#it sends me every time I think about it. god no wonder the brothers turned out like they did | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

helaelaemond · 7 months

Text

Honey on my Tongue - Aemond x reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x betrothed reader

Summary: You’ve been betrothed to Aemond, and he has shown little interest in you during your engagement. It hurts so much, for your heart yearns for him. You can't hold it back any longer

Slightly possessive Aemond. Suggestive situations.

Rating: T

Word count: 1.9k

"Would my lady care to dance?"

You look at the hand held out to you, and glance up at Prince Aegon. He grins down at you, and you take his offer graciously. "Thank you, my prince."

Next to him, the princess watches you curiously, and opposite her, your betrothed, Prince Aemond, keeps his one eye fixed on his brother.

"I think we have an audience," you say quietly, smiling.

"Just as I like," Aegon jokes. His hands are sure against you as you begin the simple dance, stepping in time to the music. At every opportunity, he presses himself closer than is proper. It should bother you - but at least you're getting attention from one prince.

"I do wonder about you sometimes," you tell him when steps bring you closer.

Walking in the correct steps around you, Aegon flashes you another grin. "I am on your mind often, then?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "When you say things like that, a certain curiosity is sparked."

"And is that a curiosity you wish to be satisfied?"

The wine they serve in the Red Keep is stronger than you're used to, and with it brings a boldness that is also foreign. "Is curiosity the only thing you can satisfy?"

He laughs loudly. "Gods, I am sure you think about that often! Should your curiosity ever grow too great to bear, you come and find me."

"And what of your wife?"

Taking your hand, he glances over your shoulder at sweet Helaena, and shrugs. "What of her?"

"How often do you dishonour her?"

"Where there is no love, there is no dishonour. Perhaps you would do well to remember that."

You raise your eyebrow at his implication. There is mirth in his pretty eyes. "Do you think I am destined for an arrangement where love will not flourish?"

Again, Aegon holds you closer than is proper, and his lips are closer to your ear. "My brother is a warrior and a scholar, not a lover. How warm can steel be in a marriage bed?"

There is a tightness in your chest at his words. Perhaps he means only to be charming, to be suggestive, or perhaps he is deliberately cruel. But it is not the elder brother who gives you butterflies. You glance over at your betrothed, and the ice of his glare makes you shiver.

"My lady?" Aegon asks. You've stopped dancing.

"Ah. My apologies, my prince. I think the wine is stronger than I am used to."

"All the better," he answers quietly, and he winks at you. "Should you desire oblivion this night, come to my chambers."

Your face is close to his, and you smile up at him. "I think not, my prince. Perhaps your hand is more curious than I."

Why did you say that? What in the world made you say that? His jaw hangs open in shock at your boldness, and a blush spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. You return to the table where Aemond and Helaena are sat, and where their mother and grandfather talk together quietly.

"Please excuse me, my queen, my Lord Hand. I think I might retire for the night."

Queen Alicent looks at you, and then at Aegon behind you, her eyes wide and searching. "Are you well, my dear?"

"Just a slightly sore head, Your Grace. Nothing a good sleep will not remedy."

Her smile is tight. "Do not hesitate to send for the maester should you need him. Sleep well, my dear."

You curtsey, and turn to do the same in Helaena and Aemond's direction. "My princess, my prince."

Helaena smiles at you, and Aemond's face is as cold as before. You sweep past Aegon on your way to the door, and ignore how he tries to reach for your hand as you pass him.

Out in the corridor, you lean against the cool stone wall, and try to hold back your tears. The soldiers either side of the hall doors keep their gazes forward. You clamp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stay silent. How much distaste looked at you with pierces you.

Since you met him, you have felt a draw to him. Sometimes, you have even managed to make him smile enough to laugh. Each time, the queen had looked so pleased. He doesn't seem to laugh often, but you bring that out in him. What a prize. And then, other times, he barely pays you any mind. He doesn't strike up conversations with you unless you speak first. He doesn't invite you to dance.

Those moments with him are precious to you. To him, they don't seem to matter in the slightest.

Meanwhile, Aegon throws himself at you like a whore. Perhaps, one day, you'll take him up on the offer - if for no other reason than to feel something. To close your eyes under his touch and imagine Aemond. Anything is better than this loneliness, surely.

You have to get out of here. As weak as your legs feel, you overcome the desire to crumple, and quickly, you begin walking down the corridor towards your rooms. Until you are married, your rooms are far from the royal quarters - quite a trek through the maze of the Red Keep. The doors to the hall where you have just had dinner with the royal family swing open and then closed, and footsteps join yours.

"Wait!" a command is barked. "My lady."

You ignore the order. Your betrothed is not yet your lord husband - he does not command you. Well, as a prince, he does. But the tears have begun to stream, hot and thick, from your eyes, and surely that will disgust him.

"My lady!"

Even Prince Aemond's harsh voice brings butterflies to your stomach. His gait is far longer than yours. You won't disgrace yourself by running like a child from him, and so he quickly catches up with you. As you walk quickly, he matches his steps to yours.

"You have no respect, do you, my lady?"

Furiously, you wipe your cheeks. "I have respect."

"Then stop when you are commanded."

"The command itself is not respectful. I wish to retire."

"And I wish to speak with you."

The wine. Blame the wine. "That is quite unusual."

He grabs your arm and pulls you into a shadowy alcove. "Do you deliberately wish to displease me?"

You try to wrench your arm from his hold but he's too strong. "There is nothing deliberate about it, but it seems it is the only feeling I can inspire in you."

He stares at you through the shadows, his purple eye searching, cold, and his jaw set. "And here I had thought you were intelligent."

"Do you often think of me?" Your voice is laced with accusation.

"More than you know."

"I know nothing."

"On that much, we agree."

You try to pull out of his hold again, but his slender hand is impossibly strong, a vice around your bicep. "What do you want from me, my prince?"

"Dignity."

"What, pray tell, have I done that you deem undignified?"

His lip curls slightly. He pulls you closer to him. "You danced with him."

"He is your brother - it would be shameful to decline his invitation."

"And what of his other invitations? Do you accept those?"

Your stomach drops, and your eyes widen. "I know not of what you speak," you lie.

"He is a lecherous beast, not worthy of my sister, not worthy of-"

"Of whom?" you challenge.

His lips pull back over his teeth for a moment. The dim light makes shadows sharp across his angular face. Gods, he is beautiful. Even in rage, he is beautiful. And you do not fear him. You only fear his indifference. "You are my betrothed. I expect you to act as such."

"And how ought you act as my betrothed?"

"As I see fit," Aemond says, each word slow and deliberate.

"What of my expectations?"

He glares down at you. Gods, he's tall. It makes you weak. "What expectations do you have?"

"That my betrothed at least pretends to like my company."

That makes his spine straighten. The hand on your arm loosens slightly, and to your surprise, it trails up your shoulder and lightly touches your throat. It's impossible to breathe under such sudden tenderness. You can feel the callouses on his palm. "Pretend?" he echoes.

You nod stiffly. "I do not need to pretend. You know I enjoy your company. Too much, I think."

"Too much?"

"Don't. Do not do that."

Aemond's eye watches as his finger touches the base of your throat in the soft spot between your collarbones. It's where he gently feels your pulse. It's so quick. "Do what?"

"Do not pretend that you are unaware of my feelings."

"There is no pretence. I know not."

You push his hand away, although the touch has made your skin rise in goosebumps from your thighs to your scalp. "Then you are as blind with one eye than with none."

He snorts humourlessly. "Elucidate for me."

The wine, the wine, the wine. You shove his chest and he stumbles back, caught unawares. "I like you a great deal. And it agonises me that you do not feel the same. It is a humiliation!"

Swallowing thickly, Aemond's expression softens. "Aegon makes you laugh. I do not."

"Aegon is a fool, and makes me laugh as such. But I do not... I do not care... like I do... for..."

"You care?"

You could hit him, you really could. "If you could not tell by now, then we shall never make one another happy."

When you turn away to walk off, he catches you again, and suddenly he pulls you tight against his tall frame, and his arms are around your back, and his face is close to yours. "You make me laugh, my lady."

"I make many people laugh. You could make me a royal fool."

"Do not say such things," he hisses, anger flashing again. "You're my betrothed. Mine."

"I do not want to belong to you like a book or sword."

"Yes, you do." He leans down and whispers against your ear. "You are mine, and mine alone. I am sorry that you did not know that until now."

"Do you say this out of pride or love?" you ask, more bravery in your voice than you truly feel.

"My love is proud. And so too is my betrothed."

"Pride does not drive me, my prince. Only love."

"Do you love me?" he murmurs. It is good he is too close to look at. If he faced you, you would not have the strength to answer.

"I do."

"Not Aegon?"

"No."

He kisses under your ear. You whimper. His voice is so silky. "You will not dance with him again."

"Will I dance with you?"

"Every night until we are wed."

As he winds his arms tighter around you, you press a hand into his hair. "And once we are married?"

"We shall have no time for dancing. I shall have no mind for anything but possessing you."

"You want to possess me?"

He kisses your skin. "Entirely. For already, I am yours."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x y/n #mine #aemond targaryen

2K notes · View notes

lightwing-s · 1 year

Text

𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊__ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐓 𝐈𝐈

pairing: jason todd x villain! fem! reader

summary: they should hate each other, but from how long they each stay on the other's mind, they clearly were not paying attention to that. they took I'll fuck you in the complete opposite direction.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: oh god 6,8k warnings: smut, unprotected sex, chocking, dirty talk, oral sex, foreplay, language

a/n: so yeah, here's finally to part 2! thank you to every single message i got about pt 1, i was so overwhelmed by the response to it that i had to make some time to wrap up the story. also, special thanks to @igotanidea for being the most supportive person I've ever met online and for handling me breaking down over this week while trying to finish this post. to you i owe so much ♡ a/n 2: guys, pls, go easy on me as this was my first attempt at writing smut. so so sorry if this ends up looking ridiculous lol

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

pt i

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

For the past 48 hours, Jason had been absentmindedly searching for Y/n. Searching for signs that everything that happened two nights ago was real, and not just a product of his imagination.

Two mornings ago, he woke up confused, not knowing exactly where he was or how he had gotten there in the first place. He woke up in his brother's living room, laying in his brown leather sofa, shirt missing and head banging from pain, with the extra addition of the sun beaming its morning rays straight into his eyes.

Handing him a cup of warm milk, Dick filled in on how he found him passed out on top of an abandoned building, just as the sun was coming up in the horizon and he was ready to drop his vigilante outfit for the night. According to him, he was already missing his shirt then, his broken helmet was beside his body, and he was the only thing in the otherwise completely empty building, not even his motorcycle in his line of sight. He couldn’t figure out what had happened to Jason earlier, and he only wondered just how the hell did he get there?

Jason couldn’t offer him an explanation, though.

He had a hunch of just who had put him there. But he wasn’t sure. Everything that happened that night, the kisses, the touches, they couldn’t just not be real. They had to have happened, the memories were too clear in his mind for it to be just a dream. It felt too real to be just a hallucination.

It had to be real, or someone had been playing with his mind way too well. The Mad Hatter is known for his devices, Ivy had been on the loose for a while. Or his mind had simply just acquired the skills to produce extremely realistic scenarios in his head, better than any porn he had watched recently.

That or he was just too addicted to Y/n.

It felt massively wrong. Like he was committing the worst of sins, or something like that, he wasn’t really religious to understand. She was a thief, a villain, someone he was supposed to hate and fight against, throw her in jail and never think of her again until she eventually fled Blackgate just like every other criminal in this god damned city.

But here he was. Standing atop some old factory in Gotham, heavy traffic not flowing just below him, while he looked for any clues or indications she was still around.

Someone just radioed GCPD that there’s a drug trade going on in Tricorner Island, he heard through the coms.

I overheard two guys talking about it. Oracle, send me the location, I’m on my way.

Just did it, Robin. Nightwing, how’s north Gotham doing?

Er… Going, his brother answered through the sounds of grunts and punches.

Where’s Jason? Haven’t heard of him all night and…

Before Barbara could say anything else, Jason turned off the coms, not wanting anything else adding up to his bad temper. He didn’t even know why he had come to patrol tonight, as fighting crime was the last thing he had on his mind. Returning his gaze to the traffic below, he let his thoughts wander elsewhere.

The loud sounds of honks and engines reverberated in the air, with the screams of angry drivers rushing their ways home to rest for the night playing along. The muffled sound of an ambulance siren got lost in the distance, hopefully driving someone with a chance of survival to Gotham General Hospital. All of those noises entered Jason’s ear on one side and left on the other, seemingly going unnoticed by the tall man. It was like he wasn’t there. Physically he was standing on top of that building, mentally he was somewhere else. Where, he didn’t know. With whom, though, he had a clear answer.

She had been missing from the streets for a while, but very much present in his mind. Cupid, Y/n, or whatever she went by, lived in his thoughts. The whole entire day, every second he wasn’t busy with something, he was thinking of her. And for that he was a goddamned loser.

Fortunately, or not, he was constantly thinking of something else he was missing too. His precious motorcycle had been MIA since the incident, and was, for some reason, untraceable by the Cave’s systems. Not riding it for two full days was getting to his nerves, and added to the agonizing feeling he had been under lately.

Riding was his therapy, the cure for every troubled time he went through. There was no anxiety attack, no emotional turmoil, no stupid fight with Bruce that couldn’t be erased by a 100 mph drive along Gotham’s damp streets. Not doing so made him feel like at any moment, anything, even the smallest of words, could make him explode.

Alone, he sometimes could hear the roaring of the V4 engine coming from nowhere. He’d look left and right, searching for it, but finding nothing. Loud, explosive, distinguishable. A hallucination, a very realistic hallucination. Very real. Very… Real?

Speeding up the road, he saw it. Cutting through the traffic, dodging cars and other vehicles, he recognized his motorcycle making its way in his direction. It was it, he was sure. There was no universe where he couldn't identify his favorite thing in the world, even from afar. Moving closer to the parapet, almost flying over it, he tried to get a glimpse of who was riding it, but if anyone asked he’d have a guess.

Her. It had to be.

Whoever was on it was dressed all in black, and as it got closer he saw the same jacket he had seen two nights before. Hooded just like his. And, as the vehicle drove past him, the dark helmet turned, looking directly at him. As if she knew he was there. As if she knew he was waiting.

She definitely knew. She knew pretty well all his movements at this point, understood him well enough. How she learned all that, how to manipulate him like this, he didn’t know, but he knew her intentions. As much as she knew him, he got to know about her. She knew he’d recognize his motorcycle anywhere, and she knew he’d want it back.

So, somehow, he followed her.

The neighborhood he found himself in was dark, the streets were wet and the air was humid. Light rain had just started pouring down on him, as he followed the trails left by the mucky tires of his bike, leading him further down the road. He should’ve been more careful, hiding in the corners and studying the place before making his way in. But tonight he simply couldn’t, all sense of carefulness completely gone, being replaced by hot tempered decision making.

Jason arrived at an old abandoned parking garage. The first two floors were empty, dark and smelled of mold and trash. Climbing the ramps to the last floor, though, he spotted the red motorcycle right in the middle of the lot, parked and with its light still on, blinding anyone who’d go in its direction. They stopped him from seeing much else in the area, but considering that the only sound he could hear was from his own boots hitting the concrete floor, he quickly understood he was also alone.

His footsteps echoed through the walls, the muddy lines left by the tires beside him. As he reached the vehicle, for the first time in days, he felt a portion of tension that he was holding onto for a long time, leaving his body. With a heavy sigh in relief, he turned off the lights before quietly caressing the scarlet tank, the leather seat, admiring his most faithful partner in its long awaited return.

“I took good care of her, don’t worry” he heard someone say. Startled, he lifted his head from where it was looking down, and instantly recognizing the voice, he searched for the source of the heavenly sound.

Then, he found her.

Resting against a concrete column at a far end, Y/n watched the outside, the falling rain and the night sky. Where she stood, the moonlight hit her precisely, like a spotlight in a play, like the moon knew no one else but her. Like she was a favorite. The light made her skin glow, her eyes sparkle. It made her look like a goddess.

He didn’t remember her ever looking this good. Maybe he was too blind by anger he didn’t notice, or there was something different tonight. He knew she was pretty, really pretty for that matter. But he was still so intoxicated from last time, so captivated, bewitched. Looking at her now, he knew getting rid of her thoughts would only get harder. Damn it!

Wearing a similar outfit to the one she wore on the underground, he noticed her jacket was open, and a silver necklace decorated her collarbone. The wind blew at her hair, exposing her chest, her neck, her jaw, her lips. Speechless, Jason stood there, admiring her, for way longer his conscious self would be proud of.

Following his silence, he heard her chuckle, bringing him back from his land of dirty dreams.

“You took my bike” he simply stated, mentally slapping himself for not being able to form a coherent sentence.

“A bit obvious, isn’t it?” she replied, finally looking in his direction, smirk glued on her glossy lips. Licking his own, he didn’t know how to reply, preferring to thank her for delivering back his vehicle scratch free. “It wasn’t difficult. I took care of you, didn’t I?”

So it was real, he thought. He wasn’t going crazy. Or was he? One could argue that. Y/n was driving him insane.

“Thank you… for helping me that night” he said. “How did you know I was there?”

“I was following you.” she replied.

“Why?”

Shrugging, she gave him her answer.

Truthfully, Y/n didn’t know why she was following him that night. After they left the subway tunnels she could have gone home, done with the last favor she owned Cobblepot. However, deep down her mind, he was there. And she worried about him. She knew Penguin well, she knew what he could do. And she didn’t want harm getting in his way. So she followed him.

She wanted to make sure he was alright. Why? God knows why. Y/n doesn’t. Or she refused to admit the real answer.

Jason. The sweet name stuck in her mind since he’d given it to her, and she urged to know what he looked like behind the mask. Put a face to the name, as they say. Did he look as fine as his name sounded? As his voice did? As his body would let on?

“You were pretty quiet these past few days” he said, circling the motorcycle and moving her way.

“I took some time to think.” she replied, returning her gaze to the rain.

“About what?”

“Curious much?” she joked, entertained by his need to get to know her. “About my life. Or what’s left of it”

“Hmm. Could have guessed you were working on another plan.” he joined in with a light joke.

“I got plenty of time for that, too.” she threw him a smile, blinding him for a second. “There’s just so much going on right now. Its…”

“Exhausting?” He cut her. “I guess working with Penguin does that to you”

“I don’t work with him” she threw back at him, her tone a bit sharper.

“For him, with him. It all sounds the same to me.” he said, opening his arms in contemplation.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.

“Then explain it.” he requested. “Why do you do that? Why do you…”

“Steal, rob, trade, cause chaos” she cut him off. “I’m broke”

Pushing herself from the column, she moved to rest her hands on the window opening. The way she licked her lips and shook her head. The way her voice sounded ever so slightly broken. How she uncomfortably shifted on her feet after that comment. It wasn’t much of a choice, her way of life was perhaps the only solution. Jason felt sorry, he wanted to get closer, but he knew to stay away for now.

“I’m fucking broke. My family is gone. I don’t feel like working my ass off all day just to get paid in crumbs. So I decided to take my life in a new direction, and it turns out I’m good at that.”

“I’d say, really good at it.” Jason complimented.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to enjoy that” Y/n looked at him over her shoulder and, shaking her head, gave him a smile.

Shrugging, he said: “I like a good challenge.”

Jason liked whatever this was much more than the angry, frustrated talks they had while chasing each other. It was light, fun. He could work well with that.

