’s him. The voice at the door sounds like it’s underwater and your brain can’t make out his face. For a minute, you panic. Charles’ hands are on you, trying to get you off the floor but your wailing at him to stop. Slurred words that he can’t understand fall from your mouth.

Charles can barely get close to you. So he switches tactics. Your family meets him at the door and takes one look at you. Immediately, your moth has a sense she knows what happened.

She’s so gentle. Careful not to touch you and she examines your face. She knows she’s going to have to get you to a doctor. That’s a given. However, she doesn’t know how to do so when you keep flinching at all your brothers who are wearing Ferrari red.

For now, she tries to get water down your throat.

The Leclerc’s find themselves waiting at the hospital. The best news being that you weren’t overdosed, but definitely close to it.

Charles is pacing furiously. Angry that the security around the paddock didn’t see anything strange. Arthur is trying to piece together how it could have happened and Lorenzo has been stringing together angry sentences in French over the phone.

It all comes to a halt when Max comes barreling through the door. He looks scared. Charles had called him to tell them where they were but had given him no details.

“What happened?”

Everything feels wrong. Your throat is sore. Your head hurts. Your muscles ache. Thoughts seem to be stuck somewhere.

It all comes rushing back as you remember what happened earlier that day. The room is dark, so you assume she slept for a while, but you can’t get her heart to slow down.

Max is stroking your hand gently. His eyes are sad and you can tell he's been stressed. "Nobody is telling me what happened. They said it should be you."

Some part of you is relieved, and the other is wracked with guilt.

"We don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to." He's still running his fingers along her arms.

"He was wearing red." Your nails start clawing at your skin.

It clicks and he's angry.

It's been a month and a half.

It's a slow process of getting out again.

Max refuses to leave you alone because you've been sinking further into herself. Then you're always around people. Out in the open. Stuck to someone you trust.

This morning is spent at home in bed. Max's arm tucked gently around around your waist, pulling you further into him.

It's the overwhelming feeling of nausea that has you diving out of bed and into the bathroom. Her stomach contents now not wanting to be in her body.

Max feels her panic and runs after you, trying his best to shake the sleep from his eyes. As soon as he figures out what's happening, he's holding her hair back and rubbing comforting circles on her back.

You clutche the pregnancy test in your hands. It makes her sick again. Five positives and a single negative. Three different brands.

Just when you feel you're getting better, now you have to tell everyone you're pregnant, and it's not Max's. Sobs overcame you before you can get up from where you sunk down to the floor.

Max finds you hours later, still on the floor looking and the blue lines.

"I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to apolize for, lovely. Just know I'll support you on whatever decision you make."

It's not an easy decision to keep the baby, but she can't see herself parting with them.

The sucky part is knowing that the biological father is still in the Ferrari garage somewhere. Charles, despite his best efforts, could not catch him. He must be some really nice guy that everyone likes. It's always the to nice ones that end up being evil on the inside.

Max has decided he'll take the role of father if you let him. He's been attentive. Making sure your every need is taken care of.

He's also still looking for the man who decided to take something that wasn't his. He's in the Ferrari paddock or hanging around the garage with Charles to see if anyone even looks at you funny.

Eight months in, and you're exhausted. Your mom has been staying with you while Max is traveling for races. He calls every chance he gets to check in on you.

Carlos has been sending you videos of why he is going to be a better uncle than Lando. Then Lando goes and brings you food and baby things to prove him wrong.

It's night, and you're tucked into bed, wishing Max were here cuddle with you. Then, the sensation of water leaking down your legs makes you call for your mother.

You stay calm while she drives to the hospital. You were expected to carry to full term. Neither of you expected the baby to come a month early.

You're calling Max repeatedly. The time difference puts him at prime sleep time.

Eventually he answers.

He's on the next flight home.

You waited as long as possible. Max had gotten there in the nick of time. He held your hand the entire time.

You were in labor for over a day. The pain getting unbearable at times.

When you finished, you were holding a healthy baby girl.

Isabella is your everything. Practically attached to your hip. She took more of your traits than you were expecting. Something that you're grateful for.

Your brothers spoil her to peices. Charles rarely says no to her, Lorenzo loves to show her how to boss the other two around, and Arthur has expanded her vocabulary is ways that are less then ideal.

Oscar was probably the most reliable to leave her with if Max or your brother aren't available. Having sisters comes in handy when he's combing through her hair. She falls asleep in his lap during almost every race weekend at some point.

Her favorite place is either on top of Landos shoulders or in Max's arms.

Max treats her like his own. He's said she's his daughter on multiple occasions. It was nice like this. Creating your own little family.

It takes two years after she's born for someone at Ferrari to ask you about her. Personal questions that were starting to make you uncomfortable.

Memories you'd locked away quickly find themselves flooding into your brain. Why is he so familiar?

You're outside the paddock, thankfully. People are within view.

"I want my daughter." He rasps. He is very much in your face now and You can feel his breath sticking to your face.

Your brain and chest short circuit. You send a silent prayer to whoever is listening that someone comes to save you. Thankful at yourself for leaving Isabella with Lando and Oscar.

Max had managed to catch a break and was on his way to find you. A small hop in his step at the thought of finding you and the little girl.

He freezes as he comes around the corner. His legs are carrying him faster than his mind can think. Max's hand finds his shoulder, effectively shoving the man away from you.

It takes everything in you not to fall into him as he slides in front of you protectively.

Your quick to take the opportunity to text someone to come help. Your definitely not strong enough to break them up if this gets physical and you don’t want to risk Max getting in trouble.

It's not long until Charles is barreling around the corner. Lando and Oscar close on his heels.

"You're trying to take away something that's rightfully mine." His voice is scratchy and angry, dripping with venom.

"Just like you took someone's body? I'm pretty sure taking a child is kidnapping." Max is practically growling.

Lorenzo comes running around the corner, Isabella running around the corner away from him and straight to you.

She's too far gone to stop. You lean down and scoop her up in your arms. Holding her head into her shoulder.

Max is still in front of you and her protectively. "You messed up, and now you're missing out." He spits.

Security is able to pull the Ferrari man away. Much to your relief because Charles was getting ready to swing.

You break in Max's arms once he's gone. Isabella is confused at the sadness but is still trying to cheer you up.

Max just holds you. Both of you.

"It's okay now, I'll always keep you safe."

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

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What would the relationship between the reader and Ghost be like if they knew one another before he became Ghost?? Like they met in the military and reader met his family when he finally introduced her to them. Then the aftermath??

Awe, I love this one. I hope this is along the lines of what you're looking for! Thanks for the request🥰

Before He Was "Ghost," He was Simon.

Warnings: mentions of death, family trauma, angst, swearing, fluff

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

□You and Simon met when you both enlisted shortly after 9/11.

□The two of you worked well together and were constantly being sent on the same deployments.

□ It took a bit, but you grew incredibly close to one another, and you were one of the lucky few who Simon actually considered a friend.

□ Both of you just "got each other." You grew to love Simon's dark, dry humor, and he grew to appreciate your bubbly attitude, always wanting everyone around you to smile.

□ You found yourselves constantly in each other's company, whether it be partnered of missions or during downtime on base.

□ Even off duty, the two of you spent nearly all your time together. He was a tough nut to crack even back then, but you had made it seem so easy.

□ You had shown each other your hobbies and interests and spent a lot of your time together trying new things.

□ He was very reserved about his family, only giving bits of information about his childhood. You knew better than to press on it, as it seemed a sore spot for him.

□ It has taken a little over a year of being friends for him to want to introduce you to his mom and brother. He'd arranged the meeting so that his father wouldn't be there when you went over.

□ His childhood home was small but cozy. His mother was a quiet, kind-hearted woman, and you could tell she loved her sons dearly.

□ You got along well with his mom, and were subjected to relentless teasing from Simon's brother, constantly telling you to "just date my brother already." Much to Simon's embarrassment.

□ The four of you were having a wonderful time, his mom telling you of the few cheerful memories of Simon and his brother as children and asking you about your life.

□ Unbeknownst to the two of you, Simon's dad came home earlier than expected.

□ Simon rarely went into detail about his father, but the few snippets he'd given you in the past led you to understand that his father was a piece of shit.

□ The tense silence that ensued had you feeling wickedly uncomfortable, and you could tell Simon was doing his best to stay composed. The atmosphere had changed significantly, and from the looks on everyone's faces, it was clear his dad's presence wasn't a welcome one.

□ After regarding you and Simon with a sinister sneer, his father gave a pathetic attempt at a dry conversation, clearly not caring to put any effort into it. Simon's hand found yours and squeezed it gently, signaling to you that it was time to go.

□ You'd only saw his brother and mom a few more times before they were killed.

□ You and Simon had been separated a few months previously, as he went off to do his own thing, and you'd missed him terribly.

□ You'd heard about it through the grapevine that they were murdered, and tried to reach out to Simon in any way you could, to no avail.

□ You were so worried about him, and the longer you went without hearing from him, the more concerned you got. You missed your best friend terribly and wanted to comfort him in any way you could.

□ He closed himself off to you, and you were worried you may never speak to him again.

□ It wasn't until a few years later that you saw him again. But this wasn't your Simon anymore. This was Ghost. The much feared, yet respected Liuetanant who's past was just as much a mystery as what laid behind the mask.

□ You'd heard of the callsign a few times through chatter amongst the soldiers, and the name was gaining much notoriety.

□ You hadn't really not thought much of the name until you'd seen the man in person. In your heart, you knew it was Simon.

□ He was a part of the freshly created task Force 141, and you had been tasked to accompany them on a search and destroy mission.

□ The first time you laid your eyes on Ghost, you were beyond intimidated. His eyes held no trace of the man you once knew.

□ The only interactions you shared were brief and professional. Simon gave no indication that he even knew who you were, and if you were honest, it nearly tore you apart.

□ You had an internal struggle for days after seeing him again. You didn't know if he even wanted to talk to you, but you were so desperate to see him again and tell him you missed him all these years.

□ Deciding to just go for it, you found yourself walking into the weapons room and saw him cleaning his weapons at the nearest table.

"Ghost?" You asked meekly, slowly approaching the masked man.

"Y/N." He replied, not lifting his eyes from the gun in front of him.

"I um.. I wanted to say h-hi." You felt your cheeks heating up, and were embarrassed that you were stuttering. With our without the mask, this was still Simon. It had to be.

"Don't gotta act scared Sargeant. I won't bite." He looked up to you through his mask. You relaxed a bit, holding his eye contact.

"It's been awhile. I didn't.. I didn't know if you wanted to talk to me. I tried reaching out so many times.. I was…am worried about you." You looked down at your hands, growing nervous again as you awaited his answer.

He didn't say anything in reply, only grunting while he returned to cleaning his weapons.

You knew better than to push him. In your years of knowing him, if Simon didn't want to say anything, he wouldn't and nothing could change that. That's not to say you couldn't feel your heart slowly shatter, you now realized that perhaps this was no longer your Simon, and there was no chance of ever seeing him again.

"Well it was good seeing you. And if you ever want to talk, I'll be around." You smiled at him trying to mask the hurt you were feeling, and turned for the door.

"I couldn't lose you too." You heard him say softly. You could barely make out the words, but you whipped your head around to meet his eyes. "I lost my whole family, Y/N. I couldn't lose you too. The man that I've become since then, is not one that deserves someone like you."

"Oh, Simon. You could never lose me. No matter what I'm always here for you. You will always be Simon to me." You cooed as you moved to crouch in front of him. "I am so sorry that you had to go through that. I don't know what I could ever say to make up for that pain."

You could see Simon blink away tears in his eyes, and he moved to pull away his mask, leaving his face bare to you.

"There's my guy. I've missed seeing that face." You smiled as you slowly placed your hand on his cheek, stroking softly. "Simon, if you'll have me, I'll always be by your side. Can't get rid of me that easily."

He chuckled at your comment, and moved his own hand to your cheek, copying your movements.

The two of you sat like that for awhile, before he spoke up. "I've missed you all these years. I thought it best to push you away so you couldn’t get hurt from my actions. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if the woman I loved got hurt because of me."

His words shocked you. You'd loved Simon since the moment you met him, but you truly thought he'd only ever seen you as a familial figure. In the decade or so you'd known each other, he'd given very few hints away that he'd seen you in any way than more than just a friend.

"You love me?" You asked, meeting his gaze once more.

"I've always loved you. Why do you think I took you to meet my my mom and brother?" His eyes softened as he spoke, and his gaze flickered down to your lips.

You chocked out a small sob before crashing your lips onto his. The kiss was better than anything you could've imagined, as it was years in the making. All of the yearning, sadness, longing and love was all poured into this kiss.

