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0mg-bird · 2 months

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Sunrise~ Tyler Owens x Fem! Reader

Summary: The curious case of the tornado wranglers, down to earth, girlfriend.

A/n: I just watched Twisters and am in love. Right now Sunrise by Ryan Bingham is my favorite song so here’s a little one shot inspired by it.

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Everyone’s called you crazy ever since you were born. The people in your small Texas town said you were the wild child, your parents had four boys and when their baby girl came around, she had a mean streak just like her brothers. Ten years old and standing in an empty corn field, looking at the thunder heads forming above you, hot and muggy air gusting against your skin, the crack of thunder didn’t scare you, you were utterly curious and amazed. You’ve known storms since you were a babe, you remember the shrill sound of the sirens going off and your mama screaming for you to come inside. Your family was in a panic, you remember your daddy letting the horses loose and the way the cattle ran. That funnel touched down and prayers were prayed, you watched from the bathroom window despite the way your mama dragged you away.

It was beautiful, so utterly terrifying in the distance, a force of straight power.

You were hooked.

Telling your parents you were going to the University of Arkansas to study meteorology was a good idea in theory until they told you becoming a weather girl was a sweet job.

You told them about storm chasing and your mama almost had a stroke.

But you’ve worried everyone your whole life, only you would choose something so crazy.

You met Tyler your sophomore year when you had the same class, your energetic personality hid the fact you were a nerdy kind of cowgirl. The two of you quickly became best friends, despite his cocky personality. You formed a dare devil connection, you were the call he made when he got a lead on something.

Graduation came and you said you were going back home, he hated that idea.

“Come with me.” He said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere, everywhere.”

It’s hard to say no to a man with puppy dog eyes.

Somewhere between gathering a crew up from all over the boons and adopting a one eyed dog you found stranded after a storm in Little Rock, the two of you fell so deep for each other, it hit harder than any storm you experienced.

Here you are now in Oklahoma, cutting through fields in Tyler’s red Ram truck. “Lilly, talk to me.” You call over the radio system on the dash, looking for what data the girl in the vehicle following has. In the backseat, Boone, the right hand man, is recording like always, talking to the followers.

“Welcome back guys, we’re currently back at it again in the Oklahoma plains. This beauty we’re going into is gaining speed, turning into something good. What are we thinking, Tex?”

You look to the camera and smile. “You know, I’d like to call this an easy F2 but the strong updraft we’re getting here could push this baby into the F3 category.”

Also from the back seat, Ben, the London journalist asks to explain what you just said.

The rain cap starts and muddies the earth, the truck drifts as Tyler maneuvers it greatly. You pull your sunglasses off and lean forward to get a better look at what you’re driving into.

“What are you thinking, darlin’?” Tyler asks, seeing the way you evaluate the area.

“Take a left, it ain’t gonna hit the tree line, see the way the wind shifted?” You instruct.

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, giving you one of his perfect grins before making a sharp left.

Ben makes a sort of strangled cry of fear as he gets tossed around in the back. You, completely nonchalant, chewing on a Red Vine, turn to look at the Brit.

“Ben, baby, how you feeling back there?” You ask, pointing something else out to Tyler.

“Oh I’m bloody great.” He lies before getting knocked into the door again. You laugh. “Man, I love this guy.” You declare, finding him so amusing. “Let’s keep him, Ty.”

He rolls his eyes at you, making you scoff. You look at the dog in your lap who’s wearing a tiny helmet with the words ‘Killa’ written across the front. “What you think, Rocky? You wanna keep Ben?”

The dog lays his head down and places his paw over his small snout.

“Rude. Ty, Rock used to agree to everything I say, now you’ve done gone and brain washed him. Poor fella.” You pout before yelping in surprise at the way Tyler drifts into a spot. He grips the radio, calling for the convoy to assume their positions.

“Sorry, I’m no expert but it looks like the twister is going to roll right over us.” Ben says as everyone buckles their harnesses.

“You’re exactly right Benny boy.” You say, opening the center console and placing Rocky inside his designated safety seat. “We need to be in its path so the data bugs we’ll launch have enough wind speed to reach the height needed. Put your harness on and you’ll be about as secure as a pistol in a PTA Mama’s purse.”

Ben looks to Boone in question. Boone just shrugs. “At some point you get used to all the odd shit she says.”

Tyler cranks the E brake, then looks at you with a smirk. “You wanna touch my joystick?” He ask, motioning to the control stick that has the button to activate the drills that will anchor the truck into the ground.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” You scrunch your nose, pushing the button.

The truck is secured, you’re all buckled in tight, now you have to focus on when it’s the perfect time to launch the processors. Things are blowing against the windows, Tyler’s laughing and Boone is howling into the camera, showing the viewers what they see.

“Tell me when.” Tyler says, and as thick water drops pummel the windshield, you stay silent, waiting…watching.

“Now!” You shout and he presses the button that activates the hydraulic opening lid to the tub in the truck bed, the small bug sensors fly out and are carried up into the funnel that is passing over you.

“Breaker breaker, what are we seeing?” You call into the radio, Dexter in the caravan off in the clearing responds. “We got eyes, Tex. Data is coming in clear.”

You shoot your arms up in victory, this was the first time you were launching the 2.0 sensors. “There we go!” You look directly into the camera Boone is pointing at you. “You see that kids? I still got it.”

You watch the storm pass you, the funnel goes into the distance and the winds calm a bit as you unbuckle your harness. You’re pulling the pup from its safety and throwing open the door, running to the spot it just was.

“Whoo!” You hear Tyler whoop, and you throw that snapback hat of his you were wearing, adrenaline pumping through you. He sweeps you into his large arms, twirling you around. “Did you see that, baby? God, that was beautiful.” He laughs and you pull on the brim of his cowboy hat. “I sure did, let’s go get those bugs before we lose their signals, cowboy.”

Later as you set up camp in some cheap motel, Ben is approaching Lilly and Boone with questions.

“I need a story about the girl, uh Tex? Does she have a name?” He settles into one of the fold out chairs and motions to you sitting on the roof of the truck, looking up at the stars and listening to the music playing on the radio.

Lilly chuckles and then makes an adjustment to her drone. “She does, but she’d kill you if she found out you was using her government name in your fancy paper.”

Ben finds that interesting, he writes a few notes about a very mysterious persona you have. “How long has she been in this business? I tried to ask her some questions but she shushed me and told me she was ‘meditating to a Childers song’ and it was very important that she did this.”

Boone shakes his head. “She says confusing stuff to make people go away when she wants her peace.” He explains. “Tex is the original, her and T were the ones to assemble the squad of us, they taught me everything I know. She might be crazier than he is if I’m bein’ honest, always pushing the limits but every move she makes is calculated.”

Lilly agrees. “She’s my best friend, but has always been a curious case. She comes from Texas, hence the nickname and the accent that gets too thick when she’s drunk. Mama wanted her to be this Southern belle but she turned out to be a real wrangler. She’s the smartest person I know, but has a very relaxed way about her.”

“Who?” Dexter asks as he passes by.

“Tex.” They answer.

He shakes his head. “That girl’s a tree hugging loon.”

Ben quickly comes to know the dynamic of you and Tyler. There is no home but each other, you make the best of every situation because you are together. Two pairs of cowboy boots and wide eyes, that’s what you two are.

“I’d compare her to like…a coyote.” Lilly determines. “She’s the perfect balance of wisdom and foolishness, always willing to make light of situations. One time, we were tracking a desert storm in New Mexico and we were camping in our trucks, it was hot, all our leads were gone and we’re ready to turn back. The sunrise comes and it’s prettiest thing I ever seen, we wake up to just a color spill of orange and pink. We open our doors up and Tex is out there dancing in a sports bra and boxers.”

Boone leans back in his chair, laughing at the memory. “Man, we thought she finally lost it, that being with Tyler for so long finally made her go off the rails. T is standing there, watching her, asking what the hell she was doing and she claims she was doing a rain dance.” He says, making Ben chuckle to himself.

Lilly lights a cigarette and rolls her eyes. “She was out there shaking her ass.”

“You fucking joined her!” Boone argues, taking the cigarette from her.

“Well yeah, you don’t let your best friend dance alone. And what happened that day? The rain came and the biggest thunderheads I had ever seen blew in. The lightning was beautiful, Ben, you shoulda been there.”

New Mexico rain was a memory you thought of often, it just felt a little fresher. Blame it on the heat you were dying of or the thirsty land you stood on, but you stood out in it, getting soaked to the bone and then fell into Tyler’s arms.

Now, far away in Oklahoma, Tyler stands looking up at you soaking in the moonlight. “Come down from there.” He calls. You lean over the edge of the roof and look at him. “Why don’t you come up here?” You challenge.

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m tired, darlin’. Let me take you inside.”

You look back up at the stars, then slide from the top of the truck, making him reach out and catch you. “Alright, take me to bed you old man.”

He shakes his head at your comment. It’s hard to resist anymore, you just looked so gorgeous underneath the moonlight. He leans to kiss you, nothing too deep but still of passion because he loves tasting the sugar of your lips, you were always so sweet that it made his head cloudy.

Arm around your shoulders, yours around his waist, the two of you say goodnight to your friends and head to your motel room, Rocky trotting after you. The lock on the door is hard to budge open, the room has a sort of stale smell.

As Tyler is distracted by setting up a bed for the dog, you grab your things from your duffel. “Dibs in the bathroom.” You shout before making a run for it. Tyler groans and tries to beat you, but you stand in the doorway, sticking your tongue out at him. “You just gotta be faster.” You tease before shutting the door in his face.

The low bulb light casts a hazy orange glow to everything, you start the shower and find it to have weak water pressure. Your clothes make a pile on the floor and soon the air steams up.

Your muscles relax as you wash off, you let out a small groan at your fingers scrubbing your scalp. The sound of the shower curtain being pulled back and Tyler stepping in behind you makes you turn. “I haven’t even been in here that long.”

He shrugs, then moves to hog the water. “I got impatient.”

After being with someone for so long and sharing everything, nothing really fazes you. The crew jokes that you and Tyler could probably morph into one body at this point.

By the time the two of you are mostly rinsed off, he’s getting handsy. His fingers trace over your handful of tattoos, wet skin sliding across you in a feverish way. You lean your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him. “Ty…”

He looks down you was an innocent smile. “Oh come on, we’ve been traveling with people for too long. We get one night without Boone gagging when I kiss you.” He says, then leans his head down, nuzzling into your neck.

You bite your lip at the feeling, your arm coming up to run your hand through his hair. “Who’s in the room next to us? These walls are thin.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.” He mumbles, hand slipping far past your navel, earning a loud gasp from you.

You lean your weight back against him, nodding feverishly as his fingers do wonders to an aching spot between your legs. “Okay, not having Boone around is really good.” You breathe.

He’s practically holding you up, his other arm is around you, holding you to his chest while he makes you fall apart.

It didn’t matter that the room hasn’t been updated since the 80’s or that the mattress groaned under the weight of the two of you or that Rocky runs and hides, the two of you were savoring this alone time because you didn’t know when the next time would be when you got it.

You’re laughing, making out and switching positions. The feel of his hand running past the valley of your breasts and giving your throat the lightest grip, it makes you feel on fire. The headboard’s getting knocked into the wall, you’re breathlessly whining and he’s loving every reaction you give him. By the time you’re gripping his shoulders so tight and his name is sounding broken as it cuts from your throat, he’s barely holding himself up.

The air conditioning makes an odd hum sound as you lay against him, skin on skin. You never understood how people could get bored of sex after being with someone for a while, having sex with Tyler Owens was hotter than west Texas in the Summer.

Well, the first time was a little awkward. Most people don’t establish they love each other before they sleep with each other, but you guys did. When you sat in his lap, lips slotted against his, you had to fight to push the idea out of your mind that you were grinding against your best friend. Everything was slow and every touch was unsure, after it ended you were scared that the relationship dynamic would never work if this was how sex was together.

You laugh now, thinking about it.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, fingers tracing the long horn skull that is tramp stamped on you.

“I’m just remembering the first time we had sex.” You shake with amusement. He groans. “You have to stop bringing that up.”

Pushing up from his chest, the blanket falls off of you. He watches in amazement as you swing your leg over his waist, your hands planted on his chest. “I think it’s cute, we were just babies.”

“Yeah, sometimes I miss the days where I didn’t know how insane you were.”

You glare, immediately going to move off of him before his grip yanks you back to your spot.

“I’m kidding, I always knew you were crazy.” He says.

“You love it.” You lean over him, and his hand comes to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “You know I do, darlin’.”

Falling asleep was easy, you could fall asleep anywhere, but in a bed with Tyler holding you to his chest, it had you dreaming in seconds. You wake before he does, slowly sliding away to get dressed. You stand at the balcony outside, a cup of coffee in your hand as you watch the sunrise. After a few moments of peace, the door behind you opens and out comes your lover boy.

“No rain dance this morning?” He asks, kissing the top of your head.

“There’s plenty of rain in Oklahoma, they don’t need me to shake my ass in the parking lot for it to come.” You state, leaning down to pick up Rocky who trailed out after Tyler.

The two- well, three of you, look out at the horizon line, the air is already getting hot.

“You ready?” He asks you, and you turn to kiss his jaw. “I’m always ready.”

#Spotify #tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #twisters movie #twisters #glen powell character #glen powell

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munsster · 2 months

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Hi I just read fixer user and I loved it! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 💖💖

an act of true love

A/N: (your pfp made me scream and curl my toes) an unexpected amount of ppl rlly enjoyed this dynamic. i suppose i have found my people 🤭 (gif creds: @kingofscoops)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)

Summary: In the dead of winter, there’s absolutely nothing that could keep you warm. After all, only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, pet names (sweetheart), mention of toxic ex boyfriend, cursing, gross flirting

Steve can hear you shivering through the receiver and your stuttered breaths crackling through the cord. You’re begging him to come over and fix your radiator in the middle of a snow storm. The roads aren’t closed yet, but a thin white powder blankets his front lawn and the top of his beemer and he can see the flakes whipping through the stream of light pouring from the streetlamp. So, he piles every blanket he has into his passenger seat and braves the drive to your house.

Does he know how to repair a busted radiator? No.

Is he determined to do anything you require of him? Every single day for the rest of his life.

He’s crouched by the window of your living room, looking for any telltale signs of wear or leaking. You’re standing just behind him, bundled in two blankets and holding a spare flashlight. He’s quiet as he tinkers, but your mind is racing watching his soft toned arms through his cream thermal and his back muscles working when he turns over his shoulder to glance at you with a dashing smile. You nod quickly when he says something, though you’re not exactly sure what.

“Sweetheart?” he coos, raising his brows when you recoil under his gaze.

“Sorry, I didn’t… I wasn’t listening,” you say with a chuckle. He grins, dropping his head in understanding.

“Sorry, I know it’s boring,” he says, “but has it been making noises or anything?”

“Oh, yeah! It kinda groans when I first turn it on and it sounds like it might explode for the first couple minutes. I guess I’ve tuned it out by now.”

“That’s probably not a good sound then,” he teases, turning back to the radiator with a puzzled look.

