#sprints in hello i did not forget

[hyolks]

give it back

[fan-goddess]

hello!could you write a reaction to the dragon's house × !fem!reader, when she was flying over the sea with the dragon and one of the enemies was on the ship and shot from a crossbow.

(she and her dragon are alive but slightly injured)

Aegon,Aemond,Jacaerys Velaryon-romantic love

Alicent,Daemon,Rhaenyra,Helaena,Laenor Valeryon-platonic love

sorry if there are any mistakes! I hope everything is clear💝I've actually been thinking about this for a long time💥

HOTD characters reactions of when reader is hurt

The summary: The characters each find out during your usual flight around kingslanding that you were shot down by some people belonging to a certain group that hate the Targaryen traditions and believe it to be an abomination.

A/N: They’re all personalised and hopefully different backstories, but have given reader the same dragon in all of them as making dragons are hard. The wound is also pretty much same, but the severity is altered in some places. In the platonic ones I made reader call them mother or father, since I made them a parent. Some of these are very different as I expanded on some more and developed others. You can tell which.

This ain’t fully proofread we die like Luke!

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie

Warning: Wounds, various gore mentions, incest, kissing, tried to make it gender neutral and lack of descriptions but there are some scattered about! (if I miss any let me know)

Aegon Targaryen:

When Aegon heard the news from his mother who’d rushed to inform him of your sudden injury, he all but sprinted to the infirmary where you were being treated by one of the leading maesters.

“My love, are you alright?!? I am so sorry my love I should have insisted to accompany you! When I find the man who did this to you I shall rip off his head and feed his insides to Sunfyre and Shrykos!” He declares, the words tumbling quickly with how much rage flooded his body at the sight of your wounded self. You could barely keep up with him if you were being honest.

“Aegon, my sweet husband, it is fine! ‘Tis merely a flesh wound!” You insist, yet wincing as soon as the reassurance falls from your lips.

“And yet here you are heavily bleeding, and in very much pain! You should take some milk of the poppy!” Aegon says, looking around to find the bottle, even when you try and insist you were fine. “If you were fine you’d be with me, in our bed, safe and unharmed! So don’t argue with me wife or my wrath will be misguided!”

You merely humour him by sipping slightly at the small contents of the cup the maester had passed to you. Yet still, you can’t deny that the liquid had its desired effects, as your previously aching wound now significantly dulls down to a mere small throb once in a while.

“Now wife. Tell me who hurt you.” Aegon demands, his eyebrows furrowed and his grip tightened on your body as he insured you would be unable to get away from him.

“Just some idiotic men thinking themselves higher than us my love. They shot at me and Shrykos from their ship when we least expected it with bloody crossbones of all things, and somehow barely managed to skim us. Yet they somehow did not expect the very large dragon to get angry that their rider and themself was just attacked with no prior warning. Shrykos certainly made sure to enact on our lovely families motto. By the time she was done with them, there was nothing left but fire and blood sinking to the bottom of the sea.”

Aegons face slowly turns more and more relaxed, and by the end of your tale he’s practically grinning for joy as he kisses you deep on the lips. “That’s my bloodthirsty wife!” He mumbles against your lips, forgetting all about his past aggressions to make you feel as safe and as loved as you could be in his arms. The maester that continues to awkwardly stand their waiting to finish wrapping your arm be damned.

Aemond Targaryen:

He finds out before anyone else, as he tends to wait for you after your dragon rides if he’s unable to go with you that day. So when you come back later than usual with blood dripping down your arm and half an arrow sticking out of you, he certainly is very angry, and very much willing to get on Vhagar and hunt down and kill those who dared harm his wife. Yet he knows he must stay calm for you.

He notices how you try and mumble your dragons name under your breath, so when he makes it past one of the dragon keepers he makes sure to let them know that Shrykos may be in need of some healing. He assumes by the way your mumbles quieten after he says the order that that was what you were trying to tell him. Yet when he actually looks at you Aemond quickly realises you’ve actually fainted from blood loss.

Aemond rushes you to the Maesters room where he insists only the best work on you, even though he couldn’t afford to be picky what with you bleeding out in his arms and all. Though after a few threats and lot of claims regarding his dragon, the maesters quickly manage to remove the arrow and stem the bleeding whilst you continued to lay unconscious on the healing bed. Aemond stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand tightly in an act of reassurance. Even though you were still unconscious.

He stayed with you the entire time though. Still holding your hand even when he fell asleep. When you eventually woke, three days after you were injured, Aemond was sure to reassure you that you were safe. Even though by the tenth time you were very ready to smack him.

“Tell me ābrazȳrys who did this too you. Vhagar has been ready for the taste of flesh since I found you. I am sure Shrykos too is ready for the thrill of the chase of those who harmed both her and her rider. Tell me, so I can make sure we can tear them limb from limb.” His words drip malice, and yet there is distinct comfort within them. Aemond has never truly been able to show his affection towards you with displays of anything other than action. And in this moment, it just so happens that action involves heavy bloodshed and possible carnage.

“Those men who hale from the vale. The ones claiming our traditions to be an abomination. A sin in the eyes of the seven. They surprised me and Shrykos as we flew above the seas and got some good strikes. But don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon. Me and Shrykos made sure to burn them to blood and ash before we needed to flee back to kingslanding.” You attempt to smile to reassure your husband, but if anything it appears to make it worse as you wince at the pain suddenly flaring through your whole right arm.

Aemond stays quiet as he makes sure to force you to drink some milk of the poppy.

“Ābrazȳrys. If you were to die, I would have gone to the brink of insanity. I would’ve gone to those peoples homes and burned them all to the ground for what they have done to my wife. To the future mother of my children. They have harmed you though. The have scarred you. And for that offence alone, I cannot allow them a single more moments of breath. I cannot allow them to live.” Aemond storms off leaving you laying there in half shock and half admiration. You knew he would be true to his word. Which is why when not even a day had passed since Aemond had left, you’d heard whispers of what Aemond had done, and you smiled and thanked the gods for a husband like yours.

Jacaerys Velaryon:

If there was one characteristic you could say your husband embodied to the fullest, it would be loyalty. As no matter how many other women, maids and nobility alike, threw themselves at the future heirs feet he always ran back to you.

Even when other men such as the Lannister’s attempted to charm you with their admittedly horrible, yet according to them successful attempts, Jace was always there with a watchful eye, making sure all knew who you belonged too.

He was protective too. A dragon while not in appearance but definitely in spirit. Jace would always find a way to make sure you were safest whether you wanted him to be involved or not. Even this noon when you wanted to get one last dragon ride before dinner, Jace still insisted there was no need. Yet your stubbornness knew no bounds it seems, as while his back was turned you made quick speed to where Shrykos usually slept and flew her into the great distance. A mere speck in the sky before Jace knew what had happened.

You had started the flight laughing with the biggest grin on your face, eager to see the sights from the sky. Yet of course things turned worse as men from one of the many religious groups of the seven kingdoms took notice of you and your dragon, and decided to shoot you with their admittedly massive weapons.

You dodged the best you could, and yet with a scream from both you and Shrykos, you realised you were both hit.

“DRACARYS SHRYKOS! DRACARYS!” You screamed, satisfied when you hear the hells and the screams of the men and the ships bellow. With your good arm, you steer Shrykos to the direction of dragonstone and order the instructions, before all appears to go dark.

When you wake, all seems strangely normal. That is of course, before you see the giant bandaged wound that is your arm. You can see a hint of red peeking from the bandages and are about to see if you could rewrap it, before Jacaerys comes through and with wide eyes realises you are awake and well as you can be.

“My love!” He shouts, running over and encasing you in his arms. Not hearing the low hiss you make when his hands clasp around your still admittedly sore arm. “Where have you been!? You’re hurt!” He yells, finally taking noticing your blood that steadily pools to the surface. “Let us get you to the maesters!”

As much as it hurt you to have Jace pull you like he did, you merely let it all happen so not to cause an event bigger fuss of you than what he already is making. Yet when you get to the maesters chambers and nearly find yourself fainting, that’s when you suddenly understand your husbands worry.

When you wake up though, it’s the feeling of Jaces familiar warmth that settles you as you gaze on his sleeping form. Yet as you wake, so does he it seems. As not even a few minutes after you’ve woken Jace is quick to rise with you. His eyes wide and worried as they roam you for anymore possible injuries you may possibly somehow have hidden.

“Are you alright my love?!” He asks, his eyes still roaming for even a moment of weakness from you. “There maesters took care of your arm and the arrow. And I heard word from the dragon keepers who tell me Shrykos is healing dutifully from his wounds!”

“Good.” You simply say, hissing slightly as you sit up and try to keep yourself grounded. “I’d kill then if she wasn’t.”

Jacaerys laughs at your threat, and his face looks almost serene as he just looks at you. His eyes going soft as his hands continue to hold yours. It’d be an almost affectionate moment had it not been for the sudden flare up of pain in your arm.

“Fuck!” You yell, hissing once again as you’re reminded of why you’re even in the maesters room in the first place. “It is alright husband I’m fine!” You insist seeing the worry now marking his face.