You pulled away slowly and pulled his chin down to meet your eyes. "I love you too, Simon."

A rare smile formed on his face, as he moved to kiss your forehead. "Why don't I finish up here, and we can take a walk, yeah? Have a few years worth of stuff to catch up on."

He finished up, and grabbed your hand leading you out to the barracks. He gave your hand a squeeze as you fell in step beside him. As the two of you walked together, telling stories of your escapades the last few years, Simon finally allowed himself to grow happy again. He was beyond excited to start this new chapter with you, the woman he loved, and catch up on everything he'd missed.

—---

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it!☺️ as always thanks for reading!

#cod imagine #simon riley imagine #ghost mw2 #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #mw2 x reader

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ellecdc · 3 months

Text

Come Back, Be Here (part 7)

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

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 4.5K

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, healing/blood and injury, Bellatrix's cursed knife, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, character death

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. It's now October 31st, and the Order has a plan.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a wife, a new mother, a Malfoy, and a Black. She was a proud pureblood, a cunning Slytherin, a noble woman, a powerful witch, and exceedingly loyal.

It was this last trait that seemed to be causing her the most problems, however.

Loyalty.

It was her loyalty that caused her to bite her tongue and smile when her husband announced that he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, who promised to bring the purebloods glory and to protect them from the likes of muggles and mudblood’s who were threatening their way of life. It was because of her loyalty that when her sister asked her to hide something of grave importance to the Dark Lord, even though the object exuded Darkness and Evil, she hid it in the rafters of their attic.

And it was because of her loyalty that when her baby cousin showed up at Malfoy Manor covered in blood, ash, and rubble with a lifeless body hanging limp in his arms begging for her help that she responded with, ‘bring her to the cellar’.

Narcissa needn’t wonder how she got here; she knew all too well. She was loyal, and she protected her own.

When exactly her disowned blood-traitor Gryffindor cousin’s muggle-born partner became one of her own, Narcissa wasn’t sure.

(The day you ‘died’)

“What have you done!?” Narcissa gritted through her teeth as she pulled the clothing off of the nearly-dead-witch’s body.

“’Cissa, please, I couldn’t leave her there-”

“Why not!?”

“She’s – she’s Sirius’, she’s...” Regulus took a steadying breath. “She’s Sirius’, Narcissa.”

“For crying out loud.” Narcissa growled. She wanted to argue, she wanted to scream and curse and tell him to dump this witch back where he’d found her. But she knew...

She knew she would have likely done the same.

When her son Draco was born, Narcissa had never felt so alone; her mother was long passed, her father was distant and cold, Bellatrix was insane, and she had long ago lost her favourite sister.

She thought at that moment of Andromeda and her husband and daughter.

If this had been Ted Tonks lying nearly dead on a hastily conjured drafting table, or their daughter Nymphadora...

Narcissa knew; her dog-like loyalty and her dragon-like possessiveness knew no bounds.

So, she pulled on all the blasted magic she could think of – light, dark, and ancient. Types of Oriental, coastal, Scandinavian and Aboriginal magic; anything and everything she could possibly think of to bring this witch back from the brink of death.

Spending her life as a dedicated pureblood meant spending a lot of time hiding away in libraries – no one could scold you for it, and you could hide away from whatever nonsense they were currently shoving down your throat. She thanked the deities for all of that time spent researching now.

Thoroughly exhausted and covered in another person’s blood, Narcissa stepped back as the witch finally took a breath on her own.

“Thank you, Narcissa.”

“Do not go thanking me yet, cousin.” Narcissa huffed. “What exactly is it you plan to do with her?”

Regulus stared dumbly at her. “Uhm...well, return her?”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Right, and then the Dark Lord suspects a traitor amongst his followers and kills us all for the act of disloyalty. Really cousin, did you hit your head in this battle or something?”

“Well, what do you suggest I do then, Narcissa, since you are clearly so much smarter than I?” He questioned hotly.

“This is not my mess, Regulus. You should have left her there to die.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Narcissa asked incredulously.

“Why should she have to die? Hm? Because she was born into the wrong family? Does that make her evil? Fate does not make us evil, Narcissa; choices do. I did not choose to live as a pureblood, I was only born into this life. But I chose to follow the Dark Lord, and I chose to join this war. I choose to aim my wand at people who raise their wands in defense whilst I wield mine in hope for power and glory. So why her? Why should she die while I go home to eat from my silver spoon that was promised to me at birth?”

Narcissa balked at her cousin. “Regulus, what - what are you saying?”

But Regulus did not have a chance to respond before Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and Barty Crouch Junior followed a small house-elf down the stairs into the cellar.

“My, my, don’t tell me you’ve plundered some booty for us, dear Reggie!” Barty exclaimed excitedly.

“What, pray tell, is the meaning of this?” Snape asked as he eyed Regulus and Narcissa skeptically.

“We were wondering where everyone got to – oh.” Mulciber added as he stepped down into the cellar with Goyle trailing behind him.

“I found her at the set-up.” Regulus said plainly after throwing up a hasty occlusion behind his eyes.

“I see. And why exactly is she here.” Snape asked again.

“Did you...heal her?�� Lucius guffawed.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?” Mulciber asked.

Narcissa stayed quiet and allowed Regulus to swim his way out of this on his own. She would not risk her own life protecting his mistake.

But what made it a mistake?

Narcissa had never once questioned the pureblood rhetoric that her parents entrenched in her. Not when she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Not when she watched her classmates get bullied and harassed for their muddy blood. Not when it was announced she would be wed to her own cousin upon graduating from Hogwarts when she was only twelve years old, and not even when she was again announced to be wed to Lucius Malfoy instead at thirteen, after said cousin was sorted into the wrong house – bringing disgrace to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black; and not even when her older sister defected from the family by falling in love with a filthy mudblood.

She looked at Regulus then. As the baby of the family, Regulus had seen all of this. He had witnessed the announcement of his big brother’s betrothal to his first cousin when Sirius was only ten years old. He saw the fallout and witnessed Sirius be ignored, embarrassed, and humiliated that first summer home after being sorted into the wrong house. He watched Sirius get tortured, brutalized, and starved every summer after that until he left home for good. He watched Andromeda be chastised and forced to choose between her family and her heart for falling in love with the wrong person. He watched Bellatrix descend into madness as she became more and more involved with Dark Magic.

Regulus, the baby of the family, had witnessed all of this.

Narcissa thought of her own baby then, upstairs being looked after by a house-elf whilst she was downstairs with her husband and his house guests while they argued over who had more of a right to this unconscious witch’s body than the others.

Did Regulus make a mistake?

Did she?

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.” Mulciber spat at Regulus before the five newcomers moved back upstairs leaving Narcissa alone with Regulus and the witch.

Narcissa watched as Regulus used Legillimency to peer inside the witch’s mind before he spoke. “You’re awake.”

The only response Regulus got was the tightening of the witch’s eyes.

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.” He commented with an eyeroll.

Narcissa watched as Regulus continued to monitor the witch.

“Yes, I am talking to you.” Regulus responded verbally.

A beat of silence.

“Very elegant.” He muttered.

“Indeed, you are.” He quipped again.

Narcissa watched as you peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you; she heard your neck crack loudly as you turned your head towards Regulus before your face fell.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly.

“Close, but no.” Regulus smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Narcissa watched as a look of panic crossed your features as you took in Regulus.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head in response.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.” Regulus said before he stupefied you.

“This just got an awful lot more complicated, Regulus.” Narcissa commented quietly.

“I know.” Regulus sighed before he turned to his cousin. “Narcissa, please, will you help me?”

Narcissa looked between her cousin – the only relative she really had left – and the unconscious witch beside him. Suddenly, the witch wasn’t just a nearly dead burden – she was a chance. An opportunity for more. An opportunity to do better. An opportunity to have better.

“I do not want this life for my son.” Narcissa admitted quietly.

“What?”

“I do not want Draco growing up worried about who he will be betrothed to before we even send him off to Hogwarts. I do not want him watching children be jinxed or hexed for being born to the wrong family – or worse – be the child jinxing or hexing them. I do not want to watch him slowly lose every single person that ever meant anything to him because they could not adhere to the same drivel. I do not want this life for him.” She took a deep breath.

“I want more for him, Regulus. I want better.”

Regulus searched Narcissa’s face for a few moments before nodding.

“Let’s do better, then.”

October 31st

“Okay, explain the plan to me one more time.” You muttered as you continued to pace a hole through Narcissa’s vintage Persian rug. Regulus fought the urge to groan and repeated the plan that Dumbledore had discussed with him for a third time.

“Remus Lupin has been made secret keeper of the currently vacant cottage in Godric’s Hollow. He, as Peter Pettigrew, will meet the Dark Lord in the town square of Godric’s Hollow at eight o’clock tonight. He will then escort the Dark Lord to Potter’s cottage where I will be in the form of James Potter and Narcissa in the form of Lily Potter. Apparently, to no one’s surprise, Sirius has demanded he be there – so Sirius will be there in his animagus form as will Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore will be hidden under Potter’s invisibility cloak. Dumbledore has the sword of Gryffindor, and Narcissa was able to purchase Basilisk venom from Borgin & Burkes on Knockturn Alley, which means the Order will be able to slay Nagini without resorting to unforgiveables. I, however, will have no qualms firing an avada at the Dark Lord, so we will see how the rest plays out. Either way, he will die.” Regulus spouted in monotone.

You seemed to consider this as you continued pacing. “And I...”

“And you are staying here.” He said with finality.

“Why?” You asked petulantly. Regulus did not find it at all endearing.

“Because you have to look after Draco.” Narcissa offered.

You softened at the mention of the boy but seemed unconvinced. “You have a manor full of house-elves; I’m sure Dobby wouldn’t mind-”

“It has to be you, Y/N.” Narcissa said. “It needs to be someone who will not be swayed, regardless of who shows up and starts barking orders.”

Your head fell back in resignation as you looked at the ceiling.

“Okay?” Regulus asked quietly.

“Okay.” You admitted in defeat, bringing your gaze back to him.

Regulus offered you as kind a smile as the youngest Black and a chronic Slytherin could manage. “Your nose is bleeding again.”

“God damnit.” You muttered as you conjured a tissue into your hand and held it to your nose. More and more of your memories were flooding back in, and - just as the Healer had suggested - it was extremely painful. Not only were you now privy to migraines, nose bleeds, and the occasional seizure; you had an overwhelming sense of anxiety laying its damned wet blanket over you. You were somewhat annoyed that your memories appeared to be attacking you now when you would have benefitted from not remembering all of the reasons why this plan had to go just right.

“Why did it have to be Halloween?” You muttered miserably.

“Why did it have to be Halloween?” James whined. “I love Halloween.”

Lily patted her husband’s shoulder in sympathy, though neither her face nor her tone held any warmth. “You can love Halloween next year.”

James and Lily stood in the doorway of 12 Grimmauld place with Harry strapped to James’ chest. Sirius triple checked their bags before shrinking them down and putting them into a backpack and placing it onto Lily’s shoulders.

“Okay, explain the plan to me one more time.” He ordered the Potter’s.

Lily and James shared a quick glance before the former rolled her eyes.

“We’re heading to an undisclosed location. We are to set up protection wards the second we get there, and we are not to leave until Sirius’ patronus reaches us. If, in the event that we do not receive a patronus from Sirius or Moony in the next two days, we are to assume that the plan has failed. In that case, we are to begin heading west via muggle transportation and make our way to Ireland before boarding a flight to Canada where we are to remain for the rest of our lives.” She relayed to him in monotone.

Sirius beamed at her and kissed her cheek. “Right-o, Red! But, not to worry, you’ll be hearing from my patronus in no time.”

Remus watched with a small smile from the staircase. He knew Sirius was trying to stay positive mostly for himself; he’s been in such a state since you were taken, and he was running on fumes waiting with bated breath for this to be over so you could return home - return to him. He had so many questions about so many things; questions for you, questions for Regulus, questions for Dumbledore. Remus watched his friend become manic, almost as if Sirius was the one expecting the full moon at the beginning of next week. The friends tried to stay patient with him, but they were all looking forward to this being over.

“It’s me and my family they’re after, I should be here to end this.” James muttered.

“And you’re our family, Prongs. So, we’re here to end this.” Sirius responded.

“He didn’t just threaten you and Lily and Haz, he threatened all of us.” Remus added.

“I owe her my life, guys. I owe it to Vix to see this through.” He responded, shifting his gaze between his two friends.

Sirius’ eyes welled at the thought before he quickly shoved his feelings back down into his stomach – he’d deal with those later; for now, he had a megalomaniac to kill.