“By the way. I took it for a ride, hope you don’t mind” she said, resting her elbows on the short wall, and her cheeks on her hands. “That’s a really, really, sweet ride you have there”

Gulp. With air tightening at his throat, he opened his helmet, taking it off and placing it on the tank of his bike. Jason's sweaty hair stuck to his face, cheeks still puffed from the heat after running all the way to the parking deck.

That’s something I would like to take a sweet ride on, Y/n thought, but shook it away as soon as possible.

“What was that?” Jason asked her.

“What was what?” she pretended not to know, begging the universe he didn’t notice.

“What were you shaking your head at?” Eyebrows arched, she knew he noticed. “Like what you see?”

“You’ve been staring at my boobs from the moment you got here and I haven’t commented a thing” she said, turning her face so he couldn’t see her cheeks growing red.

Raising his hands in defeat, Jason tried to change topics.

“It was custom made.” he explained.

“Then you’ll have to tell me who did it, because I might be interested in getting one myself”

“I built it” Jason proudly informed. “It took me a while, but I got it done just how I wanted.”

“Wow” she moved one more time, facing him fully now, and crossing her arms over her chest. “You must be great working with your hands then”

Looking down, Jason stared at his own hands. Calloused, with a few bruises here and there, and desperate to have them exploring all over her. “I have my talents.”

“I see.”

A moment of silence followed. Not awkward, not tense. Just quiet, as both tried to stray their eyes from each other.

“Just don’t put anyone in danger, alright?” was all Jason asked, turning around to leave.

“So you’re really leaving?” Y/n blurted out, not proud of sounding desperate, but desperately not wanting him gone. “Just like this?”

If he was stupid, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight tint of sadness on her voice, or the light touch of desperation ingrained in it. But he wasn’t, he heard it. And mysteriously, it boosted something deep inside him, an ego he didn’t know he owned.

“I have work” liar.

“Do you?” she questioned, walking in his direction.

Jason was already mounted on his motorcycle, ready to turn the engine on. But the sight of her getting closer stopped him from doing anything else. He felt trapped somehow, like something was keeping him tied there. But there was no rope, not chains, not guns pointed at him. Just her.

All the way, her eyes never left his, looking at him through seductive eyes, challenging him, inquiring the truth. However, he saw, deep down, they were also begging him to stay. Watching her every move, lips sore from biting, his mouth hung open when, upon reaching him, she crossed her right leg over the tank of his motorcycle, sitting on it.

Her knees touched his thigh, the space between them minuscule. She was close, oh so close to him. His hot breath hit her face, making her eyelashes move. Her own blowing directly at his lips.

“Do you really have to work tonight?”she questioned him one more time, hands sliding up his tights, eyes hanging low and falling on his lips. His own hands traveling to her waist, as Jason saw himself drawing her even closer.

“Not if I don't want to” he stated in a breath, voice weak and desperate. He could feel his pants getting tighter, and heat building up from his neck.

“Don’t then” she whispered against his lips, hers dangerously close, almost touching his.

“I won’t” he said, one hand flying to the nape of her neck and finally, finally, closing the space between their mouths.

Ferociously, Jason’s mouth wandered over hers, tongue immediately sliding in. He held strongly at her neck and waist, as her hands laid and caressed at his tights. The kiss was wet, hot, and desperate. He wanted to drown himself on her lips, lose himself in her touches. And Y/n was just as needy, as her hands traveled up and down his tights, and her sweet moans filled Jason’s ears like a soft lullaby.

Lifting her legs over his, tangling them around his waist, she drew her body closer, locking the small gap they still had between them and grinding on his clothed crotch, while her hands dangerously made their way to where he wanted them most. Palming his dick, Y/n let out a surprised gasp, as her small hand barely cupped his size entirely.

Y/n already expected him to be big. Looking at his body size, it was an easy assumption to make. Sometimes when they met, she would notice the bulge in his pants and spend the rest of the night just thinking about his potential. And, when they were making out on her guest room bed, she could feel just how big he was.

With Y/n massaging him up and down over his pants, Jason would release deep guttural noises, but never bothered about ever ungluing their mouths. His kiss was sloppy, wetting even her chin. He’d suck at her bottom lip, biting it occasionally. The silvery taste of blood filling his taste buds.

As she tightened her hold on him, he grunted loudly into her mouth. Taking both her wrists with one single hand, he took them away from his crotch and held them tightly behind her back. Lowering her onto the panel, being careful to not hurt her head, he stood on his feet as he dry humped her jeans. The thick fabric of her pants adding to the feeling on her already sensitive clit. WIth her legs still wrapped around his waist, she assisted his movement with some of her own, moaning out his name like a prayer, as nibbled at her neck.

He kissed his way down her neck, sucking and biting on it, certainly leaving his mark on her skin. Knowing the bruises she would have by the next morning only grew his lust, a sense of power in having her marked as his own. With his big hands, he wrapped them around her breasts, picking at her nipples over her shirt. Y/n moaned, arching her back and exposing her neck even more for him to reach places he couldn’t before.

He wanted her stained, body covered in purple, as his little art project. He wanted her mindless, no thoughts in her head, drunk from pleasure. He wanted her under his power, dependent, addicted. He wanted her so bad, so good, so wet for him. He wanted to fuck her here and now.

But he had to wait. Against his own nature, he had to stop, before it was too late.

“Get off” he demanded, raspy voice making shivers run down her spine. Pushing away, he unhooked her legs from around him and with the back of his hand, he tried to clean his lips.

Upon his words, her eyes shot open, confusion and disappointment evident in her irises. Jason had to hold himself as to not fuck her then and there, as she looked fucking desperate for him. Needy of his touch.

“I’m not fucking you on my motorcycle.” he state, handing her his hand to help her off his bike. “I know a way better place for us to go.”

“Are you gonna be able to wait till we get there?” she asked, still breathless from seconds ago.

“You made me wait two days already. I guess I can handle a few more minutes. Can you?” he traded a question, raising one eyebrow at her.

Biting her lips, she rolled her eyes at him and shook her head, looking all messed up still. A part of her told her to go, leaving him hanging with his own ego she knew pretty well was getting inflated by each second she spent under his touch. But her horny side, the one speaking the loudest tonight, just wanted to get its release.

Climbing over the back of his bike, she wrapped her arms around him, feeling the ripped muscles of his well shaped abdomen, and rested her cheek on his back.

Turning on the engine, he looked at her over his shoulder. “Hold tight”

A fan of speed, Jason had a feeling he had never driven faster.

All over the city, he had secret hiding spots where he’d store weapons, money, and gadgets he needed for patrol. Small spots, needed mostly for storage and the occasional stitching up after a tough fight. But one of them was larger, his safehouse, built from two stacked up containers at an abandoned port storage lot. Jason considered it almost like a home, being there most of the time while out of patrol and not being busy with his civilian stuff.

He knew it was dangerous to bring her there, she could very well be tricking him, trying to get deep within his skin and rip something out of it. But every ounce of carefulness left his body the moment he crashed his lips to hers.

Parking outside in the dark lot, they climbed out of his vehicle and Y/n waited as he opened the container’s door. Inside, she was surprised by the tidiness of the place, not something she was expecting to see. It was clean and well organized. It contained a small kitchen, a living room and a bedroom on the opposite side to the door.

Y/n curiousness was heightened. This was so different to what she expected his home would be like. She thought he’d be like every other guy she had met, with a messy bedroom, unorganized book shelves, clothes hanging from everywhere. Sure, she hasn’t been with the type of guys that wouldn’t be messy, but his bunker was a very welcome surprise.

A stack of books decorated his coffee table, the only slightly “messy” thing in the entire unit. Taking the one from the top of the pile, Y/n was satisfied to see the early edition of Jane Austen’s Emma among his recent reads.

On the wall, a display showed a series of guns, knives and other weapons, drawing Y/n’s interest in seeing them from up close.

“Admiring the knives, Y/n?” Jason asked, breaking the silence hovering between them since they arrived in the place.

“You have quite the collection.” grabbing a larger knife in her hands, she turned back to him and continued. “No ropes, but knives. I see you’re into some kinky shit, Jason”

“We all have our thing” he didn’t deny. “Fire, isn’t it?”

Y/n liked cocky and fun Jason so much better than the angry annoying one she’d get most nights. Although she enjoyed annoying him, seeing how frustrated he’d get every time they met, this new calm, tranquil version of him was growing in her heart.

It was hard to admit she had a thing for him, the guy who so desperately wanted to take her behind bars. She didn’t blame him, she knew what she did wasn’t that great. She didn’t have to do it like that, there were other options that wouldn’t have been as “easy”, but wouldn’t certainly get her into this much trouble. But all his trouble led her here, to his home, or she so assumed this unit was.

Almost every night, they’d meet, even if briefly, between all the other chaotic events in the city of chaos Gotham City. And every time they meet, religiously, Y/n would spend the rest of the night with him on her head. There was something about his hooded self, the mystery behind the mask, that attracted her. The fact he would do anything in his power to send her to Blackgate or any other prison added a risk factor that only made him hotter.

Then, she became obsessed. She'd learned his watching spots, always making sure to show up just around the corner. On the day of the Tiffany’s robbery, she knew he was close, and decided to strike before anyone else got close.

She didn’t think he’d like her back though. That night in her apartment came as a very welcoming surprise.

Everything that led to this event came as a surprise too. She was supposed to go home, rest after being done with her last debt to Penguin. But she saw him on her way, tiredly looking beyond at, seemingly, nothing, just waiting for something to happen. And then, she just stood there, watching him under the bridge, watching him fight with the two idiots she had met before at Penguin’s club, and watched him almost getting beat by Solomon Grundy. If she didn’t intervene soon enough, he’d have. But she wouldn’t let him, not under her watch.

Taking him from the floor, she carried his body with much difficulty to her apartment. Not all the way, as she stopped to rob someone’s car to drive him there, ensuring the driver she’d would return the car the very next day. She did, and even left him a thank you letter.

Bringing him home was a stupid idea. At least at first. But when he looked at his cuts and scratches, she couldn’t help the primordial instinct of taking care of him. And when he looked all hot and needy, and when he kissed her passionately, bringing him home was suddenly the best decision she had made in a while.

But she couldn’t let it happen then. She was a criminal, but she still had a moral code. Don’t steal from the poor, only the rich. Help those around if you can. Don’t fuck anybody with the slightest level of unconsciousness due to alcohol, meds, drugs, or whatever. Basic human ethics everyone should know.

She regretted it, of course, as him doing things to her body were all that clouded her mind the entire day, her hands and toys not doing enough to send those thoughts away.

There was also the thought in the back of her head telling him he only wanted to fuck her because she was “hot”. Sure, maybe she wasn’t the prettiest, or had the hottest body, but it seemed like was more attracted to her than into her. She couldn’t say the same, feeling exactly the opposite. She imagined once he’d fucked her, he’d fuck with her and had her trapped and sent away.

She didn’t want him to break her heart. Yet, where she was now, she was waiting for it.

“Penny for your thots… Er-hm thoughts” he coughed, worrying about her sudden silence.

“Nothing important.” she replied quietly.

“Really?” he questioned again, wanting to be sure she was fine. “Anything I can help with?”

He was walking closer ever so slowly. Reaching her, he set his arms around her, on the same table she was holding herself against, trapping her in place and forbidding her from getting away.

Just fuck me out of this thoughts, she mentaly replied, for some reason too ashamed to say it out loud.

His face rested mere inches from hers, and she could feel his minty breath once again.

“I want to kiss you” he admitted. “Can I?”

Biting her lower lip seductively, eyes glued on his, Y/n closed the space between them one more time. This turn, though, the kiss was softer, more contained, yet still as hot. His hand flew to caress her cheek with his thumb, palms resting on her jaw and the nape of her neck.

This slower pace, although really enjoyable, from Y/n perspective just wasn't enough. Her underwear felt sticky from the arousal she had earlier, and her core still twitched in desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer and speeding up their kiss, becoming slowly as sloppy as it had been before.

He held onto her thighs, wrapping them around his waist. The close contact between their cores heating up their surroundings. She grinded on him, begging for some attention down there, as his lips wandered from her mouth to her neck, leaving bites all along.

She could feel his hardening member growing inside his pants, the junction of his bulge and the hard fabric causing the friction against her clit to feel even better. Her moans were becoming louder and couldn’t stop fleeing her lips. Jason, on the other hand, kept his composure.

The tables were turned now, and Y/n was the one desperate for release.

Sliding his large hands under her shirt, he pulls it up her head with ease. He watched her chest heaving under her pink lacy bra, the sight driving him closer to the edge. While he stared, Y/n swiftly slipped her hands down to take off her jeans too, as Jason took the hint and removed his jacket and his shirt too.

Y/n pulled him by his belt, ending their distance to kiss him once more. His hands flew to her boobs, tightening his hold and playing with her hardened nipples. Slowly, he made his way down to the valley of her breast, kissing and sucking every inch of skin he could find. Looking up, they locked eyes, Jason making sure to not look away as he pulled the cloth covering her tit with his own teeth.

The sight couldn’t have been sexier, Y/n not noticing the moan she let out just at that.

Mouth clashing against her soft skin, Jason sucked violently on one boob as his hand played with the other, causing Y/n’s head to roll back and hit the knife display on the wall. Her sudden move dropped a few of his knives onto the table, but they couldn’t have cared less, both letting out breathy laughs over the incident.

When he felt he was done with her breasts, he licked his way down belly, sending shivers down her spine. When he reached the waistline of her panties, Y/n’s breath hitched. The hot air from his breath hitting her core. She watched him attentively, waiting for his next move.

“I can smell how excited you are, Y/n” he commented, eyes glued to her core. “I wonder how you’d taste like”

Y/n had to hold tight onto the table to not let out a scream, Jason’s warm tongue sending jolts of electricity up her spine. He licked up and down her folds, one stroke at a time, driving Y/n nuts from impatience. He noticed her despair, and he enjoyed it thoroughly, slowing his pace even more, taking his sweet time licking at her clit.

“Jay…” Y/n begged, a hand moving to grasp at his hair.

“Pantience, sweetheart.” he mumbled between her tights.

“P-please”

Deciding to attend to her pleas just this once, Jason shoved his face down her soppy pussy, tongue moving at a much faster pace. Y/n’s legs went instinctively to rest over his shoulders, and he grabbed them tight to keep her trembling body from moving. Y/n’s lower abdomen twitched, as Jason devoured her intimacy like a hungry man.

Jason was focused, himself enjoying every moment he spent licking her cunt. Sometimes he would give some much needed attention to her clit, and watch her squirm and shake above him. Her warmth overcoming him, her liquids sliding down his jaw, face all wet from her pleasure.

“Ah, you’re doing so good!”

“We’re just starting, Yn.”

And dropping her legs down, he stood up from the floor, shin glistering. Confusion and disappointment much more evident on Y/n face this time, frustrated with being so close to release.

Jason breaks them apart, Y.n’s head rolling backwards immediately, as she begged for air. For a few seconds, he took some time to admire her pose, boobs hanging out, face crunched from pleasure. But he didn’t waste any time before shoving his mouth on her nipples, drawing a surprised scream from the back of her throat.

“W-why did you stop?” she asked under heavy breaths.

“C’mon Y/n. I’ve never been easy on you. What made you think I was gonna do it this time?”

A smirk on his face, he spread her weak legs apart and stood in the middle, cupping her cheeks and leaning in for a kiss. Y/n could taste herself in his tongue, his soaked face staining her own with her juices.

“Do you wanna go to Blackgate?” he suddenly asked. Not understanding a thing, Y/n just stared at the muscular guy ahead. “Answer me Y/n. Do you wanna go to Blackgate?”

Y/n just shook her head.

“Good” he said, giving her a chaste kiss. Reaching behind her back, Jason grabbed one of the fallen knives. “I guess you won't be needing this tonight”

Gliding the blade carefully up her tights, Jason cut her panties and with a swift movement threw them aside. He grabbed the back of her legs and wrapped them on his waist, propping her up to carry her to his bed.

As she laid in his bed, exposed and vulnerable, she took some time to admire his strong body. Ripped muscles modeled his arms and abdomen, and basically every body part she landed her eyes on. Standing at the edge of the bed, staring her down while holding a knife, he looked dangerous and borderline frightening.

“Tonight, Y/n, I’ll be giving you a sentence.”

Slapping hard at her cunt, Jason’s hand massaged her clit with his thumb as two fingers slid inside of her. “And you’ll leave here a good, reformed citizen”

Y/n couldn’t hold back the loud moans that escaped her mouth. Arching her back, she screamed his name like a prayer. Hands grabbing onto the bed sheets, Y/n saw her mind go blank with her first orgasm of the night.

“Such a good girl”

As Y/n heaved and panted, trying to ease her breath, she listened to the sound of his belt falling to the floor. When she looked up to face him, Jason was stroking his dick, grunting by himself as he watched her struggle to keep herself together. She observed his red tip drip with pre cum, her tongue instinctively hanging out.

“Do you wanna lick?”

She nodded innocently, moving to stand closer, but he pushed her back to fall on the bed again.

“No. Not tonight.” pulling her to him, he slapped his dick on her soft cunt, teasing her entrance with his own tip. “Tonight I’m fucking you”

With one hard movement, Jason slipped his entire length inside of Y/n. She cried out his name, as his thickness stretched mercilessly, the sharp sensation causing tears to form in her eyes. He thrusted hard into her, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.

“Oh, god. F-fuck!” she cried out.

He held her tight for support, pulling her and he pumped his cock deeper, getting lost in the warm sensation of being wrapped inside her tight wet cunt.

“Sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. You’re making me feel so good.”

He watched her clothed tits jumping up, and angrily removed her last clothing item from her body. Palming her breast, he played with them as his thrusts started getting sloppier. H could finally feel his frustrations fading away with every thrust, and as she sang out his name he could feel his release getting closer.

With one last hard thrust, he pushed himself out.

“Turn around” he demanded, and she quickly obeyed.

His hard hand hit her ass, surprising her and drawing out a loud cry. He slid his hand once more between her folds, watching her tremble under his touch.

“Jason, please, please. Just make me cum”

“Not yet, princess” he warned, as she cried in complaint, but as he kept stroking her clit she came undone on his fingers. “Tsc tsc tsc. I told you not yet.”

“I’m s-sorry, Jay. I just couldn’t… you were making me feel s-so good. Aah”

Jason pushed her head down onto the mattress, holding her in place by the neck.

“You better keep yourself together. Or do you want me to send you to Blackgate right after we’re done”

“No, please”

“Then wait till I let you cum” she nodded her head, tears soaking the bed.

He lined himself at her entrance once more, teasing it with his tip and he felt her cum melting on his tip. Snatching her hands from where they were supporting her up, he held them fiercely behind her back, as he made his way deep inside of her.

His cock hit heavily at her cervix. Her wall is tightening around him, sucking him even deeper. He was losing himself on her while he fucked her dumb. After so long trapped in intrusive thoughts and in unholy dreams, Jason felt in heaven. He grunted out her name, thankful for choosing a safehouse so far from everybody.

His thrust were getting clumsy, his dick missing entrance her a few times. As she placed him back where she wanted him most, she thrusted back, giving him a moment to rest before returning his moves once again.

“Jay” she whispered out. “I getting close”

“Shhh. Not now, baby. Just a little bit more.”

Grabbing her by the neck, he yanked her up to meet his chest. Her head rolled back to rest on his shoulders as he gained speed, the new position making him hit her favorite spot. Y/n cried out in his ears, when he fingered her clit for a third time.

He bit and sucked on the skin of her shoulder, holding back moans of his own.