“No, probably not.” You shuffle off to the kitchen, setting a kettle on the stove and humming softly.

After half an hour of tinkering and a roll of tape, Steve stands and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“That should do it! It’ll probably take a sec to heat up again,” he sighs, and you emerge from the kitchen, balancing two hefty mugs brimming with whipped cream. “Ooh, what’s this?”

“Hot cocoa. Secret family recipe,” you tease. In actuality, it’s just the standard package of chocolate powder and sugar. The secret lies in the healthy dash of cinnamon you mix into it.

“Secret, eh? Guess that gives me a reason to come see you more often,” he hums, following you to the couch and taking one of the mugs from your hands. It warms him up nicely, and he knows you gave him the bigger mug on purpose when you smile triumphantly. He takes a sip, moaning at the sweetness. You giggle at the whipped cream kissing his top lip.

“I hope I’m reason enough,” you say with a faux pout. He sits close enough to share the pile of blankets with you, your thighs pressed against one another in the captured heat.

“Duh, you’re the main attraction,” he huffs, “Your hot chocolate is like the flashy side show. It’s pretty neat but not quite as cool as the reason you bought the ticket.”

You giggle into your mug, face hot in the bellowing steam. Or because of his dimpled cheeks. Or the way his eyes swoop over your face. Or maybe the way he came rushing to your rescue in a storm without a second thought.

“Any new Brad-related developments? Or is he still giving you shit?” he says, swallowing a warm gulp of liquid chocolate.

You groan, head lulling back against the couch. “He keeps calling to say I’m a cold hearted bitch and then immediately hang up. I think he forgot that he’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Right, right. Why’s that again?”

“Something about his family’s values. And how he hates my friends,” you say, “I just remember getting mad because he seemed so jealous and mistrusting. Honestly, in hindsight, he was really childish about the whole thing.”

You shrug it off, but it snaps his heart in two all over again. He doesn’t even want to know the gorey details because he knows it’ll boil his blood. Just knowing that asshole said something like that to you makes his fists ball up in frustration. But he thinks of what you said. What did Brad have to be jealous about; he had the entire world and Steve never bat an eye. Not to you, at least.

“Jealous?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, he’d give me all these ultimatums where I’d have to choose between you and him. So random,” you huff. Though, maybe he was justified in some way. You and Steve have been this close since the day you met. Any love interest would feel threatened by his charm and that smile.

“Oh… weird”—He watches you take a cautious sip from your mug like maybe you regret saying anything at all—“Yeah. That’s random. Had no idea I posed such a threat to that guy. He seemed so… self-assured.”

You stare blankly, shrugging when you mutter, “you can call him a narcissistic prick, i don't care. And yeah, I was kinda surprised the first time he brought it up, because a big part of why I was attracted to him was for his confidence” you chuckle, “No idea what went wrong!

Steve absentmindedly squares his shoulders, sitting up straught on the plush cushions trying to make himself look strong and reliable and confident. You sip your hot chocolate and look at him funny.

“Are you okay?” you say, holding in a laugh.

He nods. “Oh, yeah. I’m just super confident ‘s all.”

You snort, choking on the sip you’d sucked down, pinching your eyes closed when he lurches forward with a worried look slapped across his face.

“Shit, here, let me help,” he huffs, setting his mug aside and wiping the drips from your chin with his sleeve, “Oh, god, are you hurt???”

You cackle with tears pricking in your eyes when he carefully takes your mug and places it next to his. You pat dry your neck, and he watches you softly.

“Stevie, you’re so sweet.”

His heart flutters in his warm chest when you smile at him.

“Well, I dunno about that.”

“No, seriously. You’re so caring and thoughtful, I’ve never met anyone like you,” you whisper.

He takes a shaky breath in.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nod heartily and grin wide, and you notice he’s staring at you. So you kick his calf under the blanket.

“Hey, ouch!”

You giggle, but he’s quick to grab the crook of your knee and tug you close so you’re laying flat on the couch. Your hands cover your face when he tickles your sides and leans over you playfully. He’s almost glad you can’t see him blushing or feel his heart racing or hear his head booming with thoughts of you. He gasps when you plant your socked foot on his thigh, but he holds your elbow gently to keep you close to him while he leans over you.

You’re laughing, and he can confidently say it’s his favorite sound. You palm his chest, and he takes a deep breath in. Your eyes flick open because you’ve never felt someones heart beat so fast and so warm just beneath your fingertips. He’s flushed and pink but he looks like a prince in the orange lamplight. And he’s so close to you.

Your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt, barely grasping, and you crane your neck towards him. You watch his honey eyes draw over your lips just before he leans in and kisses you.

His hand molds into your side, melting over the exposed skin like hot syrup. You press into his hold and smile with your fingers drawing up and across the back of his neck.

But the kiss short lived when he pulls away, shoving a hand through his ruffled hair.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve huffs, standing and backing away, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should go!”

He crosses the floor in a daze, forcing his feet back into his shoes before you even can sit up and call after him.

“Steve, wait!”

But he’s shaking his head and reaching for the ice cold door handle with his jacket barely slung over his shoulders. He whips the door open, and you can see the pure white snow floating down in sheets outside.

“Keep the blankets! Just call me if the radiator breaks again, and I’ll see you!”

The door slams shut.

You tut, hand coming to your lips as you look around at the scene before you. The abandoned mugs on the coffee table, his blankets folded over the back of the couch, your repaired radiator whirring softly in the corner. The absence of Steve. What would the kids say. You know they’d lose it, but would they be upset if you ended up together. Would they realize they changed their minds and you’d jeopardized not only your friendship with Steve but with the entire party.

What if everything changes?

Oh, but what if nothing changes: you and Steve tip toeing around each other, the kids scheming and giggling at your misfortune, but now changed by the fact that you’ve kissed Steve. And he kissed you back. And you like him so much.

"Oh, god.”

more like this

masterlist

#the babygirlification of steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #fluff #friends to lovers #best friends to lovers #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #x fem!reader #kristoff!steve x anna!reader #scoops ahoy #stranger things season three

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broke-art · 7 months

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Macaque x Fangirl reader

"You must be my biggest fan." The hooded storyteller leaned down next to your seat. "I hope that journal isn't to steal my stories." He gestures to the open notebook in your lap.

"What?! No! No of course not." You promised hurriedly. "Your stories are so good but, they're yours. I couldn't tell them half as well. No I'm-" paused trying to collect your thoughts. You certainly had been taking notes but not to steal anything. It's just the story reminded you so much of someone.

The hooded figure smiled indulgently.

"And who is that?" He asked clearly meaning the sketches next to your notes.

Some heat flared to life in your cheeks.

"Oh that is my depiction of the six earred Macaque." You explained ensuring to keep your eyes glued to the journal. "He was the brother of the monkey king? Played a super important role." You rambled. "Actually your story reminds me of-" the words died in your throat as you saw his grin slowly turn into a slight frown.

"You.....you know about the six earred Macaque?" He said slowly.

You nodded slightly.

"He's my favorite. It's really unfortunate how he died." You mumbled with a shrug.

The figure seemed to flinch a bit but when you looked at him he pasted on a grin that felt a touch forced.

"Sooo....you're a fangirl?"

A blushed burned at your cheeks and you tensed.

"I wouldn't call it that!" You shook your head adamantly.

The figure chuckled.

"Hey it's nothing to be ashamed about. Although-" He sat next to you thoughtfully touching a hand to his chin. "Why does my story remind you of him?"

You blinked.

"Uhm well it's pretty well known that when Sun wukong and Macaque parted ways it wasn't under the most...ahem....amiable conditions."

For a moment you thought you heard the man mutter under his breath, 'No kidding' But you couldn't be sure.

"But Macaque was still pretty renowned in his own way and when they did work together they were virtually unstoppable!" You slipped into explanations and gushed about how cool you believed the monkey brothers were.

That was until your own brother ran into the theater.

"Y/n! I can't find Mei or the others any-" He stopped short suddenly and summoned his staff.

"Macaque. I should have known."

"Wha-"

"Get away from my sister. Now." M.k growled twirling the staff.

A low chuckle sounded behind you making you stiffen and slowly turn.

The man pulled back the hood to reveal a black monkey with purple eyes and a wicked grin.

"Ohohoho sister huh?" He looked at you with a risen brown and you felt your gut twist in knots.

"So... Fangirl." He addressed you stepping towards you. "Ready to meet the real deal?"

"I said-" Gold flared around M.k just before he launched at Macaque. "Get back!"

You screamed and raised your arms as purple and gold magic clashed and the resulting sonic blast threw you back into the bleachers.

"Careful there, bud." Macaque's mockery reached you just as your shadow morphed under you. "Wouldn't want someone to get hurt !"

At the last word the shadow opened a portal in the floor.

With a gasp you reached for M.k as you fell only to see him lunge for you.

"Y/N!" He shouted only for his fingertips to just brush your own before the world vanished into a void of black.

You came to with a groan touching a hand to your head.

"M.k you've got some explaining to do." Pigsy groused somewhere in the background as you got your bearings. Slowly, as the world righted yourself you spotted your journal.

You picked it up carefully as M.k dashed out the doors for some unknown reason. You flicked through the pages and froze on your latest page.

'To my biggest fan. Thanks for coming to the show. Was nice to hear someone remembers me. ' - Macaque.

You blinked and despite yourself you smiled slowly. Perhaps you really were a fangirl.

#lego monkie kid #lego red son #lmk #jttw #jttw sun wukong #jttw wukong #lego monkie king #lego #lego nezha #redson #lmk monkie kid #lmk mei #lmk mk #lmk macaque #lmk monkey king #lmk macaque x reader #lmk six eared macaque #macaque x reader #six eared macaque

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python333 · 1 year

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bedbound — python333

— — — —

synopsis you're on a mission and oopsie daisy you get trapped under a building!! you end up in the medbay and tf141 visits you one by one, each of them giving you a lil piece of their mind for going and getting yourself trapped under a collapsed building.

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.5k

warnings pretty detailed (i think) descriptions of [reader] being in pain [specifically having a bunch of leg injuries], angstier than i usually write, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note this is my first actual fic ive wrotten in MONTHS so i hope its okay! so sorry if it feels like a majority of the focus is on the reader, i had a too much fun writing out the first part where they get crushed :3 i am also once again begging for requests. like on my knees hands together begging for requests. its the best way of getting motivation istg. anyway, this is all mild hurt/comfort and some angst + fluff so enjoy!! :3

You tried running out of the building—you didn’t expect the whole damn thing to come crashing down on you.

You’d just been chasing after an enemy soldier moments ago, dashing into the building, when suddenly the whole building seemed to shake. Then, the whole thing seemed to just collapse. When you think about it now, you realize the shake must’ve come from a nearby explosion, an explosion somehow powerful enough to damage the structural support of the building so terribly that it couldn’t hold itself up anymore and instead fell down onto you.

Now, here you were, just ten steps away from the entrance of the building, stopped by the huge slab of concrete and twisted metal that pinned your legs down to the ground. Your earpiece fell off when you fell down, sliding across the floor, preventing you from calling your team.

Sure, you could try and move your legs, but the excruciating pain that came with each movement wasn’t worth it. You think your legs are broken with the way your nerves scream at you every time you move them, and with how uncomfortably and horrifyingly disconnected they feel.

“I’m making shit up,” You whisper hoarsely to yourself, ignoring the tears that welled up in your eyes from the debris and dust in the air, “They’re not broken. I’m making it worse for myself by thinking that.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’re quoting Price on that one, from the last time you got seriously hurt like this. You vaguely remember your panicked words and Price’s soothing voice that came after every worry, telling you that no, you’re not too badly hurt, it’s gonna be okay, you’re just panicking.

But in the forefront of your mind, all you can do is think about how you can’t reach your earpiece to talk to your team, the only thing you can do is listen to their worried voices.

The earpiece is loud enough for you to hear, even though you’re just out of arm’s reach from it, you can still hear your teammates repeating your call sign and asking how you copy. With the stupid Push-To-Talk thing, you can’t even just respond, no, you have to push the button on the side of your earpiece to unmute yourself.

You stretch your arm out just a little bit more to try and reach the earpiece, but when your leg starts to strain and your nerves light up you immediately give up, letting out a small, pained huff. You take a moment to just lie there and listen to your own labored breaths, every other breath hitching or catching in your throat.

You swallow down a sob that threatens to bubble out of your throat and try to reach again and—nope, that still fucking hurts.

You bring your hand back and put it over your mouth to muffle a small sob that climbs up and out of your throat, and try to take a deep breath the best you can with the debris in the air.

You feel a slight discomfort in your chest and cough, horrified when you see small specks of dust in the air you cough out, and God, the sight of it makes you want to rip out your lungs.

You feel the sudden urge to cough everything out, to flush out the dust in your lungs, to get rid of the uncomfortably full feeling you feel in your chest, but you know that every time you cough you can only exhale more of that debris-filled dust back in so now you’re trapped in a loop and—

“[c/n], how copy?” God, you want to yell at them that repeating that question won’t help, but you know there’s nothing else they can do. They’ve already asked where you are, if you’re okay, and how you copy multiple times, all of which got no answer.

They’ve only experienced radio silence on their end, and the thought makes you feel guilty for not being able to suck up the pain in your legs and just reach over to the damn earpiece and tell them you’re trapped.

You take a few deep breaths, trying your best to ignore the way you can literally feel the dust entering your lungs, and reach. You stretch your arm out the farthest you can, and feel the strain in your leg, and you’re almost to the earpiece, just a few more inches— pop.

A bone chilling pop rings through the air the moment you manage to snatch the earpiece, and good thing it was at least after you managed to grasp it firmly in your hand because you recoil back on instinct and gasp.

The gasp only lets in more dust, and you cough, wet tears dripping down onto your cheeks as you go through a seemingly endless loop of coughing out dust and inhaling debris and coughing it out again only for new dust to make its way into your system.

You stifle a pain-filled whimper and try to control your shaky breath, gripping the earpiece firming in your hand, looking down at it, looking at the sheer amount of debris on it. You bring your free hand out and wipe away the debris with shaky hands, making sure it’s clean enough to put in your ear before you carefully insert it.

It takes you a moment with your trembling hands, but you manage to do it, and you listen to Price ask how you copy one more time before you push down on the PTT button.

“Copy—” You hoarsely say, before coughing, everyone on the other line going silent, “Copy, not doing very well over here.”

“What happened?” Price’s voice crackles through on the damaged ear piece, “Are you hurt?”

“I got trapped under— under some concrete, and I…” You take a moment to catch your breath, “My legs are pinned, I can’t move.”

“Okay, okay,” Price’s voice softens, his tone becoming more soothing, “Where are you?”

“In a building— dunno which— which one… it’s by the really tall one,” You breathe out, mentally slapping yourself in the forehead for not being able to remember, “I’m sorry, I just know it’s orange and it has the entrance that Ghost bumped his head on—”

“It’s okay, I know which one you’re talking about,” Price reassures you, “Catch your breath. I’ll be there to get you out of there, okay? Just stay still, don’t move a muscle, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” You mumble, trying to catch your breath, coughing at the amount of dust that infiltrates your lungs. You bring your hand off of the PTT button and sob once, quietly, and sniffle to try and stop yourself from crying, blinking away tears.