“You’ll have the rest of your life to make it up to her, Prongs.” He offered with as much a smile as he could muster.

James gave his friend a sad smile of his own before enveloping him in a bone crushing hug.

“I’ll see you soon, Pads.”

“Once the mischief is managed.” Sirius answered.

As Lily, James and Harry left Grimmauld place and apparated to location unknown, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.

“Ready to finish this?” Sirius asked Remus.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

The clock tower in Godric’s Hollow’s town square rang signifying eight o’clock. Remus tried rubbing his clammy hands against his cloak, not wanting his hands to be slick when it came time to brandish his wand. Thankfully, with the full moon this close, and it (by the grace of every god) seeming to be a ‘manic moon’, Remus was at his strongest, and he would not be letting that go to waste.

The rancid smell of dark magic permeated Remus’ senses signifying the arrival of Voldemort and his last horcrux.

“My dear boy,” Voldemort sang out, “are you ready to face victory in the name of your Lord.”

“Absolutely, my Lord, it is my honour to help you see this through.” He responded verbatim to what Dumbledore coached him on.

“Lead the way.”

So, Remus did.

In what felt like a death march, Remus (as Peter Pettigrew), a twelve-foot snake and melted-wax figure looking Tom Riddle made their way to the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Remus listened to the sound of his heartbeat and Nagini’s skin sliding along the gravel lane as he unlatched the hook of the fence and made his way up to the door.

He looked behind him to see Voldemort smiling victoriously at the house as it materialized in front of him. Remus turned back to the red painted door and knocked three times, paused, knocked once, paused, knocked twice more.

“Come in!” The sound of Lily’s voice filtered through the wood of the door and Remus heaved a breath before opening it in front of him.

“Hey Pete!” James greeted as Remus stepped inside. “We just put the kid to bed, glad you could come by.”

Remus watched as James turned his back to the door and continued toward the kitchen whilst Voldemort and Nagini let themselves in. With a quick flick of Remus’ wand, the door shut and locked behind them. No way out now, fucker.

“Come on in, Peter! I’m just making something to drink, would you like one?” Lily called from somewhere in the house as the trio continued in, watching as a cat wandered its way towards the kitchen seemingly unawares of the company behind it.

As they passed a hallway leading to a half-bath, Padfoot began to bark.

“Oh, come now Pads, it’s just Peter! You know him.” James said as he came back out into the hallway where he saw his good friend Peter in the company of Nagini and Voldemort.

Voldemort whispered something in parseltongue and in response, Nagini poised to lunge.

When the snakes body elongated and her neck stretched as she launched to sink her fangs into James, Sirius had turned back into his regular form, and with the sword of Gryffindor swung at the snake, severing its head from the rest of its body; the snake’s body and its head fell to the ground with a sickening wet thud.

“No!” Voldemort cried before Dumbledore ripped the invisibility cloak from his form and Lily exited the kitchen. Suddenly, the forms of Lily, James and Peter and the actual Dumbledore, McGonagall and Sirius stood with their wands aimed at Voldemort.

“What have you done?” Voldemort seethed at Remus. Remus smirked in response.

“I won.” He said simply.

Voldemort growled as he pulled his wand from his cloak, blocking an expelliarmus from Dumbledore and a bombarda from Sirius.

“Incarcerous!” McGonagall shouted and Voldemort was bound by invisible restraints.

Dumbledore stupefied the flailing Tom Riddle and the six exchanged glances.

“Did...did we do it? Did we just...stop Voldemort?” Sirius whispered.

“It feels sort of anti-climactic, does it not?” Lily asked before she cast a quick finite over herself, revealing Narcissa Black. Remus opted to follow suit and shed the skin of his rat of a friend.

“Narcissa?!” Sirius balked, earning him a smirk.

“Hello, cousin.”

“But, why? How?” he asked.

James followed suit and cast a finite, melting away the enchantment and leaving behind the form of Regulus Black, causing Sirius to choke back tears.

“Reggie...” he whispered reverently.

“Sirius.” Regulus responded with a curt nod, seemingly unable to meet his brothers’ eyes.

A sob tore its way through Sirius as he lunged himself at Regulus and embraced his little brother. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Disappointed?” Regulus asked, seemingly unable to figure out what to do with his own arms which were pinned under Sirius’ grasp.

“No, not in the slightest.” Sirius answered honestly as he pulled himself back from his brother only to bring his hands up to clasp either side of his brother’s face and scrutinize him. “You’re really okay?”

Regulus’ brows scrunched together at his brother’s words. “Could be worse.” Regulus responded in a whisper.

“Why don’t we catch up later, once we have everyone together again?” Narcissa offered with a soft smile. This seemed to snap Sirius into action.

“Yes! Okay, yes. Let’s go get Y/N and then we can send the Potter’s a patronus!” He exclaimed as if were a child being told they were heading to the mall to meet Santa.

Remus chuckled and even Regulus seemed to smirk at his brother.

“You go, Minerva and I will escort Mr. Riddle here to the Ministry.” Dumbledore said with a wink at his four former students. “Thank you all, for your bravery and cunningness today.”

The four offered Dumbledore varying levels of smiles: Remus a wide one, Narcissa a polite one, Regulus’ looked more like a grimace and Sirius’ mouth stayed downturned as they watched the headmaster and deputy headmistress leave with Voldemort in tow.

“Let’s get the band back together.” Remus announced, and Narcissa held out a portkey for Remus and Sirius to use to travel to Malfoy Manor.

“See you there.” Narcissa said as she and Regulus spun and apparated to return to you.

Regulus and Narcissa were just heading toward the vine covered gate when Remus and Sirius fell unceremoniously from the sky.

“Fuck, I hate portkey’s” Sirius commented as he stood with a grimace and wiped grass stains off his jacket.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Narcissa commented from her place as the two men joined her.

“That’s like asking a fish not to swim, dear Cissy.” Sirius responded with a smirk.

Narcissa gave him a fond eyeroll before leading the way to the hidden library.

“PUT THE BOY DOWN!” The shrill voice of Bellatrix could be heard. The sound caused each of their throats to tighten as they all took off in a run towards the library.

“Get away from us!” Sirius heard you shout back.

As the four of them rounded the corner, Sirius saw you standing with a crying Draco Malfoy in your one arm as you bounced him consolingly while your wand was in the other aimed at Bellatrix in front of you. Behind Bellatrix stood Barty Crouch Junior and Mulciber.

“Bella!” Narcissa called causing the witch to turn her onyx gaze on her for a second, though her wand never faltered in its aim at you.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, NARCISSA?!” She screeched.

“Bellatrix, get away from my son this instant.” Narcissa barked. Remus took this opportunity to try to move closer to you and Draco, which earned a purple spell being shot at him from Junior’s wand.

Suddenly emersed in some kind of gothic-style Western standoff, every witch and wizard in the library had their wands pointed at someone and someone’s wand pointed at them. One errant sneeze and someone would avada or be avada’d.

“Bella, you’re frightening Draco.” Narcissa tried quietly.

“He’s frightened, Cissa, because you’ve left him alone with the likes of a FILTHY MUDBLOOD.”

“It’s over, Bellatrix.” Sirius shouted. “Voldemort has been captured, he’s on his way to Azkaban as we speak.”

Bellatrix’s already rage filled face contorted in pure outrage. As the Death Eaters were distracted by the news of their leaders down fall, Regulus and Remus began duelling with Mulciber and Junior. Narcissa and Sirius both shot curses and hexes at Bellatrix at the same time, but she quickly defected.

“You, you-you FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR. You’ve betrayed your kind and defied OUR LORD, YOU INSOLENT-” As Bellatrix continued to rage, you began to slowly side-step your way over to Narcissa and Sirius while cooing at Draco. Sirius kept his gaze locked on you as you kept yours on Bellatrix, and both of your wands stayed on their mark. Remus had Mulciber in a muggle choke hold looking far too pleased with himself as Regulus cast an expeliarmus at Junior.

“YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! I KNEW BETTER THAN TO LET THOSE STUPID, STUPID MEN USE YOU AS THEIR PLAYTHING.” Bellatrix seethed at you, now standing directly beside Sirius, keeping the arm holding Draco just behind him. “YOU WEREN’T EVEN GOOD ENOUGH FOR A WHORE!”

At this, Sirius shot a curse at her which she deflected and began rallying more off. Bellatrix brought her other hand up to her hair and then swung her hand forward. Flying towards Sirius, you and Draco was Bellatrix’s cursed blade.

Narcissa took but half a step to her right, placing herself directly in front of you as she cast an avada kadavra at her sister. Bellatrix’s eyes rolled back as she fell to the ground with a thud and the room became deathly quiet save Draco’s sniffles.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed.

Remus and Regulus were readying their captives for the Auror department as Sirius turned to face his cousin, only to find her holding her chest as blood seeped through her robes and fingers.

Narcissa slowly began sinking to the ground as you gasped and held Draco’s head to your shoulder to shield his view.

“Cissa, no!” Sirius cried as he helped lower his cousin onto the rug. Narcissa took some gasping breaths as she looked at Sirius and you, and then at her son.

“Y/N.” Narcissa called weakly.

“I’m here, Narcissa.” You offered through a sob.

“Take care of my son. Take care of Draco, please.” She begged you.

She turned her gaze to Sirius. “I want better for him. I don’t-I don’t want...” She trailed off as she choked, blood appearing in the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want him to be raised with so much hate. I want – I want him to only know love.”

She looked back to you as you bounced her son back and forth. “Make sure he knows love for me?”

You nodded emphatically as tears trailed down your face. “I promise to do good by you; both of you. He will always be safe with us, Narcissa.”

“And loved.” Sirius added.

Narcissa smiled at the two of you. “Thank you.” She said as she closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, and a cousin. She was a wife, and new mother. She was a Slytherin, a noble woman, and a powerful witch.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was extremely loyal. And it was this last trait that cost Narcissa her life.

Continue to the finale here.

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thedevilsoftruth · 7 months

Text

Iniquitous ~ Loki x fem! reader

Summary: You are a maid for the royal family of Asgard, but little did you know of how much your prince really likes you.

Warning: Smut with plot? Heavy, heavy, smut. Filthy, rough sex. Arrogant, narcissistic Loki, Slight non con, Dom! Loki, Sadist Loki, knife play, blood mentions, heavy degrading ( Loki calls the reader a whore/slut ) over simulation, bondage, oral ( fem receiving) Loki being obsessed with the reader, drugging. Minors dni

This is the darkest thing I have ever written, the ending is actually really freaking sad and I had the sitting in my drafts for so long because I just didn’t like it. Anyways here she is, enjoy!

Word count: 6k || Read time: 20+ minutes

Gif from lokihiddleston

Night came down on Asgard with the full, bright moon above illuminating the dark sky. Loki wondered the halls of his " precious " home, the castle which resided the royal family including himself. Although he was King Odins son, he never felt as though his father or mother gave him the attention he truly desired. It was always his brother who seemed to be the favorite. It was always his brother who seemed to be blessed with the most luck. His brother was always in the league as for whoever would get the throne next. But when it came to Loki, it seemed all he brought to the table was chaos and mischief, always fighting with his brother over anything.He truly thought he wasn’t able to meet anyone who seemed to have the slightest care for him. Until you came to him. You were kind and gentle with him, you were the only person who really seemed to care

The moon shone above the kingdom and casted a ghostly, yet beautiful glare of light through the windows of the building, filling in the dark spaces. Lokis green eyes moved to see through his brows as his head hung low. He had partaken in evil, but not this kind of evil. Something about the moonlight, or maybe the fact he was carrying your unconscious body in his arms was filling him with some sort of twisted lust. These halls he had wondered for decades he had met many different people and tried to feel love through that, nothing seemed to work out well and he found himself falling into a certain depression. But tonight he knew he would never be the same, as he was going to feel some sort of comfort through his lechery.

His eyes darted back onto your sweet face in his arms as he recollected the things that had happened before this very moment. The shouting, the anger.’

" I wasn't trying to seduce her, brother. what is this nonsense you speak of? " Thor asked him in distress and confusion, throwing his hands up as his brows knitted together.

Loki looked down at his hands, not wanting to make eye contact with his disappointment of a brother.

" I saw what you did to her, she's not yours. " Loki utterd, clenching his jaw tightly as his fingers curled into fists.

" I never claimed her as mine, brother. if you would just listen to me- " Thor argued back desperately, only to be cut off.

" why should I listen to you!? You tried to kiss my beloved, I saw it with my own two eyes. " Loki raised his voice, his fingernails digging so deep into his skin he could feel it leaving marks.