“I will worry when I want.” He simply says, kissing you on the top of your head before moving to sit next to you on the bed. His head resting on yours as he puts his arms around you. Your eyes shutting as a sudden hit of exhaustion hits you, yet you welcome it fully as Jaces arms feel just so welcoming and calming.

Alicent Hightower:

Alicent had always been like a mother to you. Caring for you when you were sick and making sure that you were always in your highest possible health. It was probably why she’d insisted since you were young to fully call her mother, even though you were not biologically related to her.

Whenever she heard about even the slightest of injuries though, she always worried relentlessly about the damage. Which is why when you appeared before her clutching a bleeding wound from your shoulder, you’re quite honestly surprised she hadn’t dropped from shock.

“Oh my darling what has happened?!” She’d gasped, frozen in shock as she stood there not knowing what really to do.

“Bastards on their boats took a few shots at me and Shrykos whilst we were on our morn flight. They got two good shots at us to hurt us but don’t worry. Before we got here Shrykos managed to give them what was coming for them…” You groan, holding your shoulder in your hand that has now from the lack of adrenaline, has begun aching dramatically.

“Oh never mind the men I care only about you!” She fusses, coming closer before stopping half way, staring between your shoulder and your pained face. Maybe Alicent will drop from shock after all.

“SOMEBODY GET THE MAESTERS!” You hear a voice yell, before all appears to go dark before your eyes. When you wake though, it is as if the light is blinding you. You blink a few times to ground yourself, and it’s with a sudden surprise you realise that you feel a familiar warmth on your hand. You turn your head slightly, stiff from the lack of movement you think, and realise Alicent is staring at you with great worry on her face.

“Are you feeling alright my darling? The maesters have cleaned and sewed up your wound, but according to them it shall take a while for it to fully heal. You must tell me dear girl, in detail, what happened out there. What did those people do to you?”

“After me and Shrykos took off, we flew to the stormlands. We were drifting round shipbreaker bay, when those men the council warned us over took notice. Crossbows the size of my arm began shooting at us mother, so I am grateful they managed to get me and Shrykos only once.” At the mention of your dragon, your face turns to worry. Yet before you say anything, your mother quickly moves to interrupt you.

“Your dragon is safe my love. The dragon keepers have been keeping me up to date on her healing, and she is steadily heading to full recovery. The arrow has been removed fully, and the wound has stopped bleeding.” She says, her face betraying her as she is unable to hide her distaste of your dragon.

“Thank you mother, I appreciate the consideration. I know you have no love for Shrykos, nor any of your children’s dragons.” You say, your honesty true as you smile in thanks and understanding.

“You’re welcome my heart…” Your mother smiles, her hand reaching out to hold yours. Which while you admittedly want to shy away from, yet you push through your discomfort to allow your mother this moment that you know your adoptive sister would not have allowed.

“I do not want you to fly unaccompanied anymore my heart,” Alicent begins, shushing your with a single movement when she sees you about to harshly protest. “I have discussed this with your brothers and sister, and they have all agreed. Aemond has already taken the duty on his ever eager shoulders, and has said he will ride with you tomorrow morn at your usual time. It may be in your best interest to thank him next time you see him.”

“Of course mother…” You sigh, already dreading Aemonds smug face and wanting to punch it. Yet you withhold yourself from groaning out loud only from your mother’s sake, who is still holding your hand with intended comfort, even though she is doing nothing but make your blood pump fast around your body. Still, you say nothing. Allowing her to believe she is comforting you with a motherly smile on her face.

Daemon Targaryen:

Daemon had always possessed an amusingly short temper. It was especially tested though whenever it regarded to you. Whenever you got yourself hurt as a child, whether than was to do with training or just an accident in the halls, he always demanded to know the man behind your pain. It’s why you weren’t at all surprised when he reacted that same way when you flew back to Dragonstone and stumbled towards him with an arrow stuck in your shoulder blade.

“Who has dared to harm you zaldritzos? Tell me so I can show them what the exact consequence is for messing with a dragon. I am sure caraxes is already fuelled with my anger alone and is ready to face those who dares spill such precious blood.” Daemon snarls, his face unable to hide its anger as he holds your body steady so it won’t suddenly collapse.

“Bastards from the bloody ships on the bloody sea. Got us good… got us good…” You slur, every word feeling forced from your very gut as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes zaldritzos! Don’t you fucking close them!” You hear him snarl once more. But still, you cannot resist the temptation of sleep as you disobey your father and close your eyes.

When you find yourself waking, it is Daemon is standing by you while you slept. His eyes hard and stern as they observe you.

“I suppose you’re mad?” You can’t help but say. Your face admittedly ashamed as you stare to the floor, unable to hold his stare.

“Of course I am mad!” He yelled, refusing to allow you to turn your head away as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “My daughter has gone out without telling me, and she has gotten herself hurt the same way soldiers are hurt in wars!”

“I am sorry father!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes as the disappointed and anger shines through his. “I cannot control where those bastard men sail-“

“But you can control where you fly!” Daemon yells back. His voice rough and frustrated as the inner dragon inside him comes out. “I have taught you better than this zaldritzos! I have been teaching you how to ride that dragon of yours since you were a mere child! So why was it you were no doubt flailing about the sky like an amateur, when I know you could have done better?!”

“I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” You shout, shoving your father away as he stares at you with an expressionless face. “I am not a great leader, or a great dragon rider! I am still learning father! My lessons have not yet stopped being taught! Those men on the ships who shot at us were the ones you had warned us about. The ones claiming our great traditions to be an abomination and deserving of punishment. Me and Shrykos did not know their affiliation as we flew above them. Only when the arrows began to fly for our heads did we realise… I got an arrow in the shoulder, which has now since been removed. Shrykos though listened perfectly and managed to get out of there without any particularly damaging wounds. Still, my anger shon through her, and we managed to light the whole of the fleet up in flames before we flew back home. Where of course, you found me…”

Daemon is silent throughout your rant, yet by the end, when you’re breathless with how quickly you spoke, his hand is placed on your non-injured arm in an unfamiliarly comforting manner.

“I know you are not like me zaldritzos. While I have made you in my image, I hardly expected it to be your only outcome. You have become strong. You have become a fearsome warrior able to bring honour to our family name and our ancestors. I suppose… I may have forgotten that I too have made mistakes. I am sorry zaldritzos…”

The tears that had brimmed earlier in your eyes now tear down your face now that you hear your fathers words. His pride. So you do the only thing you can think of at that moment to show your appreciation. You take your arms and place them around Daemons waist, pulling him into a hug where your head is against his chest. Thankfully his arms seem to automatically go around your own body, and you can’t help but find this act comforting and safe.

“Thank you…” You can’t help but murmur.

“I would never let anything hurt you…” He murmurs back. Words which to anyone else may sound meaningless, but to you, you know they hide your father’s true feeling of care.

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

Rhaenyra had always been a sort of mother to you. A light to guide you in the darkest of your days. Whenever you took ill or had an injury, it was always she who stood by your bed, holding your hand in her own. Even though both husbands and loyal guards warned her of her possibly falling ill herself. Not that she ever did somehow though.

It was like that now. That afternoon, you had decided on a whim to take Shrykos on a fight around the coasts bordering the land surrounding Dragonstone. Yet it seems you coincidentally forgot Daemons talk about the rising threat of a religious group following faithfully the followings of the seven, as you tried to fly past them calmly and peacefully. Shrieking in fear when you realise it was not a harmless fly that flew past your face just now, but a very deadly steel-tipped arrow.

You barely made it out of there alive. The only injuries you yourself sustaining being a few arrow nicks on your shoulders, and the worse of it being a shallow puncture from one of the few successful shots. Shrykos though took most of the hits. Her rage seething the more those pathetic men tried to harm both her and her rider. It was quite satisfying you must say, when you flew away with the fresh smell of burning corpses still behind you, lingering on your clothes.

Yet when you got back home and were standing in front of your mother, that satisfaction quickly changed to a strange sort of guilt when you see her horror struck face.

“What has happened my darling!” She tells, taking ahold of your arm to look at your injury while you yell at her to try and say you were fine, even though you wince as soon as she yanks you towards her.

“Bloody men on the coast of Gull Town decided to shoot at us from their fucking boats. They got only a few good shots before Shrykos managed to get to them. By the time we left, we ensured they became fire and ash. I doubt there are any men alive after that….” You say, barely able to stand as the sudden blood loss reaches you.

You’re barely able to think as your mother brings you to the castle hanging on her shoulder. Soon, maesters surround you whilst your mother fusses by your bed to the left of you. She insists and demands certain things, but by the end, your grateful to feel the pain in your arm significantly lessen not only due to the lack of wooden arrow, but also due to the large amount of milk of the poppy that was pretty much forced down your throat.

“Is it all better now my darling?” Your mother asks, putting your hand between her own to soothe you as if you were a small child who’d scuffed their leg falling on some loose gravel.

“It is fine mother!” You insist. Even smiling as you play the part of the healthy child, able to bounce back from any injuries. Yet somehow she can still manage to see through your facade.

“Are you sure?” She asks again. Her brow raised in questioning as she makes you feel like a young child again. Small, and helpless as you cry to mother.

“Yes I am fine!” You firmly say, taking your hand from hers and placing it on the cold clinical bed sheets. Already missing the familial warmth your mother’s hands had provided you with. “I do not need you pressing!”