The tears that trailed down your face earlier now only make you realize just how much dust and grime is on your face, how the tear trails must’ve been the only clean lines on your face, how there’s a whole layer of pure filth on your face and you can’t even properly wipe it away because your hands are dirty too.

The pain in your legs are throbbing and you know that you’ve torn some of the muscle in your thighs, and you know the popping noise had to have been your hip, from the unnatural way you’d twisted it to reach your earpiece. You don’t even have time to think about how pathetic you look when suddenly Price opens the barely-hanging-onto-the-hinges-door, looking at the floor for a moment before his eyes finally land on you.

He immediately walks over to the slab of concrete pinning your legs down and forcing you to lie on the ground and you can hear him faintly murmur, “Oh, God,” and kneel down to the same level as the concrete.

You turn your neck to look at him and watch as he looks at the concrete for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to lift it, before he simply grabs the edge of the concrete and, with a grunt and after a good thirty seconds, he manages to lift one end up and flip it over onto its other side. The circulation that immediately floods back to your legs and the sudden feeling of weightlessness you get is almost too much, and you can barely find it in yourself to feel shame as you let out a small, relieved sob at the sudden rush of blood to your legs.

Price immediately gasps and you can’t see much from your angle but in the midst of your relief you suddenly feel a pang of pain and oh God, that hurts. You can recognize now the warm blood that accompanies the drying blood on your calf, and with the blood rushing into your legs, more spills out from the wound in your leg. Vaguely, you can remember twisted metal doing something to your leg—stabbing it, maybe? Your brain becomes fog-filled; too hazy to think through but just clear enough to register the throbbing pain in your leg.

“I’m so sorry,” Price murmurs softly, and before you can question him he takes the metal out of your leg and you let out a closed-lip scream, slapping a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the now uncontrollable sobs that break past your lips, the pain you feel making you light-headed.

Price quickly pulls a tourniquet out of one of the many pockets of his tactical best, wrapping the bright red strip around your leg just above the bleeding, blocking the blood from reaching past that point. He tightens it and rolls you over so that you’re laying on your back, making you stifle another pain-filled whimper. Without another word, he slips his arm under your knees and his other below your back and lifts you up bridal style, making you gasp sharply and cry out for a moment in pain, a few drops of blood making it onto the floor from your calf, the whole sight dizzying.

Being lifted up like this gave you vertigo—your head spun as you were lifted up and you could barely process anything with your hazy mind. Price mutters small ‘sorry’s under his breath, carrying you out of the door and quickly running with you in his arms back to where the others are, almost wanting to cry for you, seeing how much pain you were in.

Your eyelids drooped and your eyes shortly became half-lidded, and your ears started to ring, and everything was so overwhelming you just wanted it to be over.

Price notices your eyelids drooping and quickly says, “Hey, hey, don’t pass out on me, you gotta stay awake, kid.” You can only shake your head ‘no’ because talking feels like too much right now and let out another small, pain-filled whimper, just the sound of it making Price’s heart shatter.

You can only find it in yourself to talk a moment later, your words slurring together as you try to speak, “I can’t— can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, what you’re trying to warn Price about, but he seems to know.

“No, no, no—” Price tries to beg you, as if you had enough strength to stay awake. Those are the last words you hear before you completely black out.

—

You wake up to a white ceiling and the faint beeping of a heart monitor. You move your head around a bit, trying to gauge where you are, when you realize— oh, I’m in the medbay. You blink for a moment before sighing and just resting there for a moment, trying to recount the events that happened earlier. You don’t have time to go down memory lane, though, because suddenly the curtains in front of your bed are pulled back to reveal your Captain. “You’re awake,” He states, closing the curtains behind him. “How could you tell?” He snorts and sits down in a chair by your bed. You look at him questioningly, “Where’re the others?” “They’ll be here soon,” Price assures you, looking at your blanket covered legs for a moment before looking back up at your face, “Medics said one at a time.” You hum neutrally in response to that and wait a moment before asking, “How bad is it?” “Your leg?” “Yeah.” “Well…” Price starts to list off on his fingers, recalling the doctor’s words, “The joint that connected your hips and your legs was twisted and it had to be set back to normal, your muscles were torn, your ligaments were torn, your nerves were so compressed someone had to physically massage your legs back to life, and the stab wound in your leg almost got infected.” “… Huh.” You blink at Price, before asking, “When can I get out of here?” “Why is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Price asks, confused, before sighing and answering, “Kid, your leg was basically broken. You can get out of here in maybe a few weeks to a month. Getting back to your assignments is a whole different story. It could take several months for your muscles to fully heal, and even then I don’t want you back out there for a while. Not until it’s guaranteed your leg won’t… give out, or something, out there.” You frown at Price, “So what, I’m just gonna be stuck here?” “What else are you gonna do with an almost-broken leg?” “…” Price sighs and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Look, I know it’s frustrating, having to sit here for a few weeks then be able to get out only to not be able to do anything too physical, but your leg muscles were torn. You were trapped under concrete. You’re not going on any missions any time soon. I feel like that should be kind of obvious.” You can understand it, knowing the condition you’re in now, but you still deflate a little where you lie down and let out a tired, frustrated huff. Price chuckles softly at your clear display of disappointment and rubs your shoulder gently before patting it and getting up. “I guess I have to let the others see you too,” He muses, making your lips twitch up into a smile, the sight making him smile in return, “But I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to you again, alright?” “Alright,” You nod, watching as he walks past the curtains blocking your bed from the rest of the medbay and listen as the door clicks open and closes shut. Not even a few seconds later, the door opens again, this time with someone walking faster to the curtains, pushing them aside eagerly. You quickly recognize Soap as he walks in, quickly closing the curtains behind him before rushing over and leaning down to hug you. This all happens so quickly you have to take a moment to process it, but you eventually hug him back, sighing at the warm embrace. “I want tae call ye stupid sae bad,” Soap mumbles into your neck as he hugs you, “but it wasn’ even yer fault sae I can’.”

“That’s the worst thing that’s happened all day,” You mutter sarcastically, making Soap laugh quietly. He pulls away from you and looks down at you. “It is, actually,” Soap says, and at your confused and mildly offended expression, he adds on, “It’s been over a day since ye got yer leg fucked up.” “… Oh.” You dumbly said, trying to process that. Over a day. “Everyone was really worried about ye, too,” Soap tacks on, refusing to sit on the chair behind him, simply standing by your bed. You stay silent, and Soap takes that as an invitation to keep talking. “I think that's the first time I've actually seen Ghost stressed," Soap muses, making you huff out a small laugh. “Really?” “Yea,” Soap smiles, “I ken. Stone cauld L.t, suddenly worryin’ o’er ye.”

“Isn’t that a surprise,” You mutter, a small smile gracing your lips thinking about Ghost worrying over you, “So you were all really worried?” “Very worried,” Soap nods, “Gaz thocht ye were gonnae die, poor chiel.” “Hm,” You hum neutrally. Soap stays silent for a moment before his voice softens and he quiets himself down a bit. “Try no' tae dae that again, aye? Ye'll gie the captain a heart attack," When you give him a pointed look, he rolls his eyes and adds on, “And me. Possibly. Maybe.” “Uh huh,” You look at him, unimpressed, “Right. I’ll try to predict when a huge piece of concrete is gonna fall on me.” “Ye ken wha’ I meant.”

“Never said I didn’t.” “Ye— y’know wha’? I’ll just leave then,” Soap says, feigning annoyance as he walks away from your bed, making you laugh quietly. He slips out and doesn’t bother to close the curtains behind him, simply walking out the door, not bothering to close that either.

You can hear him letting someone else know you’re ‘free to visit’, and just a few seconds later you watch Ghost walk in. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, seeing as Soap had told you Ghost was worried over you, but you still find yourself a little shocked when he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him. He sits at the chair beside your bed, and silently stares at you from the chair.

You stare back, not blinking, waiting for him to say the first word. You and Ghost’s silent staring match ends with Ghost sighing and speaking up. “How does your… leg feel?” “How do you think it feels?” You ask, deadpan, watching as Ghost’s eyes narrow. You blink at him for another moment before adding on, “It feels numb, right now.” Ghost hums at the actual answer and sits there awkwardly for another moment before stating, “Gaz thought you died. Or, were gonna die.” “I heard about that,” You respond, raising an eyebrow at Ghost, “Did he not know it was just my leg that got hurt?” “Hurt is a mild word,” Ghost mutters, before clearing his throat and saying, “No, he knew. He was more worried about all the stuff that got into your lungs.” “Oh.” “Yeah.”

You both stay silent for a bit, again, before you speak up, “So… are my lungs okay, or… ?” “No, yeah, they’re fine.” “That’s… good.” “Mhm.” Why is this so awkward? You purse your lips and turn your head back so that you’re staring at the ceiling rather than at Ghost, not knowing what to say. Why’d he even come in here if he was just gonna be awkward about this whole thing? It’s silent again, an uncomfortable sort of quiet that’s silent yet deafening at the same time—and you hate it. It seems Ghost hates it too, because he shifts in his seat, not saying anything verbally but you can tell by his body language it’s awkward for him too.

This goes on for maybe a minute or two, when suddenly Ghost gets up and walks the short one step between him and your bed and leans down to hug you. Like the silence, the hug is awkward, but unlike it, it’s comforting. A comfortable awkward? You tentatively hug him back and you feel his hands snake underneath your back, forcing his arms under you so that he can hug you properly.

“I know Soap told you I was stressed and worried and whatnot,” Ghost mutters, his skull mask pressing into your shoulder, “… And he was right.” “… Did you think I thought he was wrong?” “Shut it and let me try to talk.” “Yes, sir.” Ghost sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing, “He was right. I was growing greys watching you passed out, and I think I almost passed out as well, hearing you were trapped under a huge block of concrete and got stabbed by metal.”

“Did you ever find out what the metal was?” You ask after a moment, making sure he was done talking.

“The Captain said it was a twisted pipe.”

“Huh.” You lay there for a moment, simply enjoying Ghost hugging you, before Ghost speaks up again.

“I know it wasn’t your fault, but please, God, never do that shit to me ever again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m in a collapsing building.”

“I’m serious,” Ghost pulls away from the hug and looks down at you, keeping his hands on both of your shoulders, “I had to drive a car with you in the back passed out laying in the trunk with Price, all while not knowing what happened, and having to drive you guys back to base.”

“… Damn, you guys didn’t get a helicopter, or anything?”

“[c/n].”

“Sorry.”

Ghost sighs, “I’m trying to say that I don’t like worrying over you like that. I don’t like knowing that my kid is hurt, and I can’t do anything about it. That was the first time I was seriously worried and— and stressed over you, and it was terrifying, seeing you just passed out with dirt all over you and blood all over your leg, and just seeing you like that— I can’t do that again,” Ghost takes a deep breath, and looks down at you, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see what you think of his words, but all you can think is, wait, he called me his kid?

“You called me your kid,” You dumbly voice your thoughts, watching as Ghost’s expression becomes more confused, and he opens his mouth to deny that when suddenly— oh shit, he called you his kid.

“… I did,” He dumbly says back, sounding surprised by his own words, before he fully realizes what he said and simply blinks down at you, not knowing where to go from here. You both blink at each other, not knowing what to say, before he clears his throat.

“I’ll just… head out then,” He awkwardly says, slowly walking away from the bed.

You take the opportunity to say, “Alright, dad.”

He freezes and slowly turns towards you and mutters, “Don’t call me that.”

A grin splits across your face, “Oh I will. Dad.”

He points at you with a single finger, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I’ll call you it in front of everyone. I’ll gaslight them into thinking we’re related.”

“God, you better not.”

“I will. In fact, tomorrow, I’ll begin with the Captain. Then I’ll tell Soap, he’s the next most gullible next to Gaz, who I’ll see right after you. Gaz won’t fight with me over it, he’ll just accept it, I know he will, then, and only then, will I tell everyone else. I spread it across the base like the flu. Everyone, and I mean everyone will think that you’re my father, Ghost.”

“That is…” Ghost blinks at you, dumbfounded and mildly horrified, “... terrifying.” “Yeah, I know. Pretty sure I got that from you, dad.” “Oh my God,” Ghost groans, making you laugh at his misery. He walks out without another word, being sure to slam the door behind him, making the poor medic passing by jump at least a foot in the air. You giggle quietly in your bed, waiting for the next person to walk in. By the time you’ve contained your laughter, Gaz walks in, looking strangely sheepish as he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him that Ghost had forgotten to close. He doesn’t say anything until he’s right by your bed and bends over to give you a nice, firm, quick hug before standing up straight again and clearing his throat. “Hi,” He greets you simply. “Hi.” “How’s the uh… how’s your leg?” “You thought I died?” You ask teasingly, ignoring his question. You can’t see any blush on his face, but you’re almost certain his face heats up as he looks away from you. “Listen…” He sighs, looking back at you, “Price ran over to the whole group, with you not moving at all in his arms, and a tourniquet wrapped around your calf. I feel like it was a bit reasonable for me to think you were dead for a second.” “Right, of course,” You nod, definitely not believing that he only thought you were dead for a second, “That’s totally why I’ve had both Soap and Ghost tell me you thought I was dead. They only told me that because you thought I was dead for a second.” “I’m gonna murder them both, I swear to—” He mutters, burying his face in his hands, making you laugh quietly. He glares at you from behind his hands and adds on, “Oh, you think this is funny? You having a laugh down there, knowin’ that I thought you were dead?”

“I think this is hilarious.” “You’re insufferable and I don’t even know why I try to care about you anymore.” “You don’t try, you just do,” You roll your eyes, “Don’t act like you have to actively try and care about me.” “You’re so snarky today, my God,” Gaz scoffs, “Wait ‘til I tell Captain Price about this.” “Alright, Draco Malfoy. You do that.” “I shouldn’t have ever visited you in here,” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking away from you, feigning annoyance. You huff out a laugh at that and that makes Gaz laugh a bit, though he keeps up his dramatics, continuing to look away from you. “You still think I’m dead now, or?” “Shut it, you.” “My bad.” “I wish they amputated your leg.” “No you don’t.” “…” Gaz can’t even argue with it, simply sighing and rolling his eyes before looking back at you, ”No, I don’t.” “I knew it,” You smile at him knowingly, making his lips twitch up into a smile. You think for a moment before tacking on, “Wanna hear what Ghost said to me?” That makes Gaz perk up and immediately reply, “Oh, absolutely.” Cue you both five minutes later, Gaz gaping at you while you laugh every other word, remember the horror on Ghost's face when he realized what he called you. Gaz covers his mouth with his hand, laughing into it, gripping the rail of your bed with his other hand, keeping himself up.