“Jay, I-i” she tried to speak, but he cut her off by crashing his lips to hers. Still clutching her neck, he sucked on her tongue as he felt her nail dig into his ass.

“I’m almost there” he announced, sucking on earlobe. “Just tell me. Tell me you’ll stop.”

His drive never seeming to slow down, he requested, voice muffled her neck. he requested.

“Tell me you stop stealing, robbing, dealing. Tell me you’ll stop, then I’ll let you come”

“I’ll stop. Yes, please. I’ll stop, I’ll stop. Jason, please let me come.”

“Look me in the eye tell me this again. Like you mean it” he demanded, capturing her chin and moving her look him deep in the eye.

“I’ll stop. I’ll be a good girl… just for you.”

Jason’s hands rubbed her harder, his thrusts making her mind go blank from ecstasy as her body melted onto his. The know below his stomach coming undone as he filled her with his seed, her own orgasm makes her body spasm against his hold.

Riding out his high, he pushed in at a much slower pace. Leaving butterfly kisses on her back as he lowered them both to rest on the mattress.

When he pulled out, Y/n groaned, already missing the sensation of him filling her up.

After cleaning themselves, Jason watched her back rising and falling, breathing finally even , her eyes closed as she laid on her belly. It wasn’t a sight he expected to see anytime soon, or ever, really. But he was glad to be seeing it, he was glad she was here. With him.

Getting back on the bed, he pulled her and hugged her from behind. He laid a soft kiss behind her ear, hearing the quiet sound of her breath.

“Do you bring many of his villains here?” she gently asked.

“Only the potentially dangerous ones.”

“I hope you have tapped your night with the Joker then. I’d be really interested in watching that”

Throwing his head back, Jason blurted out laughing. Y/n’s heart beat faster at the sound, wishing to hear it more often.

“Relax. He didn’t catch my attention like you.” he confessed, returning to leave kisses on her skin, something he found himself addicted to. “No one did.”

“Good!” she said, and she tightened his hold onto her middle. “I don’t want your attention anywhere else.”

. tag list (i can't believe i've got one of those lmao, thank you so much for the love you've given this story ♡

@dolliezxo @stevesdick @miraculous-panic @kk00789 @alecmoress @parkjammys @biggetywitch @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @dakotali @theendofthematerialgworl

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd scenarios #jason todd smut #jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood smut #jason todd x female reader

703 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 5 months

Note

Could I possibly request a fluffy Rhys x reader celebrating his birthday?

I found out that Rhys’ birthday is November 20 and he is one of the very few in the SJM universe where we actually know what their zodiac signs are lol

Happy Birthday

Rhys x reader

A/n: I also just found out it’s Rhys’s bday so cheers to the bday boy!

Warnings: suggestive, fluff

Rhys reached out for you, wrapping his arms around your middle to pull you on top of him. You giggle and place small kisses on his neck.

Your mate squeezes you to his chest. “Good morning my love.” Rhys mumbles out. “Happy birthday Rhys.” You sit up, straddling his hips and tracing his face with your fingers. You look down at him with a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

Love twinkling in your eyes as you drink him in. Your mate. Husband. Love of your life. The most powerful high lord. And he’s all yours. You planned on appreciating him all day making sure he knew how special and loved he truly is.

“I can’t believe the Mother blessed me with you 537 years ago. I love you baby, so gods damn much.” Rhys is beaming up at you with that same soft, loving look. He gently grabbed your wrist turning his face to press a kiss to your palm.

“Thank you darling. I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.” You lean down to press your lips to his full ones. It starts slow, sending an overwhelming amount of love down the bond.

Before the kiss can get heated you move across his cheek, down his jaw and neck. You trail your tongue down his torso, kissing and nipping at him down to the band of his boxers.

—

After your euphoric morning in bed you took a bath together where you pampered Rhys. Washing his hair and giving him a massage.

You had Cassian and Azriel take Rhys out for brunch. You wanted them to avoid the cabin since you were setting up for the two of you tonight.

Elain and the twins were making his cake, Feyre was helping you with decorating, while Mor and Amren went to pick up his gifts.

You paused for a moment to take in the hustle and bustle of the house. Everyone is happy. Like there isn’t a single thing to worry about.

Good. They all deserve peace after everything the family has been through. Especially Rhys. You didn’t think he’d be here for this. You didn’t think you’d ever see him again.

You felt tears pricking your eyes. You wipe them with the back of your hand, placing one of Rhys’s many cards on the mantle.

Feyre wraps an arm around you pulling you from your thoughts as you adjust the other cards. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” You look at her, a wide grin on your lips. “Nothing, I swear. I’m just…I’m really happy. Thank you for all your help today it means a lot.”

You hug each other tight. “I’m happy to help. He deserves a good birthday.” Pulling back from Feyre you give her another smile. “I’m happy you’re here Fey.” “Me too.” She whispered.

—

The boys came home around sunset. From their overly joyous attitude you could tell they had a fun time going on their bar crawl of Velaris.

Dinner was a wonderful time. The twins out did themselves with the meal, Elain’s cake was delicious, and the toast his brothers gave brought tears to your eyes. You could tell Rhys felt loved surrounded by his friends and family.

He wraps an arm around you placing a kiss on your temple. “Thank you. All of you. I am truly grateful for you all sticking by me through everything. And to you, my mate,” he says sweetly staring at you with unending adoration. “You celebrate me every day but today you’ve gone above and beyond! Thank you darling.” His lips meet yours in a soft kiss.

“If anyone deserves it it’s you baby. To Rhys!” You say raising your wine glass. “To Rhys!” Everyone around the table cheers, raising their own glasses and taking large swigs of their drinks.

As the night started to wind down and everyone headed to bed you kept Rhys in the living room. Standing from the couch you hold his hands, pulling him up. You give Rhys a mischievous smirk. “What are you up to my little vixen?” He teases. “You’ll see.” You tease back.

Darkness envelopes the two of you, transporting you through space and time to your home away from home. Rhys looked around seeing the ambiance you had spent all afternoon setting up. He smirks down at you again. “Is this my second gift of the evening?” He drawls.

You let out a hum, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I grabbed a few bottles of the good wine, why don’t you go to the bedroom and get ready for me, yeah?” Rhys growled with anticipation. “Anything you say darling.” Walking down the hall Rhys throws a smirk at you over his shoulder that tells you not to take too long. You smirk back as he uses magic to slowly shut the door. Seductively unbuttoning his tunic as he disappears. You had never rushed through the kitchen faster.

205 notes · View notes

itsasainz · 1 year

Text

Girlfriend Treatment | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Summary: You've been holding off on becoming Trent's girlfriend, but there's nothing like a bit of peer pressure to change your mind.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings/tags: smut, fluff, trent being the loml

mdni please :)

a/n: I love taa. thats all.

masterlist!

His breathing is heavy in the crook of your neck, lips damp and soft on your skin, your own breaths ragged as you come down from your high, flushed and warm from the moment, your eyes trained on the light above your bed and the fact that you shouldn’t be doing this. You run your hands down the plains of his back, smiling to yourself at the fact that he hasn’t pulled away. “You need to get to training,” you say, “Match day and all that.”

You can feel his hesitancy as he pulls away to sit back on his heels, hands trailing along your skin. “Can I shower here?”

You nod, “I’ll start on breakfast.”

He leans forwards and kisses you, just a peck, before getting out of bed and disappearing into the bathroom, leaving you blushing in your messy sheets. God, he’ll be the death of you.

You drag yourself out of bed and pull some pants on, grabbing his t-shirt as you head to the kitchen, swearing when you see the time – lunch it is, you guess. You’re familiar enough with his pre-match routines to know what he’ll want to eat and how long he can stay. Caught up in your thoughts – of him, and his match and whether you’ll agree when he inevitably asks (again) whether you’ll be there. You’re plating up when he reappears in his joggers, shirtless, smiling at the sight of you in his clothes; if the match goes well, he’ll probably want to fuck while you wear his shirt, and you’ll almost certainly oblige.

Sure enough, he asks while you're sitting at the table. “I’ve got two comps left,” he says, “Please come – bring Hannah, if you like.”

You glance at him, "That sounds like WaG behaviour – not your girlfriend, remember?"

"Darlin', you know that fact's entirely on you, right?"

“Who else is going?” You deflect.

“Just my brothers.”

You mull it over; if anything, his brothers are good fun, and you’ve got no plans. “I’ll think about it,” you say, “but I’m not wearing your shirt.”

“That sounds like a yes,” he teases, taking your empty plate, “You’re coming?”

You lean back in your chair, watching him start to wash up, “I said I’ll think about it.”

Even with his back turned to you, you can feel his smile. “Don’t think too hard, you’ll hurt your head.”

“That’s my line,” you scoff, standing up to join him at the sink. Absentmindedly, you find yourself leaning your cheek into the top of his back, your hands sneaking around his middle. “Let me ask Han if she’s free, mkay?”

His soapy hand finds yours. “Can I have my shirt back?”

“I like this one.” you mutter. “I’ve got a ton of your other ones in the drawer, though.”

He wipes his hands on a tea towel, then turns to hug you back, leaning back against the edge of the sink. “I was wondering where they’d all gone.”

You smile at him, “It would be such a shame if you never got them back.”

“I need to go, sweetheart.”

You kiss him. “Don’t miss me too much.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “See you later.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

When he’s gone, taking one of his other shirts and promising to text you after training, you lie on the sofa, texting your friend to see if she can come to the game – last time you went without a friend, someone took a load of photos of you with his parents, and the rumours had been circling for weeks after.

From Hannah: I have that work dinner, remember? Yk I’d rather come to the game, but I can’t miss it.

To Hannah: Shit, I forgot. Don’t worry about it, have fun at the dinner <3

With a few hours until the game, you shower and text Trent to send you a ticket, taking your mind of the anxiety about getting spotted again by getting ahead on some of your admin for the new year, deliberating for a little too long on what to wear, knowing you’ll wear something similar to what you’ve worn to every other game you’ve attended in the winter – a thick coat and jeans, probably with a red top so you don’t stand out too much from the sea of Liverpool supporters.

Tyler picks you up just after six, and you find yourselves sat in the box early with some of the other players' friends and family, watching the warm ups while Marcell catches you up on his current girl troubles and the argument he had with Dianne the other day; you've heard about it all through Trent already, but you don’t mention that to his brother, instead getting Tyler to bring you a drink from the bar.

The first half is both awful and brilliant at once: Leicester City's early goal throws the Scousers off a little, but the two own goals cheer the home crowd right back up. Trent disappears back to the changing rooms during half time, and you chat some more with his brothers – at this rate, you'll have gotten an entire family history out of them by the time the game ends. He comes over for a couple of minutes right before the game starts up again, looking all sweaty and waving to his brothers. You go to the barrier and crouch down to talk to him.

"God," you mutter, "You reek of sweat."

"'S almost like I've been playing football."

You smile down at him. "Good luck – you're playing well."

His eyes are adoring, though you won't let yourself admit that it's you he's looking at like that. "Gimme a kiss?"

"In front of everyone?" You frown, "And with you smelling like that?"

He stares at you for a few long seconds, and you cave, opting to press your lips to his cheek before pecking him on the lips. "Go get 'em."

He moves away from you as you stand, leaning your elbows on the barrier to watch him weave through players to get back to the pitch, chatting to Robbo on the way. Back in your seat, Trent's brothers are looking at you with quizzical expressions.

"I thought you weren't together." says Tyler.

"We're not." you mutter.

"He hasn't asked?" Marcell chips in.

"Oh, he's asked." you say.

"Why'd you refuse then?"

You want to sink into the floor. "When he asked, it was just after all those photos came out, and I was super freaked out about having my life turned upside down by the idea of everyone finding out I'm dating Liverpool's golden boy."

"You just kissed him in a stadium of 50,000 people."

You can feel your face going red. He raises a good point – you've gotten past the panic of having your face fleetingly in the tabloids, and it's not like you and Trent don't already act like a couple – he even took you to Qatar with him and introduced you to the actual WaGs.

The second half drags by, but Trent plays well until he's taken off, right at the end, and you can tell he's unhappy with the overall performance. You check your phone when the game ends, aware that it's going to be a long while before you leave, surprised by the bunch of texts Hannah had sent you.

From Hannah: I wish I was at the match this meal is so boring

From Hannah: omg not the own goals

From Hannah: ummmm since when were u kissing trent in PUBLIC?!?!!?

From Hannah: wife him up

To Hannah: what?? where did u see that??

She sends you a link to a tweet by some LFC fan who must have been sitting in the seats above the box, because beneath the words "UM TRENT WHO ARE YOU KISSINGGG???" are a bunch of photos of you crouched down to talk to him, recognisable by your coat but thankfully without your face in them – the time stamp shows that it must have been posted within minutes of the interaction, and you're almost impressed.

Tyler sees what you're looking at and scoffs. "Jesus, that was quick."

"Right?" You laugh. "At least my face isn't in it."

He nods, "Better than last time, eh?"

The two of them bid farewell once the stadium's cleared out, knowing Trent will drive you home, and make you promise to drop by at some point before the next game. Once they're gone, you spot Hendo's wife and go to say hi, the two of you catching up until, at long last, Hendo and Trent reappear, having showered and done their interviews. Trent hugs you tight when he sees you, his warm hands slipping under your coat and pressing into your skin.

"Proud of you, T." you say, earning a satisfied smile. "Wanna grab something to eat on the way home?"

He agrees, walking with his arm over your shoulders, chatting to Hendo on the way to the car, signing a couple of autographs on the way out, smiling for the lingering fans. They don't pay you or Rebecca much notice, you hang back until they're gone and Trent finally unlocks the car.

"Chinese?" You offer on the way, "My treat?"

He laughs, "What's gotten into you? Two public appearances in one evening?"

"Going to the local Chinese place is hardly a public appearance." you argue.

"I'd love to." he says, stopping at a red light. You smile to yourself, for once filled with utter confidence in everything about this relationship – or, more accurately, suddenly able to acknowledge that this man loved you and wanted to be with you, even if he'd never put the former into words.

He parks on the street in front of the takeaway, grabbing a menu from the counter and joining you to deliberate about what to order in the corner by the window. You spend five minutes um-ing and ah-ing only to order what you always do. You insist on paying like you'd send you would, and sit back down beside him.

You turn pointedly to face him rather than the counter. "T," you begin. Fuck, who'd have thought you'd be so nervous about asking a question you already knew the answer to? You need to find a segue. "Have you seen the photos?"

"Again?" he asks, the concern immediately clouding his face – he saw the anxiety you went through last time, and it makes your heart flutter to know he holds that concern for you.

"Relax, my face isn't in them," you say, getting the tweet back up. He inspects the photos, instinctively smiling at the little moment.

"Why are you so okay with it?" he asks.

You shrug. "There's no point in getting stressed about the same stuff twice."

"Wise." he teases, squeezing your thigh slightly.

"I'm practically Oogway." you say, making him laugh. "Seriously though-"

Your order is called, interrupting you. He goes to get it, unlocking the car as you take the bag from him. In the car, he sends you a worried look as he turns the engine on. The takeaway sits on your knees, warm on your jeans.

"What were you going to say?" he asks.

You tell yourself to let tonight last a little longer. "Oh, uh, nothing. Let's get home, yeah?"

He parks on the street under your flat, waiting diligently while you fiddle with your keys and grab your mail from the pigeon hole, greet an elderly neighbour and insist on taking the stairs.

Once inside, he helps you grab the chopsticks and drinks before settling onto the sofa, cross legged with the news on in the background.

"Listen," you say, "I've been thinking."

"Don't tell me you bought me dinner just to break up with me."

You panic for a second, "Oh my God, no, of course not! In fact, kinda the opposite."

He leans against the sofa behind him, looking a little smug. Bastard. "Oh yeah?"

"Don't tease, okay? I need to say this."

His eyes don't leave your face as you put your meal on the coffee table. "Go on."

You face him, "T, I maybe like you a bit – well, a lot – more than I ever planned to, and, like, I was thinking a lot over Christmas and stuff, but I wish I hadn't been so anxious when you first asked me to be your girlfriend, 'cause I don't want to be thinking about what the fucking Mirror are saying about us when they're irrelevant to us, as like, people. You’re one of the most important people in my life and every time we spend time together I'm just reminded of how lucky I am to have you in my life, and of how bloody dumb I've been. Anyway, this is a very long way of saying something simple: I love you, and do you want to be my boyfriend?"

Trent has a soft look on his face that makes you flustered. "For real?" He mutters, mostly to himself, as he takes your hands. He pulls you to him so you're forced to straddle him and takes his sweet time kissing you, hands on your waist.

"Is that a yes?"

He laughs, "You're cute, y'know? of course it's a yes, love."

You blush. "Does this mean I get girlfriend treatment now?"

His lips, ever so gentle, ghost over your neck, "My sweet, sweet girl, let me show you just what kind of treatment you get now."

You are, as ever, putty in his hands.

Gently, he moves you so that you're under him, kissing your neck and murmuring endless kindnesses into your skin as he undoes your jeans, pulling them down to expose your thighs, the fabric tangling around your ankles. He pulls back, seemingly reluctantly, to pull them off your legs completely, and repositions himself so he can kiss you on the soft flesh of your inner thigh, leaving teeth marks and bruises in his wake, hands preoccupied with your bra and removing your top.

Ever the tease, his kisses only graze the fabric over your core, hands teasing your nipples. You sigh, getting frustrated with his not-quite touches.

His lips finally attach to your core through the lace of your pants, finding the fabric damp with your arousement, his mouth wet over you. His mouth on your panties elicits a moan from you, breathy and sweet. His hands disappear from your chest for a moment before you feel the slight sting of him tearing your underwear off, leaving you exposed to him as he kneels on the floor, your legs over his shoulders, hands in his locs.

He is systematic with his assault on your core, knowing your every weakness and slightest tells, his tongue toying with you, teeth grazing your clit slightly, making you twitch with pleasure around him. He presses his fingers into you, relishing in the way you contract around him, letting out another moan, this one louder, less restrained as he unravels you, bit by bit, like an animal toying with its prey. You're bucking into him more now, trying to use the pressure of his mouth on your clit to create a rhythm, unsatisfied with his slow teasing – he knows, instinctively, that you probably don't even fully realise your doing it. He uses his fingers to set a pace, still teasing, still unpicking you, slow and steady.

His other hand holds your hips, keeping you pressed right into him, allowing him full control over you in your most vulnerable state, moaning as you come undone for him. He can tell from your shaking that your close, that it will only take a few strategic movements to have you coming on his face, and he is more than happy to push you over the precipice, feeling your moment of tenseness, muscles contracting with absolute pleasure, before you breathe again, heavier, warmer, trying to make sense of your situation as he plants kisses on your sensitive skin. He kisses his way up your stomach, kissing you when he reaches your neck. You're still trying to catch your breath, the kiss sloppy and messy.

"T," you murmur, shivering at his every touch. "T, need you."

He hums, "Mmm, I'm not doing this for the first time as your boyfriend on the sofa."

You giggle. "I don't think I trust my legs right now."

"I got you," he says, "You know I've got you."

He picks you up, your arms still wrapped around him, and takes you to your bedroom, apparently unbothered by the weight or inconvenience of carrying you across the flat.

He lays you down on your bed, still unmade from the morning, and pulls his top off, trousers and boxers following. Hovering over you on the bed, he kisses you again, relishing in the feeling of your fingertips on his back, the sensation inciting something guttural in him. Only you can do this to him, pull him apart with just the lightest of touches. You take pride in that fact.