“Okay my love. I believe you.” Rhaenyra smiles, acknowledging her child’s want for independence. Moving from the chair she previously had sat on so she can place a quick kiss to the top of your head and smile fondly at the way your nose scrunches. “I will leave you now my love. The maesters had said you’ll fully heal by the moons next turn, but you’re fit to leave the bed tomorrow morn. I’ll visit you then.”

As quick as Rhaenyra leaves, you find yourself already wanting her motherly touch to tell you it’s okay. Your legs tucking under your chin as you hold yourself under the covers, letting your eyes shut so hopefully you’re able to wake up tomorrow by your mother’s voice.

Helaena Targaryen:

Compared to all your other family members, it has always been Helaena you were closest too. A close bond forging between the two of you since girlhood that not once has ever been broken.

You were with her when she claimed Dreamfyre, just as she was there for you when you claimed Shrykos. You also made sure to try and be with her whenever she experienced one of her, moments.

Yet that morning, you were way too busy trying to get ready for your usual morn flight to be with her when she took what the queen would call, a funny turn.

‘Blood of the dragon lost twice over. Beware the boats from bellow filled with men of hate.’

She’d seen your injury and the fire coming from your dragons mouth, and being the anxious person she was, she waited at the dragon keeps entrance with her hands fiddling with each other.

When you fly in holding your arm to try and stem the blood, getting off with difficultly as you try and not fall, you almost scare yourself when you turn and suddenly find yourself face to face with Helaena, who holds a bandage ready to treat you with it.

“Give me your arm…” She softly asks, waiting for you to release your arm from your grip so she can slowly and carefully take the arrow from your arm, choosing to ignore your vocal cries of pain so she can make sure to get the arrow out. When she does, she chooses to just drop the bloody wooden chunk to the floor so she can quickly wrap your now gushing wound, which she cleans with a slightly damp clothe that can’t have been out of the water bowl for long.

“What happened?” She asked while she cleaned your red streaked arm.

“Do you remember those men Aemond warned us about? The ones who hate us for our heritage?” You ask, waiting to hear Helaena unique hum to show she’s truly listening. “Well when I was flying by Tarth, those men were in there boats and obviously spotted me before I spotted them. So they shot at me till they hit me.” You shrug, regretting it soon as you did as you hiss at the sudden flare up of pain.

“It’ll hurt badly. I didn’t manage to take any milk of the poppy from the maesters, so we’ll probably need to visit them soon.” Helaena simply says, giving you a smile before she takes your hand in her own. An act you cannot say in words how much it means to you, given how you know of her usual revulsion for physical touch.

So you stay silent. Allowing her to lead you to the maesters with a small smile on your face, that is wiped right off when you become face to face with them. They stare at your with judgement and soulless eyes as they remove you from Helaenas comforting warmth and instead force you to feel cold metal against your flesh. They ignore you as they unwrap the bandages. Only giving each other looks as they wordlessly judge the state of your body.

It almost makes you want to tear their heads from their bodies and feed them to Shrykos. Who no doubt is feeling your frustrations and anger down in the dragon pit.

Yet you hold your tongue for Helaenas sake, who is watching the maesters take supposed special care of you from the corner of the room. She gives you small smiles whenever you make eye contact, and it’s only with them you manage to pull through. The milk of the puppy though they force down your throat certainly makes you more cooperative though you must say.

“Thank you Hel, for looking after me.” You say, staring at her as soon as the maesters deemed you healed enough and left you. No doing to go get the queen to inform her of your sudden injury.

“It is no problem…” She softly smiles back, moving forward to stand next to you so she can hold your hand in her own. Her soft flesh relaxing you possibly even more than the drugs flowing through your system. “I will always be there for you…”

Laenor Valeryon:

Even though you always knew that Laenor could never truly be your father, he nonetheless always managed to act like one better than anyone. While your mother was busy attending to your brothers, it was Laenor who was always busy attending to you, making sure you were fussed in a way a princess should be fussed.

He always made sure to give you the bestest care a princess may need it. Like right now for instance.

“I NEED A MAESTER RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” You remember your father screaming while your vision slowly began to blur in a variety of difference places. “Where are you hurt ñuha nūmio? Where is the pain? What can I do?”

“Arrow in the fucking shoulder.” You groan, bile building in your throat as you resist the urge to vomit. “Only there father. Shrykos was hit too. Fuck it hurts so much…”

“Do not worry dear girl! The maester will come!” As he says this, guards come running with a maester in tow. The guards take ahold of you carefully as you nearly collapse under the sudden blood rush. The maester barking orders for what to do to you to cause the least amount of damage to your body as possible.

When you get to the healing room, you’re placed roughly onto a bed where now a whole group of maesters now flock to you like a group of crows over a fresh carcass. They all say a different method on how to treat you, yet it’s Laenor whose voice shines louder than them all.

“You will not cut up or harm my daughter!” He yells, his voice firm and harsh as he glares at them all. “You will take out that fucking arrow, and you will heal her. Or I swear, as the heir of the realms husband, I’ll make all of you fucking regret it!”

All is silent, and yet with a firm glare they all scatter to complete your father’s order. Soon, cloth is finding its way in your mouth to quench your screams as hands force the arrow once imbedded in your arm is forced onto a silver plate. Blood gushing down your arm in an admittedly disturbing manner.

By the end, there is an elder looking maester stitching up your blood coated arm, and an arrow head and some wood pieces. Laenor held your hand with every scream and every clench of your body. He made sure you felt as safe as you could in the presence of the same type of men who killed your aunt. He also made sure to quickly push them out as soon as they were done with there work. Nodding along in a dismissive manner as they insist they are still needed.

When they are eventually shushed away however, with the door shut quickly behind them, Laenor quickly finds himself by your side again. His hand laced firmly in yours as he takes a lone damp cloth so he can clean away the dried blood still decorating your wounded flesh.

“Does it hurt much? I can always call a maid to fetch you some milk of the poppy?” Laenor insisted, his touch delicate as he makes sure not to harm you in any way.

“It merely stings…” You shrug, wincing though soon as you do due to the sudden flare up in your shoulder. “I do not need any milk of the poppy father. I can manage my pain.”

“I can see that…” He grins, even chuckling when he sees your own smile. “Though, I must ask. What happened? You did not exactly give me much information before the maesters came for us.”

“Me and Shrykos began our normal journey to the direction of Runestone. But on the coast of Gull town, it appears those men mother had recently warned us about, the ones who deem our customs immoral and a disgrace to a seven, spotted us before we spotted them. They took no time before they were shooting at us with giant crossbows on their ship. They took us by surprise, and managed to get only a single time, but that was enough to enact Shrykos’ rage. I didn’t even say the command father! Shrykos enacted our joined rage and set fire to their ships and their bodies. If they weren’t dead by the time we left, I am almost sure they are all at least dead by now.”

He takes in your words carefully. Murmuring small words every so often while he holds your hand as a sigh of sympathy. When your done though, his face is smeared in deep anger. A hatred you have never seen your father show ever before in your lifetime.

“Well it’s a good think they are dead though,” He finally says, snapping from his thoughts with a huff. “Because if they were alive, Seasmoke would be gorging on a feast right now!”

“Thank you father…” You simply say, falling into his arms that welcome you immediately. You close your eyes and allow yourself to bask in his familiar comforting warmth.

[thornbutch]

One Night Only (Pt. 2) (18+)

check out my masterlist! ♡

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Pairings: Jordan Li x Fem!Reader, (brief) Andre Anderson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Past experiences have wrecked Jordan’s perception of their true feelings. The pretty girl from a week ago isn’t making their situation any better. Cue angst and car sex.

Tags: Jordan Li x fem!reader, Gen V, Jordan Li is a toxic, jealous, sexy piece of shit, cursing, angst, sensitive reader, sapphic make out sesh, Corruption kink, smut, mature content, Jordan might be a little OOC? Sorry. I wrote this in two hours.

Word Count: 2.7k

Jordan Li was probably the most confusing human being she had ever encountered. Ever since that night, he had been ignoring her. She’d see him in the courtyard at lunch, wave, and be disappointed when he didn’t wave back. She knew he saw her. What was his problem?

A week went by since the night she entangled with Jordan. She had finally come to terms with the fact that Jordan didn’t see her as anything but a one-night stand. She couldn’t explain why she felt so hurt by this. Maybe Jordan regretted what happened. Or maybe she was some kind of revenge hook-up? She had dealt with that before; her body being used to make someone else jealous. But that didn’t seem like a thing Jordan would do. On the other hand, she didn’t know Jordan much. She knew he was number five on the list. She knew that he had been Dr. Brink’s TA, but other that, his story was a mystery to her.

The next time she saw him, she was determined to get his attention. She didn’t care if she embarrassed him. How dare he treat her like trash? He owed her an explanation. If she had did something wrong, she’d like to know. If he wished he could forget that night, she had a right to know. She doesn’t know why it bothered her so much, but it did. He didn’t have to fuck her again, but he could’ve at least waved or said hello when he saw her in public.

She had gotten information from Maverick, the dorm’s resident assistant. She demanded to know where Jordan’s room was in the sweetest way. She fluttered her eyelashes and put her hands together in a praying form, begging him over and over to tell her until he finally did.