“He— oh my God,” Gaz laughs, trying to keep quiet so Ghost wouldn’t hear him, knowing the latter was right outside the medbay. He takes a deep breath and another before breaking into small giggles once again, making you do the same. After maybe a few more minutes of just pure laughter, Gaz manages to catch his breath and stop laughing, and you do the same. ��I should probably head out now,” He says, sounding almost disappointed by the fact, glancing over at the closed curtain a few feet away from your bed. You nod in understanding and don’t say anything in response, making Gaz look back at you and add on, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow though, yeah?” “Yeah,” You confirm, making Gaz offer you a warm smile and lean down to hug you tightly one last time before getting up and walking over to the curtains, sliding them to the side and walking out, sliding them closed behind him. You hear the click open and shut of the door, as well as Gaz’s footsteps walking outside of the medbay and eventually fading into nothing.

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galamalion · 2 months

Text

𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike.

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight.

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you. “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become.

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

#chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh x reader #mdni

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cher-rei · 6 months

Note

helloo helloo:) can you do nr. 4 from your prompt list with gavi? that‘d be so cute💞

kisses— pablo gavi [ P.G ]

kisses like pink cotton candy [a loving feeling- mitski]

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

summary: just a little wholesome tiktok trend

genre(s): nothing but fluffff

[wc: 1.2k] masterlist

notes: anon, you really picked this one out in my favour because I wanted to write something with this prompt so badddd. so thank youuu xxx (screaming, kicking ny feet rn)

it was one of those lazy saturdays— the most cherished time for you and gavi. sure he was at home more often anyway because he was recovering from the injury but he still went to practice on most days so the two of you loved the days that you got to do nothing but lounge around.

you were both sitting on the couch, your legs resting on gavi's lap while his eyes stayed on the tv and his fingers meticulously pushed his controller buttons. no words were exchanged but there wasn't a need for that, being in each other's pretense was more than enough.

so you continued to scroll through tiktok, letting out a laugh every so often which indicated to gavi that another tiktok was sent his way to pile up with the hundred others he would watch later and reply to respectively.

then something came up, a trend that you found utterly adorable. your eyes lit up at the idea of recreating it with your boyfriend. the opportunity was too perfect to miss and just the thought of smothering him in kisses had you jumping from the couch.

normally gavi wouldn't mind, but by the eagerness in your step and the lack of explanation or "I'll be right back baby" it raised some suspicion. his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched you dash upstairs, counting down the seconds until you came back.

he noticed something in your hand, something you didn't wear often because you preferred lip gloss.

"are you going somewhere?" he asked softly and you shook your head with a smile before taking a seat beside him, your body turned so you could face him in all of his confusion.

you looked at your phone camera as you applied the lipstick, the most flattering shade of red you could find. "do you want to film a tiktok with me?"

gavi put his controller to the side and stifled a laugh. "what do you need me to do, amor?"

your lips tugged up at the term of endearment, a blush flushing your cheeks even though it was normal. no matter how long you'd been with gavi, he still had such a smitten effect on you by doing the most mundane things. but his agreement made you giddy and you urged him to face you.

"just sit here and look cute." you cupped his cheeks lightly and gave him the first peck on his cheek where a perfect lipstick stain had been left. when you pulled away gavi was in slight shock, not quite sure what was happening but he happily took every single kiss you gave him.

they were littered all over his face and he drank it all in, no questions asked. a small giggle could be heard every so often and it made your heart swell at just how cute he was. a shiver ran down your spine with every touch to your bare skin, his fingers lazily drew under your shirt as it usually did.

your kisses travelled down to his neck which only prompted even more laughter from your boyfriend. he found his neck to be the most ticklish and you knew that all too well. it was unarguably one of your favourite places to plaster him with kisses just to hear the sweet sound of his laughter.

"are you sure you're not just doing this because you want to kiss me?" he asked teasingly when you pulled away.

just to make matters a little worse, you leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips which he wasn't too happy about. he tried to pull you back but you were too adamant on finalising the tktok first, saying that he could kiss you for however long he wanted afterwards.

talk about motivation.

you got the camera ready and explained to gavi that all he had to do was wipe the excess lipstick away when you messed up. he understood promptly and urged you to start recording— his mind set on the kisses he was going to get afterwards.

you hit record and reapplied your lipstick for the nth time in the last 10 minutes and staged the slip of your hand perfectly, and then came your boyfriends finger to wipe it away and he rested his fingers beneath your chin.

you couldn't stop the smile on your face as you looked at him with some much love and adoration, your heart was practically overflowing. just to tease you before the video ended tipped your head upwards to kiss him, the two of you bursting into a fit of giggles until the video stopped recording.

you couldn't even watch it back properly before your phone was taken from you and placed on the coffee table in front.

"pablo I need to save it," you said through your laughter but your boyfriend already had you on your back, his arms promptly on each side of your head with a light hum escaping from his lips that were grinning from ear to ear.

his kisses started slow, just as you had done to him. he trailed from your temple, go your cheek, to your nose until he stopped inches away from your lips where you were eagerly waiting for him.

a pout settled on your lips and you gave him a deapanned look. "are you serious right now?"

his nose scrunched cheekily. "what? are you waiting for something, amor?"

you looked up at him in shock, unable to believe how difficult he was being right now. but it was in his teasing nature, the same one that had your heart racing no matter the circumstance. a sigh of defeat left your lips and he smiled.

"can you please kiss me already?" you asked with an eye roll but he didn't budge, asking you who you were talking to.

he was being difficult today, and you didn't know how long you could play along for. was kissing your boyfriend supposed to be this difficult?

your arms snaked around his neck, your fingers lightly playing with his hair. "pablo, baby, amor, the absolute love of my life," you cocked your head to the side, "can I please get a kiss."

"that wasn't so difficult now was it?" he asked and before you could quip back at him his lips met yours tenderly, the butterflies in your stomach swarming enough to make you light headed.

you felt gavi smile into the kiss and you melted right then and there under the featherlight touch of his hand on your hip. he broke it off with a few more pecks on your face and laid down beside you.

he cuddled up closer to you, his head resting in the crook of your neck. "when you upload the tiktok send it to me so I can send it to pedri and abuse my bragging rights."

you scoffed at his comment. "bragging rights? for what?"

he looked up at you with a knowing look, one that showed his confusion to your question. it was blatantly obvious which bragging rights he had. "my bragging rights for having the most amazing and beautiful girlfriend known to man duh."

#footballer imagine #fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagine #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi #gavi x reader #fc barcelona x reader #fc barcelona #fc barcelona imagine #fc barça #cherrei rambles #cherrei writes #writers on tumblr #pablo gavi fluff

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winchester-24 · 26 days

Text

Imagine you being possessed, and Dean doesn’t realize it at first

It seemed like these days, there were demons everywhere. Most of the cases you and the boys went on were demons. This case was the same. It was two towns over from the bunker, so you three were going to crash and dash their little chaos party they have going on. Sam estimated five altogether, so while being outnumbered, you three hoped the element of surprise would be on your side.

While in the backseat, you were reading a new book that Dean had picked up for you not too long ago. While you were focused on your book, Dean was focused on you. He admired how your face would change when something happened in the book, how you looked cute when you were concentrating, and how, most of the time, you had a little grin that he thought was the most adorable thing in the world. His eyes fought between concentrating on the road and concentrating on you. He never expected to fall for you, but slowly, the three of you working together over the years, you found a way into his heart. You were his best friend, and you knew almost everything about him. You accepted him, flaws and all. While he wanted to pursue more and be the one to call you his, he didn’t want to mess up what the two of you already shared. So, he would wear his best friend's title with honor and ignore the feeling he got when another guy would come around. He would pretend like he wasn’t happy when they left as well.

You, on the other hand, have loved Dean Winchester since you first met. The way his green eyes looked over you, concerned and impressed when they first met you. The first time he called you sweetheart, and over the years, the pet name princess he settled for would make your heart skip a beat every time. He would grab your hand in sticky situations to keep you close and make your face turn red at the worst time, and how he tended to you so carefully after each hunt. You have loved this man for years, but he never made a move, so you wore your best friend’s title with pride and tried not to compare yourself to the women he would pick up at the bar or try to feel that glimmer of hope when he does something that doesn’t seem entirely platonic.

The three of you came to the back of the house where the demons stayed. From the window, it looked like most of them were downstairs. Dean made the plan that he and Sammy would take the downstairs with most of them, and you would head upstairs to gank any others. When you and Dean nodded, Sam kicked the door down, and the three of you rushed in.

Upstairs, you have cleared most of the rooms. You can still hear the two boys downstairs fighting, so you are trying to be quick. You open one bedroom door and step in at first, not seeing anything, and then you get hit from behind. Two men grab you, and a woman steps forward from the dark corner of the room with black eyes. There is way more than what Sammy had initially thought.

“Hmm, you seemed to have ruined my little party.” The demon faked pouted. You looked up at her with hate in your eyes.

“Go to hell.” You replied. She bent down to your level.

“Baby, I’ve been there and don’t plan on returning.” She stood back up, and one of the men looked like they were about to hit you in the head.

“Stop!” She said suddenly. The man stopped. “I think I have a better idea.” Black smoke came out of the woman and headed directly to you. Panic struck you as the smoke entered you and down your throat. You now regret not going to get an anti-possession tattoo with the boys. She was now inside your body, and you were screaming and fighting to get out. The men let you go. She turned to them.

“Get out of here unless you want the Winchesters to kill you for touching their little trophy girl. I’ll catch up to you another time.” The men nodded, and then black smoke exited the two bodies, making them drop to the floor. The demon went and stabbed each body with your demon knife, making it look like you killed them. You are screaming the entire time to stop. She looks at you in the mirror.

“Hmm, we need a little more convincing.” She takes a different knife and cuts one of your arms, your cheek, and then cuts from your eyebrow up. She makes the one starting at your eyebrow a little deeper, and she or you hiss in pain. That cut will probably need stitches.

“Princess!” You hear Dean yell as feet are pounding up the stairs. The demon smirks in your body.

“Show time, Y/N.” She snickers and then changes her face to one of fake exhaustion.

“Dean! I’m here!” You yell. You turn and run towards the door and meet Dean at the entranceway. He immediately grabs your face and looks at the gash on your head, worry clouding in his eyes. His eyes dart behind you, and see the three bodies on the floor.

“You had to take on three of them?” He said, worry and guilt laced in his question. You nod your head.

“I’m so sorry, princess; I should have come up here with you.”

“I’m okay; I took care of it.” You speak. Sam looks behind you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N; I should have known there were more.” You turn to Sam.

“It’s okay, Sammy.” You say. You look back at Dean.

“Can we go home?” You ask, the demon trying to do your little puppy face that you learned from Sam. He nods.

“Yeah, we will go home and patch you up.” The three of you start to leave. Meanwhile, you’re screaming from inside your head, trying desperately to take control just for a few seconds.

Back at the bunker, Dean patches your cut on your face up, careful with the stitches, eyes only leaving his work temporarily to look at you. You sit there, the demon doing her best not to give off any signs that you aren’t you.

“All done, " he says. His eyes lock onto yours, and you try to scream to him that you are not him. You take his face in your hand, and he closes his eyes and leans into it.

“Thank you, Dean.” You say softly. He looks at you.

“I should have gone with you.”

“It’s okay; I’m a big girl; I took care of them.”

“Yeah, but you got hurt.”

“You patched me up; I feel as good as new.” You smile at him. He smiles and leans over, and kisses your forehead.

“I’m glad, princess; I’m going to take a shower.” You nod your head and watch him leave. As soon as he is gone, you roll your eyes and scoff.

“You two are disgusting.” The demon says in disgust to you. You are cussing her out seven ways from Sunday, but she laughs.

“Your little Dean is so smitten with you; he has no idea something is wrong with you; he is just glad his precious little Y/N is okay.” The demon makes you giggle and then gets up. She catches sight of you in the mirror and turns her eyes black.

“This is going to be so fun.”

A week. You have been trapped in your body for a week, and neither of the boys have noticed. You have stopped fighting. It's heartbreaking that the boys can’t pick up on the fact that you haven’t been in your reading corner for a week while they do research, you haven’t cooked in a week, you haven’t gone into Dean’s room in the middle of the night, or you haven’t joined Sam in for a workout. The demon has made you more flirty with Dean, which makes you sick as it’s not you, but more that Dean is giving into it and flirting back. While you would love to be on the receiving end of the flirting, it’s not you.

Without your or the demon's knowledge. The boys have noticed a change in you. They talk about it quietly while you’re not around and share glances when you do something you wouldn’t normally do or say in front of them. At first, they thought you were shaken up from having to fight three-on-one at the house, so they let you cope, but now they suspect something else is happening with you. Dean’s heart clenches whenever you make a flirty comment to you, wishing he could believe it was you saying these things to you, but that isn’t like you to be so bold in coming onto someone. He plays along to make what he thinks is a demon in you not suspicious, but also, he can briefly believe you return his sentiment.

You just came back from the bunker, talking to the two demons who were at the house. They are planning their next move, and the demon has big plans for your body and getting the Winchester brothers. Dean is sitting in his usual spot across the library, and Sam is walking in from the bedrooms.

“Hey, princess,” Dean says, looking up at you coming down the stairs.

“Hey, handsome, miss me?” You say, smiling, flirting with him. You make your way across the library.

“Always beautiful.” He flirts back with you. You go to step to him when you can’t move. You look confused.

“What?” You say. You look around, and Dean gets up and moves the corner of the rug to show part of a devil’s trap. This grabs your attention inside your mind. The demon inside you makes your face twist into anger.

“What gave me away?” You sneer at Dean.

“Few things.” Dean cocks back at you with an attitude, hate showing in his face. While you know it's not directed at you; it still hurts you a little to see him looking at your body like that.

“Firstly,” Sam starts, “Y/N always joins me in the morning for a little bit of a workout, even if it’s just fifteen minutes to get her body going for the day. She also always goes to that little corner while Dean and I are researching; she never joins in as that is the quietest time in the bunker to get a few chapters in her book done.” Sam points to the corner when your reading nook is set up that hasn’t been touched in a week.

“Next, Y/N always cooks meals while we are here; it’s something that makes her feel like she is helping since she doesn’t research, even if it is just something small and easy.” Dean continues. “She also always comes into my room in the middle of the night. She hasn’t been in her room for a whole week in a long time. Also, Y/N is never as flirty as you have been. She has never been that direct with any man, let alone her best friend. She would never say those things to me.” Dean snarks at you, jaw clenched, eyes hard.

You laugh. “Oh, Dean,” You start. You are yelling inside your mind for the demon to shut up. “Poor little Y/N was fighting for a good while to try to get to you, but she gave up.” You say darkly. “She couldn’t bear the thought that you and little Sammy couldn’t tell it wasn’t her and making her stay trapped inside her own body, so she gave up fighting. Her little heartbreaking that you two were so comfortable with me around.” Dean faltered slightly, but his eyes got hard again; Sam stood beside him, glaring at you.

“You should hear some of the things Y/N thinks about her best friend, Dean. This girl is head over heels in love with you, and it was making her so sad that you liked me better than her; flirting with me, holding me, she just wished it was her. Y/N doesn’t think you could ever love someone like her, as she is not who you usually go for, but we know better, little Dean. You are so in love with her; you couldn’t even tell the first night you brought her back; you were just so thrilled that she was being a little more handsy with you.”