" It was just a greeting, brother. All I did was kiss her on her cheek, I meant nothing else. " Thors voice became quiet as his nose burned as if he were going to cry. He felt hurt as well, he never wanted to fight like this with his brother but unfortunately not eveything went the way he wished. Loki shot his brother a deadly glare.

" if you touch or talk to her again, my brother, I will make you wish you never crossed paths with her. " Loki growled before turning his heel and walking away to look for you. And then that was it. it only took him an ambush, but oh he had you now.

He finally reached his chambers with your inert form in his arms, using his magic to thrash the door open and close.

Once inside his chambers he set you carefully on his bed,sitting between your legs as he awaited your consciousness to return. Your face twitched and your arms jerked slightly through your sleep and Loki admired the sight. He leaned in and pulled your hair in your face over your ear so he could place a tender kiss on your cheek.

His fingers went up to your chest to touch the collar of your shirt and then..

Your eyes opened as you awakened, your lashes fluttering against your soft skin as your head hurt too much to sit up. You groaned as your vison somewhat cleared from being so blurry, and Loki vaguely came into your vison.

" mmm... Loki? " You rasped and blinked rapidly trying to clear your vision, but still couldn't quite focus on his face properly. what was he doing there?

" shh, my love. " he hushed you in a gravely tone as he leaned in more to connect your lips with his, kissing you softly and patiently. You groaned into his mouth, pulling away confused.

" what are you doing? "you questioned him, your voice weak and small. the room spun and your head felt like it was bashed into the ground repeatedly. He simply hushed you again.

" worry not, darling. you and I have a lot to talk about, my love. " he spoke softly as he combed your hair back with his slim fingers. you tried to remember what happened before this moment, but everything was so foggy and your body was just so exhausted. Your brow raised, curious about what he had to say. He gave you a gentle smile and raised your hand to kiss your soft knuckles.

" I've been watching you for a really long time now. I'd say you've got some kind of hold on me. " he said with a chuckle, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone lovingly as he stared down at you with soft green eyes. your brows furrowed harder.

" what do you mean, ' watching me? ' "you questioned the sly god as he towered above you. He grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

" You're so wonderful. " he sighed as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and let go your fingers, slowly slipping off his jacket from his shoulders and tossing it like it was nothing. you were confused and in pain, and to be honest you were quite scared. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to remember what happened last. All you could remember was finishing talking with Thor and then going off into the halls to finish cleaning the common room before someone grabbed you from behind and covered your mouth, but who was that?

" Loki, please be more precise with me. I'm beginning to get scared. " you spoke with a wobbly voice as your eyes opened, your body starting to feel less numb. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck and his expression softened into a fake pout. His thumb traced over your cheek before trailing to your plump lips and running sideways over your wet bottom lip.

" aww, so pathetic. " he mocked through a chuckle as he lowered back down again to kiss your wet lips. You whimpered against his skin as he bit down harshly on your lower lip, making you yelp and jerk your head back.

Lokis hand lowered down to his belt, pulling out a pocketknife and rising his hand to your face with the unopened knife in his hand.

" look at you, so pretty and vulnerable. are you going to cry? " he taunted in a high voice, pressing a button on the pocketknife and making the blade pop out. Your nose burned and your vision became blurry with tears. This was it. There wasn't even anything you could do about it, you were weak and powerless.

" please, Loki. I'm sorry if I did anything- " your voice was shaky as you stuttered your words, hoping he wouldn't do anything bad fo you.

" oh darling, " he began in that same husky tone. " just keep begging like that. I love you so much. " his warm hand went on the side of your neck to support you as the blade of his knife grazed the skin on your face harsh enough to draw blood, making the tears you held back to come pouring out of your eyes. You cried out in agony as he pressed harder against your cheek before quickly pulling the knife out of your bloddy skin. He bit his lip at the sight of you crying and it only made him more lecherous. He set the now bloody blade on the nightstand next to the bed, his legs repositioning between you to straddle your lap, making sure you didn't go anywhere.

Lokis eyes darted back at you, his energy prurient and randy. His tongue darted out of his two lips and he hunched over to lick the blood off of your soft cheek. You stared in horror as he lifted his gaze to yours, your very own blood all over his lips like an animal.

Your breath became short and uneven as he licked the blood that coated his lips. your head was throbbing and your thoughts were racing, how did you get yourself into this situation!?

You were just a simple maid working around the palace, you had talked to Loki a lot but you would have never though he would think of you like this. you were a mere peasant and he was a god and a Prince. And yet here you were. As much as he disgusted you, you felt some sort of weird liking for the way he was touching you. you knew it was wrong, but it truly was tempting to just give in.

Your eyes painfully cluttered open, and when they did you wished they didn't. Loki was naked from the waist down and your shirt was off of you and hanging off of his shoulder. How did that happen? You gave him wide eyes and sat upright, backing away with your arms covering your almost bare chest.

" magic comes in handy sometimes. now come here, darling. I need you. " He voice was low as he beckoned you closer with his right hand, his left grabbing your arm and sliding you underneath himself like how he had you earlier. He pinned you beneath him as you felt his hardness press against your center, making you gasp softly and turn to face the other way. You felt guilty with how easily you were letting him just take you.

" I don't want this. " you whispered through a quiet sob as his fingers fiddled with your bra strap. He panted against your exposed skin, his breath hot and making your body shiver.

he gave you another fake pout.

" You know, I've longed for this moment for a really long time. I like you a lot. I don't know what I would do if you said no. " He said, his tone of voice low and somber as he held your hand in his own and against his cheek. He gave your hand a small peck, his gaze not leaving yours as he gave you a pleading look. you shook your head, tears streaming down your wet face and soaking the green silky sheets beneath your shaking form.

there was a moment of silence. you were afraid to close your eyes, but you couldn't keep them open much longer and you so badly needed more tears to come down. You could feel him moving in between your legs, though you couldn't see him.He dropped your hand and now you could feel his hands underneath your long skirt, lifting it up to drop all the way down to your hips.

Your eyes fluttered open to painfully meet his sultry gaze. He looked at you through his raised brows with a smirk, his hands sneaking under your thighs to prop your legs around his now nude body. He was beautiful.

He was vile, but good lord he was a very charming man. As you stared at him, his smirk grew. It was like he knew what you were thinking.

" Don't fight it, " he whispered as his cold fingers slid your undergarments off of your pretty little legs with a singular swift move. He bent down, his form towering over you and casting a shadow over you. The room was dark, but the moon shining through the window illuminating him. he looked like he was under a spotlight or like he was twinkling like a star in the night sky. he looked so handsome over you, it was just so sad how he got you in the position. He gave your lips a quick peck, his slim fingers going up and under your back to unbuckle your laced bra. He propped you up on his lap, sitting you upright as he slid your bra off your shoulders and tossed that aside as well. Your breasts were now exposed for him to see and he chuckled as you hugged your chest with embarrassment. He chuckled.

" aww, don't hid yourself. what's the point if you don't have anywhere to turn anymore? " he breathed against the back of your neck, his huge cold hand running up and down your bare back. " so sad. " he laughed, kissing your shoulder tenderly. He looked back at you with that smug face.

" you belong to me now. All I need is you right now, so don't try to leave me or things will end up very bad for you. " he uttered, his tone licentious as it echoed in the large space. He laid you back down on your back on his king sized bed and pinned you down by your wrists on the silky sheets.

" I want you to say you need me. Say it. " he demanded, his hot breath fanning over your cold body. You gulped as your last tear rolled down your cheek, not wanting to say anything or oblige to his orders. But he was so beautiful, how could you not resist? His eyes were mesmerizing. Your throat burned.

" I need you, Loki. " you said, your voice sounding guttural. he chuckled gravely, his grip on your wrists tightening. You even said his name. There was nothing that turned him on more than your pathetic body underneath him like this, especially when you spoke to him like that and obliged to his orders so easily. But he was getting bored now, he needed more excitement.

Loki pressed his erect tip against your enterance, making you yelp in surprise. His face lowered down to the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. His nose grazed against your skin, trailing up to the back of your ear and making you quiver.

" Such a good little whore. Now say it louder." He said, slowly sliding an inch of his lubricated tip into your wet entrance. You whimpered quietly and your hips bucked up as you bit your lip hard.

" Please. I need you, Loki! " you supplicated desperately yet loudly. You writhed underneath him as he pulled himself out completely, leaving you empty and cold. You whined at his teasing, he was testing you. You closed your eyes tightly.

" Please! " you were only saying it the first time, just to be safe but now you actually meant it and it was driving the both of you crazy. He chuckled against your skin at your precious reactions, his voice sending vibrations through the room and your neck. He hummed as he lifted his gaze and grinned.

" So obedient and eager. " He growled that last part, his index and middle fingers sliding up from your wrists to pin your palms down, his other fingers clenching around your wrist. With that, he wasted no time to shove his length into your tight hole with one harsh thrust. You bit your lip harder, trying your utmost hardest to not let your moans slip out.

" Such a whore.I guess it wouldn't matter if you wanted me or not anyways. " he muttered under his breath as he continued his pace against your quivering form. His thick erection slid in and out of your slick walls that clenched around him. He was perfect. Every thrust he gave sent you inches to heaven. You truly felt like you were being penetrated by a god. His big muscles flexed every time he slammed into you and you couldn't help moaning louder each time.

His lips hovered above your ear, his lips grazing the sensitive skin on the side of it as he moaned and groaned with his rough movements.

Loki grabbed your hips to hold you in place as he rammed into you harder, his shaft twitching deep into your sopping cunt.

" So good. Just so good for me. Do you understand what you are doing to me? " he murmured against your ear, his words sending shivers down your entire body. Your lips trembled, sliva dripping down your chin as you slightly shook your head. Your parted lips let out breathy little moans of pleasure in sync with his pelvic thrusting.

Loki took his hand off of your hip and rised his thumb to touch your tremoring wet lips. He leaned his face in with yours, your noses merely touching and his pace slowing. His thumb fell on your bottom lip and slowly grazed the soft skin before grabbing your chin roughly with his other fingers, forcing your mouth agape.

" Don't close your eyes or look away from me. " he whispered, his voice gruff but smooth. he let go of your face and pulled himself out of you entirely, making your eyes shut and making you whimper desperately. Loki hummed at your reaction, his other hand that was pinning you down going onto your chest as his second now wondering your thigh.

" Loki... please.. " you mewled, your hand gripping his shoulder weakly as he stared down at you with an intense gaze. He smirked, his hand that was on your chest beginning to graze your hard nipple. You but your lip to try and hold back your sounds of pleasure but it was difficult when he was teasing you like that.

" Look, " he started, his hand fondling your stimulated breast. " at me. " he ordered frimly, making you shake your head in response as your tear filled eyes darted towards his emerald ones. he chortled at the sight of you.

" mmm, good girl. " he cooed in a praise as he gave you a peck your wet lips, reaching for the drawer of his night stand for something as he kissed you passionately. You whined quietly and squirmed underneath him. It was so hot and uncomfortable, all you wanted was him inside you again.

" Hush, my love. " he whispered into your mouth as he pulled out something from the drawer that made a loud metal clanking. You we're too scared to look at what it was as because you had a feeling it was something bad. Loki pulled away to fix his attention on something else, but you wouldn't allow yourself to look at what he was doing. He looked back at you with a dangerous gaze.

" Sit up, pet. " he spat, making you nod your head frantically and sit upright with your quaking body. Loki smiled innocently at you as he held up something in your vison. It was a pair of handcuffs. He unlocked them from each side, his eyes still fixed on yours seductively. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to do. That disgusting smirk on his face never left.

Loki grabbed your wrist and cuffed it to the bedpost, straining you from making too much movements. The god clicked his tongue and slid his body down yours, making his way to your naked legs and never taking his gaze from you. He trailed kisses from your stomach to your lower abdomen, earning tiny moans from you in the process.

Loki lifted the back of your thighs and placed them on his shoulders so he could bury his face in between your legs like the hungry animal he was. His face lowered down to your drenched womanhood, his lips coming in contact with your throbbing cunt. Your head threw back as his hot breath fanned over your desperate sex, his lips abrading your wetness.

His tongue glided up and down your folds repeatedly before stopping at your pulsating clit. He looked at your piteous form through his brows, humming against your clit as he did so and making your legs jerk with pleasure.

You felt so pathetic and vulnerable like this, underneath him as he ate you out like the greedy slut you were.