“God, you freshman are so fucking annoying! Can’t a guy jerk off in peace?” She didn’t have time to wonder if he was jerking off in that moment, due to his invisibility. She’d question him again later on that, because ew.

She made her way to Jordan’s room, knocking on the door once, twice, three times.

“Coming!” She heard a feminine voice shout from behind the door.

Had she arrived at the wrong room? No, Mark was adamant on the floor level and room number.

Plus, she recognized that smell of hefty cologne from the night Jordan fucked her senseless.

So who was-

Oh. She had approximately five seconds to walk, no sprint, away from this situation. She could’ve made it behind a wall or scurried off into a communal bathroom. She had time.

But she stood there, dumbfounded and hurt.

The girl from the other side opened the door, “Can I-“

She stood there.

Her doe eyes brimmed with tears. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? She didn’t own Jordan. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He made it very clear that he didn’t want to be with her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “Wrong door.”

Before the girl had anything to say, she was running down the hallway and exiting the building.

. . .

That was all it took for her to move on. Now, she was back to her normal self. Fuck Jordan Li, and fuck whoever that girl was at the door.

She was undoubtedly pretty, but also handsome at the same time. She kind-of looked like Jordan a bit, but she highly doubted it was a relative. Some guys were into shit like that, fucking the “girl” versions of themselves.

Ick.

She was tired of parties. They were fun, sure. It was nice to get out and get drunk and fuck here and there, but she needed an escape from that environment. She opted to go to a bar instead, one of the local ones near campus that served as a hot spot for the students.

She put on a black, tubed dress that stopped at her mid-thigh. She chose one of her favorite leather jackets to match with it and similar-looking black leather boots that came up just below her knee. It was different than what she’d normally wear. The white dresses, jean skirts, and pink accents made her look cute, but it seemed like people took advantage of that. They thought she was naïve and not aware of their schemes.

She was smart, that much was evident. As pretty as she was, she was also sexy, and she’d be damned if she didn’t own that shit.

The bar was far quieter than the frat parties, but still loud nonetheless. Supes and normals mingled here. One thing they both had in common was their love for alcohol. It seemed to bring them together and offer peace against outside situations.

The moment came when she was asked if someone could buy her a drink. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair and deep black eyes. He was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that.

“I’m a freshman,” she stated. The man laughed.

“You say that like I’m old,” he said as he bought himself a drink, “I’m only a junior.”

She smiled, knowing that he was in her age range and a fellow student calmed her. “I’m (Y/n).”

He took a sip from his glass, “Andre,” he replied, “You have a coin on you?”

She nodded, reaching into her black velvet purse to retrieve a quarter. She handed it to him, and he examined it thoroughly.

“Look,” he held the quarter between his forefinger and thumb, “If I could make this-“ she watched as the quarter transformed before her eyes, the metal twisting and bending to create the shape of a bird, “into her drink-“ he looked over at a woman sitting down, holding a champagne glass in her hand, “then you have to come home with me.”

“Oh, I have to?” She smirked.

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged and grinned back, “Just enforce them.”

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar presence loom over her. She turned around, met with a firm chest and a heavy scent.

Jordan.

“She’s not into your lame ass party tricks, Andre,” Jordan said.

Andre scoffed, blistering a false offended look on his face, “Lame? C’mon, Jordan, don’t be like that.”

Jordan rolled his eyes, “She’s not interested, got it?”

Andre rolled his eyes as well, his fists bawled up and the once floating medal bird turned into a dense ball, “It’s 2023. Women can speak for themselves.”

“Right,” Jordan looked down at you, finally including you in on the conversation that he interrupted, “Are you interested?”

She was taken aback by the question. She sputtered a little, swapping glances between Andre and Jordan. Whatever this was, she did not want to be apart of it. Fuck Jordan for ruining this.

“No.” She said. Andre held his hands up in defeat, grabbed his drink, and walked away from the bar and into the crowd. She turned back to Jordan then and stood up. “Fuck you.”

“You already did,” he said.

She pushed him then. “No, fuck you. Fuck you for being an asshole to me all this week and then popping up to ruin-“

“Ruin what, exactly? Where you going to go home with him, huh? Fuck him, too? Let him see you the way I saw you?”

“Excuse me?” She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught it. His grip was tight and bruising. A few bystanders gathered around them.

“Let’s go to my car.” Jordan tugged her towards the exit. She barely had time to register what was going on before she felt the cold breeze of the night air swift through her nostrils and blow on her exposed skin.

He opened the passenger door for her. A gentleman. What kind of gentleman would dare to ask to her that way? Just who did he think he was? Her fucking boyfriend?

She got in, and he slammed the door closed. She stared out the window as he felt the car dip a little with the weight of Jordan getting in on the driver’s side.

The car was silent.

“Are we playing the quiet game or something?” .

She nodded.

He sighed, “Look, you have every right to hate me-“

“I do.”

“-but I need to explain something to you.”

She could feel her anger bubbling up. Her knees bounced against the car floor. She continued to stare out the window. “Explain.”

“The girl you saw, she was-“

Oh, not this lousy and overused excused. He really thought she was dumb. It wasn’t just something she had made up in her mind. This was evidence.

She turned, tears just about to spill past her eyelids, “Your sister? Your cousin? Your best friend?” She scoffed, “You think I’m stupid. You ignore me for a week, a week, Jordan. Then you decide you can whisk me away like you’re some kind of Prince Charming?”

“That’s not-“

“You embarrass me in front a cute guy because what? You’re jealous? You don’t like to see your one-night stand hooking up with other people but don’t mind not bothering to wave back when she waves at you?”

“(Y/n)-“

“But maybe I am stupid. You asked if I was interested, and I said no. You opened the door for me, and I got in. You folded my panties and tucked me in and left and treated me like I didn’t exist.”

Jordan watched intently as she spewed all the horrible shit they had done to her. They didn’t think it would affect her so much. They’d hate to be ignored, too, but they’d get over it. They could tell she convinced herself she was over them, over the entire situation. If she was moved on, she wouldn’t have turned down Andre’s offer, and she wouldn’t have entered their vehicle.

“-and now you’re not fucking listening, great.” She folded her arms and dramatically laid back against the seat. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her makeup was ruined. Black streaks of mascara coated the skin.

“I’m sorry,” they said. “You’re right. Not about the stupid thing, the fucked up thing. It was wrong of me to ignore you, I just…” Jordan breathed in shakily. This was so out of character for them. “I didn’t think you liked me.”

She turned towards the window again, staring at her own reflection.

“And… the girl you saw wasn’t my sister, cousin, or best friend,” They could feel their chest tightening, “She was me.”

She watched in the reflection as Jordan morphed into the girl she had seen earlier. She turned back sharply, completely in shock at what she just witnessed.

“You-“

“Yeah. I’m bigender, or whatever the fuck,” Jordan sighed. They felt vulnerable in this form. They tucked a strand of their longer black hair behind their ear and looked beyond the front windshield, “I didn’t want you thinking that I-“

“That you’re into women who look like you?” She responded.

“Yes,” Jordan snorted, “But I was going to say that I wasn’t using you. Or- I didn’t use you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Do you normally fuck girls and abandon them?”

“I normally don’t get jealous when I see someone else flirting with them,” they looked at her then, “I didn’t like what I saw. When he flirted with you using his medal-bending ability. It was corny.”

She let out a small laugh, wiping away her tears, “It was kind of corny.”

Jordan nodded, “I was… afraid. I’m not used to feeling like this, but I am used to it at the same time. Girls, they fuck me in my masculine form and want nothing to do with me in my feminine form. Guys are vice versa.”

She listened to every word coming from their mouth.

“I guess I’ve grown accustomed to blocking people out without asking if they’d accept both versions of me.”

The car was quiet once more.

“Accustomed,” she whispered, “that’s a big word.”

Jordan rolled their eyes.

“I don’t mind,” she was no longer looking at them, instead focusing on her hands that she held in her lap, “I wouldn’t have judged you. I’m not judging you.”

“You’re not?”

“I think you’re the most handsomest and prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” she said.

They could feel their ears tint with red.

“I understand why you were nervous, but I wish you would’ve talked to me before doing all of this,”

“I’m sorry,”

“I know,” she faced them, bringing her hands to cup their soft jawline, “I forgive you.”

Their lips met with hers, but not like how they did at the frat party. This time was more passionate, sweeter, and less rough. She broke the kiss to climb over the armrest and straddle them. Jordan leaned the chair back as far as it would go to give her enough room to sit on their lap. She took off her leather jacket. Their hands held onto her waist, keeping her in place. She liked being on top and knowing that she had no control. They liked being underneath her and knowing that they were still the dominant one.

They began to kiss each other harder. More hunger. They craved her. She must’ve worn this black outfit in retaliation. She looked pretty in white. She looked pretty in black. She looked pretty naked. She was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen, and now they had her right where they wanted her.

She had been hogging their memory ever since that night. They’d slip their hands into their pants during late hours of the night, fondling their clit and breathing her name in heavy gasps as they imagined her touching them. They pinched their nipples, imagining her biting them. They wanted to see her between their thighs, eating them out with her back arched and her eyes closed because she was so into it.