“You bitch.” Dean sneers at you. Sam and Dean grab you and tie you up to a chair. Once you are tied, Dean leans over you, getting very close to you or the demon.

“You’re going to get out of her and go back to hell where you belong,” Dean says darkly. You smile.

“Careful, Dean, you’ll turn her on being so close.” Dean goes to slap you but has to stop himself, reminding himself that you are still in there and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Oh, you were going to hit me? Kinky Dean.” You reply seductively, trying to get a rise out of him.

“Fuck you.” He spits as Sam finds the book with the exorcism in it. Sam starts reading it, and your body starts to twitch. You look at Dean glaring.

“You know she wanted to die all week? She kept thinking about how she would rather die than have me in her body any longer. She would beg you to notice and do something, but you never did.”

“Shut up!” Dean yelled at you as Sam continued reading. The demon was gripping to stay onto you, but you could tell she was losing. You were able to take control.

“Ugh, get out of my body! Sammy, hurry up!” You yelled as your body was jerking around.

“Princess, fight it!” Dean said, getting close to you and grabbing your arms. You look at him with tears in your eyes. Then your head leans back, and the black smoke comes spilling out of your mouth before disappearing to hell, where the demon belongs. You close your eyes, breathing heavily, and little tears come down your face as the boys untie you. Dean helps you up and guides you to the couch while Sam grabs you some water. You roll your head to the side and peek your eyes open to see Dean already looking at you.

“I know that face; it’s not your fault.” You say before he has a chance to let a word out.

“I should have noticed sooner, " he responds, his hands rubbing against yours. Sam brings you the water, and you take a sip.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Sam says. You look at Sam.

“It’s not your fault, Sammy.” You say. “I’m just glad the bitch is out of me.” Sam looks at you worried.

“Was it telling the truth, Y/N? Did you want to die?” Sam asks quietly. You sigh and look at him, trying to decide how to handle the situation.

“I wanted to,” you said softly. Being able to watch what you're doing but not able to control it is the most exhausting and frustrating thing. I did things that I couldn’t stop myself from doing, and I will have to live with them for the rest of my life.” You look between the two brothers.

“But you two saved me and got me out; that’s all I can be grateful for.” You give them a small smile, and Dean looks at Sam with a pointed look. Sam gets the hint and excuses himself. Dean looks back at you.

“Was the demon lying about the other things too?” He asks quietly after a few moments of silence. Your breath hitched in your throat. You looked at him, and his eyes scanned your face, trying to figure out what you would say before you said it.

“No, it was the truth.” You finally say your heart is beating fast while looking at the other brother. Dean wastes no time leaning over and crashing his lips onto yours. He grabs your face in his hands while you drop the water bottle Sam gave you and guides your hands to his hair. You two pull away after a few moments, foreheads touching, eyes closed.

“I’ve loved you for a very long time, Dean. I never wanted to mess our friendship up, so I didn’t know how to tell you.” You whisper to him. Your eyes open to his green ones, and a smile plays at his lips.

“I love you, Princess, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for lost time.” You smile as he pulls you into another kiss. Maybe that demon was helpful for something, but you will never admit that to anyone else.

#supernatural #dean winchester #reader insert #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader

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anyarose011 · 9 days

Text

"Crawling Back to You" {Aemond x Reader}

Summary: It started with a night out in King's Landing, then a fake name, and then a disagreement. Some time after cooling off, and after a job gone wrong, you and the one-eyed prince come to...an understanding in the rain.

Part 2 of 3 (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Oral sex (f and m receiving), nudity, groping, talk of death, swearing, canon-typical injury, sexual harassment (not done by Aemond), and mention of past child SA

Heyyyyyy pookies. So I just started my senior year and it's been hectic. BUT I hope this long ass chapter (it took me forever) makes up for it! I'm also not sure how accurately I'm writing Aemond. I mean, I know HBO is making him into the edgiest edge lord, but I'm taking creative liberties i guess. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 8.5k

“It’s a pleasure to finally put a name to your face. One that fits its beauty.” He smiled.

You lowered your gaze, fighting the smile on your lips. It was a stupid compliment, one that you had heard several variations of the rare times men would flirt with you those days. But…it felt different from him.

Still, you merely scoffed, setting the jug on your hip. “Do you want to lead the way, or should I?”

“Go ahead; considering you believe I’ll harm you somehow.”

“See?” You decided to tease instead of defy as you began to walk up the cobbled hill. “You are funny.”

Aemond scoffed, following you. “Did I ever deny it?”

“How you reacted when I first said it never gave me a clear answer.”

“Shouldn’t you change?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

Unashamedly, his eye trailed over your body and yours soon followed. Your nipples were perking through the thin material of the dress.

“Seven Hells.” You cursed, bringing the jug in front of yours.

Aemond came to your side, a hand on your back and leading you up the hill. “You don’t wear a corset?”

“Not with this. I’m meant to lure lustful men, remember?”

“Perhaps you can tell me where you tailor so we can get more appropriate clothing?”

Hell no.

“Or,” you suggested. “I could teach you how to properly steal something?”

“You need to be able to not draw attention to yourself to do that.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“I have no doubt, but the clothing off a man’s back?”

You paused for a moment before replying. “Yes, actually; I even managed all of one’s undergarments.”

Aemond shook his head, pulling his hood farther up to hide his smile. “I mean more so with that dress.”

“It might surprise you, but that is how I robbed him blind.”

“I mean in the sense that-.”

“-I understand.” You shut him up, but not aggressively. The two of you passed by more and more people through the many alleys of King’s Landing. When you got to the main roads, you would’ve lost Aemond in the crowd if it weren’t for the fact his hand had traveled from your back to your arm.

Maybe it was because he was paying you, or maybe it was because you didn’t know how touch starved you had been until it felt like his hand was simultaneously burning and soothing you; but you welcomed his touch.

As you continued to brave through the busyness of the city, you managed to spot a hobbling man wearing a long cloak with a drink in his hand. You smirked at your companion.

“Are you watching?”

He nodded, and how he looked you up and down briefly didn’t escape you. “I’m watching.”

You handed him the jug of water and approached the slightly incapacitated man. You pitched your voice up when you asked. “Ser?”

The man glanced up at you through hooded eyes, and he grunted in response.

“Are you alright?” You feigned concern, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to hold him up.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Much better now that you’re here.”

You giggled, leading him. “You’re too kind.”

“If it’s possible, could that kindness be repaid?”

“Let me at least have your name first,” you turned him down a spacious alleyway where there were less people. “Then I will know what to scream.”

“Gaius. You may-oi!”

You snatched the cloak right off his shoulders and took off in a mad dash down the rest of the alley. Turning your head over your shoulder for merely a second, you were graced to watch as the drunk man stumbled over his own footing before two hands in front of you grabbed your arms. Once you were pulled around the corner, you raised your hands to strike your assailant; to which he caught both of them.

“Is it truly that easy to rob Smallfolk?” Aemond asked, not letting go of your wrists.

Snickering, you pulled away from him. “I thought you said you were watching me?”

“I was.”

“Clearly not.” You slipped the cloak over your body, tying it. “You were lurking in the shadows.”

“I still saw you.” He retorted.

Shaking your head, you bent down and picked up your jug of water on the ground. Then, you stuck your hands into the pockets of the cloak. Your face lit up, and your retracted your hand, holding four pennies in your palm.

“Come with me.” Was all you said before walking past him and continuing down the street.

Aemond was by your side once more. “And where exactly are you taking me to?”

“Are you fond of sweets?”

“I enjoy them, but rarely indulge.”

“Then I will be more of a temptress tonight without having to show any of my skin.” You said excitedly.

All the prince did was smile; somehow trusting your ‘madness’. It was a short walk from where you were to a small stand in one of the several market corners of King’s Landing. Despite the long line, you pushed to the front, ignoring all of the comments and curses from the people.

“Evening, Marija.” You greeted the older woman. “Oh my, has someone bewitched you? You look younger!”

“What do you want?” She sighed your name tiredly, but a pleasant smile was on her features.

Sliding the four pennies onto the counter, you said. “Two dishes of Northern Snow.”

“Do you have two other pennies?”

“This was all I was paid.” You sighed. “You know how short everyone is on coin.”

“Precisely why I need every bit of what is owed to me.”

Shaking your head, you lowered your voice. “Do you see the man lingering behind me? The one with one eye.”

She glanced over your shoulder for just a moment, long enough for it to look like an accident and not a stare. “Yes?”

“He’s a rich lord from Essos,” You began the lie with a truth. “and he has fallen in love with me.”

“You have always told marvelous tales, but even for you-.”

“-Marija…I have a good feeling about him.” You spoke with more insistence. “You know that doesn’t happen very often.”

The older woman looked at you for a little longer, as if to try and pick apart your deceit. Then, when she could find no trace of it, she sighed heavily. Still, she brought out two small vanilla cakes and laid them on the counter, then brought out the bowl of puffy cream.

“You better invite me to this extravagant wedding of yours.” She frosted the cakes with the cream, creating a fluffy topping that looked as if it was true snow itself. Marija then drizzled melted chocolate over both cakes before handing them to you. “Considering this handsome stranger is wealthy.”

“He is strange.” You chuckled. “A bit arrogant too, but I shall live.”

“All men are arrogant.”

“You have not met this one. Thank you, Marija.”

“Sure, sure,” she scoffed. “Give me your water as well; I’m parched.”

“Only if you give me the jug back. I need it.”

“I’ll come around tomorrow and visit Yelena in the meantime, is that alright?”

Your smile fell for just a moment, before forcing it back. “Sounds great!”

Rushing away, you could barely hear her goodbye before you soon found Aemond again, handing him the dish. His nose wrinkled as you immediately sunk your fork into the pastry. “What is this?”

“Northern Snow.” Your answer was somewhat muffled by the amount of food in your mouth. “Marija’s traveled across the realms and has been popular for her desserts. The snow is just whipped cream with sugar and some rosewater.”

“The brown parts?” He poked the treat.

“Chocolate, but it’s meant to look like horse droppings.”

“I believe I’ll pass.”

You shook your head. “I’m meant to be showing you around the joys of the city that is not just brothels. Trust me.”

He matched your seriousness. “And if I find it revolting?”

“Then you may know where I tailor.”

Humming, he smiled as he dug his fork into the cake and then into his mouth. He pursed his lips together as you watched him ponder the taste. Then, he shook his head, taking another bite.

“You must be a witch to have known I would favor it.”

Smiling victoriously, the two of you walked a short while through the congested market until you managed to find two chairs and a table.

“What did you tell her?” He asked as you sat. “The woman who made this?”

“That you were Prince Aemond and would have my head if I did not serve you a Smallfolk delicacy.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” You agreed, taking a bite of your treat. You hesitated on your next words. “I…she’s a romantic, and I didn’t have enough for the cakes, so I told her you were a rich lord courting me.”

It was nice you didn’t immediately expect him to lash out or condemn you to your death; he seemed genuinely composed every time you were with him, and he stuck to that.

“And what was my name?” He humored.

“I didn’t tell her one.” You teased. “If you were not yourself, what would you have wanted to be called?”

He hummed, taking time for an answer before settling on. “Ciarán.”

“I’ve met one or two of those.” You nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Might I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you summon your knife out of thin air, or do you hide it in your cunt?”

Choking on your food, you placed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Once you were alright, you finally looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“The rumors I’ve heard of you isn’t just about your beauty.” He grinned, knowing the effect on you. “It’s known that you assault men with a blade, but I’ve heard conflicting accounts.”

You stared at him for a little longer before shaking your head, snorting. “Inside of my thigh, like a normal person. You nearly grazed it the first night.”

“Did I?” He tilted his head to the side.

Nodding, you smirked as you took another bite. It was then that his eye darkened just a hint. “What?”

Aemond didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bunched up the sleeve of his shirt, reached over to take your face into his free hand, and wiped the corner of your lip with his sleeve. “You had something white on your face.”

It was your turn to hum at his statement, continuing to eat; yet, you would glance at him more often while you slid the fork into your mouth, tongue trying to lick the utensil clean of the whipped cream. You both finished up in silence between each other, yet the people around you only chatted excitedly, laughed boldly, or moaned and fucked one another in the dingiest of places nearby.

“Is it fun to be a prince?” You asked, pushing in your chair when you bother stood to leave.

“I wouldn’t call it such.” Aemond shrugged, following suite, and the two of you were wandering aimlessly once again.

“Then what is it you do for fun?”

“I find myself in the library often; reading, studying the history.” He listed. “I train with Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and the Hand of the king.”

“You sound like you enjoy his company.”

“I enjoy making him falter as we spar.” He looked at you. “You mustn’t be so horrible in combat. On account of you supposedly taking men’s lives for bounties.”

Shaking your head, you place your hands in the pockets of the cloak. “I don’t take pride in it. I’ve also had my fair share of bruises and broken bones.”

“How many have you killed?”

“How many have you?”

Your response would’ve only worked if it had not been for the well-known fact he had killed Lucerys; something you had forgotten when you saw him again. Now, there you both were, your pace slowing equally in the silence that was the discomfort you had created.

Still, he responded. “Only one; and I assume you along with the rest of Westeros knows who by now.”

Nodding, you kept your eyes down on the road in front of you.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I did it?” He questioned.

You shook your head. “It’s not my place. If you wish to tell me, then tell me. If not, then I believe it’s your turn to ask something about me.”

Humming, he prodded. “Again, how many men have you killed?”

“The same as you.” You stood closer to him as a crew of rowdy men began to pass by. “He was an angry man; a ratcatcher fired from his profession, and to my luck, with no family or anyone to miss him.”

“It must have been his luck as well, considering what happened to all of them merely a week ago.”

You didn’t want to acknowledge the gate into that conversation. “I had only done the luring and thievery for a single moon; the worst I had come across was a bloodied nose and a bruised rib. This night…Chansey had warned me not to pursue him, but I was young and ignorant. I didn’t even get to the well before he came up behind me and…”

This was far too intimate of a story to tell someone you had only met twice; nonetheless, one of the princes of Westeros. You decided to end it as soon as possible. “He didn’t hurt me in the way you’re thinking. We struggled against one another, I had no knife with me at the time, but he did. He dropped it as we fought, we both reached for the blade, and I got it first.”

The two of you had somehow wandered into a small, quiet square; perhaps only a few other people resting from a drunken bender. Aemond, with his hands behind his back, simply inquired.

“Did he have anything of value on him?”

Shaking your head, you grinned. “Three pennies, a half-penny, and a surprisingly clean red scarf.”

“And the scarf was the most priceless.”

“Of course. I would’ve died in the winter without it.”

You both chuckled, and it was him who halted the walking. You stopped in front of him a few places.

“I hadn’t meant to kill Luke.” Aemond admitted softly.

“Lucerys?” You clarified.

“Yes; only frighten him.” He sighed. “It…it was an unfortunate outcome to what I had intended.”