His touch is firm, and your thighs, still sensitive from his abuses, warm at the feeling of his hardened length pressed to them, precum decorating your fingers as you reach down to aid him, your thumb toying with his tip as he kisses you, open mouths and desperate, your other hand on his neck, pulling his ear close to your mouth.

"Please, Trent," you murmur, "Please."

He moves your hand from his length, lining himself up with your core, lips refinding yours as he pushes in, nearly coming right then as you gasp into his mouth, letting out the prettiest of moans as he bottoms out in you, unable to keep your composure under him.

He moves slow, not necessarily soft, but he draws out the experience, making the most of every gasp and moan, lips never leaving your skin, your nails digging into the muscular smoothness of his back. He could die at the feeling of you under him, around him.

He returns one hand to your clit, toying with you to edge you closer to your climax, the feeling of your convulsions around him bringing him closer too. He pushes you over the edge, riding you through your orgasm and into his own, grunting into your skin as he breathes you in, loving every sensation of you on him. He could live in this moment for eternity.

Your kiss on his forehead brings him back to the world. You, fucked out under him, hair a mess, smile lazy. "Boyfriend."

He relaxes on top of you, careful not to lean too much weight on your chest – he'd hate to suffocate you – and kisses your jaw. "Girlfriend."

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #taa66 #lfc #itsasainz

1K notes · View notes

dawneternal · 1 month

Text

Just a Favor | pt 3 | Gwynriel

✦ Sorry this one isn't as polished as the others 💛

✦ Warnings: Nesta says bad words lol

✦ Word Count: 1.1k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Azriel slept far better than he would have predicted. But he woke early, just as the first hints of pink washed through the sky. And his stomach churned, fingers cold with nervousness.

He had left her there.

Somehow, in all of the whirling thoughts and emotions of last night, he had not considered how she must have felt about being left there. Now, it was all he could think about.

He found himself padding to Cassian and Nesta's room. He knew they'd likely be pissed but he couldn't stop himself. He opened the door silently, as was his habit, and stood still beside the bed, too panicked to feel any shame over his half-clothed friends.

"I left her there," He said into the silent room. Nesta's eyes opened and she flew into a sitting position with a fierce scowl. She clutched the blanket around herself. Cassian did not move but he growled loudly.

"What the fuck?" Nesta croaked.

"I kissed her and then I left and I didn't say anything," Azriel continued.

"Yes, I know," Nesta grumbled.

"So she probably hates me," Azriel buried his face in his hands.

"She doesn't hate you," Cassian mumbled against his pillow.

"But I-"

"Azriel," Nesta said, firm, "She doesn't hate you. I talked to her after you left. She's just confused. Just send her a note, okay?"

Her voice softened by the last words. Then she smiled and bit back a laugh.

"I'll be happy to talk to you when the sun is up and I'm not naked," She said.

"You're naked?" Cassian sat up, took one look at Nesta, then threw a spare pillow at Azriel. "Get out, Az!"

"Alright, alright," Azriel grumbled and dodged the pillow.

"Next time talk to Rhys," Cassian called as his brother left the room, "He has a toddler, he's always up this early."

Azriel penned a quick note and had his shadows carry it to Gwyn's nightstand.

I'm sorry I left. I hope you enjoyed your first kiss despite my strange behavior. I'll explain when I can.

What the shadows did not report was that Gwyn was already awake, writing in her journal by fae-light. Her eyes opened wide at the sight of the shadows twirling around each other, carrying a little paper between them. They hovered near her, waiting for her to take it.

"Thank you," She whispered, plucking the note from their hold. They disappeared into nothing, and Gwyn wondered if they had gone back to the shadowsinger or if they had stayed to watch her and report back to him.

Either way, she opened the note, reading the careful handwriting several times. A smile bloomed on her face, accompanied by a soft blush. She could not help the leap of her heart, the wild hope that started to grow there.

So he did have something to tell her.

"You're probably wondering what this is about," Azriel said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

The three sisters exchanged looks between them before turning toward the solemn shadowsinger. Each bit back a smile.

"Go on, Az," Feyre said softly. Azriel took a deep breath before speaking again.

"I have a mate," He announced, shrinking into his shoulders as he said it.

Nesta smiled, a genuine grin that revealed her dimples and bubbled over with joy. Feyre squealed and clasped her hands together. Elain smiled, tilting her head to the side and crying out, "Oh, Az!"

Azriel grinned at the floor, blush creeping over his cheeks. The same blush that insisted on returning every few minutes for the last 24 hours.

"Who is it?" Feyre whispered, as if the culprit could be listening. Nesta and Elain leaned in, eyes gleaming.

"Gwyneth," He said savoring the name on his tongue.

"Oh thank Gods," Nesta put a hand on her chest, "If you had said another name I don't know what I would have done."

"What?" Azriel furrowed his brows. He noted that none of them looked very surprised.

"Nothing," Nesta waved him away, "Keep going. What do you need us for?"

Feyre and Elain hummed in agreement.

"Well, since you're all mated, I thought I would ask for advice. About how to tell her," He said, wringing his hands, "I guess I have the upper hand in that way. Rhysand was all on his own."

Feyre smiled, blushing at the memory of her temper and poor Rhysand trying to win back her favor.

"It may not have been ideal," She laughed, "But it's a memory we laugh at, now. I don't really think you can mess this up, Azriel."

"That's what I'd thought about Rhysand," Az chuckled.

"What about Lucien, Elain? How did he do?" Feyre asked.

From the way Elain's face turned deep red and she began to stutter, it was clear that Lucien must have done alright. At one point, that may have made Azriel jealous. But right now, he just wanted to know how Lucien had done it.

"I think she'll just be happy to know," Nesta said softly, thinking of the hope in Gwyn's eyes the night before.

"What if...." Azriel trailed off, too shy to name any of the worries cycling through his head. This whole thing had driven him to be more expressive than usual but it was still a struggle.

"You've been good friends for a long time, now," Elain pointed out, "I don't know her like Nesta and Feyre, but I still think there's a very good chance she'll return your feelings."

Azriel gazed up at her. The longing in his eyes was painful to look at.

"Listen," Feyre said, reaching out to take hold of his hand, "Just take her somewhere pretty and tell her the truth. Nothing fancy, nothing wild, just you and her and the truth."

Azriel repeated the words as a whisper, mind whirling with ideas.

The ladies stayed a while longer, helping him brainstorm and congratulating him a few more times. And offering some advice about what he should wear.

When their meeting was over, he found himself reaching the front gate at the same time as Elain. She paused and looked up at him, her eyes alight. She looked lovely, hair loose and little flower earrings dangling from her ears. Azriel thought of the time so long ago when they had been in a similar position. Then, she had been a rosebud. Something closed off. Now she was a blooming rose, thriving and overflowing with beauty and contentment.

"I'm happy for you," She said, smiling up at him.

"I'm happy for you, too," Azriel said sincerely, "You glow, now."

"I found my sunshine," Elain's eyes glittered, "And I think you did, too."

42 notes · View notes

starrgaziinggg · 1 year

Text

DON’T LET ME LOVE YOU | hwang hyunjin

royal au | prince hyunjin x princess reader

PART ONE -> the code (7k words)

directory

"I think it's a code."

You turn slowly to the younger boy sprawled out on the sofa beside you, your eye twitching.

"I established it was a code sixteen minutes ago!" You whisper shout, trying not to make it obvious that you were scheming with your best friend. Jeongin throws his hands up in defeat, a cheeky grin plastering his face.

Hyunjin's third note had been delivered to you thirty minutes ago, yet you were still trying to decipher it. You'd even grabbed Jeongin from his duties of god knows what to read this damned note, yet he was also at a loss.

The first two notes Hyunjin had Minho send since his grand departure had been relatively easy to understand. He'd said he missed you, he was training well and he'd be home before you knew it. This one, however...it was causing you some issues.

The note read, "At late, I think of you, quarter to two, by the river and the Dew."

And that was it.

After rereading it over and over again, and even going as far as to flash a blue light on it in case of any invisible ink, you were stumped. You had no idea why he'd write something like that, especially when you couldn't write him back to ask him to explain what the hell he was talking about.

"I think the whole exchanging notes thing is dumb, anyway," Jeongin says with a tilt of his head, his bright blonde hair falling to the side as he inspected the note for a final time before putting it down on the sofa. "Cringe times a million."

"Will you ever quit with the Hyunjin hate train?" You groan, flopping against the back of the sofa in your bedroom. "He's done nothing to you!"

"He exists," Jeongin seethes, squinting his eyes. "That's enough to set me off."

You pick up the note again, reading it one last time before you decide to give up. Everything about the note seemed off, from the weird capitalisation to the poem itself. You just couldn't put your finger on why.

"And that Minho guy," Jeongin continues, unaware of the fact you were hardly listening to him. "He's a real piece of work. You know he stabbed me once?"

You roll your eyes, not bothering to look up at your best friend. "You punched him first, remember?"

"He punched me but with a knife!" The younger man counters, his eyes going wide.

"You tripped into him whilst he was holding a knife, it was just unfortunate that he was holding it in a way that pierced your skin."

Jeongin gives you a blank stare. "Okay miss 'I'll remember every detail of every encounter I've ever had', lay off," he whines, kicking his feet up onto the sofa and sprawling out. You scoff at him as he makes himself comfortable, the cogs in your brain turning at one hundred miles per hour.

Quarter to two? The Dew?

"And Hyunjin really needs to learn how to capitalise," Jeongin continues on his tangent. "Dew doesn't need a capital letter, the imbecile. Did he even go to school? Or did he spend his childhood stabbing people like Minho."

His comment makes you wonder something. Hyunjin was entirely the smartest person you'd ever met, save from maybe your older brother. He wouldn't capitalise a random word without it meaning something.

"Hold on, Jeong - pass me the two notes on top of my dresser?" You ask him, rolling your eyes when he scoffs and kicks up a fuss from the instruction. He fulfils it none the less, picking up the two carefully folded notes and handing them to you.

The first thing you noticed was that this third note was crumpled up, not neatly folded like the other two. You doubted Hyunjin would be pleased with Minho for that one, but then when you opened up the two old notes it was plain to see the difference between the two.

Whilst the handwriting on both was similar, there were clear differences. The most recent note was messier, less careful, and when you looked really closely, some of the letters had been written differently.

"Hyunjin didn't write this last note," you say cautiously, turning the new note in your hand. "Look, the handwritings different."

"Maybe he was just rushing to write this one before he left," Jeongin offers an explanation, but you shake your head.

"No, look at the way Hyunjin writes his lower case 'A' - he does that fancy thing at the top. I've genuinely never seen anyone outwith the royal families write their 'A's like that," you reveal, and he squints as he analyses the paper.

"Oh yeah," he says out loud, looking between the new paper and the old ones. "I definitely don't write mine like that. Another reason why Hyunjin's a freak."

You give your friend a deadpan expression. "I write my 'A's like that."

"And that's only okay because I like you," Jeongin says happily, sporting a huge grin. You ignore his comment, continuing your analyses of the notes.

"If Hyunjin didn't write it, Minho must have," you say. "The only person who knows to send me notes is him."

"How is he even sending you these without your father finding out? He inspects the Mail daily," Jeongin asks, tilting his head.

"Minho apparently has a 'friend' in the summer court, one of the mail boys - Felix, I think his name is," you shrug, explaining what Hyunjin had told you.

"That's surprising," Jeongin says, his eyes widening. "Minho seems the type to swear off any members of the Summer Court."

You shrug again, genuinely unable to offer Jeongin an explanation.

"So, if Minho wrote this, then what the hell does this code mean?" Jeongin ponders out loud. "To me, it sounds like some sort of meeting point."

You screw your eyebrows at him, wanting him to continue his theory. He shifts, holding the new note and pointing at the words.

"Look; a time, and a place. Quarter to two, by the river," he says, looking up at with a frown.

"You might be a genius," you say quietly, not wanting to boost his ego too much. "But where along the river? It runs through the whole damn Court."

Jeongin stays quiet, thinking, until you both look at each other.

"The Dew pavilion," you both say in unison. The pavilion was one of the oldest structures on your land, and it stood proudly next to the river that ran through the whole of both Kingdoms. It was quite near the border and was where you held the May Parade every year.

"Why didn't I think of that?" You mumble, impressed you'd managed to decode the message.

"Because it's weird as fuck. Why would Minho want to meet you at the Dew pavilion at quarter to two?" Jeongin questions, running a hand through his bright blonde hair.

"Who knows, but it must be important. He's never wanted to talk to me before," you point out, unable to ignore the sick feeling at the pit of your stomach.

"I'm sure your darling prince is fine," Jeongin says, as if able to read your thoughts. After spending almost every day together, he practically could at this point. "He's the strongest soldier in that army by miles."

"I know, I know," you sigh, tapping your feet against each other. "I just feel as though something really bad is happening."

By the way Jeongin stays silent, you know he's feeling the same way. Your best friend had a sharp tongued rebuttal for everything.

"I think our best bet is to find this Felix guy and ask him about the whole thing," Jeongin says, breaking his silence to put you at ease. "See if Minho said anything when he gave him the note."

"Yeah, but I have no idea who he is," you say, groaning. "He doesn't hand me the notes personally, just puts them in a lose brick at the back of the castle, so neither of us get caught."

"I might have an idea of who he is," Jeongin thinks out loud. "There was a Felix in the year above me at school, I wouldn't be surprised if it's the same guy."

"Well, I can get the route of the mail delivery from my dads office and we can see where he is right now," you say, picking up the notes as you stand up and placing the first two in your bedside table drawer. "He shouldn't be two far away, since I just got this note a half hour ago."

"Sure," Jeongin says, hauling himself off of your sofa. "It wasn't as if I was up to much today, anyway."

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, so I may or may not have been told to help set up the grand hall for the ball on Saturday with the servants, but fuck that. That's no job for a Royal Guard."

You roll your eyes at him. "Might I remind you, you're only a Royal Guard because I practically forced my father to give you the title to allow you permission to enter the palace at free will."

Jeongin scoffs, waving his hand. "I actually miss sneaking around. It's so boring now that I can come and go as I please."

You don't bother responding to him, knowing that he was more than grateful you'd managed to convince your dad to allow Jeongin to be deemed a Royal Guard. Jeongin had been trained in combat, and spent almost all his free time with you anyway, so there was no reason not to bestow the title to him.

You recount the times he'd have to scale the castle walls to tumble into your bedroom to see you when you'd been grounded back in the day, disallowed to enter palace grounds without a title - be that of a servant, maid or guard amongst others.

Your father isn't in the palace for the foreseeable, instead out gallivanting with his mistress of the minute, disguised as an 'important off-palace rendezvous.' It didn't matter much to you, as it meant you could retrieve the files you needed from his office with ease.

You'd picked the lock to his office numerous times, and as you shush Jeongin and use a hair clip until you hear the lock click, you thank yourself for learning the skill. You push your fathers office door open with ease, allowing Jeongin to enter behind you before pushing it shut again.

"Okay, let's make this quick before a guard catches us," you say quietly, silently walking over to his filing cabinet where you knew he kept all the mundane information about the going ons of his kingdom. Quickly, you turn to the 'm' section, finding the Mail route with ease.

You pull out the necessary file, flicking through the pages until you get to the page that has the time stamps and which corresponding area of the kingdom the mail is being delivered to at that time. Checking your watch, you notice it's 10:43am, so you find the time stamp.

"Valerie's Place," you read aloud the street name, dubbed that after your past Queen; your great (times however many) grandmother. "Then after that Farrow Crescent and Sloane's Avenue."

"We may as well go straight to Sloane's avenue and catch him there," Jeongin suggests, keeping his voice hushed. "By the time we get there, he'll probably already be there."

"True," you say, closing the file and replacing it before checking the coast is clear and heading back out onto the landing, re locking the door with the same hair pin and pulling Jeongin down the corridor. "Come on, we've got to hurry."

"Hurry where?" You hear as you collide into a large figure. Jeongin walks straight into the back of you, and you look up to see your older brother staring down at you.

"Nowhere of your concern, Chan," you respond, sticking your tongue out at him. He tilts his head at you, flicking you gently on the forehead.

"It is my concern. Since father's away, I'm in charge," he states proudly, as if it realistically means anything. Your brother and you had always been quite close, though he liked to reinforce his 'older brother' status often.

"Don't care, I'm going out," you say matter of factly, grabbing Jeongin's wrist and pulling him along behind you.

"Bye Chan!" You hear Jeongin yell from behind you, and you turn to throw him a nasty look. He'd always got on well with your brother, which drove you up the wall when he was annoying you.

The two of you weave through the flurry of servants bringing items into the large ballroom on the first floor of the palace after you rush down the grand set of stairs, trying to avoid getting scolded for running about in the palace. Jeongin follows close behind, opening the main door and holding it open for you to both exit out of.

"I hate balls," you say, unaware of how dumb it sounds until Jeongin bursts out laughing. You scowl at him, choosing to ignore his childish behaviour. "I have to attend every single one and dance with loads of icky guys."

"That's why I swoop in and save you," Jeongin beams, walking quickly down the stairs to the entrance of the palace and following you over the bridge to the main entryway. "But I won't be needing to do that anymore, now that you have your Prince Charming."

"He won't be at this ball," you remind him, an sense of sadness overwhelming you at the thought. "So you'll still have to save me."

"My rightful duty," he salutes you as you both continue walking through the palace courtyard until you reach the main village. The streets are filled since the sun is shining, and people greet you continuously as you pass them. You nod and smile politely as you walk, taking a turn at the top of the village which you knew would lead you to Sloane's Avenue.

Just as you suspected, you see the Mail boy up ahead, delivering letters to a cottage at the bottom of the avenue. You turn to give Jeongin a look.

"Is that the same guy from school?" You ask him, and he nods eagerly. You walk up to him cautiously, attempting not to startle him.

"Felix?" You question, watching him whip round at the sound of his name.

"Your highness," he says instantly, bowing due to customs. You smile politely at him in return. "What can I do for you?"

You take a deep breath before answering. "Sorry to interrupt you, I just have a couple questions about this," you say, pulling out the note and showing it to him. He reads it cautiously, screwing his face up. "I was wondering if Minho said anything when he gave the note to you?"

Felix seems to think for a minute, before nodding. "He said something about it being important, and he kind of seemed to be in a hurry to give it to me and leave again. Told me to deliver it as soon as I could."

You nod, thankful that you were on the right lines about the note and it's importance. "So Minho wrote it?"

"That's his handwriting," the blonde haired boy states, pointing towards the note in your hand.

"Sorry if this is too personal a question," Jeongin speaks up, after staying relatively quiet during the encounter. "But how do you know Minho in the first place?"

Felix looks between you and Jeongin, his shoulders slumping. "It's meant to be a secret, but we're cousins."

Your mouth almost gapes. Minho's family was known of a high status in the Winter Court, so the fact he shared family with the Summer Court is completely frowned upon.

"That's..." you start, unable to find the right words.

"Illegal, I know, but there's nothing that can be done now. His family has already renounced mine and my parents were imprisoned for years," Felix explains, a horribly sad look plaguing his face. You place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Im so, so sorry that happened to you," you say, and you hope he knows how sincere you are. If it was up to you, the whole situation between the two courts would have been made peaceful a long time ago. It was as if your father and Hyunjin's enjoyed carrying along the tradition of hatred between the courts.

"It's not your fault, princess," Felix says to you, and you feel Jeongin placing a hand on your arm.

"We should probably get going if we're to meet Minho at quarter to two," Jeongin says to you, leaning into your ear. You check your watch, the time displaying 12:04pm, and you realise he's right. You'd probably have to take horses to be able to meet Minho on time.