“Am I doing good?” They imagined she would say.

They’d tell her she was doing amazing as they fucked their pussy onto her face.

They’d have to take a late-night shower, having soaked their boxers in their secretion. Their shirt would stick to their back from how hot they were and how much they were sweating during a simple masturbation session.

They wondered if she touched herself. Maybe she was so pent up with frustration that she couldn’t help but fuck it out of herself. She’d use two fingers right off the bat. Her legs would be spread open, and her clothes discarded into a heap at the edge of her bed.

“Jordan,” she’d moan.

“Jordan,” she moaned.

They were brought back to the present, pulling away from her lips. Both of their chests rise and fell with great intensity. They bought their hand up to her face, placing their thumb on her lip and parting them. She opened willingly, allowing their thumb to enter her wet cavern.

She sucked feverishly, all while maintaining eye contact.

“Fuck,” Jordan cursed. They could feel how wet they were in their stiff jeans.

She pulled their thumb out of her mouth with a barely audible pop!

“I want to touch you,” she said.

Yes, yes, please, yes.

She pulled up their shirt, revealing a flat stomach that had the shadows of their abs present. They didn’t wear a bra. She was very understanding of that, too. It’d be extremely uncomfortable for them to shift and feel the hard clasps of the bra digging into their back.

She cupped their breast tenderly, swiping her thumb over the nipple. Jordan couldn’t tell if she’d been with women before. Was she an expert? Or was she just doing what she did when she touched herself?

She pinched and they shifted unexpectedly. She leaned back, her ass hitting the steering wheel and blaring the horn.

It was quiet for the third time.

They apologized for startling her. She told them it was okay.

Then, she busted out laughing, falling onto them. They laughed, too.

“I guess that’s a sign,” she said.

“A sign for what?”

“To take me back to your place.”

She didn’t have to say anything else.

[nevernonline]

✧.* just for one night; yjh

for jeonghan's birthday he teased the gift he wanted wrapped in a pretty bow this time was you. little did he know that his joke would turn into his favorite present.

𐦍 paring: jeonghan x reader.

𐦍 genre: romance, bad humor, fluff, "friendly" date.

𐦍 warnings: drinking,  s3xy times, swearing,  smut, minors dni, reader has female genitalia.

𐦍 word count: 2.0k

𐦍 content: non-idol characters, food/drink, cursing, slightly- suggestive, pet names, afab! reader.

𐦍 note: I meant to post this on 1004 but.. maybe forgot to queue it LMAO. this wasn't intended to go this way and I don't rlly write smut often (or read it often tbh) so pls all my baddies who read and write smut give me feedback. (pls) lolol. anyway!! enjoy kk. ily.

It was that time again, time to find a gift for a friend who had nearly everything. Scouring around shops and market places, trying to find something special that had any meaning to the two of you. Sure, you could buy a lux gift or a fancy dinner, but that was basic and well beyond the things Jeonghan had given you. 

You scroll back through texts and posts over the last few birthdays you had spend celebrating him, stumbling across a photo that gave you a good idea. You were sitting on his lap as he blew out his birthday candle. After that wish was put into the universe you recall his lips coming so close to your ear his lips were almost making contact with your pierced lobes. 

“All I want next year is you wrapped in a pretty bow.” 

Maybe he wouldn’t remember that wish, but you did. It was silly and stupid, but your friend did always know what he wanted and wasn’t shy to ask for it. 

You sprinted to the stationary store in order to find a big pink bow in under thirty minutes, so you could make it back to your apartment where Jeonghan was meeting you before his big night out with all of his friends. The options were endless, a sea of glitter, metallic, curling, satin, but you decided to be simple, just a large bound pink ribbon. 

After an overwhelming time spent pondering over pink fabric, you made it home with ten minutes to spare. Lacing yourself up from your sneakers, to your hair, your bag, even a dainty piece wrapped around your neck as a finishing touch just as the doorbell rang, you told him to open up where he found you laced in pink, wearing a black dress, holding a cupcake flame ablaze. 

“Happy Birthday, Hannie.” 

A smile creeped in as he came close to blow his candle out looking at the pink adorned ribbon tied all over you, he remembered. 

“My present I presume?” 

His fingers pointed towards you, again smiling from ear to ear like he couldn’t believe you remembered his wish. 

“Think I’d forget?” 

“You tend to forget your own name while drinking, so yes. I love it.” 

Jeonghan’s hands reached to run his hands over the ribbon in your hair, pausing before he touched the one on your neck. 

“So this means you’re mine for the night?” 

“Your wish is my command, birthday boy. Should we go?” 

“You know when I wished for you to be my present, I meant much more than you wearing bows right?” 

You huffed, watching his eyes still on your neck. 

“I did. I really will oblige any wish, as long as it’s legal and safe.” 

“No promises, babe. Let’s go.” 

Walking hand in hand into Jeonghan’s not so surprise party was not out of the norm for you, you’ve always been the type of friend that clung to close, even for your own comfort. Something seemed to linger in the air around you as a pair. 

“Mind getting me a cocktail? I’m going to go say hi to the guys and thank them.” 

“Again, here to please. Vodka Cran or G&T?” 

“Gin, please.” 

With a small salute as a send off you walked into a line behind three other partygoers in line. 

“Y/n? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in pink before?” 

The voice was Joshua’s coming from behind you. He wrapped his right arm around your shoulders in a half hug greeting you hello. 

“Really? Well, it's for Jeonghan’s gift. Last year he wished that I gift him myself, so here I am adorned in pink ribbon.” 

“You really took him up on that? You are one good friend.” 

“I know that you're thinking it's probably a mistake, you’re right.” 

“Na, he’d never hurt you or let anyone else. He likes you far too much.” 

Your eyes rolled now facing the bartender and placing the matching drink order before turning back to Joshua. 

“Come find me later okay? I need a Shua Hong dance for my payment for being Jeonghan’s bitch for the night.” 

“It's the least I can do.” 

Hours passed by just as quickly as alcohol entered your system, you haven’t left the side of your male counterpart for hours, he wouldn’t let you slide away other than grabbing more drinks or running to the ladies room.

Your buzz is far more prominent now. Jeonghan’s hands slid to the lower half of your body, resting between your bare skin and the hem of your dress and your heart followed along to the beat of the edm music playing over the club loudspeakers. 

“Dance with me, pretty?” 

His eyes burning a hole into your head, you obliged, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into the center of the purple lights and faux fog. 

Jeonghan’s hands found a comfortable spot resting on your hips as you twisted around placing your back onto his chest, grinding slowly to the song. 

This proximity between you has never existed, while you’re touchy or clingy the feeling from the warmth of his pants's friction on your upper thighs made you feel differently about your so called friend. 

Thoughts swirled in your brain as you turned back to be face to face with his plump lips and siren like eyes. A hand, that same hand that was resting comfortably on your lower half snaked its way up to your neck, the ribbon placed there was now further from your skin as his fingers laced their way under it. 

“You want to know what else I wished for?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, no words formed other than some incoherent ones that sounded like soft moaning. 

“I wished that you’d be my present forever, not just for the night. I can’t let anybody else get this gift.” 

Your hands reached from the nape of his neck to the side of his face, trying to give him a clue that you wanted him as badly as he wanted you. 

“Come home with me?” 

He placed a small peck onto your cheek, nearing the site of your lips that so badly wanted to feel the crash of his on them. 

The whole ride back in your taxi, your hands rubbed up his thigh. He knew you looked nervous, but also that you would tell him if anything made you uncomfortable. 

Truth be told he was nervous too. This was a line he never thought would be crossed. Jeonghan knew for years that he wanted you and only you for that matter, but he waited for the perfect moment to be put in your hands. 

Saying a quick thank you to your driver, you basically sprinted into his place, not even having a second to throw your jacket and bag down at his front door before you had your back against his white walls in the dark. 

The sense of urgency to kiss you was obvious. A near feral feeling. He tasted like cherries and gin as he kissed you quickly, helping you out of your outerwear and pulling you into his apartment that was only lit by the beautiful view of the city below. 

“Help me?” 

Your voice came out as a whimper, turning your back to him as an indication you needed help out of your dress. 

His cold hands wrapped around the zipper of your dress running a finger down your spine as it unzipped. 

“Wow.” 

His confidence suddenly washing away as he looked at your semi naked body only wearing a matching pink slip dress to the color of your bows and a pair of matching panties below. 

“Dressed up for me too?” 

“Nope. Just like to match.” 

The ‘P’ of your nope popped onto his face and a devious smile appeared. 

“Don’t be bad, gifts shouldn’t talk back to their owner.” 

His hands found his way to the place they didn’t seem to leave all night, your hips as he placed you down onto his fresh sheets. 

“Sorry, Hannie.” 

“It’s okay, just be a good girl."  

You nodded as he began kissing you starting at your lips and followed a trail all the way down to your sternum. 

“You know the best part about gifts is opening them.” 

Jeonghan’s fingers now wrapped around the waistband of your underwear as he slowly pulled them down below your knees, around your ankles and onto the floor. 

A pause from kissing came as his pointer and middle finger entered into your mouth and prompted you to spit on them so he could rub circles onto your clit before entering another space he had never been to before. His first finger came in slowly penetrating you softly, when he saw you getting needy his second entered and the beats became more rapid as he used his tumb to rub circles around your much more sensitive sweet spot. 