His tongue lapped around your throbbing clit , sucking gently while circling the ring that was throbbing painfully in anticipation of him. He took a hand off of your thigh, rubbing in over your lower abdomen as he gave your bud a kiss. He licked the tips of his middle and index fingers and dipped their bases into your entrance, inserting them in and out slowly and making your body shake from shock.

You screamed and thrashed beneath him, your legs jerking and your bound hand clawing in the air. You heard a deep rumble from Loki, the vibrations traveling to your inner core and causing a new wave of blissfulness to course through your entire body. Your thighs clenched around his face tightly, making him growl and take his fingers out of you, seizing your thighs roughly.

" stop fucking squirming! " Loki snarled lowly as he glared at you through his brows. You were panting heavily but you kept your eyes averted in shame, looking anywhere but at him.

His large hands gripped onto either side of your hips, holding you tightly in place as he lifted his head up out of your heat. He licked his lips and leaned in to give you a sloppy kiss as he positioned his hips in between your legs comfortably once more. He wasted no time to slide his thick length back inside you again, his large hands gripping your waist as he pumped in and out of you roughly like he did before.

Your hands curled into fists in the air, your hips shaking wildly at the feeling of him stretching you out completely. You couldn't hold in any of your moans. you wanted more of him, wanted every inch of his whole being even if it was wrong.

Loki had never felt such intense emotions until now. It had been what he longed and what he utmost desired. When he first met you it was like your hearts were binded together, like you guys were meant to be with each other. And now he had you. All underneath him and moaning like the sad being you were. He had to admit, it was the one of the best sexual experiences he's had. But it wasn't enough, he needed more.

Loki pulled you in for another kiss, his pace becoming faster as his memeber pushed deeper into your core, making you cry into his mouth. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding against your bottom lip as his hips rocked against yours. There was a loud wet sound coming from your sex's rubbing together, echoing through his room along with both of your moans and groans of pleasure. He didn't care if it was loud, he needed satisfaction. All he cared for at the moment was sweet release.

Lokis hand went up to curl a fist around the locks of your hair tightly as he slammed almost every inch of his length into you, his pace erratic and his breathing ragged. You were a fever, and you were taking over him. But every touch was too much for you, hitting every nerve in your system. Loki pulled away from your lips, leaving you to feel cold without the cordiality of his lips.

" You're so damn gorgeous like this. " he whispered huskily as he moved his dominant hand to grab the headboard of his bed, his hips rolling back and forward with such force that made the bed slam against the wall repeatedly. Your moans were gasps and screams now, your back arching like a cat in heat as he gave you his all. Your free hand gripped the green sheets beneath your sweating body as your bound hand tugged as far as it could in the handcuffs desperately.

" Ha— Loki! " you screamed his name as your mind cluttered with pure lust and desire. You felt a burning in your abdomen, letting you know you were close.

With on swift move, Loki was able to push every inch of his shaft into the deepest and sweetest part of your core. He repeatedly hit your sweet spot and growled lowly as you screamed and moaned in sync with his thrusts. Your nails dug into the sheets, your whole body tensing up as he pounded into you relentlessly. With bucked hips, you grinded against his pulsating length to help reach your peak as he drived into that same spot over and over again. And it worked.

With high pitched scream, you came undone all around his full length, your body convulsing violently with waves of ecstasy that washed through your whole being.

Your chest heaved up and down as the warm liquid discharged out of your body. Once you caught your breath, you finally turned your head to meet Loki's gaze. He stared lovingly at your disheveled appearance as you panted underneath him. He took his hand off the headboard and used it to swoop your hair back and kiss your sweaty forehead.

" Good girl. " he praised in a whisper against your skin, his voice croaky and guttural. " look at you, you've made such a mess underneath me. " he cooed, his fingers running through your hair softly. He hummed softly as he gave you another kiss on your forehead, his hand slipping off of your head and down to the side of your jaw.

" I just need you to keep being a good girl as I go another round on you. "he said with a wicked grin plastered on his handsome face. He hadn't even pulled out of you yet, either. You let out a soft cry and you covered your face into the sheets, knowing he was just going to being more torture.

Loki began kissing your cheek and moving to your jaw, leaving his lips lingering there for quite some time before he moved back to kiss your neck.

" I want you to beg. " he purred against your skin, his long lashes fluttering against your skin. He finally pulled himself out of you, sending an ache straight through your core like a fire. You winced in pain and his hand brushed your hair. His gaze drew back to the nightstand next to the bed. he was able to reach the top drawer from the bed and he pulled out a tiny sliver key from the cluttered drawer. He used the key to unlock the handcuffs, your arms falling down limply next to you with a red swollen wrist.

" Stand up. " Loki demanded, spanking your ass hard enough that it burned and was sure to leave a mark. You whimpered and stood up shakily, feeling lightheaded due to all the moving around. You felt exhausted, your legs wobbling underneath you as you used the nightstand for support. Loki shifted behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

" you know, I didn't quite like that interaction you had with my lovely brother Thor earlier. " He whispered against the crook of your neck as he gave you sloppy wet kisses around your skin. He nibbled at your skin and his hands rubbing your warm stomach. You let out a small moan at his touch, f a mixture of pleasure and discomfort coursing through you as his hot breath sent shivers down your spine.

" I'm sorry if I did something that upset you, Loki. Thor was simply greeting me- " Your voice was small, but cut off before you could finish.

" I didn't ask for your inexact excuses. " he growled, moving your body against the cold wall. He moved your arms behind your back and held both your wrists together with one hand. You felt your ragged breath returning. Your mind was cluttered and you were exceedingly overwhelmed. You gave him a glance over your shoulder.

" You think me a liar, Loki? " You asked curiously, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. But you hadn't been lying to him, he was your prince and you were supposed to be loyal to him.

" Never forget that you're mine, y/n. not Thors, not anyone else's, mine. " He tone incensed and almost like a growl as his grip on your tightened. You nodded your head, feeling your knees about to give out underneath you.

Loki's bare chest rest against your back, his wet tip twitching against your soaking entrance that had just been covered in your hot cum. He bent down and placed his lips right next to the sensitive nub of your ear.

" Now take me again like the piteous slut you are." He growled, entering you again and watching you scream in agony and pleasure. Every touch was enough to make you spill out, it was like he was working magic against you. As much as you hated it, you knew you loved it. As much as you just wanted to stop comprehend what was going on, you just wanted to be oblivious and simply drown in the rapture of the moment. Everything around you was hot and dizzy as he worked you into a frenzy, making your body jolt wildly against his. Loki loved seeing you writhe like this in his reach in ecstasy and pain. It was so intoxicating; it was just his own little fantasy, which was intensely satisfying to him because it was all he could think about for days. He felt himself just about to reach his full satisfaction, his breathing becoming labored and his fingernails digging into your skin as he thrashed into you. You couldn't help but moan his name while feeling that burning sensation return in your core. His movements became jerky and a bit out of rhythm, he could barely take it anymore and it was getting hard for you to continue to hold on as well. He whimpered and pulled out, turning you around to come face to face with you as he pushed you back down on his bed.

He wasted no time to get back inside you again, rocking his hips against yours like an absolute mad man and immediately hitting your sweet spot like it was nothing. You gasped loudly in response, your hands tgrabbing around his shoulders as your eyes rolled backwards into your head. The feeling was overwhelming and absolutely blissful. He groaned your name with urgency as his long desired orgasm came over him so intensely he couldnt stop moaning. The white liquid coated the deepest parts of you and you felt yourself reaching peak as well, only adding to the mess. Your entire body was trembling and twitching, still incapable of comprehending what the hell had just happened. Loki ran his fingers through your hair again and the gave your forehead a kiss.

" so obedient, you are. you know I could hit that spot without even trying. " he spoke through a chuckled as he magicked his way back into his clothes. He gave your forehead another kiss before standing up and walking around the bed. He threw you a white lacy robe. where did he get that from, you wondered as you felt the silky fabric.

" Get dressed. " you heard his voice speak as you turned away from him. You did as such, wrapping the comfy piece of clothing around your stilly shaky form. You were surprised that you could still move... barely. The second you tied the robe closed you fell off the bed due to immense exhaustion. Loki shifted in front of you and squatted down on his knee, bringing your hand into his own so he could help you up.

" ah.. Loki, my head hurts. " you groaned, rubbing your temples to see if that could help you at all. Loki hummed emphatically amd brought you back into his warm embrace. His hand ran up and down your arm soothingly.

" I know, darling. here, you should drink some water. " his voice was soft and sweet as if he genuinely cared. He even conjured you a cold glass of water and handed it to you while giving you that warm smile that said he cared.

You sipped the water slowly, but you quickly realized that you shouldn't have given him yourself like that.

" oh god, " you felt even more lightheaded now. it was like your heart skipped a beat and your world completely stopped moving in that very moment. Loki innocently titled his head in confusion.

" what is it, dear? are you feeling worse? " he asked, his hands rubbing your shoulders comfortingly. You shook your head and shuddered you shoulders to get his dirty hands off you.

" it all makes sense now. " you spoke with a wobbly voice through sobs, placing the glass he gave you down on the floor. Tears streamed down your cheeks and Loki simply stared at you worriedly.

" what is it you speak of, my love? " He asked again, you looked down at your hands that lay limply in your lap.

" you drugged me. " you choked, your voice coming out as a whisper.

" I...what? " his words seemed stuck in his throat as his eyes widened in disbelief. you stood from his lap and backed a few feet away from him.

" Dont act as if you're innocent, you know what you did! " you yelled through broken ugly sobs. He continued to look at you with wide eyes as if he had just been told something utterly absurd.

" Darling, I would never do such a thing! " He said, his heart dropping because he knew something terrible was coming up. You looked behind yourself and picked up Lokis opened pocketknife on the nightstand that was still covered in your blood.

" Then how did I get into your room? why do I remember someone coming up behind me while I was folding laundry and pressing a cloth against my mouth before I blacked out? " Loki stared at the knife and then back at you. His expression became serious and he stood up as well.

" you dare threaten me with that!? " he spat, taking a step towards you with a menacing aura. You shook your head again and continued to sob.

" Just admit to it, Loki! " you cried desperately, backing up towards the door.

" so I finally get my happiest moment with the woman I love and now she's threatening me with a knife? I guess I just can't be happy! " he said with watery eyes, now making you feel bad. you never wanted him to be sad, only wanted to see him happy but he did do terrible things to you.

" I thought you loved me too. " his voice was barely above a whisper as a tear ran down his cheek. You shook your head, your tears only purring down even more.

" Loki please just- " he grabbed your arm and pulled you flush against his body.

" if you loved me you wouldn't be pointing that thing at me. But I guess you don't. " his voice was brittle, his grip around you tight before it released.

" and if you loved me, you wouldn't have drugged me! " you barked back, the whites of your eyes now having a tint of red from all the crying. Loki inhaled sharply and his face scrunched up angrily.

" Do not talk to me that way! " Loki shouted, raising his hand threateningly and making you flinch. There was a long silence, a loud silence. It was like time had slowed down, almost to a standstill. You lowered the knife and your crying slowed down. You wondered how you had gotten yourself into this situation. All you did was be nice to this man before. you cared for him for years and you were there for him during rough times. And yet here you were. You had supposed this was an example of how easy it is to be manipulated, and that hurt a lot. Loki stiffed his shoulders and breathed in sharply.

" You know, you should be grateful for what I did for you. " he said in a low tone, looking directly into your face and staring deeply into your eyes. Your mouth slightly fell agap in astonishment and you couldn't believe how twisted truly he had become. The only Loki you ever knew was kind, loving, and caring, always so gentle. Now there was none of that.

Your nose felt like it was on fire.

" So if you're not going to be grateful, " he pushed you out of the way from the door and you stared at him anxiously.

" I'll just leave you here. " and with that he was gone, all the doors in the room shut and locked completely. Your tears returned, and this time worse than before.

" no, no, no, no, Loki! " you spoke with heavy, desperate tears streaming down your cheeks as you banged your fists on the door.

" no, don't leave me! " he probably couldn't even hear you anymore, and that terrified you. Your body slid down the door and crumbled up into a ball when it hit the floor. Your face was so wet with tears, it looked like your were dunked into water. Everything was a blur now. You were all alone.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #marvel cinematic universe #loki smut #mcu loki #loki x reader #marvel #marvel mcu #marvel smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #mcu #marvel fanfiction #tom hiddleston

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tumbleweed-run · 6 months

Note

Hello! I love your writing <3 May I ask, do you have any headcanons for Gale? I have a few (eg: his mother raised him alone - he's an only child - as much as he enjoys homecooked meals he's very well known in Waterdeep's fine dining establishments) I'm interested in hearing what you imagine about Gale outside what the game tells us!