"Thankyou so much for your help," you say warmly to Felix, watching his blonde hair bounce as he nods his head. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me."

"It's no problem. Any friend of Minho's is a friend of mine," he smiles kindly, and you allow Jeongin to thank him as well before you turn on your heel to leave.

"That was informative," he says matter of factly, matching your quick pace as you follow the same route you took to get here. "Felix seems like a nice guy."

You hum, nodding. "Yeah, he does. At least we're on the right path."

Jeongin gives you a quizzical look. "Of course we're on the right path, this is the exact way we walked to come here."

You feel like pushing him over for his ridiculous comment, but you refrain. "I meant figuratively, dip shit. Anyway, the next plan is to get our horses and meet Minho at the pavilion."

Jeongin groans loudly as he walks. "I hate that damn horse. It always tries to force me off and never does what I tell it."

"Roger is not an it," you say, your tone full of disgust. "Yeah, okay he might be a bit more unwilling than the other horses, but-"

"Oh please," Jeongin cuts you off as you turn towards the palace stables, following the path through the meadow. "Your horse adores you!"

"That's because I treat Juniper with love and respect," you say pointedly, watching Jeongin roll his eyes at you. When you reach the stables, your beautiful hazelnut coloured horse greets you, pushing her nose into your hand to greet you. Jeongin has less of a nice interaction, his horse Roger not even looking in his direction as he approaches.

Jeongin sticks his arms out as if to say, 'see?', and you shrug in response, opening Juniper's gate and starting to saddle her up. It's not long until the two of you are riding easily towards the pavilion, racing each other through the woods. The trees start to dissipate and soon enough, you're in the open clearing, the large pavilion in sight. The two of you are pretty worn out from the long ride as you dismount from your horses, allowing them to graze freely in the surrounding areas knowing they won't go far.

When you check your watch, you're right on time.

Ten minutes later you check your watch again.

When there's still not a single sign of Minho after almost two hours, you give up. Jeongin had given up a long time ago, sitting cross legged on the grass and attempting to make the worlds longest daisy chain. You kick a rock in his direction, feeling defeated, as you stand up.

"Let's go," you sigh, grabbing your stuff and looking towards the direction of the Winter Court one final time. Jeongin stands up, brushing flowers and blades of grass off of himself.

"You've finally given up on Mr. Crack My Code?" Jeongin teases, stretching out his limbs. You push him gently, snickering as he stumbles backwards. "Did that make you feel better?"

You nod. Because it did, even if it was just a little bit.

"At least we got away from the palace for a day," Jeongin says as the two of you walk towards your horses in the distance. They're both grazing lazily by the river, enjoying what's left of the sunshine. "Minho's wild goose chase did grant us that much. Every cloud."

"It still seems off to me," you say, climbing back onto Juniper and beginning the slow journey back to the stables, Jeongin on your tail. Literally. "Maybe we got the code wrong?"

"I dunno," Jeongin sighs, equally as disspointed as you are, pulling his horse up so he's right beside you, falling into step with your pace. "I feel like it couldn't have meant anything else."

You don't respond, utterly defeated by the whole thing. Honestly, you'd been more than excited at the prospect of this small adventure, figuring out what was going on. Excitement dissolved your worry that the whole situation was a bad one, and now that you didn't feel that excitement anymore...

"If you want," Jeongin starts, noticing your foul mood. "I could sneak over to the Winter court tomorrow and try and talk to Minho myself."

Scoffing, you give him a side eye. "That's gonna be near enough impossible, and you know it," you remind him. Minho, as Hyunjin had told you, spent almost all his time in the winter court palace, and now that Hyunjin was away, you could expect Minho was taking over a lot of his duties. There was no way on earth Jeongin would ever be able to get his attention and hold a conversation with him without being spotted and consequently reported.

"I'd try," he responds, looking at you in a way that tugs on your heart strings, because you know he would. Despite his feelings about the winter court - feelings that had been uprooted in him due to his deep Summer court lineage, he would still do whatever he could if it meant you'd be happy. He was your best friend, after all.

"It's alright," you say, dismissing the subject. You'd never allow yourself to put him in danger like that. The two of you keep relatively quiet for the rest of your long journey back, keeping your pace gently as to not overexert the horses.

It doesn't take you long to arrive back at the stables, feeding your horses and giving them the rest they need. Jeongin follows you up to your bedroom for the second time of the day, trying to stay out of the eye of your servants who were, more than likely, furious that he'd abandoned his duties of helping them set up for the ball.

He was unsuccessful, though, getting sufficiently called out when you both went into the dining hall for dinner with your brother. He'd been expertly scolded by your head maid, though it was nothing he couldn't get out of with some sweet words and a dimpled grin.

Jeongin was more than accustomed to spending the night sleeping on your sofa, so he didn't even think about refusing the offer when you asked him. You wanted his company, after the dampener your previous events had put on the day. Even as you attempted to sleep, the white light of the moon glaring through your window a stark contrast to the pitch black night, you held that note up, attempting to find something you couldn't find earlier.

It was to no avail, though. There was nothing you hadn't already though of. You place the note to your side, sitting up against your head board. Jeongin's sleeping frame is directly opposite you, his chest gently rising up and down as he breathes. It's peaceful for a second, and you think you could perhaps fall asleep, until there's a harsh sound against your window.

Bolting upright at the noise, you rush to Jeongin's side, jolting him awake with a harsh push. He gives you a groggy shove back until he hears the noise himself, scaring him into wakening up.

Then, your window slides open, and you have to physically stop yourself from screaming.

Jeongin already has his sword in hand, reacting to the situation much faster than you. He pushes you behind him gently, walking towards the open window with his sword pointed at the perpetrator.

Minho almost gets his head chopped off. You recognise him instantly, your goosebumps fading when he climbs through your window with ease. Jeongin lowers his swords, scoffing.

"You trying to beat me up for the second time, Yang?" Minho says snidely, dusting himself down and closing the window behind him as if he'd done it a million times. You and Jeongin share a look.

"What the hell?" You question out loud, running your hands through your hair as your stress subsided.

"Nice to see you too, princess," Minho says, plastering a fake smile onto his face. "This is such a great welcome."

"Maybe if you hadn't, I don't know, snuck into my room whilst I was asleep you'd have a more cheerier response," you say snarkily, unable to help yourself. He had just scared you half to death, is all.

"You should be commending me for my superior skills in bypassing your guards and making it into your bedroom undetected," Minho counters.

Jeongin sheaths his sword now that he's decided there's no imminent danger, and takes a seat at the footboard of your bed. Minho takes his own on the sofa, moving the duvet Jeongin had been sleeping under to the side. You join Jeongin at the edge of your bed.

There's a weird period of silence where none of you speak. This is the first time the three of you have ever been in a room together alone, so you all kind of eye each other up, unaware of how to proceed.

It's Minho who breaks the silence, clearing his throat to grab your attention.

"So, you didn't understand my code, then," is all he says, as if it's no surprise to him. Jeongin scoffs at the same time you frown.

"We did, actually," you reply distastefully. "Meet you at Dew Pavilion at 2, we got the message."

Minho raises his eyebrows. "So why was I standing at your blessed pavilion at 2am by myself?"

Jeongin and you only share a look, rolling your eyes at each other. "Why the hell would we take that to mean 2am? We were there at 2 in the afternoon waiting for you!"

"Why the fuck would I be there at 2 in the afternoon?" Minho fires back, raising his voice to a hushed shout. "Do you want me to get arrested for trespassing on Summer Court land in broad daylight without due cause?"

"In hindsight, you should have probably put a more distinct time frame on your note," you point out. "Or maybe not written the note in code at all? Your cousin goes to lengths to deliver them in secret for a reason."

"How do you know Felix is my cousin?" is all Minho responds with, which Joeongin replies;

"Spoke to him today. Nice guy."

Minho gives him a look, turning to you. "Yeah, well, hindsight is a glorious thing," he responds sarcastically, ignoring Jeongin. "If I had more time, I would have tried to arrange the whole meetup better. Nice to formally meet you, by the way."

"Nice to meet you too," you say, trying your best to show how genuine you are. You were trying to make a good impression on Hyunjin's best friend, after all. "What on earth is going on?"

Minho sighs, seemingly preparing himself for what he's about to say as he runs his hands through his dark hair. "This is gonna be a lot to take in, so bare with me."

"I think we can handle it," Jeongin says with another scoff. You elbow him, trying to remind him of his manners, but Minho doesn't bat an eyelid, which you find unusual. In the brief encounters you've shared, Jeongin and Minho usually make it their lives mission to get the last dig in.

"Basically," Minho starts, looking up at you both with sincerity. "I overheard some pretty deep shit yesterday. Like, 'this could change our lives forever' shit."

You nod your head, willing him to go on. He looks between both you and Jeongin before continuing.

"I've had to take on a lot of Hyunjin's duties since he's been fulfilling his six months of training," he explains, which you figured as much. "It meant I've been in the palace even more than usual, talking to a lot of our courts higher ups."

"Are you just trying to show off, or is this actually going somewhere?" Jeongin asks, and although you should reprimand him, you're actually thinking the exact same thing.

"I'm trying to give you both some insight as to how I got the information I'm about to tell you, so that you actually believe me," he says exasperatedly, raising his eyebrows. "What I'm about to tell you is so top secret even I wasn't supposed to know about it, and I know everything."

You choose to ignore his cockiness, nodding your head and tapping your foot in anticipation. "Is Hyunjin alright?" you can't help but ask, your mind racing to a million different horrible things.

"Your boyfriend is fine," Minho tells you, so sincerely that you don't bother correcting him on the fact that you and Hyunjin technically weren't in a relationship. "This is more about you than him."

"So?" Jeongin says impatiently. "Spit it out already."

Once again, Minho ignores Jeongin’s jeers, which unnerves you. "It's about your father. There's...there's a plot - ongoing for a while, I heard - that Hyunjins father wants to overthrow him."

You blink a couple times, speaking before thinking. "That's not so unusual, those two have been wanting to take each others crowns since the dawn of time."

Minho nods. "Yeah, but this is different. Hyunjin’s father didn't need to send him to train. It's obvious Hyunjin has the experience he needs to be a fucking war veteran without doing the simple army training course that the Winter Court insists on. Even I almost got pardoned, since I was well versed without it. But the law is that every male in the Winter court has to fulfil the training, unless physically unable or..."

"Or what?" you ask impatiently.

"Or a member of the royal family," Minho finishes, and you lean back slightly. "I didn't even know that until I started researching it properly yesterday, so I highly doubt Hyunjin knew. There's another reason Hyunjin’s father wanted to ship him off for six months."

Jeonging taps your knee with his hand a couple times to comfort you. "I overheard a meeting yesterday," Minho continues. "Hyun's father brought up a proposition to your father last month - it was kept quiet, as it wasn't properly supposed to be fulfilled for years yet. The proposition was to create an alliance between both courts."

"My dad would never agree to that," you say firmly. "Not after the atrocities your court committed against us in the last war. He swore he would never see peace with the Winter Court after you had my grandmother killed."

Minho blinks at you a couple times, trying to figure out a way to tackle the conversation without being insensitive. "I know that. But Hyunjin's father thought if he relayed the benefits of an alliance with your dad, he could make him see his point. In all honesty, The Winter court is struggling. We don't have enough land for our population and most of the land we do have is unliveable. We desperately need the use of the strip of land at the border which we're forbidden to build on."

You had no idea about any of this. Unless Hyunjin didn't actually know, which is a long shot, he must have been keeping it from you for whatever reason.

"So the plan was to, what? Form an alliance between the courts solely for the gain of your court? Our king would never agree to that," Jeongin points out.

"Exactly, which is why Hyunjin's father set an ultimatum," Minho answers Jeongin. "It was either an alliance or war."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your court was strong, but the Winter Court was notorious for being skilled in combat. Even your father knew you'd probably be destroyed if another war ever broke out.

"So what came of it?" you ask. Minho takes another deep breath.

"The alliance wasn't baseless," he says. "It wasn't just a 'let us shake hands and make up' type thing. Hyunjin's dad wanted the alliance to be binding. So, he proposed perhaps the most binding thing he could think of."

You look at Minho expectantly.

"The marriage of you and Hyunjin."

Jeongin chokes on his own tongue from beside you. You feel heat rising to your cheeks at the same time.

"Hyunjin's dad wants us to get married?" you spit out, shocked. Minho nods in response.

"For the benefit of his court, yes. Obviously he doesn't know about your thing you've got going on," he replies. Jeongin gets a grip of himself, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Did her dad agree to that?" he asks Minho, who shakes his head firmly.

"No, he didn't, and from what I heard Hyunjin's father left in an outrage with no improvement on his plan, until yesterday."

"What happened yesterday?" you ask, now fully invested in what Minho was telling you. You'd never been allowed to be this involved in your countries on goings before.

"This is the part you're not gonna like," Minho says, looking straight at you, his face grim. "Your brother paid us a visit yesterday. From what I'd witnessed, it was obvious Hyunjin's father was being serious about the whole, 'going to war' scenario. Then, all I saw was your brother leaving out the back exit of the palace and it was as though all talk of war had ceased."

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. "That doesn't make any sense," you breathe out, looking towards Jeongin. "Chan? Chan wouldn't betray us in any way."

"I'm not saying he has one hundred percent done anything to go against you," Minho says, leaning his elbows on his knees as he speaks. "It just seems extremely fishy is all."

"I agree," Jeongin says reluctantly, looking to you sincerely. "You how much I idolise your big brother, but one second Hyunjin’s dad is prepared to go all hairy canary on us and the next Chan visits him and he chills out?"

You almost laugh at Jeongins dumbification of the events, but there's nothing funny about this. Minho would never have risked his life coming to tell you this if he didn't deem it important.

"Yeah, it's..." Minho trains off, not knowing exactly what to say. "It doesn't look great."

"But why would Hyunjins dad have had to ship him off to military training while all this shit is going on?" you ask, not really understanding how that came into play with all of this.

"Hyunjin has been advocating for peace between the courts since he could talk," Minho says simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Even the mere mention of war and Hyunjin would have made every effort to shut down his fathers plan. Honestly, I think Hyunjin’s father just wanted to keep him out of his way during his shady scheming."

You nod your head. From what you've heard of Hyunjin's dad, from both Hyunjin himself and everyone else, he wasn't a nice guy. This didn't phase you one bit.

"So what do you propose?" Jeongin asks after a couple minutes of silence, the three of you keeping to your own thoughts. Minho sighs, resting himself against the back of the sofa.

"I think this ball isn't going to be any ordinary one," Minho says confidently, referring to the ball taking place at the week end, which your servants had been preparing for. "If something's going to happen, it will be then. I think if we stand any chance of figuring out what the hell is actually going on and want to get together a solid plan to stop anything seriously bad from happening, we've got six days to do so."

"Six days?" Jeongin responds, his brows flying upwards. "That's fuck all time."

"With no less crude way to put it," Minho says, glaring at the younger man. "Yeah. We're kind of screwed. Especially without Hyunjin - he'd know exactly what to do right now."

As much as you had been missing the man you'd been growing feelings for over the past however many months, it was obvious Minho was feeling kind of lost without him too. You'd feel the exact same if Jeongin were to be sent away.

There's no way to tell how much time passes as you sit there silently, willing yourself to figure out a way to be able to get a proper grasp of the on goings between the courts and figure out a way to stop it from coming to a dramatic (and probably deadly) climax. It's a good while later when Jeongin speaks up, throwing his hands down in frustration.

"If we've got any chance of finding out what's going on, we need to dedicate the next six days of our lives to this," he says, shaking his head and looking between both you and Minho, his face rightfully expressing that there was no other option. "If it was up to me, I'd be hiding out in seclusion until the ball and trying to find out as much information about this shit as I possibly could."

He's got a point, and it's clear Minho's in agreement when he nods his head slowly, his eyes glassy as he thinks.

"I hate to agree," he speaks up. "But you're right. Hyunjin's the next ruler of his fucking court and he currently has no idea that there might be an impending war, or something even worse. Nothing's going to be achieved if I go back, you guys stay here and we cant fucking do anything about this. We may as well just forget about this whole thing, in that case."

"My father isn't returning until Saturday, the day of the ball," you point out, looking to Minho. "If that's for some ulterior motive - I don't know, but it does mean I have some leeway about my whereabouts."

"You're thinking what I'm thinking?" Jeongin asks, grabbing your attention. You shrug in responds, which makes Minho huff, since he obviously can't read your mind.

"Care to enlighten me?" He says. Jeongin speaks up before you do.

"We actually could dedicate the next six days of our life to this," Jeongin says simply, reiterating Minho's words. "I have a house near the border - extremely secluded - that we used to spend weekends at when we had nothing better to do. My parents lived in it during the last war, and - not to indulge you in a history lesson, passed it onto me when they passed away."

It was true. The last war between the courts, your father was seventeen. It was one of the most brutal and long lasting wars the courts had ever seen, and it saw the death of your grandmother and your father becoming the youngest king of the Summer Court for generations. Jeongin's family had always been very closely related to the royal family, so whilst Jeongin's mother hit in their secluded home by the border, his father fought on the front lines. They both passed away and Jeongin was left to the care of his extended family who lived near the palace, which is why you'd grown up so close to him.

"So your saying you could basically live there for the next six days and figure all this shit out?" Minho asks, clearing up Jeongin's words.

"And you," Jeongin says reluctantly, his voice low, as he looks up at Minho through strands of bleached hair. "We'd need your help. So if you could, you could stay with us."

You admire Jeongin for putting down his preconceptions of Minho, knowing he was doing the right thing by extending an invite to him. It was obvious that you did need him, after all. You could only do so much from your end.

Minho actually gives Jeongin a half smile. "I'll see what I can do. If I can figure something out, I'll let you know. It'll be pretty hard for me to be able to leave my duties for a week, but I'm sure I'll be able to manage."

You nod at him with a smile, deciding that that pretty much concluded the late night rendezvous. There was a lot you had to think over and consider - the seemingly impending war and your dad’s contribution to it, Hyunjin’s father and his proposition, your brother being a potential traitor...

It was a lot to take in for a Sunday night.

Jeongin stands up with Minho, giving him the address of the house, and you think Minho must be pretty credible if Jeongin trusts him, since yesterday Jeongin wouldn't have gone near him with a ten foot pole. Minho nods at him and then at you, and you make your way over to the window to let him attempt his master escape route.

"When you get down, take the back gate just to the right of the fountain," you tell him. "There's a clear path that takes you to the Winter Court five times quicker than any other route. Plus, it's the route you're least likely to get caught on."

He blinks at you a few times, a habit you've noticed he has, before nodding and opening your window, making sure to check his surroundings outside first. Before he makes his way outside, you stop him, grabbing his attention.

"Why are you helping us?" you can't help but to ask. Hyunjin had told you time again that Minho wasn't fond of you. Your court hadn't treated theirs with much respect, either. Minho, from your point of view, had no reason to not just let these plans be seen through without your knowledge.

Yet, he takes the time to stop halfway through the window, giving you a half smile. "I know how much you mean to Hyunjin. And he's my brother, so whether I like it or not, you're stuck with me by default. Plus, I kind of don't want to be a witness to the destruction of both our home courts."

You only nod, your heart filling from his answer. "Thank you."

And with that, he's gone, stealthily making his way off palace grounds without notice. Jeongin motions his head being blown up to you, his hands at either side of his skull, and you laugh at him.

"Well that was certainly eventful," he says, flopping back onto the couch as you make your way back into your bed, though you really don't think you'll be getting any sleep after that. "Maybe our week won't be boring ball preparations after all."

#hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #stray kids #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #jeongin #lee know #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids hyunjin #skz

205 notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 1 year

Text

Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug - Chapter Two - Series

Summary: Since joining the team, Wanda Maximoff has captured all of your attention, even if she has no idea about this. In a six-part story, you'll do your best to give her everything she needs and maybe she never thought she deserved it. Along the way, you two might end up realizing you were in love with each other the whole time.

Warnings: (+18), Friends to lovers, smut in the last few chapters, slow burn, conversations about self-love and individual worth, mentions of anxiety, past trauma, avengers being a family, canon-fix, a lot of magic. Words: 5.246k

General Masterlist || Series Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad

--//--

Chapter Two - Wanda Maximoff needs a therapist

"I'm not hungry."

It would be strange to say that you knew she hadn't eaten anything for at least 12 hours, because you were sure it would look like you were monitoring her, and it was the complete opposite of that. You noticed her, it was different.

Shifting the weight of your feet hesitantly, you put down the tray of food. "Okay. Can I still eat next to you, though?"

It’s Wanda's turn to hesitate. She doesn't want to send you out, to block you off. She really doesn't want to. But today, it's officially been six months since Pietro was dead, and she wasn't feeling the least bit sociable.

Still, you stared with puppy dog eyes, and Wanda was giving you space to get in before she even thought about it.

You didn't eat quietly - You filled the silence of the room with as many things as you could talk about. About the team, about work, about television. Every joke was an attempt to make her smile, and it was only at the first laugh that Wanda began to cry.

"God, I'm so sorry, I'm such a mess." She tried to disguise her own tears, wiping her face with the sleeve of her blouse and evading your gaze. But you moved away from the table and knelt in front of her on the carpet. Gentle hands on her knees.

"Talk to me." You asked in a whisper. "I'm right here for you."

Wanda collapsed. She doesn't think she had ever cried so hard, not since Pietro was gone. She just couldn't stop - He was gone and it was forever. Nothing would ever change that. And with each passing day, she seemed to miss him more. She wondered when it would get better, and you, holding her in bed against your chest, hands caressing her back until she stopped sobbing, said it wouldn't.

"I'm sorry." You said immediately. "There is no magic formula. You lose someone, and the pain gets numbed with time, but it never goes away. The thing is, you're not going to face it alone anymore. I'm right here."

She sobs. "What happens when I lose you too?"

You huff softly. "I'm fucking immortal, what are you talking about?" You tease, managing to make her laugh past the crying. She hides her face in your collarbone, perhaps it's closer than a friend should get, yet neither of you makes any mention of pulling away. A moment later, you comment, "If you want, we can go to the memorial. Pay tribute to him."

Wanda nods, exhaustion falling on her body, forcing her to fall asleep. "Thank you." She whispers and is asleep before she hears your reply.

It's not difficult to get released from the missions to go to Sokovia next weekend. Wanda has the impression that you have blackmailed someone.

In fact, the country no longer exists. It is a very sad trip for her, despite your thoughtfulness.

Everything she knew was gone, and now all that was left was a black stone with the names of the victims. It took her almost ten minutes to find her brother's.

The words she muttered were not so familiar to you, and with your hands in the pockets of the thick coat you were wearing, you waited for Wanda to finish her prayers before commenting:

"I didn't know you were a religious person."

She gives you a sad smile, instinctively intertwining her arm with yours, and you don't mind one bit. "I'm not, but our parents were. Jewish. Pietro tried to follow their faith for a while, but when you grow up in the midst of war, orphanage to orphanage, sometimes you lose your connection to that kind of thing."

You blink in surprise at the information, but nod in understanding. Walking side by side down the old street, you let Wanda guide you to a coffee shop you saw on the way.

"What do you want to do now?" You ask, once inside, sitting at a table in the back.

Wanda smiles sadly. "I think I just want to lie down and not move."

You swallow dryly, hands moving to hers on the table. "I think you should talk to someone."

Wanda frowns in confusion, "I'm talking to you."

You stroke her fingers, drawing patterns that shiver her skin. If you notice, you don't say anything.

"I meant..." You almost hesitate, not wanting to press too far. But Wanda has been your friend for six months now, and you care enough to say. "I'll always be here, of course, but I don't know what to say very often. You should talk to someone, a professional, who will."

Wanda is surprised, really. She doesn't have any kind of prejudice toward therapy, it just never occurred to her, especially due to the way she grew up. No one had time to listen to any of her anxieties in the midst of an armed conflict.

The possibility of solving her problems sounded almost absurd. It made her laugh with nervousness.

"What? Like... therapy?" She needed to confirm, and you nodded immediately.

"I did it for a while, I really needed it." You counter. "You know Sam has a veterans support group, right? We've all been through some pretty bad shit, Wands. It's important to deal with it in a healthy way. Natasha was in intensive therapy for a long time after the Red Room, and so was Steve when he got off the ice. Tony and Clint do follow-ups to this day for PTSD."

Wanda gathers her hands from yours, suddenly very exposed. Very vulnerable. "I don't...I don't think that's a good idea."

You don't push. Never. Instead, you smile at her and nod. "All right then. Let's order some breakfast."

But when you get back to the compound, the same day at the quinjet, Wanda calls you before you go to your room.

"Thank you, for today." She murmurs sincerely, taking a deep breath before adding. "About your suggestion, I'll think about it."

You move closer again, and hold her by the shoulders, before kissing her forehead, and then each cheek. Sweet and firm, and it makes her skin prickle, her chest warm. Wanda almost melts against you, static and afraid to move and causing you to pull away. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"I'm here for whatever you need, Wands." You assure her, and it's a good thing you leave after that because Wanda has the impression that she would do something stupid if you remained that close.

–//–

Therapy is strange for the first few weeks.

Her doctor is very kind and is part of Shield which is a good thing because she has experience with special agents who have dealt with death on a daily basis. And well, sad pasts are not lacking for war heroes.

Wanda thinks she might be getting better when she buys some Jewish items for her room.

"Maybe I should get a haircut." Your phrase immediately attracts her attention. You are in her room, helping her with the cleaning. Or rather, Wanda is cleaning and you are getting in the way and looking annoyingly pretty while doing it.

"Why?" she asks confused and curious, using magic to lift a couch. She's tidying up because it was your idea of a room that had her whole personality, and Wanda simply accepted that she didn't know how to say no to your ideas.

"Because I'm a secret agent, of course!" You retort as if it were obvious, your elbows propped up on her bed. "Black Widows change their appearance all the time, you know. Nat told me. And I'm supposed to preserve my secret identity."

"You don't have a secret identity." Wanda retorts. "You literally tell everyone that you are the Iron Angel. Yesterday we went to buy bread and you introduced yourself like that."

"Okay, first of all, rude." You sit down on the bed indignantly. "I was trying to get us a discount!"

"With bread?"

"I'm a poor person, Wanda!" At this point, both of you were chuckling. She grumbles for you to stop getting in the way of her cleaning, throwing a pillow at you, and consequently losing concentration on the air-raised couch, which makes a loud noise when it falls.

"Tsk, let me help you, little witch." You tease, leaving the bed and hooking your sleeves up. Wanda rolls her eyes.

"I'm not a witch."

You laugh. "Debatable, pretty girl. All you do is these magic tricks. And who uses magic? That's right, witches."

Wanda rolls her eyes, definitely unable to have this discussion, or any when you lift the couch with one hand. Muscles flexed and exposed by the short, tight shirt.

Something inside her boils, right at the pit of her stomach.

Maybe she's getting sick.

"Earth to Wanda." She blinks embarrassedly away when she notices you calling her. You chuckle, thinking she has been distracted by the cleaning. "Shall we get something to eat later? I think it's Steve's night to cook and he's terrible at it. Want to grab a pizza with me, maybe go to a movie?"

That screams date energy, and Wanda agrees before actually thinking about it. You offer her a wink, pleased with the confirmation, and go back to talking to her normally as if Wanda isn't hyperventilating over the amount of exposed skin on your stomach when you keep holding the couch up in the air and gesticulating as you tell stories.

If she survived the afternoon of cleaning, she might survive the date. Of friends.

—//—

Apparently, you enjoyed Wanda's company as much as she enjoyed yours.

It was a good thing and eventually turned movie nights into a recurring event. Wanda sometimes forgot how shy and introverted you could be outside the tower - with the Avengers, who were your family, you were comfortable and always making jokes with everyone. Outside, fumbling with simple matters like ordering in a cafeteria reminded Wanda that you had in fact grown up in a laboratory.

She was just happy to follow whatever schedule you were comfortable with, more or fewer days outside or under the covers, what mattered was if you were together.

And it didn't take long for you to grow practically inseparable. It was almost strange to think that when she first arrived at the Compound, Wanda barely exchanged two syllables with you, and now, she sleeps in your room practically every night.

The thing about intimacy, though, is that it included sharing. Even subjects that make you cranky.

"I just have a connection with him." Wanda half-heartedly justifies herself, because you are, again, muttering about the strange interest she had in Vision.

Wanda thinks it's because you don't trust machines - After Dr. Zola, she couldn't blame you. But if anyone asked any Avenger why you didn't like Vision, none of them would think Zola was the reason.

You hum at her justification, and Wanda huffs softly. "What's the problem? You always act so weirdly about this."

You frown. "Oh, I'm sorry I don't like your new best friend."

Wanda crosses her arms. "Don't be silly, Vision is not my best friend. You are." Your gaze begrudgingly softens over Wanda's sweetness. She smiles at your insistent pout. "Is that what this is about, then? You're jealous of Vision."

You huff indignantly, leaving the small pile of blankets on her bed where you were chatting in a jump. "Jealous? Now you're the one being silly!" You retort, cheeks softly rosy. Wanda stares at you in surprise at the scene. "You can have as many friends as you want, I don't care."

She looks away, uncrossing her arms to play with the loose threads of the mattress. "I don't, though." She mumbles half sadly, shrugging when you look at her with confusion. "I don't really have any other friends, Y/N."

The anger unravels at once from your chest, and you sigh, crawling back onto the bed. "Nonsense. Everyone loves you because you're amazing." You retort, getting a weak laugh from her. You lean over her, nose brushing her cheek, and Wanda holds her breath, but it is only an affectionate gesture, and soon, you are on top of her, face on her collarbone and weight on her body. Arms around her, keeping her pinned on the bed and your body. Warm and safe. "Everyone here is your friend. Don't forget that, Wan. The Avengers are your family. I am your family."

She feels something burn behind her eyes. For so long, the only family she had was Pietro, and she lost him too. And now, she had this group of people she could lose as well. Terrifying, honestly. And the thought of losing you made her hold you tighter.

"I don't like fighting with you." She confesses, and you chuckle softly.

"We weren't fighting, I was just jealous." Your admission brings butterflies to her stomach, but she masks it with a giggle. "Don't mind me. Be friends with Vision, he could use some company."

You may have said it for real at that moment, but it didn't mean you made living with Vision any friendlier, given that at every opportunity you responded to him with rude storms, and interrupted any moment Wanda might have with the synthesized. She didn't mind, your company was always welcome, but he might have been annoyed. But who cares about Vision anyway?

While your relationship with the synthesized didn't improve, you nevertheless worked to make Wanda's relationship better with other Avengers.

For Natasha, Clint and Steve there was no need to try too hard - The three of them were very affectionate towards Wanda, and patronized her naturally. Always teaching her as much as they could and keeping her company.

For Sam, it was easy too, because he was a very sociable gentleman who was available for almost every movie night. He was also easily impressed by Wanda's magic, and it was some sort of fresh air to be around someone who hadn't fought her and didn't have any bad memories about Ultron.

Tony was the tricky one. You were trying to convince him to apologize to Wanda, without being awkward or forced, and he was not a person who dealt very well with the past. Much like your friend honestly.

It was a coincidence that Wanda had a session in therapy about forgiving and moving on the same day Tony approached her in the kitchen with a tablet in hand that he placed on the counter next to the glass of juice she had just picked up.

The team stood in absolute silence, watching the interaction from the breakfast table.

"Maximoff, I want to talk to you." He announced seriously, one hand in his pocket. Wanda frowned slightly.

"Okay." She muttered. Tony took a deep breath, bringing his attention to the tablet and on it, clicking so that a small hologram of data appeared in the air. It was several numbers and Wanda figured it was for some mission. But Tony cleared his throat and explained:

"These are the shipping lots for all the Stark companies' ballistic supply." He begins. "It took some time to gather everything, but it's here. In 99, one shipment went to Sokovia. Lot 7212, collected from the rubble of a civilian building. Authorization to sell, Obadiah Stane."

Wanda crosses her arms, uncomfortable. "Stark, what is all this? Why are you bringing this up now?" She asks, looking away from the holograms of the exploded bomb, collected from a building she knows well.

Tony takes a deep breath, and faces her, "I was a different person, Wanda. I didn't care about any of it, all I wanted to do was spent my money. I didn't know what was going on at Stark companies, the war funding. I stopped that when I discovered it." He blurts out. "But, yes, I designed those weapons. And I have a share of guilt for ignoring my responsibility to them. And I want to apologize for that because my negligence caused the death of your parents."

Wanda looks down, with tears in her eyes. The other Avengers exchange tense looks and Tony swallows dryly, taking a step closer.

"I know nothing I say will change things, but I wanted to say it anyway. You're part of the Avengers now, you have my loyalty. Maybe, someday, we could even be friends." Wanda raises her eyes, returning his small smile with another.

She sighs and nods. "Thank you, Tony. For apologizing. It doesn't change things, but still... thank you."

"Of course, kiddo." He offers her a gentle tap on the shoulder before collecting the tablet and leaving the kitchen.

Wanda steals a glance at you at the table, and you smile at her in assurance before she too leaves the kitchen.

Nat is the first to speak. "Was anyone else surprised at how mature Tony was about everything?"

The Avengers laugh and go back to eating, and you keep to yourself the last two weeks you've been nagging Stark about it.

It was interesting, that less than two weeks later, Tony was the person assigned to teach Wanda to fly.

The thing is, Sam had iron wings - so he flew differently than Wanda could. And well, you wouldn't fly if you could help it because you hated heights. Yes, Wanda couldn't miss an opportunity to tease you about that. So it was left to Tony and his armor.

"You can focus your magic on your hands, like the way it works on my suit." He guided alongside her in the outer courtyard, with the whole team watching. "And keep your feet together to stay balanced. This way. Try it."

It took a few tries for Wanda to successfully glide a few inches off the ground, but it wouldn't be long before she could fly more effectively.

It was you who tried to find out if she could focus magic on other parts of her body.

The question must have come out in a strange way because it made Wanda look at you curiously, her cheeks half rosy, and the odd expression of Steve and Natasha pausing their practice behind her made you clear your throat.

"I mean you use your hands during the fighting, right?" You try to explain further. "You could try focusing your magic on the soles of your feet, to fly. And then you would have your hands free."

"Oh, I get it." She mutters. "I could try, but I don't think it would make that much difference. I control my magic mentally; It flows around my whole body, even if my hands are busy."

"You always impress me, Maximoff." You praise naturally, missing the way she smiles shyly because you are stepping closer to Nat and Steve's tatami. "And Captain Rogers keeps missing out on the same strike. How sad."

Steve frowns in confusion, "What strike?" He asks, and his distraction momentarily is enough for Nat to hit his legs and knock him down. Laughing as you do. "Very funny, ladies." He complains from the floor, but you are already waving for Wanda to follow you to the next tatami.

By now, she has grown more confident in fighting you, knowing that she won't hurt you.

"You need some new tricks." You tease between one punch and another, half as breathless as she is. Nat has improved - considerably - Wanda's hand-to-hand combat, and well, you don't mind a bit exchanging a few punches with her. Mixed fights with magic are just as perilous as they are fun.

Wanda laughs, deflecting five of your blows in a row with precision, before managing to grab your wrist. She's not physically stronger, by any means, and Hydra's description is that you're like a war tank, so in theory, she couldn't take you down. But her magic does the hard work, pushing your legs apart. You are thrown by her shoulders, falling backward onto the tatami.

"I think I'm doing fine." She confidently retorts, offering you a cocky wink, before offering her hand to help you stand.

But you move your feet instead, and knock her to the ground as well, wasting no time in mounting her, immobilizing her hands.

"You can't get cocky in a fight, that's a beginner's mistake." You recall. Wanda struggles against the grip, without any success. War tank after all, and when focused, you simply absorb any magic she tries to use on you. "You're fighting well, Maximoff. But what if you didn't even need to engage in conflict?"

She frowns, impressed that she could keep her gaze on yours when you are so close. "What do you mean?"

You lick your lips, it's your turn to be distracted by the position. Whatever is going on is completely broken with Steve and Natasha approaching the tatami, and the widow speaking before you:

"She means mind tricks, Wanda." Says the widow, and the witch hesitates immediately. You sigh, letting go of her arms, and acting way too casual when still sitting on her hip.

"Wanda is powerful, she shouldn't waste her abilities." You try, but all three of you are unsure about it.

"Hydra taught her that sort of thing. It's not a clean way to fight." Steve says, and you grimace indignantly.

"Clean? What's that supposed to mean?"

Steve sighs. "I just meant it would be an unfair fight. It's not that there's anything wrong with her powers, Y/N. It's just that it feels wrong to act like that, it's like mental torture. You don't know how it feels because Wanda never used it on you."

Wanda looks away, embarrassed. You snort indignantly.

"That's fucking hypocrisy, Captain Rogers." You declare angrily, standing up. "You think you have some short of honor in shooting people instead of bewitching them? You're fooling yourself that's what." You continue, ignoring his attempt to explain. "Wanda is the strongest among us, and you are impairing her potential for greatness out of fear! She should not fear who she is!"

"Y/N, that's not what we're trying to do-"

"Then let me teach her!" You cut him off. "I'll take responsibility. I trust her. I can teach her to do more than Hydra did. Hell, she can get inside someone's head. The possibilities are endless! She could end any fight before she even starts them!"

Steve hesitates, but Nat rests her hands on the supports of the tatami, looking at the girl sitting on the floor.

"What do you think, Wanda?"

The witch looks at your confident and curious gaze, and then at Steve Rogers' hesitation. She sighs and hugs her knees.

"I trust Y/N. If she teaches me, I could try to learn."

You celebrate softly, ignoring Steve's protest. Natasha smiles at you. "Just be careful, okay? I don't want anyone getting hurt."

You twitch your nose, glancing at Wanda over your shoulder. "Don't be silly, Nat. Wanda would never hurt me."

–//–

"I'm still learning to trust people again. But she is my safe haven. I don't know what I would do if I messed that up."

The confession surprises herself as much as it surprises Dr.Christina Raynor, who stops writing to raise her eyes to Wanda.

"You have a history of loss, Wanda. It's normal to hesitate and worry that it will happen again. But you need to trust that you will be able to handle it. With my help, of course. But also with the help of others, because you are no longer on your own. Death is part of life, it is a painful truth. You can learn to deal with it in a healthy way."

Wanda nodded, unsure if she could manage that at all. That day she told about starting to practice mind tricks with you next week, and how anxious it was making her. Christina reminded her that she could refuse if she was uncomfortable with the idea, but she explained that it was about the possibility of hurting you, not about her magic. The doctor asked her to act as was best for her, and not for other people.

And so, Wanda was late for her first class.

You decided to create a comfortable setting for her. Soft armchairs on the balcony, overlooking the whole compound, and a table of sweets and drinks on the side.

It felt almost like a picnic together and made Wanda's stomach churn when she remembered what she could do with you.