Your moaning became louder, reminding him of your voice yelling over the sound of the music in the club as you reached your first orgasm of the night. 

Sitting up now watching as Jeonghan places the same two fingers that were inside of you into his mouth, savoring every last drop of the finish you had because of him, you crawled onto you knees now prompting him for some pleasure. 

Undoing the button and zipper of his pants, letting him and his cock catch their breath before going down on him. You placed soft kisses along the pale skin of his stomach, making sure to nip his skin in between as you make your way down his torso. Just as you reach the waistband of his boxers, a hand comes to cup the hard thing lying beneath. 

“Wanted me that bad huh?” 

Jeonghan, now dethroned from his previous position of power, just groaned as a beg to have your mouth wrapped around his pulsing cock. 

“I’ve wanted you forever.” 

Hearing his breathless moans you released your hands from his cock and finished unwrapping yourself for him, leaving that small pink ribbon tied around your neck, before going back down to kiss your lips at the tip of his dick. 

As your hands and mouth worked their way around in unison all over his engorged flesh, it takes only a few minutes for him to fill the dirty mouth that was teasing him just before. 

“Didn’t take you for such a lightweight, Yoon.” 

“Shut the fuck up and please get on top of me.” 

Your legs came to straddle around his still sensitive cock as you teased your entrance. 

“Someone’s so needy.”

“Someone is supposed to be doing far less talking and far more fucking.” 

His arms pulled you down fearlessly so your lips could fall back into place and also so he could shut you up while you finally let him inside of you. 

“Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be so tight.” 

Jeonghan knew he wouldn’t last long being inside of you, not because you were tight, but because of the way he felt about you and how much he dreamed about watching your breasts bouncing as they hovered over his face while he fucked you. 

“I- Uh, Fuck.” 

“You what, pretty? Can’t handle me? Can't it last long? Want me to fill you up as you ride me?” 

“Yes, yes, all of it. Please, Hannie.’"

As his hips pounded their way onto yours, both of you running out of stamina maybe due to the alcohol or maybe the adrenaline reached your climax near the same time. 

“Can you come inside me, please?” 

You were practically begging him to mark you and since you looked so pretty he couldn’t say no to you. 

With the two of you now finished, his cock still inside of you. Jeonghan placed soft kisses on your lips. 

“I don’t want this to stop.” 

His hands came to untie the pink fabric now slightly wet from your shared bodily fluids. 

“Me either. I love you, you know?” 

You lifted your body off of him, now under his covers with your hands placed on his chest. 

“I love you too, Happy Birthday.” 

“Be my present forever, okay?” 

“Okay, handsome.” 

And with another year gone, Jeonghan finally got the birthday present he truly wanted. You.

[rxmqnova]

Can i please request a Wanda x little sister reader.

Reader uses powers (they didn't know she had) when Steve is being extra hard on Wanda. "Stop making Sissy cry" as she turned the floor under Steve's feet to liquid. After getting the captain stuck up to the knees, reader only calms down once Wanda picks us up and cuddles us close. We refuse to release Steve though, not until Nat gets back (she tries hard not to laugh), and bribes us with the present she brought us back.

(Very brief WandaNat .... maybe)?

Anyway, thanks for reading 👍

No worries if you don't want to write this or can't.

Little protector

Y/N: 6 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV A loud gasp escapes Y/N's lips as soon as her house made of lego falls on the ground. The little girl has been playing in her room when suddenly a red magic ball formed in her hand and flew away, hitting her lego house.

"Cool!" She grins, happy that she can be like her big sister Wanda now.

Speaking of Wanda, the older Maximoff is currently in the gym, training with Steve. Y/N knows her sister needs to know about it and the little one really wants to train with Wanda and become an Avenger just like her sister.

Y/N immediately sprints to the gym, knowing her sister is there. As soon as she steps in, she sits down on a bench, loving to watch her sister train and completely forgetting why she came to the gym in the first place.

Though suddenly Steve raises his voice at Wanda on which the little Maximoff furrows her brows, a pot forming on her face. Y/N's very protective over her big sister, so Steve not being nice to her sister is making her really angry.

Once Y/N notices a few tears escaping her big sister's eyes, that's it for her and she immediately makes her way over there, standing in front of Wanda with her arms crossed and a pout on her face.

But because Y/N is still really small compared to Steve, he doesn't even notice her which makes Y/N even more angry.

"Stop making sissy cry!" Y/N shouts, stomping her foot which makes the ground under Steve's feet turn into liquid, causing him to fall down into it.

Wanda gasps, protectively wrapping her arms around her little sister and pulling her back a little bit while Y/N just puts her hand over her mouth, trying to hold her giggles.

"What have you done, Wanda?" Steve asks irritated, trying to get back on the floor, the weird form of the liquid not really allowing it.

"Don't be mean to Wanda!" Y/N shouts with a pout, not liking the tone of Steve's voice and stomping her foot once again.

The liquid turns back into its previous form, trapping Steve completely while Wanda's just standing there completely shocked.

"What are you doing?!" Steve raises his voice, still trying to get out, but can't move at all now.

"I said-"

"No, no, no, that's enough, honey" Wanda's quick to lift her little sister up, sitting her on her hip and holding her close before she can stomp her foot once again.

"But I don't like when someone's mean to you, Wanda" Y/N pouts once again, twirling her little finger around a strand of Wanda's hair.

"Honey, that's really sweet of you, but we can't use our powers on friends, even if they're sometimes mean" Wanda explains, tucking a strand of hair behind her little sister's ear. "When did you even get those powers?"

"Just now! I was just about to tell you. Now we can train together!" Y/N grins, kicking her legs happily.

"Hello? I'm still here" Steve reminds.

"Okay, bubs. It's time to free him" Wanda orders.

Y/N looks at Steve who still seems to be really angry and just shakes her head with a giggle.

"What do you mean no, missy?" Wanda raises an eyebrow, making Y/N giggle once again.

"When I'm not being nice you always sit me on a step, so Steve has to stay here, because he wasn't nice to you" The tiny girl reasons, looking at her sister seriously.

"Seriously? Get me out of here!" Steve orders, crossing his arms over his chest and not believing his ears right now.

"No" Y/N shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest as well. "What's going on here?" Natasha asks, appearing in the gym as she just got back from the store and was about to train for a bit.

She gotta try really hard not to laugh when she sees Steve stuck up in the floor, not being able to get out.

"Ask this little monkey, it's her job" Wanda sighs.

"Oh, really? You did this, Y/N/N?" Natasha asks, a chuckle escaping her lips at the sight of mad Steve stuck in the floor.

"How about some help instead of making fun of it, Romanoff?" Steve rolls his eyes.

"Can you let him go, sweetheart?" Natasha asks softly, tucking a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear.

"No" Y/N shakes her head no, crossing her arms over her chest again.

"And why is that, missy?" Natasha raises an eyebrow playfully.

"He was very mean to Wanda. She even cried" Y/N explains seriously.

"Well, but that's not nice, is it? I think Steve is very lucky I wasn't here otherwise he'd end up much worse than just stuck in the floor" Natasha says, giving Steve a glare for making her girlfriend cry. "I don't know, Steve. Maybe we should just leave you here" She teases, making Y/N giggle.

"What?! You can't be serious right now" Steve's eyes widen, watching the three girls in disbelief.

"Just get him out already" Wanda jumps in, knowing her overprotective little sister and overprotective girlfriend would let Steve here for god knows how long.

"Alright" Natasha sighs. "I might have bought you a little something in the store, детка. So how about you let Steve out and I'll give you that little something?" Natasha offers, knowing Y/N can't say no to presents. (baby)

"Hmmm…. Okay, but can I sleep with you and Wanda today?" Y/N asks, pulling out her best puppy eyes on which Natasha lets out a chuckle.

"Alright, I think we can make an exception. What do you think, Wands?" Natasha questions, looking at Wanda who smiles and nods.

"We can, but now let Steve out, honey" Wanda stands her little sister on the ground, placing her hands on Y/N's small shoulders.

"But how?" Y/N asks, looking at Wanda with hope she'd help her while Steve's eyes widen, already thinking he'll stay there forever.

"Oh… Close your eyes, honey" Wanda tries to help, kneeling down to her little sister when Y/N does what she was told. "Okay, now you need to really concentrate. You need to think really hard about what you want to do"

Y/N does what her sister said, thinking really hard about getting Steve out of the floor and after a few minutes, the floor around Steve turns into liquid once again, so Natasha's quick to help him out.

"Good job, honey" Wanda smiles, pulling her sister in for a hug and pressing a kiss to her little cheek.

"Natty, what did you get me in the store?" Y/N asks impatiently, making Natasha and Wanda let out a small laugh.

"Alright, you cheeky little girl. Come with me" Natasha chuckles, taking Y/N's tiny hand in hers and leading her out of the gym.

Wanda follows the pair, leaving soaked Steve in the gym. One thing is sure now… everyone should know not to mess with Wanda otherwise Y/N will teach them a lesson.