Lighter stuff

I agree with you on pretty much all points

Gale might appreciate wine but he strikes me as a fancy whiskey boy. It's a vibe I get

His mother hates the beard, which is why he didn't grow it out until the hermit stage

He loves all books. Magical tomes, history of Faerun, tawdry bodice rippers. And he has a system to his library but it makes no sense to anyone who is not Gale

Personally, I think he's well-known in all Waterdeep's dining establishments. He's in the Yawning Portal at some point as an adult but I also feel like he visits the finer restaurants- probably with his mother

he was raised wealthy, I know he like "oh I haven't dabbled in wealth" but my dear boy was Top Teir middle class at best. I don't think they were 'own the world wealthy' but I believe he grew up with more than just a housekeeper, not having to worry about money. Mama's got Sea Ward money

And of course (because I pointed out his 'tower' is in the Dock Ward) I think as an adult Gale moved to the "rough and tumble" part of town to prove himself. (which is probably why they know him in the poorer establishments )

His tower is a freaking row home, maybe its like two floors taller. But it is a house. Gale is just a fanciful man. Or he's manifesting that shit, idk

I also think he goes home to mama in the sea ward at least 2x a week

Gale is a sorcerer

Gale is 300% a sorcerer whose mother(not magic) was fed up with her shit being set on fire, so she sent him to train in magics the way she was most familiar - Wizard Apprenticing

Less Light Stuff

Gale mentions 'parents' once (I think during the I was denied a kitten speech) I think his father was there at first and then left. Maybe he couldn't handle Gale, or he was just a shitty guy. I think that was the road to Gales "I'm not enough, I must prove I'm enough" syndrome.

I also believe he first encountered Mystra in the Sea Ward at the 'House of Wonder' which is a temple devoted to her. I believe he was young like 13/14 but my guess is she was aware of him from a younger age. (Most wizards apprentice starting at 13... and usually have no spellcasting abilities which is...)

I don't think his favorite color is purple. I think it was Mystra's color and therefor it became his favorite (which is why I like dying all his clothes NOT Purple). Judging by the only room we saw, it's red/maroon/burgundy- but he doesn't know that

I think some of his stunts at Blackstaff were not just his own hubris though he sees it that way, but also at "hey mystra look at me" thing. Which I think she encouraged

I also believe that he was a young adult when the muse-to-lover transition took place. Maybe a few years after he left his apprenticeship, he was old enough to be a 'man' but it was definitely a product of grooming.

I don't think he was ever truly her Chosen. Most gods bestow cool powers (look at the dead 3) or at least protections. She just... screwed him? Taunted him with stuff she knew was going to keep him hooked on her?

When he saw Mystra's interest waning he panicked because he didn't have very many friends (his only named or mentioned friend is Elminster who has the most messed up history with Mystra) and he'd certainly not taken a lover once she 'chose' him. And I assume this was years before the netherese orb disaster. He probably did increasingly dangerous things/adventures to keep her attention, just like he did as a boy.

#izzy rambles #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale headcanons #bg3 Gale

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hinakazino · 1 year

Text

Meeting their future kid! || Angel, Aki

Summary: Meeting their future child they had with you!! Or, in which your child with them somehow lands in the past for awhile.

Context: This is before an established relationship, the kids a teen here. Oh and (C/N) stands for your Childs name.

Warnings: SPOILERS (mainly on Aki’s part), none, just fluff.

— angel devil

Honestly, he’s shocked. Literally thinking what? That’s impossible. Touching him shortens one’s lifespan! He didn’t have a lover either, humans and even devils didn’t interest him- So how is it possible that he has a child?

But he couldn’t deny it either, the girl standing in front of him looked like him. She carried the same features, like the red hair and had wings just like him. There wasn’t a halo though, and he could instantly tell she was a hybrid.

“Dad!”, his daughters voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized that he’d completely zoned out. Angel had no idea what to say, but listened as his daughter spoke. “Dad, I know this is quite shocking, but I’m really your kid, my names (C/N),” she said.

It seems that from this Angel regained his composure, he didn’t like beating around the bush anyway. So he asked straightforward, “who is your mother?” “Y/n,” and it clicks. He’d seen you around, and you were his recently assigned partner.

“Um.. you can ask any question you want dad, don’t worry I’ll answer!” your daughter says as she grabs his bare hand to take him to sit. Angels terrified and instantly slaps his daughters hand away. “Woah woah- sorry, I forgot to say, dad I’m immune to your curse!” she says.

His face shows skepticism, but he sits down next to her and he finds himself apologizing. “Sorry..What’s it like in the future?” he asks. “No worries! Oh well, you and mom are basically retired devil hunters. You still go on the job but you get 4 days off now."

He watches as his daughter talks with enthusiasm, and finds himself softly smiling when she says, “happy to hear right dad? Mom says you didn’t like fighting or working much.” Angel feels that he quite enjoys the thought of a future with you and his daughter, it was just truly too good.

Angel then wonders on, "what is it that you do?" he asks. He watches as his daughter responds, "I'm a devil hunter too- but you don't have to worry because I'm pretty strong!!" "Really?" he says. "Yeah! You know you still always have that look on your face father, I'm not a baby anymore," your daughter states proudly.

Angel chuckles at this, as he realizes that his future won't be a lonely one. He won’t be alone anymore, he has his own family. It was in that moment that another thought had occurred to him, my touch drains others lifespan so how strange is it that we were able to have offspring?

Before he could ask though, your daughters time was up. "Sorry dad, I gotta go, this mechanism that got me here doesn't last long," she says. "Ah, no it's okay, stay safe," angel says. "One last thing though! Mom said to give you this, she said it may solve a question you have."

He watches as his daughter hands him a note, and stiffens when she hugs him. Angel finds himself slowly recuperating the hug, hands softly placing themselves on his daughters back, it felt foreign to him. When his daughter had left, he had opened the note.

'From Y/N.

Angel I know you're probably wondering this, so what we did was ...'

Angel blushed, rather his whole face became flushed as he finished reading the note. He could tell that you knew him fairly well since this answered his question exactly, and when he saw you later that day he couldn't stop the thoughts constantly popping up in his head.

— aki

Aki was more so surprised he lived long enough to actually have his own family, but the point that it happened was pleasant to him. He’d lost every person that was there for him in his childhood. Aki felt a sense of warmth knowing that he’d become someone who was now there for others.

Truthfully the idea that a devil hunter lasted in public safety more than 7 years was considered celebratory and it was no secret why. Having a family on top of that? That’s quite the achievement.

But there’s a lot of questions he has, who is his lover? The mother of his child, what’s life like? Has a lot changed? What about Denji and Power, how are they doing? His curiosity shows itself on his face and his son starts off.

“Soooooo, dad like I said I’m your kid and it’s a lot to take in, but I know you have a lot of questions so ask away,” his son says. The kid looks like Aki for sure, he stares at his child’s face and offers a smile. Aki signals for his son to sit down next to them and a father-son talk ensues. “What’s your name kid?” he asks.

“I’m (C/N), and I’m pretty old now,” his son responds. Aki can feel a sense of annoyance, but not with any dislike. “I call you kid a lot huh?” “So you do realizes that you overuse the word,” his son says matter-of-factly. Aki chuckles and continues on, “Yeah uh, who is my lover?”

“Y/n,” and it makes sense, Aki’s noticed your recent starting at him. It wasn’t unwelcome, he could tell you were looking at him with admiration he just didn’t know it was much more. You were his recently assigned partner, one he was tasked to train.

“Mmh, what’s life like?” he asks, trying to sound casual. Aki’s face heated up as it started to settle in that you were a big part of his future. “You and mom are retired married devil hunters, both of you do get called on missions sometimes but it’s really just living and doing normal stuff now,” your son responds.

Aki felt relieved that he let go of his revenge. “How are power and denji?” he asks. “Uncle and Auntie are doing fine, they’re both still in the devil hunting business, you can bet they’re annoying the heck outta me,” your son says sighing. Aki can only smile hearing this.

Everything felt so perfect, he still couldn’t grasp that this was what his future was like. “You decided to be a devil hunter,” Aki comments softly, he genuinely felt slight concern hearing this since he himself has seen many of his coworkers lose their lives.

He watches as, (C/N), his sons face shifts to one of pride. “You don’t have to worry about me father, I know what I’m doing, I got taught by the best of the best after all,” he says. Aki feels proud to hear this, he’s glad knowing that this wasn’t something he pushed on his son. This actually made his curiosity spike again, what about the gun devil, makima, or the agency at his sons time?

“I- I just want to confirm some more, I didn’t force you into devil hunting right? I know I do dislike gun devil and all, what about miss makima-” Aki stops talking as his son cuts him off. “Dad this is my decision, for real, and I don’t know what you’re talking about? The gun devils captured during your time and it’s last appearance was to take down the control devil, Makima,” your son says while shrugging.

Aki couldn't help feeling confused, he had been given no time to ponder over this revelation though, as his son announced his retreat. "Sorry, I've got to go back to my time now father," his son says. Aki feels saddened by this but before he lets his kid go, he makes sure to give him a good hug.

"I'm proud of you, and tell your mom I'm on my way to see her," he says ruffling up his sons hair. He stand there watching as his son laughs and heads on his way with a soft wave.

#chainsaw man #csm #anime #Aki Hayakawa #Hayakawa aki #Aki x reader #Angel devil x reader #angel x reader #Aki Hayakawa x reader #angel devil #chainsaw man x reader

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melzula · 7 months

Note

ooooo! may i request a hc where waterbender beifong meets her dad?!

a/n: this has been in my drafts forever i am so sorry anon but hopefully you enjoy!

~based on these hc’s~

After countless arguments and packed bags and trips to Air Temple Island, you and your mother came to the agreement that you could seek out your father, if that was what you wanted, once you became an adult

When your eighteenth birthday comes and goes Lin assumes you’ve given up on your dream to meet your father and accepted the fact that the chances of finding the man were slim to none

Yet when she comes into your room one day to ask if you’d like to join her for lunch she finds your bags packed and your father’s portrait resting on your desk much to her dismay

“What the flameo is going on here?” She muses, doing her best to keep her annoyance at bay.

“You said when I was eighteen I could try to find my dad, so that’s what I’m doing,” you state matter of factly. “Kya’s going to be here soon to take me back to the south.”

“Kya?” Lin retorts. “Why Kya?”

“Well I figured I’d start my search in the South considering dad is from the water tribe, and if I don’t find anything there I’ll go to the north.”

“I think you should take Mako. I’d feel better if you did.”

“I’d rather not introduce my boyfriend to my dad on the same day I introduce myself to my dad,” you note with a slight laugh. “I’ll be okay, mom.”

“Alright,” Lin finally sighs. “You’re not a little girl anymore, I can’t tell you what to do. But be careful out there, I have no idea what your father has been up to all these years and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

She lets you go with an affectionate ruffle of your hair and a firm side hug— and by sneaking sweet buns into your bag when you aren’t looking— and a request of greetings for Kya before sending you off on your way

You’re anxious the entire time it takes you to reach the South, but with Kya’s comforting presence and helpful meditation sessions you’re able to stand the journey

You have nothing to go off of for your search other than the old outdated portrait your mother had kept of him, but you’re able to work with what you have

Kya doesn’t recognize the man, but she suggests asking the locals for information

You spend hours speaking to countless water tribe members asking if they know the man from the picture, but every time you come up empty handed

It’s frustrating and emotionally grueling work, and a part of you starts to wonder if all this effort is really worth it for a man you’ve never met

Would he even want to see you? You’d been alive for eighteen years and he never once thought to look for you. Did he even know you existed? Did he want to?

You’re so engrossed in your thoughts that you don’t notice the little girl that runs your way

She collides harshly into your legs, almost causing you to topple over into the snow, and though you immediately open your mouth with the intent to yell at her you bite your tongue at the sight of the child who can’t be any older than six

Her eyes are a beautiful blue and her hair is long and thick, but she shares your nose and your lips. It almost looks as if she could be related to you, and the realization fills you with dread and nausea

“Watch where you’re going,” you mutter harshly before quickly stomping off. Your original patience for her wears thin once you put the pieces together, and you feel sick to your stomach

She didn’t do anything wrong, you know that, but you can’t help the anger and the hurt and the resentment that begin to course through you

If your suspicions are correct, then it seems your father already has a daughter of his own

It was a mistake coming here, and as much as it killed you to admit it, Lin was right

You’re about to head back and search for Kya when a hand lands on your shoulder to stop you

Immediately you’re on the defensive, grabbing the person’s wrist and using all of your strength to yank them over your shoulder and throw them onto their back into the snow in front of you

“What do you want?!” You scowl only to immediately freeze at the sight of the man in front of you

Though he looks older than the picture with graying hair and wrinkes, there’s no denying the resemblance

“You’re a strong one aren’t you,” he says with a laugh to mask the groan that leaves him as he picks himself up off the ground

“I am so sorry, sir,” you splutter apologetically, “it was instinct and I-“

“Is this yours?” He interrupts you, holding out the photograph. Your stomach drops as your reach into your pocket and find that the picture is missing. You must have dropped it earlier when the little girl ran into you

You stand there, mouth agape and struggling to find the right words. Here is the man you’ve been wondering about all your life, but now that he’s right in front of you you have no idea what to do

“I… I’m holding it for a friend,” you lie, internally screaming at yourself for doing so

“I see. May I ask who that friend is?”