If he were not himself (perhaps the rich Lord Ciarán he wished to be for that one night), then you would have told him it did not matter what he intended. A boy was dead and that put all of Westeros at risk. Still, whilst your anger was present, you understood you would never know what happened that day. You also understood his regret above all; you had no right to act like a saint.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You genuinely had no idea how to respond to him. So, you did what your mother had done for you whenever you were upset as a child: Ask what you needed from her.

His eye met yours, and you somehow found the courage to not look away from him. After what felt like a lifetime, he approached you suddenly and gradually wrapped his arms around you. Your body was akin to a corpse with how frozen you had become. Still, it didn’t last for long as you found yourself easing into his hold, your own arms around his neck. The night was so quiet, you could hear his shallow breaths in your ear.

Then, his hand slipped into your pocket.

At the sudden change of touch, you flinched out of his touch, but he merely shushed you, pulling away fully. You reached into the pocket and pulled out what he had promised you; three silver moons.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him and saw…an array of emotions you could not describe. So, you spoke first.

“I…I hope tonight was enough for you. I’m not sure what else I-.”

“-It was nice.” He interrupted, his gaze still on you. “Lovely, even.”

Nodding, you pocketed the moons and kept your hands at your side. “I bid you a goodnight, Little Prince.”

He rose his brow. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to call me that.”

“Will you have my head then, your grace?” You taunted.

“I should.” He walked closer to you. “But I won’t. What direction is your house?”

Your heart leapt; yet, not in the way it should have after an attractive man (you would later admit) made a forward remark.

“Oh no, I will not bother you.”

“It is not a bother if I desire to see you home safely.” He argued.

“Aemond,” you stepped back, not wanting to play a game. “I don’t want you to walk with me for the rest of the night.”

The quietness returned; but, not one of comfort. He didn’t look angry, and that was what frightened you. He merely stood tall like a man.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t mean to say it so-.”

“-Yet you said it.”

Shaking your head, you tried again. “I offended you, and I’m sorry. My house is no place for anyone other than myself and-, not even other smallfolk.”

“I wouldn’t go inside if that is what worries you. I am merely curious.”

“Look,” you approached him again, only for him to step away. “if you wish to see me again, I wouldn’t mind at all-.”

“-As long as I have coin.”

Your face went blank for a few seconds you had been so shocked by his words, and soon formed a scowl. “You had offered.”

“You didn’t reject it.”

All you could do was laugh. “You-!”

He wasn’t the one to cut you off, it had been yourself. Taking a deep breath, you folded your hands over your mouth to ponder your next words. You were tired, frustrated, and wanted to go home. So, you did exactly that.

“Be safe on your journey back to the Red Keep.” Was all you said, and you brushed past him, expecting him to call you a nasty name, or chase after you again.

But, like the first night you had met him: He did nothing.

A week later, you were back where you’d always been at night: Sylvi’s brothel. As you prettied yourself, the girls were restless; not with enthusiasm for the clients, but for the talk of war. Whether it was the fear of death it would bring, or the lust for strong men to take comfort inside of a woman.

You were a part of the former. Not as horrible as some girls (you found one vomiting up her dinner after the discussion), but you had to admit you were judgmental of those excited about it. You yourself had never experienced war…but if it was just a smidge like the violence you and other women had ever suffered multiplied by a thousand…it wasn’t something you were looking forward to.

Later, you waited in Sylvi’s private quarters (the one place no one is allowed to go during work hours unless she permitted it) until it was Chansey who came, saying she had quarry for you.

She had been with an older, retired member of the Lannister guards. He was three and fifty, she told you; fucked like an animal, but when it was over, while he desired to do it again, his body ached so horribly he could only walk.

It was meant to be easy…but for any reason at all, it wasn’t that night.

You stumbled as you brought your knife out, and he unsheathed a dagger from his side. You fought and fought, it almost being like a twisted dance; he’d strike, you’d doge, and vice versa. He swiped against your side, and it stung but you had no time to even seethe in pain as he brought his blade up to stab you again.

He’d gotten tired sooner than you imagined, and you grabbed onto his sleeve, then dragging him into a handful of barrels nearby. He landed in a crash, and he wasn’t getting up. He was still breathing as you looted him. A few Coppers and a silver Stag.

It was only then, as you pushed your way through the boisterous crowds, that you felt your head begin to lighten, and your side grow heavy. Looking down at the gnawing pain, you saw crimson soak your thin gown. Oh…you were wounded.

“Chansey?” You called out over the groaning of whores and their patrons once you made it back to the brothel. The lights seemed dimmer than usual, and with one hand keeping pressure on your wound, you used your other to tap the shoulder of the nearest server.

She gasped upon seeing you. “What happened?”

“Where’s Chansey?” You asked.

“She-she’s with someone.”

“Seven Hells, already?!” Sighing, you took one of the chalices off her tray. “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”

And you took it in one gulp. The server gaped at you as you took another one, also downing it like it was water. “Thank you.”

Her voices of worry were once again drowned out by the sound of constant pleasure from every corner of the brothel. Now, what the server did not tell you, was that it wasn’t the cheap wine usually served to the common payer; no…it was incredibly rich, and incredibly strong.

It also didn’t help you barely ate or drank water that day. So, to no one’s surprise but yours, you were stumbling through the entire pleasure house.

“Needle and thread?” You slurred, pulling open one of the curtains abruptly only to see five naked women lying next to two men. “Sorry.”

You felt the blood begin to seep through the small cracks of your fingers and your pressure wavering as you made your way to the next curtained area.

“Do you have a needle and thread?” You asked again, being welcomed by Valda laying on her back with a man’s head between her legs.

She screamed at your intrusion and cried your name. “What the fuck?!”

“Hey,” in your haze, you found it amusing. “do you know where Chansey is?”

“Get out!”

“Okay, okay.” you whistled at the man. “Good ser, I do declare that you are a gift from The Seven because only They know how many men actually come here to-.”

“-Wait, are you bleeding?!” She sat up in alarm.

You left immediately, taking deep breaths to try and remain upright as you continued your search. A hand grazed your shoulder.

“Are you alright, girl?”

A putrid looking man questioned with a toothy grin as you turned briefly to see who touched you. You nodded. “I’m fine, go away.”

“Hey now,” he tried to make a grab for you again, but you shoved him off. “don’t be like that.”

“I’m dying, I think I can be.”

“Let me give you a little death.” He flirted.

You grabbed the nearest curtain, tossing it aside. “For fuck’s sake, does anyone have a-?!”

Words failed as you gazed upon Madame Sylvi sucking the cock of a standing man. It was then that your eyes traveled up his body, and saw a familiar, silver-haired prince.

A prince with one eye shut, and a sapphire where an eye-patch should have been.

Your mouth ran dry at the sight of him falling apart in whimpers, and it dropped once his eye opened and immediately went to yours.

Aemond released a loud groan, tossing his head back as cum dripped through the creases of Sylvi’s mouth. She drew herself away from him, still on her knees, wiping her mouth and looking over at your interruption.

“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?!”

Your words fell into syllables as you genuinely had no idea what to say. Then, in the corner of your eye, you saw the man that had been following retreat.

“Hey!” You yelled, hobbling after him. “You sheep fucker, get back here!”

Two hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around sharply, causing a reminder of the wound in your side. You hissed, clutching it and trying to smother a cry. You kept your head low as the person who had manhandled you led you back into Sylvi’s small room. You were laying on the pillows and thin mattress. It was then you saw Aemond Targaryen hovering above you.

“No-!” You tried to push him away.

“-Calm down.” He insisted, restraining you. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“If you touch me, I’ll carve out your other eye and feed it to your mother.” You slurred.

Instead of killing you right there, he thinned his lips. “While I don’t doubt that, you shouldn’t need to worry; I’m well spent.”

You gagged, shutting your eyes in disgust and tossing your head further into the pillow you rested on. You felt a presence soon beside you, and you opened your eyes to see Sylvi.

“My prince,” she turned to Aemond. “please wait in my personal quarters and I’ll-.”

“-I’ll hold her down.” He interrupted. “She’s a fighter, if you don’t know.”

“Believe me,” she unscrewed a bottle of alcohol. “I do.”

Sylvi hiked up your dress, completely exposing you from the waist down, and poured liquid over your side, causing a squeal to escape your throat. In an attempt to not just remain calm for yourself and everyone else in the building, you did your best to stifle your cries. It only became harder to do once Sylvi stuck a needle in your skin.

That was when you instinctively rose yourself up, only for Aemond to force you back down, putting his entire weight upon you. Your hands traveled up to his bare shoulders, sinking your nails into his skin and even scratching in an animalistic attempt to get him off of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as you took in quivering breaths and suppressed your grunts in pain. It looked like everything was underwater, and you could barely make out the face of the man above you. You only saw the shimmering jewel where his left eye should’ve been.

Then, the pain was over.

Your heartbeat began to slow down, and it was no longer the only sound in your ears. Your body rose momentarily as you felt bandages being wrapped around your waist, and your dress finally lowered, covering your nakedness. You felt a warm hand brush your face gently before it pulled away abruptly.

“What did you do now?” Sylvi sighed, tossing her materials away.

You groaned, unable to move. “Bad job.”

“And so, you decided to come and bother me?”

“Chansey was fucking someone and I-.”

“-Watch your words!” She lightly slapped your face and whispered fiercely. “Prince Aemond is here, and I will not have you speak like that.”

You laughed, glancing over at Aemond, who had put his pants on, and was working on his shirt. “Do you hear that, Aemond? I can’t say ‘fuck’!”

“Are you drunk?” She hissed.

“Nooooo.” You trailed off before giggling.

Sylvi stood, placing her head in her hands and shaking her head. Now noticing how strange the whole situation was, you pushed yourself up. Your body was scalding, but you would rather die walking away from embarrassment than in the heat of it.

“He had some coin.” you sat up. “I don’t know where it went, but I’ll find it. I have to go home now.”

“You are not walking out like this.” She pushed you back down.

“I’m not sleeping here.”

“I’ll take her back.”

The prince stood tall, slipping his patch over the sapphire. Sylvi shook her head. “No.”

“Are you questioning my authority, Madame?” He challenged.

You watched her flinch. Then, taking a breath she explained. “You needn’t bother with her; she’s a humble, little thing that doesn’t listen to anyone other than herself. Besides, you requested and paid for two hours, yet you have only used twenty min-.”

“-I will gladly spend the rest of it escorting her home.”

Again, the only sounds being heard was skin slapping alongside loud moans outside. You looked in between the prince and the Madame as if you were a child being fought over. So, coughing, you sat up again.

“Can I wear my own clothes, please?”

Sylvi, for the first time that night, coddled you. “Of course. Aemond, could you tell the first girl you see to fetch her clothes from my quarters, please?”

He nodded, leaving you two alone. When he was out of sight, she brushed the hair sticking against your sweaty face.

“Tell him you changed your mind, and you’re too weak to walk.” She begged.

“And if he says he’ll carry me?”

She scoffed. “He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sylvi kissed your cheek as if to soothe you. “I don’t want you to be alone with him.”

“He told me he already had his fill of cunt.”

“Men can still hurt little girls without their cock.”

“Take a look at me,” you sassed. “don’t you think I already know that?”

She said your name softly. “He’s not as kind as he seems.”

“No, he’s not. He acts like he’s been born out of an ass’ ass. I mean…how you feel about the Dowager Queen-.”

Slamming a hand over your mouth, she spoke in your ear. “-Not another word from you. You listen to me; I’ve come to know him for the years I’ve spent with him longer than the weeks you have had with him.”

“If he’s so horrible,” you took her hand away. “then tell me what he has done.”

“He-.”

“-Never mind, I don’t care.”

Instead of stepping into the room, Aemond had tossed your set of clothes through the curtains, landing on the floor. Without words, but with looks that could kill, Sylvi helped dress you and then led you out of the brothel.

It was downpouring, and while your clothes thankfully covered almost every inch of your skin, save for your face, you weren’t in the mood to be bathed in rainwater. Sylvi hadn’t even wished you a proper goodbye; just nodded to a hooded Aemond beside you and went back inside.

“I assume you can walk?” He asked, almost annoyed at his own idea to walk you home.

“You’re not going to carry me?” You teased.

“No.”

Sighing dramatically, you took a few steps out into the rain, and immediately felt agonizing pain. Well, not as bad as earlier, but it hurt. Still, you decided to follow the best given advice: Walk it off.

“Stop, stop.” Aemond shook his head after you limped four more steps, coming to your side. “Lean against me.”

You didn’t argue, draping your arm over his shoulders. You both walked as quick as you could in the rain, you giving him directions the best you could (he had to turn around twice to go back to the same fork in the road) until you tapped his shoulder.

“Wait-wait, I don’t feel good.”

“Seven Hells.” He cursed, pulling you over to the side of the street. Grabbing your hands he placed them on the nearest wall, standing behind you to guide you.

“Hey, hey!” You rose your voice. “Don’t-don’t you even think of hiking my skirt up!”

“You’re going to smell like death in a moment, why would I ever-?”

“-Because men are…are…”

You gagged, and Aemond’s hands immediately vanished as you threw up what little you had eaten that day. Your throat was on fire the whole time, making the chill of the rain even more apparent.

“Oi!” An older man yelled. “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth and turning over to look at him standing in a doorway of his shop. “Yes, thank you!”

“Do you know that man with you?”

Before Aemond could say anything, you pat his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll have you know, this is Lord Ciarán of House…Strong…Man, Strongman. He’s one of the richest men in Westeros.”

“Is that so?” He nodded, then looked at your companion. “Lad, do yourself a favor and put your old lady to bed.”

Aemond forced a smile, taking your arm and returning it back to its proper place over his shoulder. The two of you were on the road again, you leading him blindly throughout the streets. The rain felt nice at this point; not exactly, but your throat had been parched, so most of the time, you were holding your mouth up and tongue out like a child to catch the rainwater.

At one point, he hissed in pain, his hand coming up to his eyepatch.

“What is it, what’s wrong?!” You gasped.

“Nothing.” He cursed. “’Just keep going.”

Reluctantly, you carried on through King’s Landing until you reached your home.

“Okay, we’re here.” You stopped him a few minutes later.

Aemond looked at the building before him; it was a bouchère. “Here?”

“No, down there.”

He followed your gaze, and sure enough, there was a set of stairs to the side leading down. Carefully, you both scaled down the steps, and entered your home.

There was no leaking anywhere, to your surprise. With only the little amount of light within the sitting room, you knew Aemond (even with one eye) could see just how much dust there was on the furniture.

“Hells,” he sighed heavily, slipping off his cloak before you could stop him. “how do you live in this humidity? I can barely breathe.”

“I-.”

“-Vivi.” A sweet, tired voice called for you.

In the corner of the room, in her usual chair, was your grandmother. Her eyes drew up to the door once you entered, and they were alight.

“I thought you were out for too long.” She stood.

“Evening, Gigi.” You staggered over, embracing her. “And how was holding down the fort?”

“Some mice almost came in, but I showed them who was the boss around here.”

“I’m sure you did.”