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

Sorry for the long wait, guys! I'm pretty busy with school, but I promise I'm working on all your requests!! <33

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

[kikiyoomis]

you've always looked at him from afar, never having any opportunities to really get close with him. you watched the more courageous girls shoot their shot but you also watch them get turned down.

you really wanted to get closer with him, to at least be able to call each other acquaintances. you won't ask for the impossible, so you hope for the minimum.

sakusa kiyoomi had your heart since middle school. from being in the same class all three years, you've had your fair share of interactions as most kids did with everyone in their classes. you were friendly with him, your crush not on him yet apparent then. it was in your last year of middle school that you realized you liked him.

disheartened by the fact that graduation was coming up quickly and the both of you were going your separate ways to different high schools. you thought your feelings were fleeting, temporary and it will be quick to move on from. but you were wrong.

even at a different school you tried various attempts to see him again. you joined your school's volleyball team as the manager to be able to go to the tournaments where he will be playing.

there you would see him, very briefly, playing on the court. your school never shared the court with his. always eliminated after either the first or second game, you could never stay long enough for a chance to even say hello.

but now by a complete stroke of luck, you see him in your university lecture on the first day of class. you've come to terms with the fact that you've never gotten over him and seeing him sitting in the front row made your heart flutter like it did in middle school.

this was an opportunity. a chance.

you walk over to the front row, hoping to sit next to him. he notices you walking over and you couldn't let this go to waste.

"hi! i'm y/n l/n" you introduce yourself. it's been years since you've last spoken, and you weren't the type to stand out. you know for sure that by now he's forgotten you.

"..." he stares at you silently, making you slightly nervous.

"is this seat taken?" you ask him, gesturing to the seat beside him. he hesitates briefly before shaking his head. you set your bag down and sit next to him.

"i'm so nervous, i've never been in a class this big," you try to initiate some small talk but it gets increasingly more awkward by the second.

finally, sakusa breaks his silence.

"did you go to dosho junior high?" he finally says. you look at him shocked, not knowing what he intends to say afterwards.

"yea i did..." you confirm. finally, a small smile makes its way to sakusa's face.

"i remember you. we didn't talk much but i know we were on friendly terms. i saw you a couple of times in high school too, during the volleyball tournaments but i never had a chance to speak with you since our teams never crossed paths."

he... remembered you? your heart is pounding against your chest as if you sprinted a mile without stopping.

"i saw you too then, during the high school tournaments..." you say trailing off, admitting small parts of the truth.

"i'm sakusa, in case you've forgotten. i hope we can be friends again," he says with a soft smile. as if you would forget his name. you smile back, cheeks hurting slightly from it. but you cant help it, this has been the happiest you've felt in a long time.

"likewise!"

the distance that time and different high schools created left you feeling that all that remained from your crush on sakusa was just a lingering attraction. something you couldn't ever reach out and touch. but now, in university, the universe has given you a chance to take a step closer.

[its-time-to-write]

Hello! Maybe one where Nate kisses the reader like he did Keeley but they’re dating Jamie and he gets very upset but then they call him down and it’s sweet at the end ❤️

This one got real intense, real fast. Deals with some trauma after an unwanted kiss, so be discerning when deciding if you want to read this. Jamie’s really sweet, but this mostly ends up as a look at how it feels when someone does something you have a hard time laughing off.

i can’t breathe without you

It all happens so fast, really. One minute you’re alone in the boot room, talking to Nate about his day, and the next his lips are pressed against yours. Your entire mind freezes and all you can think is Jamie, and you must say something to that effect because Nate is bumbling through an apology, something about misreading signals and being an idiot, but what you’re really hearing is that he thinks any girl who is nice to him, is attracted to him. 

You’re not. 

He should have known, your mind reasons. He should have known you were with Jamie. 

All rational thought is overshadowed by tears threatening to fall. You say, “I have to go,” and then flee the boot room, leaving Nate standing there all alone. 

You’re not really sure where you’re going, but you’re running, pushing past people in an effort to just get out and get away from the feeling of his lips on yours. 

I didn’t want it, you tell yourself. Didn’t want, didn’t want, didn’t want. 

You knock into Ted in your rush. “Hey there, darling, you alright?” he asks, all fatherly concern. You nod your head once and then are gone, pushing through the door and out into the parking lot. You’re running, running fast. Anything to have control over the way your body feels, to hit the reset button, to forget. 

Jamie will understand, he loves you, he’ll understand, your mind tells you. 

You push it away, because now is not a time for hope. Jamie is a man, and they are all the same. Your ex, Connor, broke up with you when a boy kissed you at a frat party. Never mind that you were shoving him off you before his lips even made contact. Never mind that you had been trying to turn your head away. Never mind that he had seen the whole fucking thing and still decided that you were, in his words, “too easy.”

You’re so distracted by your thoughts and your desperate escape that you barely register Sam’s voice and sprint to catch you until his hand has reached for your arm and you violently shake it away, saying, “don’t touch me,” voice hoarse. 

He instantly lets go and backs up, hands in the air. 

You must look feral, eyes wide, hair flying. Face white. 

Sam’s face has concern written all over it as he asks, softer, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you say, just a bit too forcefully. “I’m fine, I just, his lips and I didn’t want it, I swear I didn’t, I didn’t even do anything, but I feel them, and I didn’t do anything I promise, please, please don’t tell Jamie.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until tears fall onto your shoe. Sam’s previous concern has nothing on how he is now. He is downright worried. 

“Do you need me to call someone?” he asks. 

“No!” you reply. “No. I’m fine. It’s just- Nate kissed me, and I promise I didn’t want him to, he just did, and it’s probably my fault but I love Jamie, not Nate, and I need him to know that, ok? I can’t, how am I supposed to keep going, I can’t-” You’re beginning to hyperventilate now. Sam’s hands are up, like he’s calming a wild animal. 

“Hey. Hey now. Why don’t you sit down. It’s alright, it’s just you and me. Take a deep breath for me, alright? Follow my lead.”

You follow Sam’s directives and sit with your head between your legs. Sam takes a moment to type out a message to Coach Beard, while you’re distracted. It says, Find Nate before Jamie does, because who else would it be, and Sam knows Beard will be able to assess and handle the situation properly. Meanwhile, he’s got to calm you down. 

—

Inside the locker room, Beard’s phone dings. He looks away from where Ted is talking to Jamie and then frowns. What are the odds this text is related to you bumping into Ted? Beard, betting man that he is, is sure they’re good. He goes to find Nate. 

Nate is still in the boot room, acting as if nothing’s wrong. 

He looks up in surprise when Beard walks in. 

“Oh, um, hello,” he says. “Is everything alright?”

So he’s clocked Beard’s angry face. At least he’s not a complete imbecile. 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Beard replies, arms crossed and face stony as ever. “What happened to Jamie’s girlfriend?”

One stammer from Nate is all Beard needs to hear. 

—

Ted tells Jamie, and Jamie is livid. Ted’s phone dings with a help please text from Sam because he has no idea how to help you, and Jamie’s anger reaches a whole new level. 

Beard thinks they should let Jamie have a go at Nate. Roy agrees, and thinks maybe Jamie could use some help. Nate isn’t present, Beard says something about being stuck in the boot room with the handle broken off. Ted knows Beard well enough to know exactly what happened, but now isn’t the time to comment. Beard has both punished and protected Nate, and there are more pressing things at hand. You, for starters. And Jamie, with murder on his mind. 

“Jamie,” Ted says, “I’m gonna need you to listen real good. I don’t know your girl very well, but I do know she has a sweet spirit. You go out there guns blazing, and it’s just going to validate every crushing thought she has about herself.” 

Jamie opens his mouth to speak but Ted puts up a hand. “Doesn’t matter that you’re not mad at her, she’ll take it that way. Things like this are tricky. You want her to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are 100% on her team.” Ted stops. “You are on her team, ain’t you?”

Jamie stares at him. “You think I fucking blame her for that prick mistaking her bein’ nice for flirting?” 

Ted shrugs. “She ever told you ‘bout her last boyfriend? Matter of fact, she ever tell you about any of her other relationships? You might be surprised what kinda boys are out there pretending to be men. Now, I gotta go make sure she’s gonna be ok. You,” he points to Roy, “don’t let Jamie out till he’s calmed down. You,” he points to Beard, “go figure out a way to get Nate unstuck from the boot room.”

Beard says, “consider it done, Coach,” and Roy just grunts. 

Ted is gone, and it’s just the three of them and their separate manifestations of their anger. 

—

Your head is still on your knees when you hear footsteps approaching. Sam has been sitting on his haunches, two feet away from you. Close enough so you’re not alone, far enough to give you some space. 

The footsteps make your head jerk up. The fear in your eyes is enough to break Ted’s heart. He’s never had a daughter, but he’ll be damned if this isn’t how a father must feel. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, crouching down, voice soft. “What can I do you for?”

His voice is just reminiscent enough of your own father’s that you launch yourself into his arms, crying. 

“Sh, sh, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” Ted says. You have a death grip on him. “Just let it out.”

You’ve almost completely cried yourself out when Ted says, “What do you want to say?”

You pull away and sit back on the curb, hand covering half your face. You shake your head. 

“It’s alright, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just want to know what’s wrong so I can help.”