“…Lin Beifong. Do you know her?”

His eyes widen with recognition and a second emotion you can’t quite decipher, but it’s starting to make you regret ever speaking to him

“I do, though I haven’t heard that name in years.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not missing out on much,” you mumble quietly

“You know, you remind me of her,” he says much to your dismay. The last thing you want to be told is that you’re like your mother. Does he know that it’s because you are her daughter?

“I get that a lot.”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here. Do you have family here?”

“…No. I don’t.”

“Well, would you like to join my family and I for dinner? A friend of Lin’s is a friend of mine,” he offers warmly which surprises you. You were sure he hated your mother and wanted nothing to do with her. After all, according to her they didn’t exactly end on the best terms

You consider the offer, your eyes analyzing his kind features and friendly smile. But then your gaze drifts, and your sight lands on the little girl just a few feet away staring straight at you. She has your nose and your mouth. She has your father.

“Thank you, but I need to get going,” is all you say

And you don’t give him a chance to reply as you head back towards Kya’s home

This was a waste of time

#you guys might hate me for the ending #but i think it makes sense #lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong x daughter!reader #waterbender!beifong #the legend of korra #tlok #tlok x reader #tlok imagine #headcanons

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darlingofvalyria · 7 months

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❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes. "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

"He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

"If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

"Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

"I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond angst #aemond x reader #hotd angst #aemond x you #hotd fanfiction #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

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hausbabylon · 1 year

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broken reflection

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Word count: 5,342

A/N: This story is inspired by Elizabeth Olsen's character in Love And Death. However, I must clarify that while I appreciate her performance in the show, I don’t agree with nor glorify the actions of the real-life person she portrays, Candy Montgomery. Therefore, I made the decision to switch the character to Wanda Maximoff and create a “multiverse” storyline. I was inspired by someone else who did a similar switch, and I felt that it was the right decision for my own. With nothing else to add, I hope you enjoy!

Marriage was supposed to be your happy ending, but as your marriage deteriorated, an encounter with another woman opened your eyes to a new world of possibilities and desires you never knew existed.

Time seemed to pass at a frantic pace whenever you found yourself immersed in your most tormenting thoughts. The ceiling, which you watched as you lay in your bed, became your silent witness, as the moonlight streaming in through the window illuminated the cracks in the ceiling, which you could have sworn, you knew by heart by that point.

You caught yourself finding comfort in those seemingly insignificant details, but at that moment, they seemed to be the only tangible things in your life.

Because, no one had prepared you for this.

For as long as you could remember, the idea of marriage had been presented to you as something wonderful, as a kind of destiny that you had to reach in order to be happy and fulfilled. And very late you realized that, in your quest to find that sense of belonging and fulfillment you so longed for, you had fallen into the error of looking for in marriage what you should have found within yourself.

"I worked my ass off to give you everything you needed, I spoiled you rotten, and the one thing you were supposed to give me in return, you couldn't give it to me!" He exclaimed when he came home from work at nine o'clock at night, and you found yourself in the painful position of telling him again that no, you were not in the mood to try.

He had never told you anything like that, at least not explicitly. However, he always let you know by giving you those little looks whenever he saw those happy families with their children in the park, or disguised as a brief "we're working on it" whenever the subject came up in those absurd after-dinner conversations he made you attend. He never felt the need to say those hurtful words to you, until that time.

You could hear your mother's voice echoing in your head, "That's what you get for marrying so young, to someone so old." And yes, you were the youngest of all the wives who gathered after church on Sundays. From the way they talked to you, it was obvious that they thought you were so ignorant of everything just because you were young.

Before, every day of your marriage felt like a fairy tale, everything seemed solved, and you thought you had fulfilled your purpose. It wasn't until, for a change, some idiot friend of James' decided to pick on him by telling him that he was "falling behind."

What hurt the most was that he was looking for in children what you were looking for in marriage, both wrong because, you insisted, it was within you. That was why you refused to even try, in the first place. Being a father wasn't supposed to be just a compensation for his lack of fulfillment.

After failing miserably to go to sleep at a decent hour, you woke up at noon and realized that he was gone. It wasn't the first time he had breakfast out because you simply refused to wake up to prepare him something. The only reason it didn't bother him was because afterward, he took advantage to see other women. Oh, you knew, he didn't even deign to hide it.

Even if you weren't doing the same thing, you supposed you could care less anyway. Any semblance of love had vanished so long ago, but you couldn't afford to be as bold as he was, because you repeated, you were doing the same thing, seeing other women...

... or rather, another woman.

It all happened when one Sunday night, which you thought would end up as hell, was what started a part of your life that really meant something. Very chaotic and perhaps sick to consider it as such, but all you aspired to was those weekday evenings. Before, you had nothing to aspire to, no one you really wanted to give yourself to in that sense.

For a change, you were fighting with your husband. You were eagerly talking to the women about everything and nothing at the same time when he called you over to talk, and his expression was so serene that it was inevitable to think it was not good.

"You'll be happy now! I'm the laughing stock of all my friends because they know we are not even trying to have a child," he blurted out, his alcohol breath invading your nose, causing you a feeling of revulsion immediately.

"How fragile you are to accept a commitment as big as a child is, just because you can't stand the awful comments," you replied, almost in a mocking tone. He hated that, he hated that you seconded all the remarks in some way. His friends teased him because you refused to sleep with him, and you teased him because he cared. It was his nightmare and your delight.

"Not everything is about having kids! They know you're disgusted by me!" He clarified, and just imagining the kind of conversations they were having made you loathe him even more.

"We women are not trophies for you to show off. We are human beings," you replied, pushing him slightly, which was enough for him to fall like a sack of potatoes. "How empty-minded are you guys that the only remarkable thing you have to say is whether or not you slept with a woman, huh?"

He stood up awkwardly and laughed.

"Spare me your feminist talk, I'm outta here," he growled and proceeded to walk off to who knows where.

You let out a long sigh after watching his figure shrink in size until he became invisible to your eyes. Every time he was gone, you felt free. It was as if all your problems disappeared in the form of a loathsome person like he was.

You felt even too guilty because that day you wished he would dawn lost somewhere and never find his way back or have a horrible accident.

"What you said is too true," you heard a voice behind you, making you startle.

You looked around until you came upon Wanda in the driver's seat of her car, with the window open. You were so immersed in your discussion that you didn't even notice that she had been listening to everything.

"I'm sorry you had to witness this," you muttered, lowering your head.

"You know, I always thought of you as a naive girl who doesn't have a fucking clue, but I realize you have guts. Even more than many in there," she ignored your apology, and at her statement, you didn't know whether to be flattered or offended.

"I guess it only takes being ten years younger than you for you to condemn me like that," you shrugged, opting to feel satisfied. This was a great opportunity to prove yourself wrong.

"What are you talking about? That's a lifetime!" She exclaimed as she laughed. You really appreciated that she decided to lighten up what could have been another argument with a little joke, where she made fun of her own mistake. That definitely marked a before and after between you two.

"You're right, you were all here by the time Queen Elizabeth was born," you joked back, causing her to let out a loud laugh that even echoed throughout the neighborhood. It was her reaction that made you laugh even harder.

That day, she asked you to go with her in the car and get lost around the neighborhood. It was almost like a therapeutic session; she talked about her husband, and you talked about yours. You made them the biggest targets of ridicule and insults for maybe three hours, and only stopped when you went to a gas station store to buy snacks and subsequently find a spot in a parking lot on top of a building.

"Don't you sometimes wish you had met other people?" you concluded, as she finished telling you how her husband responded to a piece she wrote. With such indifference that it made you feel extremely indignant.

"All the time," she confirmed, nodding. "Sometimes I imagine what my life would have been like if I had married someone who cared about my mind and not my uterus, and who treats me like a diamond in the rough that values at all times, and not like a trophy that just shows off but leaves to rest in some closet as soon as everyone is gone."

"That's me!" you laughed, placing your hand above hers to squeeze it, as a sign of comfort.

"But I do have a better proposition for you, why don't you start by doing it yourself? Prove to yourself that you're more than what your stupid husband thinks you are, and maybe that will even give you the courage to walk away from him if that's what you want."

You felt a mixture of fear and excitement at the idea. Could you really do it? Would you be able to find the strength to stand on your own two feet and figure out what are your own dreams, even if it meant abandoning the security of your marriage?

You looked at her, who was smiling encouragingly at you, and you felt a surge of gratitude for the moment you shared. Maybe it was time to take a chance and see what else life had to offer.

"...Wow! Such wonderful words were not rehearsed before? You're a natural," you praised her. She blushed slightly at that. "Keep in mind that I'll think about it carefully."

"Think about it! Besides, my husband is an idiot and your husband is an idiot, what would you say if... we found that courage between us? That way maybe we won't settle for less," her voice became raspy in a matter of seconds, as she leaned towards you.

"Oh, sure! Keep in mind that I'm willing to support you...-"

"Look, regardless of that silly prejudice I had about you, when we were playing volleyball, and the sweat was running down your tight blouse... oh, you have no idea what it provoked inside me," she confessed. "Today when I saw you put that fucker in his place, I realized, I'm incredibly attracted to you."

You watched her for a moment, and noticed how her green eyes turned dark. Who were you kidding? If you didn't want James to lay a finger on you it was because it was women like Wanda that you coveted with your being to do whatever they wanted with you.

"I'm not going to lie to you, I was only going to volleyball to see you," you whispered, as if you weren't the only souls in that compound.

You weren't lying. You weren't a big fan of going to physically exhaust yourself after the mental exhaustion that being under the same roof as that disgusting man brought you. However, the mere thought of Wanda being there made you become the most passionate athlete.

"Would you be interested in having an affair?" She inquired without preamble.

Every day used to feel like a cycle of dreary routines from which you could find no escape, leaving you with a sense of longing for something different to shake up your existence. You never imagined, however, that said "something" would be an affair with Wanda Maximoff.

Instead, you adopted an exciting routine that was previously calculated, in order to be able to get away with it, and so far, not a soul suspected you.

However, you were also highly involved in the delight of each other's company, so there was no danger in going to the movies, shopping, visiting each other at home to simply read together, or sharing a lunch.

You hoped that, like you, Wanda would also feel that your presence had irrevocably improved her life, for it was evident that you found in her what you knew you would never find in anyone else.

And so the sleepless nights had become somewhat more frequent than usual. They were minutes turning into hours, until the light of a new dawn appeared through the windows of the room.

Your thoughts were mainly shaped by the failure of your marriage, which there was no longer any point in fighting to save, and how it all led to an affair whose most essential rule you had broken: don't fall in love.

Fortunately, you would fall asleep after your idiot husband left the bed and his scent gradually faded away. It was during those nights that you longed to find yourself on Wanda's chest instead, with her intoxicating scent invading your nostrils. For you, it was one of the most effective ways for you to sleep.

"Who is this?" You groaned, after the ringing of the phone had woken you from your slumber. It was when you saw the clock hanging on the wall that you realized it was four-thirty in the afternoon.

"Your mistress," Wanda laughed on the other end of the phone, replacing annoyance with a feeling of happiness that only she knew how to bring.

The more you fell in love with her, the more you knew this was doomed to fail. You could feel the impending apocalypse, the moment when she would break your heart because you were asking for too much. She was the only solace in a world that had lost all meaning, and you refused to lose her.

"Oh," You replied with a chuckle. "Are there plans for today?"

"I'm too excited to see the new Star Wars movie, and I was wondering if you'd like to go watch it with me," she proposed. "I know we went to the movies recently, but I really hope you don't mind..."

"Yes! You'd love to go with you," You exclaimed, with a huge smile plastered on your face. "If you want to go to the movies a thousand times, a thousand times I'll go with you."

"Yay, perfect! I'll pick you up in an hour and a half," she anticipated you. "See you then."