"Hey, little witch, I almost thought you weren't coming." You tease about the fifteen-minute delay, getting a small smile from her. "And it would be, all right, okay? If you didn't show up. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"It's fine." She assures as she swallows dryly, and moves closer to occupy the empty armchair in front of you. "I want to learn more about myself."

"Speaking of which, I have gifts." You state raising a finger in the air for a moment. You lean over to grab something from behind the armchair, and Wanda watches you take out books that you place on the coffee table. "Hydra had a dozen or so files on the stone, but nothing really helps us. I did my own research, and it turns out that there are a lot of people who do cool tricks. There's a bit about telekinesis here and traditional witchcraft. High chances that it's all fake, but it's better than nothing."

Wanda simply leans over and hugs you by the neck, really tight. It's so sweet, the way you care for her. She murmurs about it and your response makes her swallow dryly.

"That's what friends are for." You whisper, and she lets you go. "Shall we begin?"

She nods, confused about the conflicting emotions in her stomach.

You place your hands on your thighs looking up at her in anticipation before giving an awkward chuckle. "Well, I suppose it's you who has to start sweetheart. I'm only here to serve. I mean. not serve, like help-"

She laughs at your nervousness, raising her hand to your face. "Shush now, darling, relax." She asks gently, appreciating the way you shut up immediately, swallowing dryly. So obedient. Her magic leaves her fingertips when she touches your eyelids. "Show me your fear."

You choke, eyes glowing red like hers as your surroundings transform.

Wanda feels different - It is your abilities, she assumes. You can absorb her magic, so in a way you are allowing for what she sees, creating and maintaining the connection. She thinks to ask about it to confirm but shuts up at what she sees.

It is the compound, completely destroyed. And there are bodies lined up that she recognizes as the team. You are crawling in the grass, blood and dirt mingling in your torn iron suit. The man on the hill, Wanda doesn't know.

"You did well, puppet." He praises, turning around. Wanda does know him, she realizes. She has seen Dr.Zola's pictures in some reports before. "Our own angel of death, bringing Hydra's vengeance on these traitors."

You cough, blood on the grass. Wanda narrows her eyes and recognizes herself in the row of bodies. You are trying to touch her, but Zola steps on your fingers.

"That's not my name." You gasp in a sob, looking at the man, "I wouldn't hurt my family."

"But I am your family, Y/N. And you have hurt me, haven't you?"

The illusion is transformed, but you and Zola remain at the center. What was once the destroyed compound is transformed into a laboratory room. Steve and Nat, now alive, help another version of you on a stretcher with chains. The day of your escape.

"How could you destroy me, child? After all I've taught you." Zola questions, also watching your memory, the way you destroyed every piece of metal that make up the computer. "I created you, and you turned your back on me for them."

The memory turns again, to before Wanda. Your early, strange, awkward years with the Avengers and Shield. Until Hydra's influence was out of your head, and you could live with them. The nasty jokes from agents, the strange looks. Flashes of painful memories that make her sick

"That's enough." You say from the floor and repeat until Wanda realizes that Zola and you are looking directly at her. You are talking to her, not to him. "That's enough, Wands. Please."

She panted, her memories getting faster all around. "I-I don't know how to stop, I don't-"

Your eyes glitter. "Show me your fear then."

The destruction returns, but this time it is a civilian apartment. Wanda chokes on a sob, hugging her own body.

She can hear someone crying, a little girl. Under the table.

"I don't want to see this again. Please, let's come back." She asks into the empty room, and it shouldn't take you half a second to stumble up behind her, holding her by the shoulders, but Wanda feels like it took forever.

You hug her, letting her hide her face in your collarbone, and your gaze goes around. "It was here, wasn't it? When they died?"

"Y/N, please...."

"I'm not doing anything, Wan." You mutter. "It's your magic, remember? I don't control it. I just gave it back. You have to control it." You explain, rubbing her back.

Wanda takes a deep breath, lets her arms wrap around your body, and ignores the sound of the bomb ringing in your ears. You hug her tightly. "Concentrate. Get us out of here, take us somewhere nice."

You have to close your eyes a few times to get used to the clarity of the next illusion. It is the beach, and it makes you chuckle lightly.

"What...?"

"I used to go swimming with my family when I was a kid. When it was safe." She confesses as she turns away from your collarbone, and you can see a family running into the water in the distance.

You smile at her. "I'll take you to the beach, Wands. In real life, so you can have new memories."

She nods, refusing to let go of you. "I could stay here a little longer."

You frown slightly. It's a dangerous thought because it's an illusion. A memory. Wanda shouldn't be stuck in it, she should move on. Stay with you.

"Let's go back. We've practiced enough today."

She hesitates, the sound of her mother's laughter, lifting a smiling 7-year-old Pietro under a wave making her hesitate.

"B-but..."

"Now, Wands." You insist so seriously that she swallows dryly. But your gaze softens, and your hand is warm on her cheek. "We'll make a blanket fort in your room today. We can sleep side by side and watch some TV series. What do you think?"

Paradise, she would say. And before you need confirmation, the illusion is shattered and you are back on the balcony of the complex. Both of you were half out of breath, blinking confusedly at the new brightness.

"That was..."

"Fucking incredible!" You declare with a laugh, surprising her with your excitement. "You have the most amazing skills! And that was just the first day, imagine what you'll be able to do when you master this mind stuff completely! Damn, that was wonderful. Come on, I promised you a movie night."

You are pulling her by the hand before she can protest, not that Wanda was thinking of doing so anyway.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff needs a hug

356 notes · View notes

fionajames · 3 months

Text

why (pt.I) // lams

A/N: Hey guys, promise I'll get back to writing Star Wars soon!!!!!! For now, a sad lams one shot! (Pt.II should be out tonight, i think). Enjoy and send requests!!!!!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

Hamilton had never wept the way he wept the night he heard of Lauren’s demise. He remembered the night his mother had tired, the endless, hollow hours he’d spent covered in his own tears and sickness, laying next to a cold body. He remembered when he’d seen the dead body of his cousin, shot and stabbed and bloody, the blood that coated his fingers as he screamed for his brother. He remembered the day he’d fully left his brother behind, sorrow seeping through his veins like endless song composed for his soul.

But never, had he begged for death so desperately, as the night continued on.

By the time the rising sun had let light into his room, Hamilton had cried every last drop he had in his body, and drunk more than he could remember yet he seemed painfully sober. He was on the floor of his study - not wishing to disturb poor Eliza’s sleep - with a bottle of some rich alcohol in one hand and a broken quill in the other.

He’d never purposefully broken a quill - it felt like an insult to himself, a taunting reminder that once a quill meant a whole lot more in his financial status - but he’d broken a dozen or so that night.

A year later, and Hamilton was in the same position.

Broken, bloodied and beat, curled up in his study as the clock neared midnight.

The blood was leaking from a huge cut on his palm, caused by the shards of bottle glass covering the floor.

A year without Laurens.

It had been a year since his Laurens had left.

It was a wonder he’d made it through a year.

Once again, Hamilton was praying for death to take him, praying like a foolish man. Perhaps that was what he was. Perhaps it was God punishing him and his beloved for sodomy by ridding him of his other half.

“Oh, how could you leave me?” Hamilton choked out as he wrapped his arms around himself and brought his knees to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

It was a sudden gust of bone-chillingly cold air that pulled him from his sorrow, violet-blue eyes raising to stare at his surroundings. There was nowhere for wind to be coming from, and so the man stiffened.

That's when he noticed a paper fall from around the corner, clearly tossed into the air. “Hello?” Hamilton called, tears streaming down his face still. “Is someone there?”

He shuffled to his feet, wrapping his arms around himself and stepping forwards. He grabbed a huge shard of the shattered glass from the floor, holding it forward as a weapon. As he stalked forward, he moved to the side, until he could see around the corner.

A gasp fell from his lips as he jerked backwards at the sight in front of him.

There was a man his age, with blonde locks like hay and eyes the colour of the sky. He was wearing the blue coat and clothes customary to a soldier in the Revolution.

He’d recognise that uniform anywhere.

One of the most startling things about the man was the wound on his chest, seeping thick red liquid that dripped all over his clothes and body, seeping and staining the white shirt. The flesh was red around the wound, and a dark hole stared back at Hamilton from beneath the tattered fabric. Blood was spilling from it, trickling down the man’s body.

A bullet wound, something Hamilton was all too familiar with.

But the most startling thing about the man was who he was.

Hamilton knew that face. He could recognise it anyway, even in a sea of people. Crowds couldn’t separate him from this man, but it appeared death could. “Jack,” he breathed out, taking in the appearance of the man. John’s body shimmered with a faint violet glow, tiny star-like lights swirling around him. His lover’s face was set with a grim expression.

“Why?” The blonde whispered, his voice cracking with desperation.

A surge of horror, pain and confusion flooded through the ginger’s body, his breathing turning shakier than a boat at sea, his stomach churning with unsettlement.

Then, he heard the six words that ruined him.

The six words, sharper than a blade being plunged into his heart.

Six words stole the breath from Hamilton’s lungs and pulled his heart apart, ripping piece from piece and pouring alcohol all over his wound. It stung and it ached, it hurt worse than being shot.

“Why did you let me die?”

A/N: hope you enjoyed, send requests!!!!

#hamilton #alexander hamilton #hamilton musical #john laurens #lams #historical lams #hamilton writing #hamilton broadway #ka’ra writes ❤️

26 notes · View notes

christinesficrecs · 1 year

Note

hi christine! hope you're well. I was wondering if you knew any fics where Stiles thinks Derek doesn't like him but is actually in love with him? Or if you had a tag for it, could you direct me to it? I looked at your tag page and didn't see it but I definitely could've looked over it. Thank you so much!

Sure! You could also try the enemies to lovers tag.

Landslide by reillyblack | 25.5K | Mature

Beautiful? Check. Dismissive? Check. Hated him? Double check.

Stiles was doomed to develop a crush of epic proportions.

The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me (Is You) by distortedreality | 17.9K | Explicit

Derek is fairly certain the new kid is either an incubus or a witch. Turns out he’s actually his mate. Stiles is 98% certain the brooding guy in the leather jacket is fantasizing about stringing him up by his intestines. Turns out he’s also wrong.

A Wild Heart's Desire by mikkimouse | 13.4K

If there's one thing Stiles Stilinski knows, it's that Deputy Derek Hale absolutely Does Not Like him. The only reason Derek even tolerates him is because their kids are worryingly codependent.

So Stiles is understandably confused when a very feral Derek shows up in his backyard after a call gone wrong and proceeds to move in with him.

Between the Drinks and Subtle Things by yodasyoyo | 4.4K

He holds up his free hand, eyes still closed. “One second,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m just taking a moment to mourn the fact that we could have been fucking since–” He cracks open an eye and glares at Derek.

“Freshman year,” Derek supplies. “I’ve pretty much had the biggest crush on you since our freshman year.”

erroneous manoeuvres by slippingfromreality | 5.3K

“Hey, Stilinski!”

Stiles clenches his teeth. “What do you want, Hale?” he shouts back, not bothering to turn around. The smug smirk that’s most likely waiting for him is already seared into his mind from overexposure.

“A date!” the answer comes, still as loud, and most of the bystanders giggle or snort in Stiles’ direction.

Stiles rolls his eyes. This is the third time this week. He’d complain that Hale’s jokes are getting pretty stale, but he’d probably be milking this situation for all that it’s worth, too, if their roles were reversed. “Wrong aisle,” he grouses back, “try the bakery section. I hear they have fresh tarts.”

Fireman Derek's Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] by owlpostagain | 17.6K

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

Broken Nose | 3K

Stiles is convinced that Jock-y Derek Hale hates him. It takes an accidental injury at the beach to turn that all upside down.

Laying Groundwork by 10.9K | Explicit

The one where Scott and Stiles go clubbing and there's this broody Bouncer out to get Stiles-

Or get into his pants. Thank God it's the latter.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #dramaticvhs #oblivious!stiles #misunderstandings

196 notes · View notes

certifiedjaeger · 2 years

Note

OOOOOOO CONGRATS ANNIE!!!!

I gotta send a request for my boy of course 💕

Rennie + “Can I kiss you?” 🥺💕

♡ certifiedjaeger’s 800 event ♡

Character: Eren Jaeger x fem!reader

Prompt: “Can I kiss you?”

Word Count: 2.5K+

A/N: thank you!!!!!!! <3 I loved writing this heheh <3 Eren’s such a cute lil idiot ahhh I love him 🥺 (anyways, this involves eren having a lil bit of a crush on his friend’s sister…. 👀 also may or may not take place during a truth or dare game with a bunch of eren's other college buddies)

Event Masterlist

You’re so close. So close.

Only about twenty or so feet down the hall, doing god knows what behind your closed door. He wonders if maybe you’re laying on your bed. He wonders if maybe you’re scrolling through Instagram… maybe his Instagram, staring at his pictures, like he does with yours late at night. He’ll never know, however. He knows he’ll never know what you get up to in your bedroom. And yet, he can’t stop thinking about you– especially when he’s just so damn close to you… But before he can let his mind wander too much, his friend–your brother–is suddenly calling for him, reminding Eren that it’s his turn to give Jean a dare.

It isn’t easy being in love with his friend’s sister. Well… it is and it isn’t. You make it easy, he thinks to himself, you make it really fucking easy to love you. And your brother? Well… yeah, he makes things a bit less easy. Eren knows he can never act on his feelings. He knows sisters are off limits. And yet, he can’t help how he feels about you. Or how he fantasizes about you… Or how his stare lingers just a little too much whenever you’re around; his breath hitching in his throat every time you’re just a bit too close. No, he can’t help any of that, least of all the way that his heart and body aches for you. But he knows he can never have you. As much as he hates to admit it, you can only ever be his in his mind.

“Fuck, I don’t know– Why’d you choose dare again? Trying to keep up with me?” Eren snaps back to the present; nonchalantly slipping back into the game that Connie had decided he and the other guys should all play.

“Fuck off,” Jean snorts, taking a sip of his beer. “Hurry up already, I’m tired of looking at your face.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk, horse face,” Eren bites back, just a hint of anger in his eyes as he glances at his annoying friend.

“God, you guys never stop, do you?” Connie chimes in, throwing a pillow at Jean. “Okay, fine, I’m going to give Jean a dare,” he states, his face looking almost as if it hurt from how hard he was thinking.

“Oh, great,” Jean remarks sarcastically.

“I got it! I dare you to drink toilet water,” Connie snaps his fingers, sounding triumphant at what he considers to be a genius idea. Well… that is until he hears the room erupt into chaos.

“No–” Jean begins to reply defensively and loudly. But Eren’s laughter seems to drown out the thunderous noise.

“You have to,” Eren snorts with amusement, still laughing at the prospect of Jean with his head stuck inside a toilet bowl. “That’s the rules.”

“No, I fucking don’t! I’m not doing that,” Jean persists. “I’ll just pay the $50, I don’t care.”

A chorus of boos–littered with some very vulgar insults–can be heard throughout the rather small living room, causing Jean to get even more defensive over his stance.

“Here,” Jean holds a fifty dollar bill in his hand and throws it in the middle, raising his middle finger to Eren as he does it. “Your turn. Truth or dare, asshole.”

“Dare, obviously. Asshole,” Eren replies condescendingly, narrowing his eyes in disgust as his competitive nature fully begins to make an appearance. But just then he hears something besides his friends; he hears your door open. Fuck.

“What the hell is going on out here?” You come walking down the hall, smiling with a hint of amusement in your voice as you now stand before the group of guys. “Is somebody getting murdered?”

Eren suddenly doesn’t know what to do. You’re wearing an oversized t-shirt and the tiniest pair of pajama shorts he’s ever seen you in. Only his mind could have conjured up such a welcoming sight. And yet, here you are, standing in front of him with your arms crossed, looking as beautiful as ever with your bare face and messy hair. This was real– Definitely not a dream.

“Yeah, Jean’s being a pussy and we’re actually going to kill him about it,” Connie yells in an eager voice.

“Oh? Never thought I’d be an accessory to murder before,” you raise a brow. “Sorry to hear that you’re going to die, Jean,” you turn to the taller man sitting across from your standing form. The other men in the living room laugh obnoxiously, but Eren doesn’t. No, he’s too preoccupied with staring at you. God, you’re so pretty, he thinks to himself, so fucking pretty.

“I’m not dying,” Jean looks displeased as he rolls his eyes. “Plus, it’s not even my turn anymore. Fucking go, Eren.”

That snaps Eren right out of the trance you unknowingly seemed to have put him in– But not before Jean notices. “I already said dare, idiot.”

“Okay, fine,” Jean crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall as a smirk overtakes his face. “I dare you to kiss his sister,” Jean points to your brother and then you.

Fuck.

A string of amused gasps and laughs can be heard as Eren snaps his head toward you; he sees you choke out a little laugh as a vulnerable-looking expression dances across your face for half a second before settling into amusement once again. He looks away. He has to.

“I– What?” Is all Eren can manage to say. Fucking asshole, he thinks. Such a fucking asshole. He doesn’t know whether to be pissed or grateful. He decides to go with the former.

“NO,” your brother chimes in a second after he does–thankfully, Eren thinks–distracting everyone from the flustered response that he had just given. “Not my sister!”

“What are you, twelve? I’m not gonna do that, I’m not trying to be a creep,” Eren raises his voice at Jean, beginning to get angry now; he can feel his jaw clench as he silently curses Jean for putting him on the spot like this.

“She’s off limits, you fucks!” Your brother yells, slurring his words a bit as he says them. He may or may not have had one too many tonight, Eren realizes as he glances over at him. Eren suddenly feels very grateful that he hadn’t been drinking at all because if he had, who knows how this night would have ended. Eren, annoyed now, shakes his head at your brother; he realizes his new irritation with him might have something to do with him telling everybody that you were off limits. Eren already knew that, he doesn’t need the reminder.

“What do you have to do if you don’t do your dare?” Your small voice speaks up over the chaos. Eren’s head instantly whips up as his emerald eyes meet yours; he looks almost like a deer caught in headlights as you gaze down at him, awaiting his response.

“He has to give us fifty dollars,” Connie speaks for Eren–enjoying the commotion almost a bit too much–as he grins at you with amusement, laughter still evident in his voice as he speaks to you.

You whistle as your brows raise in surprise. “That’s pretty harsh. In that case–” you turn to Eren, “I don’t mind.”

“Wh-what? No,” Eren looks at you as though you’re crazy; like you’ve absolutely lost your mind. “That’s– No, I’m not gonna do that,” he replies defensively as he feels his cheeks warming up.

“Ouch,” you flinch at his words. “Would it be that horrible to kiss me?” You wince, letting out a small–almost sad sounding–laugh as you awkwardly cross your arms over your chest.

“Don’t talk like that about my sister, Jaeger,” your brother slurs, pointing a finger at–and, honestly, looking like he was ready to fight–his much taller and bigger friend.

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes at your brother’s embarrassing attempt to ‘protect you’. “What, are you trying to defend my honor or something?”

Eren’s eyes–a bit wide now–glance from you to your brother. “I’m not– That’s not what I fucking meant,” Eren bites back defensively, starting to get more flustered at the situation he’s somehow stumbled into.

“Kinda what it sounded like, actually,” you turn your attention to the brunette man, teasing him with a playful smirk that takes his breath away for half a second.

“I– That…” he stumbles on his words before closing his mouth and letting out a loud, frustrated sigh. “Okay, fine, whatever. Fuck it,” he mutters, looking anywhere that isn’t your face as his own begins to look more and more irritated and overwhelmed. “Come over here, then.”