It was only then did she fully realize there was someone else with you; a man. A man with silver hair. She gasped, turning back to you.

“Siobhan, you didn’t tell me the king was visiting!”

You cackled. “Gigi no, this is my friend-.”

She gently took his hand into hers, kissing it. “-Your grace, you must forgive my dear girl; she has a knack for getting into trouble, but not for telling me things.”

And then, Aemond did something you weren’t expecting. He placed his other hand over your grandmother’s, smiling.

“All is forgiven.”

Her grin was contagious as she pulled her hand away to hike her long skirt up, walking to the kitchen. “Oh, I shall make tea! Imagine what Cassian would think?” She chuckled. “Jaehaerys himself in our house!”

The name she uttered sobered you up; not all of you, but enough for terror to return into your body. Once she was out of sight, with a growing fear in your eyes, you looked at Aemond.

“You-you must understand, she hasn’t been herself since I was a child. I don’t think she’s even aware there is-was another-.”

“-I’m not a fool.” He stopped you. Noticing you had the face of someone who would vomit for the second time that night, he said. “I told you; I enjoyed reading the histories. I’m well aware the king before my father was Jaehareys.”

Feeling as if you could breathe again, you rested against the wall. “Thank you.”

Aemond hummed. “Why ‘Gigi’?”

“She never liked me calling her ‘Grandmama’.”

“And who’s Siobhan?”

Your eyes drew to the ground. No mice were in the house, but a few spiders had made their way in. “My mother.”

“Ah.” Was all he could manage.

“She uh, she died when I was one and ten; that’s when Gigi…”

“How?”

“What?”

“How did she die?”

Something clogged your throat, and your head felt heavy all over again. Swallowing the lump, you tried to find the words to-.

“-Forgive me. “Aemond spoke. “I shouldn’t have prodded.”

“No, you-.” You shook your head. “I understand your curiosity.”

And there you two were, against the wall in silence. Sighing you finally said.

“She forgets what she was meant to do when she enters a room with a purpose.” You explained. “I guarantee you, she’s doing a puzzle instead of making tea. We don’t have the best leaves anyway.”

He nodded. “Do you wish for me to leave, then?”

Your eyes went to one of the only windows in the house; the long, thin panel at the top where you could see the feet of everyone in King Landing if it were a nice day. The rain came down harsher, the spattering of water being almost too loud.

“You can stay until the storm eases,” you answered. “if you want.”

“I would prefer it.”

Nodding, the heaviness of your head did not cease, and your eyes drifted to the doorway in the back of sitting room. You made your way through it, glancing back at Aemond.

“If I may be candid, I’m quite exhausted. So…unless you’d prefer being called ‘Your Grace’ by my grandmother, then you’re more than welcome to talk with me in my room.”

“Hm, the former sounds tempting.” Despite his words, he followed close behind you.

You pushed open your door, took a few steps towards your bed, and lowered yourself to lie down with a sharp wince. The prince took his time observing your room, taking in every little detail. From the residue of a mess being pushed under your bed, to old childhood art pieces up on the wall.

One piece had caught his eye the most. A sketch of a woman’s face; a haunting gaze in her eyes that would make anyone believe she was watching them.

Much like yours…

“This is Siobhan?”

Better to use your mother’s name as if she were a stranger instead of calling her ‘your mother’.

“Gigi drew that.” You smiled lightly. “It was on one of her namedays.”

“It’s beautiful.”

His compliment unnerved you before it flattered you. You deflected with a joke. “Beautiful enough to have her paint the Targaryens the next time they so desire it?”

“If she cannot remember to boil tea-?”

“-She is herself again when she does or speak of things she loves.” You sat farther up against the wall behind your bed “Even if they’re things that no longer are with us.”

He sat at the edge of the mattress. “And what are some of those things?”

Oh, where to start? As your mind rattled over what exactly to say first, you truly looked over Aemond for the first time. It was strange; you had acknowledged his attractiveness for just a moment, but never delved more into it.

Then, as you stared at him, you knew exactly what to tell him.

Giggling, you began. “Cassian was my grandfather; I hadn’t known him, he died before I was born. Still, if it’s not him she speaks about being in love with, it’s ‘Elio’; a Dornish man, her first love.”

“Some might say they are far greater than the one you marry.” He shrugged.

“She’s never told me his real name.” You leaned forward. “She said that he had to keep it secret from her for a long time, and he only told her after she got drunk, and he thought she wouldn’t remember.”

The two of you laughed lightly, and you kept going through your giggles. “He-he was only in King’s Landing for a year and went back to Sunspear. They would send ravens to each other, but then he stopped one day. She married my grandfather, had my mother, he died, and that was life.”

“And then there was you.”

You nodded, thinning your lips. “And then there was me.”

“You’ve talked about your mother, but you haven’t mentioned your father yet.”

Sighing, you rubbed your finger into the blanket you rested upon, looking away from him. “When my grandfather’s heart gave out, Gigi had to take on more work at the tailor’s and they still weren’t making enough for food. So…my mother took up working with Sylvi. She was fifteen, and Sylvi only let her cook and clean. When she was of age, she let her go to bed with the men for her coin. I could’ve walked past my father, and I wouldn’t be able to know.”

Aemond stared at her, nodding. “You’re a bastard.”

“It’s the one time I enjoy being smallfolk.” You shrugged. “I can just as easily lie and say my father died while married to my mother.”

“No one else knows?”

“Sylvi and Marija; the woman who gave us Winter Snow.” You scoffed. “Some old neighbors who’ve thankfully died, but I still remember their insults as I passed by them when I was just a child.”

He hummed, and you did not blame him for not saying anything after you. The two of you just existed in your childhood bedroom, the rain still beating against the roof, but not quite as hard this time.

“What were you like when you were a boy?” You questioned.

“Not like my brother or nephews.” He answered right away. “They…teased me a lot.”

“I’ve never had brothers or sisters, but aren’t they meant to?”

“Not like how they did.”

Oh…so it was bad. You wouldn’t ask him how horrible it was, knowing that there are some things no one would ever want to speak of.

“I’m sorry they did.”

He shook his head. “No need, it was years ago.”

“It was still wrong.”

Aemond didn’t say anything; didn’t even look at you. Then, for some reason…you felt compelled (maybe even okay) to tell him. “My mother she…died the same way my grandfather did.”

“His heart.”

“We-we think so. It’s strange though; she was so young, and just one night we were eating dinner, she stands to go tend to the fire…and she fell. It…it was as if her soul had been sucked away from her and all that was left was her body.”

“And you think you’ll die like her.”

Swallowing thickly, you had hoped he didn’t see right through you about that; but at the same time…how freeing it felt to be seen even in the most shameful and terrifying moments of life.

“She was the main provider for our house.” You went into more detail. “Gigi tried her best, but it wasn’t enough. My mother…Sylvi hasn’t told me everything she did to earn enough coin, and I don’t think I want to know. Many healers have said that people dying from a bad heart at such a young age is due to stress. I don’t know if they’re right, and even when I was one and ten, I did everything in my power not to feel so, but Gigi would wander around King’s Landing late at night, or we couldn’t afford food for days on end…”

You were vomiting all of your troubles onto him, it was disgusting; but, once you started, you couldn’t stop. The storm had picked up again, and from how the wind shook the walls of your room, you thought they would all crumble.

“Sylvi knew of us struggling, and she paid for our meals. I was to become an indentured servant to her, like how my mother was; cooking, cleaning, running odd errands…but she paid me in coin as well. I think-I think she thought I was going to follow in my mother’s footsteps when I was of age, but I refused. That’s when some of the girls and I came up with a way for me to make extra coin, and here we are.”

“She never let anyone younger than seventeen be a whore?”

For a moment, you pondered how that was the one thing he got from your nervous ramblings. Still, you decided it wasn’t best to think about it. “She didn’t want men bedding little girls.”

“I suppose it’s different for girls.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It was my thirteenth nameday when my brother brought me to Sylvi’s pleasure house.” He said it as if it was common knowledge. “He said I needed to know everything there was about women. Your Madame certainly taught me well. It makes sense I suppose; girls are taught to be more ashamed about it.”

Even with the storm still going outside, the only sound you could hear was the beating of your own heart. “…What?”

You remembered what it was like when you were that age. Your body felt strange, you bled between your legs for the first time, you wanted a husband right away one moment, and then wanted to be a child forever the next. You were good at talking to men who were older than you…but…being intimate? No…and Sylvi had…Sylvi had-?

“Is something wrong?”

If you were delusional, you would say he seemed concerned. Still, if you were to tell him that what Sylvi had done was hypocritical and despicable of her, you would go red in the face with tears, and he would only spit on you and say you wouldn’t understand, and-.

“-Your hair.” You said, having been staring at it whilst your mind rushed. “Has…has it always been curly?”

Aemond scowled, not in scorn, but in puzzlement. It must’ve started to dry as he spent time in the house; it must’ve been frizzy and horrible as well. “Yes.”

You forced a smile. “And here I thought only the ladies of the night burned their hair since men favor it straight.”

“Mothers too.” He sighed when he saw the look you gave him. “It curled more by the time I was fourteen. She had the servants straighten it for me ever since; I believe she hates anything about me that is a reminder that she is my mother.”

“Aemond…”

“I don’t need your pity. I’ve been with her since I was born, it is nothing new and I have-.”

You don’t know why you reached forward and combed a strand of his hair between two of your fingers. Maybe it was because you were still tipsy, or maybe it’s because you just wanted to. He flinched upon your touch, and so did you.

“For-forgive me,” you backed farther up your bed. “I-I forgot myself and I-.”

He brought himself forward, taking both of your hands. Without looking at you, he brought both of them into his hair. Almost like it was second nature, you began to gently run your fingers over his scalp. He shut his eye, his hands traveling to drape along your waste, and he bent his head to rest upon your chest.

It was strange. Strange but nice. You were holding him, but just to have the illusion of you also being cared for…not even your grandmother had done something like this for years.

“I like your hair just how it is.” You whispered after a minute. “If it matters at all.”

He merely hummed, his hand travelling under your shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger caress the skin above your wound. Your hands did not still, continuing to comb through his hair softly.

His finger traveled farther up, circling the swell of your breast. You made a noise you hadn’t made before, and you thought you sounded ridiculous. He hummed against your chest, and…

And…

Something between your legs felt like it was beating; like your heart, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m going to touch you there.” He mumbled against the fabric of your shirt. “Alright?”

No, no it wasn’t alright, but it was at the same time.

It wasn’t okay because you’ve only heard stories about this from the girls at the brothel, but it was okay because-because you liked him, and he was-

and you were-

and everything feels warm-

and the way he talked to you-

and the way you-!

“Get off!” You whispered once you heard just the lightest of footsteps outside your door. He listened, backing away quickly to the edge of the bed. An almost silent knock came from your door, and you smiled. “Come in!”

Gigi pushed herself in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs, setting it on the bed. “I’m so sorry, your grace. We do not have tea leaves, so is milk alright?”

Aemond nodded. “It is.”

“How have the both of you been?”

You wore a thin grin. “Fine.”

She nodded, looking in between the two of you. As if she knew what had just taken place, she gave a wry smile and turned to leave. “Well, the rain is dying down now. Let me know if you two need anything else.”

“Thank you, Gigi.” You said without another thought.

She didn’t shut the door when she left. You picked up the mug, took a sip and immediately felt your body heal just a little. Warm milk does numbers on a soul.

“I should take my leave now.” The prince stood up abruptly, dusting himself off.

You tried to stand. “I’ll walk you out.”

The wound at your side burned every inch you moved, and you did a horrible job concealing it. Aemond gently took your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“Rest.” He commanded. “You’re injured, and it’s late.”

“And when have you ever cared?” You teased

“Perhaps just now.” He matched your tone.

“Do you know what I hate?”

“Me? Life itself? Men?”

“Yes, to the last two.” You feel your chest constrict at what you would say next. “I hate that you told Sylvi you would spend time with me because you paid her for…other things previously.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “You…you no longer have to pay for my company. You’ve seen me in turmoil, and I’ve seen you naked.”

He laughed…he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. “Is that what makes us allies?”

“Friends?” You reworded. “You understand the meaning, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” He scoffed.

“So…are we friends now?”

Friends who touch each other in ways they usually don’t.

A hint of a smile spread across his lips. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Friends.”

You dropped your face, hopefully to avoid him seeing how you blushed. The damage was done though. Regaining yourself, you took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And…I’m aware I won’t be the first person you’ll seek if you’re in distress, but please know I will help if you need it.”

“Do not call yourself inadequate.” He shook his head. “I might have some use for you.”

You scoffed. “How considerate of you.”

“Rest now.” He repeated, turning to leave without a proper goodbye.

You sat up. “Wait!” Aemond did not turn to look at you, but he stopped. “Your eye. When you were walking me home, you were in pain. Does it still hurt?”

He was silent. For a moment, you thought it was to come up with a lie, then you assumed it was to find the words to tell you the truth…you had too much faith in him for either.

“It’s late.” He said your name softly and walked out of your bedroom. You heard the front door open then shut.

And there you were, on your bed, alone with an undrunk mug of milk.

The rain had completely stopped.

#aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #game of thrones #aemond x reader

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chuluoyi · 8 months

Note

Hey you!! I am still a bit quite new to the jjk fandom and everything going around but i am reading tons of things and your page became my fave in like a blink of an eye, no joke!!! Like i swear everything you write with Gojo goes through my soul and beyond🔥💕 i was thinking if you would maybe sometime take on the idea of how would Gojo react if his wife/gf is pregnant and him the protective dude he is, looses his shit when she gets hurt (either random or an a mission)?and taking care of her after.

Also i hope you are well and send you all the hugs and love i can give from where I am💜💜💜

࿐ ࿔ before the dawn

tw: pregnancy, mentions of blood, satosugu angst, hurt/comfort. goes through your soul and beyond? omg that’s the highest praise🤧 oh and hurt/comfort is actually my roman empire! to fit in love entries, i have to put it in the jjk0 timeline... and also sending love for you too nonnie!! this is so sweet aww thank you🫶🏻✨

a part of gojo's love entries

“…geto suguru is going to unleash curses in tokyo and kyoto.”

you stood still, suddenly feeling like your world had crashed. you blinked at what ichiji had just said after stuttering many times. “huh? geto… suguru?”

you just had your prenatal checkup with shoko, and you had suspected something serious had been going on by the grim way she looked and how she tried to evade your questions. satoru too had been kind of busy these past few days, and he was sorry to leave you more often because of “a business he had to take care of.”

so this was the business.

“how? why?” you asked ichiji with widened eyes, the horror dawning on you surely and fast. “how is he—doesn’t that mean… he’s— he’s going to be hunted down?”

that was a stupid question. suguru had been a criminal for ten years, of course they were going to catch him. it shouldn’t be new, you knew it. but this was an act of terrorism. this was the gravest and he could—suguru could…

three years of your and satoru’s youth flashed in your mind. the laughs. the memories. how? why must everything escalate this way?