As soon as you hung up the phone, you set about taking a shower, putting on an outfit and applying makeup that would leave you sufficiently satisfied with your appearance. In a matter of effectively an hour, you were fully ready.

You were putting away the mess you had left behind when you heard your doorbell ring, and with great joy, you ran to the front door.

There she was, with a smile even bigger than yours, and she didn't hesitate for a second to throw herself at you and hug you warmly.

"You look beautiful," You complimented her, appreciating her green orbs and full lips that once kissed every inch of your being.

With a slight blush on her cheeks, she looked around, then grabbed the back of your neck and kissed your lips.

As if it was the first time ever, the softness of her lips against yours was an indescribable sensation that never failed to make you melt by her touch and surrender to her.

"And you look divine," she whispered, a few millimeters away, causing you to feel her hot breath as if it were your own.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless and flushed. You looked into her eyes and she returned your gaze with a look that was a mixture of passion and maybe, just maybe, a reciprocated feeling of love.

***

"Have you eaten yet, darling?" she asked, once you stopped in front of the cinema, whose line was somewhat extensive.

One thing you greatly appreciated was that concern which was represented through small actions, as in this case, they were questions of whether you had eaten, and at other times they regarded your sleeping habits or whether you had eaten something really healthy and not just fast food from some restaurant nearby. These were acts that may have been automatic and even inert to her, but to you they meant the world.

"I know that tone you take when you've just woken up," she began, referring to the way you answered the phone. "And since I only gave you an hour's notice, I guess you didn't get to eat."

You laughed at her conclusion, which completely evidenced how well she knew you and how interested she seemed in you, "You got me, but it's okay, popcorn will do."

"Not a chance," she countered, predictably. "Let's get you something to eat, and we'll smuggle it into the cinema to make it more fun," she proposed.

You nodded, knowing that she always found ways to make any situation more exciting.

Together you headed towards a small food stall near the cinema, and as you waited for your order, you couldn't help but feel grateful to have someone so thoughtful and considerate by your side.

Once your plates of food were delivered, you took care to hide them appropriately in your respective bags, and, after purchasing your tickets and popcorn, you proceeded to walk towards the cinema, completely satisfied with your successful smuggling.

Finally, you found your seats in the darkness of the theatre, surrounded by the fragrance of corn and butter. You looked to your side and saw Wanda already looking in your direction. It was there that you confirmed once again that the movie didn't matter as much as the fact that you were there together, sharing a fun moment where you could escape for a brief moment.

The film turned out to be shocking in every way.

From the very beginning, it kept you on the edge of your nerves with its intense and exciting plot. The pace of the film gradually picked up and the tension built up. The scenes were shocking and you were holding each other's hands tightly.

It was then that the unexpected plot twist occurred that left you gasping.

The iconic "I am your father" stunned everyone, especially the woman next to you, who was perhaps the biggest fan of the franchise in this room.

"No way," she whispered, and you noticed her eyes watering. "There is no way!"

You couldn't lie, you were just as surprised. Even though it all started as a way to keep Wanda company, you couldn't help but feel moved. You could say you were even beginning to understand what all the fuss was about.

Once the film was over, she stared into the void for a long time, still processing what had happened.

"Do you want me to drive?" You proposed, somewhat amused at her state, but also willing to help and understand her.

"No no, I'm fine, come on! I'm not a teenager!" She shook her head, heading for the passenger door and opening it for you - a gesture you adored.

"Thank you, ma'am," You thanked her, getting into the car. Once she made her way to the driver's seat, you decided to comfort her a little. "Sometimes you're a teenager... sometimes we are. I think growing up is overrated."

She took your hand in hers, and kissed it affectionately, "I wish it was like that all the time and not sometimes; I wish all the time I could have exciting experiences that constantly make me feel on top of the world. I wish I could give that to you all the time. If only we could get married... I swear I would make you the happiest, as happy as I know you would make me."

"Unfortunately you have Vision and I have James... society is slowly programming us to be another one of the bunch, another model of the housewives we're expected to be," You retorted, feeling infected by her melancholy. "That's why we have this, to escape from time to time."

"But I don't want it from time to time! You know something? I've had it with Vision," she stated, starting her car. "I'm sick of him not touching me, not listening to me, and just watching his stupid show."

Your eyes widened.

You never imagined hearing her say that. Sure, you complained about your husbands and the life they gave you, it just didn't seem feasible for neither of you to leave them.

But in the end, why couldn't you have what Steve and Peggy had, for example? And that's when you knew you could have it, you were just with the wrong people. The biggest question was, if Wanda got this person, was she going to leave you? Was it going to be really you?

And that was your biggest epiphany.

You didn't care if you could never have her the way you wanted her, just having her in your life in any way was more than enough. You wanted her happiness even if it was at the cost of your own, and that's when you realized that what you felt was love at its best.

"What are you going to do?" You questioned, once you came back to your senses. It wasn't until you got to your house that it happened.

"I'm going to take all the money he keeps hidden in that shoe box, get the hell out of this town and start over," she replied. "I've been thinking about it for about two weeks now, but I think it's time."

You felt a lump in your throat as you listened to Wanda's words. You couldn't believe that she was planning to go away and leave everything behind, and that on top of it all, she had her mind completely made up.

You had been through so much together, you had laughed, cried and shared unforgettable moments. But now, it seemed that all that would come to an end. You would return to that monotony where you desperately searched for something that could make the day different from others. You missed your home, your family, your friends... and it wasn't your husband, it was Wanda who made you feel that leaving all that behind was for the best.

And again, if she promised to do her best to find the happiness you knew she longed for as well, then this too would be worth it.

Tears began to well up in your eyes as you tried to keep your composure. You struggled for words, for inevitably, sadness gripped your heart. Goodbyes were never easy.

"What are you doing? Why are you crying?" Wanda asked, taking your face in her hands.

"It's just... I don't want to lose you, I love you and going back to the life before I met you is scary, but if that's what you want, then..."

"Don't be silly, you're coming with me," she interrupted, wiping your cheeks with her thumbs. "Wait, you said you loved me?"

You were surprised to hear Wanda's question, immediately mentally beating yourself up for not having calculated your words, but, to your surprise, you also felt a surge of joy at finally being able to express your feelings.

"Yes, I said I love you, silly!" You exclaimed, as if it hadn't been obvious enough. "Look at this godforsaken mess that you've made of me. You're like a bright light in my life, you're the only one who makes me laugh until my cheeks go numb, you make me feel alive, you taught me colors after I got used to so much black and white, you taught me a language I can't speak to someone else. You're everything I ever dreamed I could find in someone, how could I not love you?"

"We don't need to get married, we don't need a damn piece of paper to be happy. Happiness is the most important thing and we already have it," she said, moving closer to press her lips against yours for a moment. "I love you madly. Thank you for opening my eyes. You were my motivation for coming up with this plan in the first place, now that I know what it's like to really live, I refuse to go back to what came before."

"How are we going to do that?" You inquired, somehow reminding her that you too had an issue to disengage from.

"Meet me at midnight."

Once you returned home, you found the person you were unexpectedly certain you would leave behind in a matter of hours.

He had his feet up on the coffee table, his hair tousled and his tie undone, his eyes too focused on the television, which fortunately were struggling to stay open.

"You should go to sleep, or you'll have a very hard time getting up tomorrow," You suggested, knowing full well that you were only going to earn a complaint.

"It's my problem if I want to stay up all night," he grunted, straightening his posture to wake up a little. Even he couldn't deny that it was in vain.

With a scoff, you dropped your bag on the kitchen counter and headed for the bedroom.

You had to pack as soon as possible so that when James decided to go to bed, you wouldn't be caught literally displacing your entire life in a single suitcase.

You started with your clothes, which you folded into rolls so they would fit more effectively, and proceeded to take your beauty products, hygiene products, belongings that held sentimental significance, and sadly, space only allowed you to pack two pairs of your favorite shoes. It was a huge suitcase, the same one you used when you moved here, and you were even surprised at how much you could fit in it. You guess it was again going to accompany you in a new scenario, this time a successful one.

You heard James' clumsy footsteps approaching the room. By that time, you had the suitcase packed and hidden under the bed, waiting for midnight. It was only half an hour away.

He collapsed into bed, not bothering to change or pull the covers over himself. He just tossed and turned, with nothing else on his mind but sleep as soon as possible.

When the time came, you let out a deep sigh and carefully got out of bed, feeling your every movement like an explosion in the darkness of the room.

Once you felt more confident, you slowly bent down towards the suitcase you had hidden under the bed. Every inch you moved was a huge effort, but you knew you couldn't afford to be discovered.

Finally, you reached for the suitcase and carefully pulled it out. Each movement was as if you were touching a taut string, expecting that at any moment it might snap and make everything fall apart. Likewise, each step you took seemed to be heavier than the last, but without looking back for a moment, you kept moving forward, knowing that you were on the last step of your escape.

You heard footsteps approaching from behind and your heart began to pound.

No, no, no. You refused to turn around and look. You were too close!

You tried not to think about it, to convince yourself that everything was fine, but it was impossible.

Suddenly, a hand landed on your shoulder and you were startled. You turned around to face James, who was standing there, his eyes full of sadness and worry.

"Let me go, James. There's nothing you can do to stop me," you said quietly, trying to hide your fear.

"I know," he said in a calm voice. "I'm not going to stop you. There's no point in keeping this marriage if you're not happy. If I'm not happy. Go with her."

You were shocked to hear those words coming out of James' mouth. For so long, you had been holding back your true feelings for fear of hurting him, and that it would end badly. He already knew that, and he accepted it.

Your expression made him chuckle, "I saw you kissing before you came in," as if reading your thoughts, he confessed what you were wondering. "I just want you to know that I've been watching you for a while now. I noticed how happy you were coming back after spending time with her. Only someone very cruel would stand in the way of that... I'm not cruel, even though I haven't done a very good job of showing it."

You couldn't help but feel some gratitude towards James for being so understanding. It was a strange feeling, considering you were running away from him, but in that moment, you felt that you had finally found someone who understood what was going through your mind.

"You're not the only one who's been seeing other people. I've been seeing... men, too." He confessed, leaving you paralyzed, not knowing what to say. You never would have imagined James would say something like that to you. You felt confused, shocked, and at the same time, a little relieved. At least you weren't the only one who had been hiding something. "You should learn from me, I was careful about it," James joked, trying to lighten the tension in the air.

Finally, you found the right words, "Thank you, James. For understanding me, for being honest. I don't know what's going to happen to me and Wanda from now on, but I'm sure I'll find my way to happiness. And please do whatever it takes to find yours too, no matter with whom it is."

He simply nodded, an understanding expression on his face. "I promise I will, and I hope this isn't goodbye."

James and you hugged each other tightly, sharing an emotional moment that would seal the end of your marriage. It was amazing how this moment of parting was the one where you felt the most respect and compassion for him, and you could tell the feeling was mutual. It would have been easier if instead of condemning each other, you had been willing to understand each other.

Afterwards, he offered to walk you to the car towards Wanda, and you accepted. You walked together in silence, as if you both knew it was better to leave words behind.

The older woman was waiting inside the car, and both James and you laughed as her jaw practically dropped to the floor when she saw you. The confusion was palpable on every faction of her face.

James walked over to her and took her hand, looking at her lovingly, "Take care of each other as only you know how, love each other as you deserve to be loved, because you two are amazing people and deserve all the best in life." He told her sincerely, conveying his flooding desire to redeem himself.

Wanda was overwhelmed by your now ex-husband's words, and nodded tearfully. "Thank you for trusting me with something as precious as the happiness of this one right here."

James gave you one last hug before walking away, and Wanda's gaze was still fixed on him with equal parts sadness and gratitude.

You placed your suitcase in the trunk, and subsequently made your way to the passenger seat.

Wanda asked, "Do I want to know what happened?"

"Long story," you sighed, letting out the air you'd been holding in for far too long.

"Well, we have a long trip waiting for us. There's time," she started the car's engine.

With great excitement, your story with Wanda began this way, the person with whom you were destined to witness fulfillment at its greatest expression.

Together you started a business and lived on it, your daily routines never lacked for adventure and laughter. Every day your love grew more and more, and you never looked back, always moving forward together.

You fondly remember how each sunrise was like a new roller coaster of emotions, always full of new challenges. And in the most difficult moments, when darkness threatened to invade you, you clung to your union, knowing that together you could overcome any obstacle.

And so, with Wanda by your side, living each day with passion and enthusiasm, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be, living your life to the fullest alongside the person you love most in this world.

#candy montgomery #fictional candy montgomery x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen fanfic #love and death #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n

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