“Wow! You really know how to charm a woman, don’t you? You must be a real ladies man,” you continue to tease him with that little smile of yours. It mocks him; playing with his emotions as he suddenly isn’t able to look anywhere that isn’t directly at it. He hates it. No… he loves it. He wants to wipe it right off of your face.

Eren hears his friends laughing at your playful insults. But none of that matters now because you’re walking toward him, slowly making your way to him as you shake your head at his slightly offensive behavior. He doesn’t deserve it, he thinks. He doesn’t deserve to have you this close to him as you bend down and sit right in front of him.

“You know I’m doing this to help you out. So maybe be a bit kinder,” you softly laugh, noticing the dark pink that’s dusted across his sun-kissed cheeks. He runs a hand through his hair–a nervous tick he’s always had–as the dark brown strands then fall into place, reaching down to his chin as they do. He looks angry. No, he looks nervous. Well… you don’t exactly know what to make of his expression. His emerald eyes stare back into your own with a vicious fire in them, looking intense in their fired up state. But his lips– They tremble slightly as he takes in your full appearance before him; your knees touching his own as he sits with his body much closer to yours than it's ever been before.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” Eren somehow manages to speak. He–gladly–doesn’t sound too eager. No, he doesn’t sound eager at all, actually; he sounds sarcastic. A bit upset even. Even if that’s the furthest thing from the truth… As if he could ever truly be upset being this close to you.

“I’m gonna be sick, I can’t watch this,” your brother throws his arms up and storms out of the room, huffing and puffing all the way down the hall. You can hear Connie’s signature laugh fill the room as your brother stumbles away.

Eren thinks he might be sick, as well, actually. He can’t believe that you’re right in front of him, waiting for him to kiss you; that you’re waiting for him to take you in his arms and place his lips against yours in a sweet embrace. He had only ever dreamt about something like this before, only ever thought about it. (Probably hundreds of times, if he was being honest with himself). But he had never considered that it would actually happen. If he takes a single second more to think about it–to work himself up too much about it–he knows he’ll never be able to go through with it. He needs to kiss you now. He needs to get it over with.

Eren gives you one quick glance before quickly leaning into you. But you’re much faster than he is and you instantly pull away; dodging his futile attempt at placing his lips to yours. When he registers that his lips don’t connect–that you pulled away from him–his eyes snap open and he gives you what has to be the most bewildered look you have ever seen on a human.

“What the hell?” He mutters under his breath–his voice dripping with anger and irritation–as his brows furrow and his mouth hangs slightly open out of confusion.

“You didn’t ask first.”

The smile that you give him sets his heart ablaze. You’re toying with him. Just messing with him as you stare at him through playful eyes. He feels humiliated, he feels like he’ll never love anybody else. He feels that if he doesn’t kiss you right now, he may actually die. He needs this to be over with. He needs to know what your lips feel like.

“You really ought to ask a lady first, you know,” you lean in, whispering closely to him with that annoying–and intoxicating–smile still present on your face.

He doesn’t match your smile, however. No, he set his lips into a thin line, letting out a harsh sounding sigh. He didn’t know it was possible to be this flustered, and yet, here he is, continuing to grow more and more overwhelmed under your stare. The fact that his friends are all present for this–that he can hear them all snickering in the background–nearly has him getting up and storming out of the apartment.

“Can I–please–kiss you?” He bites out once again, looking at you harshly.

He had wanted this moment to come for so long. He had spent so many hopeless nights staying up and thinking about you; thinking about what your lips might taste like. And now here he was, about to experience that–about to finally find out–only now it was with his cheeks red and his temper short. There was a part of him that just really wanted to get it over with so that your taunts could end and so that he could finally breathe out a sigh of relief. But there was another part of him that wanted to savor this moment. To really enjoy it– Because he knows that it’ll never happen again. At least anywhere that isn’t in his dreams.

“Yes, of course you may. Thank you for asking,” you respond sweetly with feigned innocence; your voice sounding like honey to him even as you continue to tease him. He swallows dryly, glancing down at your lips as he licks his own, before then letting out a shaky breath.

It’s now or never. He leans in once again, almost expecting you to pull away just like you had before. Except this time… you don’t. No… this time, his lips instantly find yours and land perfectly against them; melding into their shape as you softly kiss him back.

For just a second, he forgets where he is. He forgets all about a dare and all about the others snickering at him. He doesn’t hear them now, he doesn’t hear anything at all besides his heart beating rapidly in his chest. And all that seems to fill his mind now is you; how warm your hand feels against his cheek… how soft your lips feel against his own… how gentle they are as you deepen the kiss. Nothing else matters now except for you. Well… that and the warmth he feels coursing through his veins at how close your body is to his. He can’t help but think about how small your shorts are, how amazing you taste, how right this feels…

And then it all stops.

You pull away and sound comes rushing back to him as he hears the loud banter and whistling of his friends, reminding him that he’s not alone with you; no, he’s not at all. He’s in his friend’s living room, surrounded by a bunch of his other friends. But of all the things he is suddenly reminded of, the harshest has to be that what had just happened had only been a dare. That it hadn’t been real at all.

Minutes pass and Eren seems to be both annoyed and grateful for the passage of time. On one hand, the spotlight is finally off of him as his friends have become too preoccupied with the continuation of their stupid game to even notice how distracted and overwhelmed he is. But on the other hand, you aren’t here anymore. You’re back in your room, far, far away from him behind your closed door, doing god knows what. You probably went about your night, not caring in the slightest that you had just made his. Well, at least that’s what he thought until he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Instinctively, he pulls his phone out and opens his instagram, finding a couple of new notifications waiting for him. All from a very familiar looking username…

He sees that a couple of his pictures were liked and that… a message was waiting for him. He quickly opens it, eyes scanning the screen as he holds his breath.

@YourUsername: That was nice… We should do that again sometime soon. (Just make sure not to tell my brother 😇)

Fuck.

Yeah... that’s exactly what he was. Fucked.

323 notes · View notes

kerubimcrepin · 3 months

Text

Episode 39 - The Love Killer

AKA the yandere dogboy episode. Yippie!

I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE. To bring back the meme:

God won't let me die...

The translation is not finished because I do not give a fuck, but here is where I stopped. I doubt anyone else will give a fuck either, considering it's just a keysmash.

He's never beating those japanese-coded allegations.

Silly aprons are a family tradition.

I wonder if this is where Kerubim lived considering he, like... didn't have a house. Or a family.

Oh my god, the shitty magical merchant guy had a shitty magical merchant mom.

I see claws on a catboy and my brain turns off. Kill me.

You can't be talking like that, Ouginak baby. Btw the can says "fish".

KERUBIM LIKES TO COOK. SEE? I TOLD YOU. I TOLD YOU. He's an Amaknean boy, like Yugo. And he's cooking crepes!

Though, he's... bad at it.

Presented without commentary.

Do not be making that face while in the same litter box as Keke, oh god.

Ecaflips use litterboxes confirmed.

UNDERAGE DRINKING REAL.

I bet Kerubim is the one who buys bamboo milk for the gang. He can probably pass for a very short ecaflip man, instead of a teenage boy.

People reading my blog talking about it be like: this is scary, downright creepy.

Also, whatever I imagine happened between Kerubim and Atcham is also scary. Even downright creepy.

The Astrubian lake tower, my beloved.

Somehow, despite being a boy, Kerubim has managed to have two evil adolescent girl friendships that end in your friend (who is a tar pit) sending you messages saying that she will "kill you with a knife" the next time she sees you at school. (One with Patafiks, and another with his literal brother.) This too, is feminism.

I like to think that while in the orphanage, he had to break up like this with Atcham too. Like "I know we're brothers, but um. uh. I don't want to be seen with you anymore. I mean—— you get beat up constantly, and people hate you, and then they hate me when you're nearby. Which is a bummer. Also you threaten everyone too much after they beat you up, and it's stressful. And I can't take it anymore... We can still be friends though,, haha."

I like to think Atcham's response was "I AM GOING TO KILL MYSSSELF AND IT WILL BE YOUR FAULT." or something. I like to imagine he had that ~mentally ill child~ style flair for the dramatic at that age. I like to think they were both awful to one another.

Another thing I like to think to myself, is that Atcham got kicked from the orphanage and ended up in Brakmar, and the reason he got kicked out is stabbing someone. Perhaps Keke, during some argument, — or perhaps someone else, in retaliation to whatever bullying he was going through. And that Kerubim was scared shitless of him by the end.

I just think it's a fun thought.

Basically, if that Ruby girl, Patafiks, and Atcham smoked weed together in a Bad Mentally Ill Bitches Obsessed With Revenge Club, Pangaea would reform.

Since this is already an Atcham headcanon heavy blogpost, I will say, I think using The Love Killer on Atcham would have fixed his every single problem.

Sadly, Kerubim has spent his entire life under the impression that Atcham actually hates him, whereas in actuality, whatever the fuck is happening, is 20 times funnier.

After a single minute of prodding by Joris he switches to therapyspeak and goes "well i need SOMEONE to be mad at. it's like a coping mechanism. if i need to be mad at something, it might as well be kerubim. because he's there. 😥"

It's interesting that with Patafiks and his ecaflip friends it took a second for them to hate him enough to cut all ties.

It's also interesting that this doesn't happen to Simone: Julie and her were on a bad date, but they were on it for a long time. And, Kerubim and Joris were haters for her, but all they could manage is some cleaning complaints.

Basically: Perhaps it can't ruin bonds that are very deep or genuine as fast? An enchantment meant to test the sincerity of a bond, gone awry? Or maybe I'm reading too much into this.

Flash frame!

As I've said in the previous blogposts: I really do think that Kerubim has a crush on Simone. Not in any creepy way — she's just the type of woman he's always liked, — headstrong and stylish, like Lou!

It's very cute. I am a big fan of friendships with one-sided crushes in media, especially when it's not awkward, or pointed out often, (the only exception being Dipper's whole Wendy-shtick in Gravity Falls. I think it was a pretty cool portrayal of the concept, despite being awkward), — because that's a very human thing that we can't really control, y'know?

It makes their friendship much more wholesome to me, personally.

Man. I love this show. And this silly old man. Even though he did fuck up superbly with the whole raising Joris thing.

#ep39 #ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz

14 notes · View notes

starrcrossrose · 3 months

Note

Hello. :)

I’ve been reading your TMNT story “ Aftermath”, and I just have to tell you how hard it hit me.. You are such an incredible writer, so much so that the pain and stress of the characters really left an imprint on me.. It truly resonated with me because i have actually been going through a really hard time mentally lately. I’ve been in “ danger mode “ when my adrenaline is turned up every day for the past week.. My dads been sick and it’s been getting worse and I’ve just been so worried. God has him in His hands. But the fear of losing him was still there.. My dads going to be ok, probably get antibiotics and he’ll be fine, but the horrible fear that grips my heart remained despite the obvious fact that he was ok. That he is going to be fine.

And then I just read your chapter about Mikey snapping at Leo.. Bursting into angry tears about how scared he was.. How afraid he is of losing his family. And I’ve been fighting that fear this past week.. Even with his brother there in front of him, ( just like my dad still being alive and well ), he still felt so scared and stressed.. And I’ve felt the same way.. God is teaching me to trust in Him through it, but it’s still been so very hard.

You truly are an amazing writer and I thank you for being so raw and unrelenting with all the feelings of stress, PTSD, trauma, and so much more..

I hope this message encourages you. Thank you for your story. I truly know it was Gods timing for me to read it tonight.

~ Melissa

OUGH OHHH. WOW. THIS IS —

Hey so, ironically, I think I was meant to get this message from you today. As creatives tend to, I’ve been doubting my ability lately and fighting off the beginning stages of burn out by resting. Sometimes I wonder if anything I write is worth it. But then I’m reminded that my writing HAS reached people and it HAS left an impact.

Im so sorry to hear about your dad; I kinda get where you’re coming from. My dad spent all of last year in and out of the hospital for various awful reasons and had several close calls, so I know how hard certain situations can be. But trusting in God is important in moments like this. It’s hard and scary and people can react to trauma and loss in various ways. I believe all feelings are valid and should be felt in order to heal and move on. My dad is doing okay right now but that fear that something could go wrong at any time is… not great. I’ll have you in my thoughts and prayers 💖

I’m glad my silly turtle story can offer anything to its readers. Thank you so much for reading and for sending this message 💖 I’m hoping to have an update soon.

#the aftermath fic #rottmnt #Starr speaks #ask #answer #rise of the tmnt

12 notes · View notes

moody4world · 1 year

Text

Got my twin with me like the parent trap (pt.3)

A/N: Guys i am so sorry for how long it took me to post part 3, life be getting busy😔 but i hope you guys enjoy this part since Urb and Jack are finally in it!!

Part 2

Meanwhile Hayden was bombarding you with questions in London, Andre had just landed in Louisville. As soon as he stepped off of the somewhat private airplane he was met with the man he has been carrying a picture of, since he was a little boy. Urban Wyatt, his dad. Andre was over the moon but of course he couldn’t show this. “Stay calm, stay calm.” He coached himself while controlling his excitement as best as he could.

Urban was happy to see his boy back from camp after so many weeks, he couldn’t wait to catch up on what they did during their time apart. “Come here kiddo.” Urban shouted and Andre hurriedly walked to Urban and they immediately hugged each other tightly.

“Oh everyone’s great bud, we all missed having you around.” Urban wrapped his arm around his sons shoulder and semi hugging him once more. “Come on Hayden let’s go home.”

On their way home Andre couldn’t help but look outside the windows in amazement. This was definitely a very different scene to what he was used to back in London. “Oh and by the way thanks a lot for those digital photos of your camp activities, i’m really glad i bought you that new camera you just had to have.” Andre knew Urban was being sarcastic, Hayden hadn’t sent any photos because of how busy they were perfecting their master plan. Andre couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty. “Oh we meant to send photos dad-“ “We?” Urban interrupted.

Oops, silly Andre. “Oh me and my friend. I met this guy at camp and we got along super well.” ”Well thats great Hayd.” “Yeah, practically like brothers. He was a wonderful guy.” Once again, Urban’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wonderful guy? All of a sudden you’re so proper?” he said jokingly. They both simply laughed a little and proceeded with their conversation. “I see you’re still biting your pinky nails.” “You noticed?” Andre asked him. “Noticed? you’ve been biting them ever since you could chew Hayd.” “But i’ve decided to stop now dad. It’s a horrid habit.” Andre said in a somewhat serious tone. “Wonderful guy, horrid habit…did I send you to some boarding school instead of summer camp?!” Once again they both simply laughed. “And why do you keep saying dad at the end of every sentence?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing it…dad.” “Do you want to know why I keep saying dad? The truth?” “It’s cause you missed your old man so much right?” Urban said with a confident grin on his face. He was focusing on the road but also turning to look at his son throughout their entire conversation, he really did miss his boy. “Exactly, it’s because in my whole life, I mean you know for the past few weeks that I was gone of course. I was never able to say the word dad. Never, not once.” Urban listened attentively while paying attention to the road.

“And if you ask me, I mean a dad is an irreplaceable person in a guy’s life. Think about it, there’s a whole day devoted to celebrating fathers! Just imagine someone’s life without a father. Never buying a father’s day card, never doing an activity you both enjoy together, never being able to say hey dad! or what’s up dad! or catch you later dad! and aren’t a baby’s first words like ‘dada’?”

Urban was processing everything his son just said. “Let me get this, you missed being able to call me dad?” “Yeah, i really have dad.”

Urb had no idea what had gotten into Hayden but he’s happy to have such an amazing bond with his son because it’s something he’s always wanted and valued. Andre noticed the welcome sign as they approached the entrance gate. “Oh my god oh my god.” “See, now you’re acting like yourself again.”

As soon as they arrived and stepped out of the car, Jack came running out to greet his nephew. He had also missed him a lot during the weeks that he was away at camp and he made sure to show it.

“Yooooo Haydeeeeen welcome back home big man. Look at you!” He gave Andre a big hug and dapped him up. “You cut your hair or did you get taller?” Jack asked him. “Maybe both?” “You hungry? I just ordered some pizza from Za’s.” Before Andre could give Jack an answer Urban was already right next to them with Andre’s bags in hand, ready to go eat some pizza. “Hey, did I hear something about pizza from Za’s?” “Yeah it’s on the countertop, come on.”

Urban went to put the bags in the bedroom while Andre and Jack were catching up. “Something’s changed about you big man. I can’t put my finger on it but something about you has definitely changed.” “Well it’s just the same old me. Honest.” Andre said while crossing his fingers behind his back. Jack was about to ask him something again but he was interrupted by a phone call. Andre took the opportunity to go inside and look around the living room and he couldn’t help but gawk at the beautiful home. All he could think about was how it all looked even more beautiful than in the pictures.

Just a few seconds later Jack walked back in after finishing his phone call. “Okay big man what do you wanna do first? we could eat and then unpack or we could unpack and then eat or we could also eat while we unpack.” “You mean I can eat in my room?” Andre asked him. The question was quite suspicious yet Jack simply ignored it and replied with his arms crossed “Yeah it’s definitely a possibility.”

“Hey Hayds, when you’re done come on down there’s someone I want you to meet.” Urban said with a giant cheese slice of pizza in his hand. “Okay dad!” “Okay Hayds.” As he stepped outside, Andre noticed a lady with long straight black hair sitting at the small table on the balcony. He could hear her whisper “Did you tell him yet?” while she rested her hands on Urban’s thighs as he was sitting on the table right in front of her now. He answered the question with a simple “No.”

Andre turned to Jack confused and asked “Tell me what?”

They decided to go ahead and unpack. “Now Hayden it’s none of my business who your dad decides to be with, he’s a grown man and he can do what he wants.” Jack said as he unzipped the heavy handbag. “Okay okay but like…who is she?” Andre couldn’t help but be curious. The only reason him and Hayden switched, apart from meeting their other parents was to reunite them. And it was going to be very hard with a Vanessa Hudgens lookalike in the way.

Jack sighed and turned to Andre. “Her name is Stephanie Walsh or something like that. They met at some party but I don’t really like the vibes she gives off. Don’t tell your dad I said that though.” “What do you mean?” Andre asked while he was looking out of his bedroom window into the giant backyard. They could hear Stephanie’s loud obnoxious laugh from all the way in the room. “I mean we both know your dad is an attractive man but he’s not the nine to five CEO type so I do have to ask myself, what is a woman like her, who does a lot of financial work and bank stuff doing with a guy like him? Makes me think there’s something else going on.”

As Jack was listing his reasons to not trust Stephanie, Andre was using his camera that Urban himself gifted him to zoom in on what was going on outside. Stephanie and Urban were holding hands as they strolled through the backyard, occasionally stopping to kiss each other. Andre was told his dad was quite funny but he wasn’t convinced that he was funny enough for Stephanie to be giggling that loudly. “So then I realized that this girl used to hang out with some producers i’ve seen around or people who are associated with other big artists.” “You mean, you don’t think she really likes him?” Andre turned to Jack. “Eh what do I know? You just don’t expect to see a banker hanging around those types of people I guess.” Jack shrugged. “But i’ll tell you one thing. This one’s got your dad eating outta the palm of her hand.” Andre frowned in disgust as he turned back to spying on his dad and Stephanie.

“They do everything together. They bike together, they swim together. They go out to eat dinner every night. You know what? See for yourself, don’t let me influence you.”

From what Andre could see, Urban was indeed very into Stephanie which was not a good sign.

Operation reunite mom and dad just got a whole lot harder.

#moody4world #moody fics #parent trap au #parent trap #urban wyatt x reader #urban wyatt x you #urban wyatt #urban wyatt imagine #jack harlow

68 notes · View notes