“they’re g-going to… eliminate him.” ichiji looked down with regret, swallowing hard as he told you this. “gojo-san… he’s going to participate in the battle too.”

hearing that, suddenly you felt sick to your stomach. another reality crashed: satoru could end up murdering his best friend.

almost immediately, your womb clenched and throbbed with such intensity that your breath hitched, and you lurched forward, gripping onto ichiji’s arm tightly—

“ahh!” a scream tore its way out of your throat as you crumbled to the ground. the vice-like gripping pressure that assailed you sent waves of pain coursing through your belly and there was something wet and scarlet trickling down your legs.

blood. you wheezed, whimpered and your voice came out in panicked gasps. “b-baby… my baby—!”

“i will get you to ieiri-san!” ichiji immediately carried you back to shoko’s infirmary, trying not to turn into a blubbering mess. your anguished cries resonated through the quiet hall as you held onto your spasming abdomen, and ichiji could only pray with all his heart that you would be okay… or else gojo would definitely have his head.

he was informed through a phone call, that you passed out due to shock.

satoru felt his ears ring. everything blanked out afterwards. you were bleeding. you and your baby were bleeding. you weren’t supposed to and he wasn’t even there.

you were already so far along in your pregnancy and there was only a little over two months left before your due date. despite the impulse to scream at ichiji for subjecting you to such shocking news, he realized it would be futile, because in the end, you deserved to know.

he dashed towards the infirmary, the bandages on his eyes unraveling to reveal the bright glint of his six eyes as he met shoko’s stern gaze.

“where is she?” his voice came out ragged, almost in a growl, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

his remaining friend solemnly guided him towards your room and he wasted no time to rush inside, heart in his throat to make sure that no harm had come to either you or his baby.

“...satoru?” you were sitting on the bed, still pale, the swell of your belly was prominent even under the blankets. he looked at you with a mix of fright and concern and pulled you into his arms, breathing in your scent.

“you alright?” he inquired, voice softened exponentially as he pressed kisses on your head. “does it still hurt anywhere?”

“no, shoko has—”

“your belly no longer hurts? baby okay?” his palm brushed against your abdomen, lips tugged into a very concerned frown, and when the baby kicked him was when satoru could finally heave a sigh of relief.

“you scared me so much,” he whispered into your ear in a rasp and a sigh, before squeezing his eyes shut and reveling in your familiar warmth. one of his hands rested on where your baby was, to feel his twists and turns inside you, while the other continued to hold you in his embrace.

“satoru…” you mumbled, leaning against his sturdy chest and sensing the rapid beats of his heart. you felt exhausted and guilty for having mortified him, but you must clarify one thing. “they said… geto will curse everyone… is that true?”

his heart sank at your innocent question. “for now… can we just stay like this? i will answer you later, but for now…”

and you indulged him. over the years, you learned that satoru needed assurance in physical form more than you did. your heart fluttered as he patted your back and rubbed your belly many times, his worry crystal clear.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t here… and i’m sorry that i tried to hide it from you,” he began. “in my defense, i don’t want you to put you through more stress. you have our baby to worry about already.”

as he explained things to you afterwards—about how your once kind, respected senior was now radically persistent in his pursuit of eradicating non-sorcerers and targeted yuta, your eyes watered with tears once again.

“can you stop him?” your lower lip trembled, beginnings of sobs welling up within you. “satoru… he’s… was—your best friend…”

geto suguru was an undeniable part of your vibrant youth. a part of you never got over how he decided to abandon everything during your last year of high school.

and you knew that your husband too must feel the same, with how crestfallen he looked now. it was the greatest betrayal for him to see the only person who understood him branched away to the worst path possible.

“shh... sweets, look,” satoru made you face him, the blue of his eyes darkening as he joined both of your hands together in his, dropping down on one knee before you. “for now, please— please, just focus on yourself. i don’t want you to get hurt.”

“but—”

“i won’t be able to forgive myself if you or our baby are not the slightest bit fine.”

you went silent at that. gojo satoru never showed his weakness to anyone, and with you, rarely. yet, in this moment, he appeared vulnerable, confessing that losing the only thing that kept him sane—this little family you made—would be unbearable.

“i’m fine, i promise,” you reassured, pulling your hand away before wrapping your arms around his neck, seeking his comfort and letting your tears to finally fall freely. “i’m sorry for earlier…”

“don’t. i should’ve told you sooner, that way you wouldn’t bleed,” satoru firmly rebuked in a grave tone, his voice tinged with self-deprecation as he hugged you again in return, stroking your hair. “did it hurt much? you must’ve been so terrified…”

“i was spooked, but we’re fine…”

“i’m going to take leave for the next few days, yeah? we’re going to be together. i can't—in this state of mind—leave you alone.”

the thought of potentially losing your baby filled him with terror. everything else be damned—including suguru’s atrocities, he had to take care of you first.

because you were the one who stood by his side when his world was at its darkest—you had came to him with the light of the dawn. he was forever grateful to you for becoming the apple of his eye, mending his broken heart, and ultimately becoming his everything.

he wouldn't let anything happen to you. that was his vow to himself. and he was a man of his word.

. . .

it didn't occur to you until much, much later, after all was said and done—after you were notified of suguru's death on december 24, that his mind had been set since then, because satoru had never promised you that he would be able to stop him.

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wandaslittlebird · 1 month

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i had a thought of where wanda / step mom wanda comforts reader after a bad day and a lot angst and fluff too

Fairytale

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, themes of depression, spoilers for the Disney movie Tangled (??)

Word Count: 2k (whoops this was supposed to be a drabble. Whatever.)

A/N: Thank you for the request! This takes place when R was 18 before she left for school, so a prequel to the main story.

A/N: This is far from my best work, but I still had kinda a cute idea.

It was pouring when you finally got home from work. You walked into the house in your uniform, soaked from the rain.

You saw Wanda in the kitchen, fixing dinner. She’s a wonderful cook, but in your current state the food made your stomach turn. You felt nauseous. You hadn’t eaten all day at work, but you still couldn’t imagine eating anything.

Your dad was at the table reading a newspaper. He didn’t acknowledge you’d come home.

“Hey, little love!” Wanda chimed excitedly, but her face falls when her eyes meet yours. You looked terrible, eyes sunken in, dark with exhaustion. You couldn’t even bring yourself to give her a smile. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You didn’t respond, trying to escape to the privacy of your bedroom before the emotions of the day spilled out of you. You dashed up the stairs.

Your dad set down his newspaper with a frustrated thud. He moved to get up and reprimand you for ignoring your stepmother, but Wanda stopped him.

“Vis, you just make sure my pasta doesn’t burn. I’ll take care of it.”

————

She found you in your room, curled up in the center of the bed. You were still wearing your wet and dirty work clothes, but you’d thrown on one of Wanda’s hoodie. It practically swallowed you with how big it was. The sight melted Wanda’s heart.

“Sweetheart?” She called into the room. You turned over in bed, hiding your face in the hoodie. She came to sit next to on the bed, rubbing gentle circles on the back you’d turned on her. She could feel then that you were crying. You were silent, but she could feel the erratic way you were breathing as your chest heaved. “What’s wrong, baby? It’s okay. Mama’s here. Mama’s got you honey. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know,” you cried weakly. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s just… everyday is like this. I just wake up with this feeling of despair, and then I go to work and everything is so loud and there’s too many smells and I have to pretend to be happy while I make everyone’s coffee, but I’m just so so tired. I feel like my mind and body are screaming and crying for someone to help me, but this is just my life and no one is coming to save me.”

Wanda pulled you into her lap, not caring that you were still soaking wet. She shushed your cries and rocked you back and forth, letting you ramble and sob into her arms. She tucked your wet hair under her chin, pulling you to her chest so you could feel the gentle beating of her heart. “Shhshsh, let it all out honey. You’re home now. Mama’s got you.”

“All I can do is escape to this white knight fairytale where things are different, and I have friends again, and I don’t have to go on like this. But I’m just being repeatedly ripped out of that fairytale and pulled back into this awful reality I have no choice but to live in. I’m a high school drop out, all my friends left me, I hate my job but I’m just going to hate any job that takes up so much of my time. I can pretend all I want that things are or will be different but this is real life and I’m miserable! I’m miserable and I’m going to be like this until I die!” You sobbed, breathlessly heaving into Wanda’s chest.

Wanda felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. She wished she could be your white knight, take you somewhere far away where you didn’t have to worry about all of the awful things happening in your life. She couldn’t imagine what your situation must feel like right now, hopelessly trying to claw your way out of a well you’re stuck at the bottom of. There were things she was working with you on. You were going to get your GED at the end of the year, but it was still going to be another year before you could even start applying to colleges. The road was going to be long, but she was confident you’d pull through.

That wasn’t what you needed right now, though. You didn’t need to hear her say that just maybe, in a whole two years, you might be able to get your life back on track. You needed something now. You needed something to get you through the night.

“How about this,” she proposed, holding your teary face in her hands. “You take a nice warm shower and get all nice and clean while I go downstairs and finish dinner for your dad and the boys. And then I’ll come back up here with some mac and cheese and some chicken nuggets and we have a special girls’ night?”

You sniffled hesitantly, unsure if you could handle it all: the shower, the food, the company. But in the end, you nodded. Your only other option was to sit in here, alone, withering away in your cold work uniform.

“That’s my sweet girl,” she cooed, pinching you lightly on the cheek. “I’ll pick out some pjs for you and get your water running. One step at a time, angel. I know it’s hard, but you can do this.” She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, and walked off to start your shower.

It felt insurmountable, but you got up, washed yourself off in the shower, and dried off before putting on the pajamas Wanda set out for you. On top, there was a fresh one of her sweatshirts for you to wear. You threw it on, inhaling her sweet scent with your arms up to your nose. You made your way back into your bedroom.

Within five minutes of you getting back, Wanda came knocking on your door with some mac and cheese and microwave chicken nuggets. Your stomach turned at the sight of the food. Even your safest meal felt nauseating.

“I know you don’t wanna eat, love, but you’ve gotta try and eat at least a little bit for me, okay? We’ll start with two nuggets and half of the mac and cheese,” she says.

You nodded, reluctantly taking the plate and working on your mac and cheese.

“Now, I think it’s time for a movie and some cuddles, don’t you think?” Wanda asked, already setting up the pillows and blankets on the bed. “What would you like to watch?”

You shrugged, unable to think of anything helpful while fighting your stomach for cooperation. “You pick.”

Wanda gave you a soft smile of understanding. She understood the inability to make a decision, and she was more than happy to make one in your stead. She ended up putting Tangled on the small tv in your room.

She sat against your headboard, legs spread and tapped the space in between, welcoming you to sit. When you did, she threw your favorite blanket over your shoulders and set your favorite stuffed animal, Thomas, in your lap. You rested your chin on his head.

“Do you want me to braid your hair like Rapunzel’s?” She asked once you’d gotten to the hair brushing scene.

You buried your face into Thomas. “I-I didn’t wash it in the shower,” you admitted shamefully. It needed to be washed after being in the rain, but you were out of energy.

“That’s okay,” she assured without judgement, starting a French braid on your dirty, wet hair. “We’ll put some dry shampoo in it in the morning.” She braided your hair with you curled up between her legs, tying it off with a little pink ribbon.

“If I were Rapunzel, I’d let you climb up my hair,” you said when she finished, leaning back against her chest.

She wrapped her arms around your waist, giggling at your silly antidote and kissing the back of your head. “You would?”

You nodded against her shoulder. “Yeah. Not dad though.”

Wanda smiled and giggled again. “You just want your tower to be me and you? No one else?”

You shook your head. “Just me and mama, in our tower together.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Just you and mama in a tower, huh? I can definitely get behind that. What would we do in our tower all day?”

You shrugged. “You could braid my hair, and we could sings songs, read books together, paint the walls, snuggle in our bed. We could do whatever we wanted really.”

She smiled, noting that you had said ‘our bed’, implying your dream castle only had one bed for the two of you to share. “So they would be no one to stop me from doing this?” She turned your head with her hand and placed a gentle kiss to your lips.

You looked at her for just a moment before chasing her lips again. And again. And again.

She giggled. “Okay, honey. That’s enough.” She certainly didn’t mind the kisses, but she knew you’d spend the whole movie kissing her if she let you. And she still had plans.

You curled back up in her lap. Right. You were letting yourself get lost in fairytale again. You weren’t in a tower in the forest with no one else. You were in real life, with your father and step-brothers in the rooms surrounding you. Wanda wasn’t your handsome rogue, she was your stepmother. This wasn’t a quirky pairing between a theft and a princess. This was a disgustingly taboo relationship that would ostracize you from everyone in your life if they found out.

Wanda wrapped her arms back around you, pulling you close. “Hey, princess,” she said, kissing your temple. She sensed your discomfort and could immediately tell what you were thinking. She wanted to stay with you in this fairytale for just a little longer. It couldn’t be forever, of course, but you could play pretend, for now. “We don’t have to leave our tower just yet. We have until morning, just the two of us.”

“M-morning?” You asked. Wanda always had to leave early in the night. She had to go back her room so your dad wouldn’t get suspicious.

She stroked your hair, slicking back the frizzy hairs that escaped your braid. “I told your dad that you’re not feeling well and I was gonna stay in here tonight.” She pointed to the packed air mattress on the floor. She had no plans of sleeping on it, of course, but she needed to make the lie believable.

You looked at her with wide teary eyes, unable to believe she’d do such kind thing for you, even when the risk of it was so high. She just returned the look with a soft smile and redirected your attention to the movie.

The movie was nearing the end, specifically when they finally get to see the lanterns and light on of their own. Wanda leaned forward and kissed your neck, using her hand to direct your head up to the ceiling. She turned on the fairy lights that lined the ceiling. They’d been there since you were a teenager, but you never turned them on. Most days you forgot they were there. She turned them to a setting with a gentle twinkle.

You were so overcome with love, you flipped yourself around in her lap so you were straddling her legs and wrapping your arms loosely around her neck. You felt like your entire body was buzzing with electricity when she pulled you down by the back of your neck into a kiss. A real kiss this time, not just the pecks she was giving you earlier. You whimpered against her lips.

“Shh, angel,” she whispered against you, advising you to quiet down before she had to stop. You slipped your hands under the hem of her shirt, tugging on it in a silent request. “Sweetheart, we can’t…” she said sadly but firmly. There was no way she could fuck you while everyone else was still home, no matter how badly she wanted to.

“I know,” you assured. “I don’t want to. Just let me feel you. Please.”

She looked in your pleading eyes, now twinkling in the fairy lights. She sighed. She couldn’t deny you anything. She slipped the shirt off over her head, leaving her bare under you.

You smiled, lying down on top of her and rubbing your face against her soft exposed skin. She smiled down at you, affectionately wrapping her arms around you to rub your back.

“I love you, mama,” you said, nuzzling your face into her chest with the first genuine smile you’ve had all day.

“I love you too, baby,” she said, squeezing you into her and kissing the top of your head. She couldn’t fix everything for you, but, when you needed it most, she could give you your fairytale.

#wanda maximoff #anon request #request #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #mommy wanda #mommy!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #stepmom wanda #stepmom!wanda #mama wanda #anon <3

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