You choke out “Jamie,” and both Ted and Sam are surprised enough that neither of them know what to say. They wait for you to continue. 

A few more tears fall before you say, “I just love him so much. I don’t want to lose him. I need him to know that I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want it. I wasn’t flirting, I swear. He just kissed me out of nowhere and I can’t get rid of the feeling, I just can’t-” You start wiping your lips violently with the back of your hand. 

“Hey, hey listen- listen to me,” Ted says. You lower your trembling hand. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that your whole body is shaking. 

“None of this, and believe me when I do say ‘none,’ is your fault. Jamie ain’t like those other boys you were with. He knows who you are. You did nothing wrong. He’s hopping mad, sure, but not at you. His hearts in the right place. He loves you, and I’m pretty sure if you gave him half a chance, he’d love you forever. There’s nothing that’s going to change that.”

You’re beginning to register Ted’s words. You’re glad he and Sam are out here, and that you’re not alone. Vaguely, you hear the building door open from across the parking lot. There’s a different set of footsteps now, running ones, that come to a crashing halt in front of you. 

You flinch. 

You hear Jamie inhale jerkily and dare to look upward. 

He looks a mess, eyes red and hair mussed. He kneels down slowly to where you’re curled up. 

He doesn’t even know where to begin with you flinching, but by god every breath Nathan Shelley draws is just one closer to his reckoning. 

Jamie breathes out your name, and finally, finally, you make solid eye contact. He reaches for you, and you take his hand, letting him draw you into his lap.

He holds you and rocks back and forth, whispering into your hair while the others quietly get up and back away. 

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. It’s just you and me. I love you and I’ve got you.”

He’s got you, you tell your mind. 

Yes, your brain agrees, he’s got you and he loves you.

[hina-hina]

Hello! can I have a (seperate) fluffy headcanons for Ghost, König, Soap and Alejandro reacts when his and f! s/o's baby says their first word which is "dada" or "papa"

Hello friend!! This was such a cute request to go with the Ghost one I just made as well as the addition of the other characters!! This was a really fun one to write I hope you like it!! Thank you for requesting!! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

|| Ghost, König, Soap and Alejandro Reactions to their Baby's first word being Dad ||

Warnings: some angst

|| Ghost

He never would have guessed that his child's first word would be his name due to how much he works

He hates having to leave the two of you so much

He always takes off his mask before going anywhere near his child because the last thing he wants is them to be scared of him

He can't stop a small smile spreading across his face when your child see his face and giggles

But one day, he comes back from a mission utterly exhausted and just forgets he has his mask on

You and your child are sat in the living room floor, playing with a pile of colorful blocks

Without thinking, he just approaches to watch you guys closer

You give him a tired smile but your face quickly drops when you notice his mask

"Simon, your mask-"

But it was too late, the small child had already seen him

You both hold your breath as the small child just stares at the man with a curious expression, when suddenly their face lights up:

"Dada!"

He gasps quietly as the child immediately tries to go to him

He drops to his knees immediately to steady the child as they smile, little hands going up to clusmly push the mask off his face

The child throws their little arms around his shoulders as he grabs them into a big bear hug, eyes watery

You approach the both of them and are quickly accepted into the hug as well

|| König

A bit of the same situation as Ghost

I would imagine he would be a little self-conscious of his face

You always reassure him that he's very handsome

So, on one of your rare days off, he's sitting with your small child while you cook dinner

"Come on, Schätzchen, say mama."

He is quietly trying to get your child to say your name first because he wants to see your expression when it happens

He really doesn't want their first words to be while he's gone

However, the small child just stares back looking just confused

"You can say it! Mama!"

But the baby just does something unexpected

They shake their tiny head quickly from side to side, pointing one little hand out at König"

"Papa!"

His jaw drops immediately

Something distantly clatters in the kitchen as you come sprinting from the kitchen, practically vaulting over the couch

"Did they just...?"

"I-I..."

But your just laughing, swooping down to grab the child into your arms and slumping down into König's lap

"Your so smart, sweetheart!"

He wraps strong arms around you

"I'm sorry, Maus, I was trying to get her to say Mama, but..."

"Oh hush, big guy,"

You press a big kiss to his cheek then go back to praising the child as he hides his proud smile into your neck

|| Soap

You two would 100% be the type of couple to start a bet about it

He claims its unfair because work takes him away so much so whenever you two have video calls, he is constantly dropping not-so-subtle hints to your child

So, whenever you two are alone you almost always refer to yourself in the third person

If you slip up and do this in front of Soap, he will no doubt tease you about it

So when he finally comes in for leave, the two of you are constantly trying to get the kid to say your names

"C'mon dear, just say dad!" "Stop it!!"

But eventually it happens in a way neither of you had planned for

You had just put the baby to bed and the two of you were sitting on the couch, watching tv and having a drink

The two of you were just relaxing in eachothers arms, almost falling asleep with the warmth and softness of it all

That was, until your child starts crying and screaming bloody murder

Soap is immediately in fight mode, jumping up and running upstairs with you hot on his heels

When he passed into the bedroom, he was momentarily relieved to see no one was it there

However, he was still on edge but the child's ruddy, tear-stained face as they stood with the help of their crib bars

He is quickly approaching the child, grabbing them under the arms and lifting the crying baby from the crib

"Oh, honey, did you have a bad dream?"

The child's small body shakes, "Daaaaaaad!"

He spins around to face you but you just smile lightly and approach to help sooth the child

Despite what you might think, he doesn't rub it in your face

However he does brag endlessly to the others on 141

|| Alejandro

Like König, he was also quite scared that he would miss his child's first words

Unfortunately, this fear doubles when everything goes down with the Las Almas Cartel, Hassan, and the Shadows

The whole time he was being held by Graves and the Shadows, he would be scared he wouldn't ever see you again

But, of course, he makes it out and when he gets back home your waiting for him, your child in your arms

He is so happy to see the two of you, especially after all the pain and uncertainty

He's just about to rush up to the two of you when the small child sees him and opens their arms wide,

"Papa!"

He stops for a moment, but quickly recovers and sprints up to you wrapping you both up in a hug

"Since when could you do that, mi vida?"

You laugh wetly around happy tears, "Just now, I guess. I can't even be mad."

He smiles his charming smile and kisses you softly before giving his kid one of the top of their head

The two of you go home and he's happy to be able to spend time with the both of your after all the fear of before

[smilesrobotlover]

AO3

Next>>

Chapter 1- hello again

Link had made plenty of mistakes in his life. Some of them were small, futile, and had very little consequence. Others were big, dangerous, and almost unforgivable. He couldn’t count how many times he’d almost lost his life due to his own foolishness, how many times he’d upset someone he cared about due to his temper, or how many times he was met with scorn due to his own choices. His life was riddled with mistakes, all having consequences that affected him one way or another, with some being forgotten, never to be spoken of again.

That mistake he made… he thought it wouldn’t be serious, he thought it would be one of the few that were forgotten. Sure it was a serious mistake, but it was one time. Surely the goddesses would be merciful on him just this once, right? Surely they would forgive what he did. He understood it was wrong, he’ll never do it again.

He hoped that they would forget about when he made love at twilight.

It was a moment of weakness for him. The girl who he spent his entire adventure with, who stuck at his side, who saved him, who he loved, was dead. Or so he thought. He killed the demon king with righteous anger swelling within him, grief gripping his heart so tightly it physically hurt, wanting to kill the man who killed her.

It was only after the demon king was dead when he discovered that she was alright. When he saw a familiar silhouette among the light spirits, he couldn’t help himself sprinting towards her, pumping his exhausted legs to where she was sitting to just make sure that she was real. That she was alright.

And she was. She was alive and… well… different. The light spirits removed the curse upon her that turned her into an imp, changing her into a beautiful twilight princess. He remembered when he first saw her. She was tall, with such loving eyes that stared back at him, her hair tied in the front, and her face… His brain blanked when he first saw her, and he didn’t say anything. He just stared.

“What? Say something!” She finally broke the silence, with a familiar teasing grin forming on her lips. “Am I so beautiful you have no words left?”

It was her, she was real. This was the Midna he spent so much time with, the Midna he fell in love with, the Midna he wanted so desperately to protect because of all she did for him. He smiled a relieved smile, and hugged her tightly, crying into her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and cried as well. They were both alright.

Zelda arrived shortly after to be with her friend, talking about what happened and what should happen next. Due to Link’s injuries from Ganondorf, they decided to head to Kakariko where he could rest, and they spent a long time together.

When Midna and Link were alone, they would talk for hours, quietly so no one would know about her, and one night, they got a little carried away. They were sitting on Link’s bed at night, and they exchanged kisses, and they snuggled up next to each other, and kissed again. One thing led to another, and it turned into a huge mistake. After what had happened, Midna started avoiding him, whenever she saw him, there being a deep sorrow in her sunset eyes. Link didn’t know why she was suddenly acting like this, but he knew he was at fault. He should’ve stopped, he should’ve slowed down and got her off of him, he thought she wanted to do it, but clearly not. He was afraid he put too much pressure on her. He was just so happy that she was alive, that Ganondorf was dead, that finally he was able to have peace, and he wasn’t thinking. He tried to talk to her about it but she’d just brush it off, so he stopped bringing it up.

Finally, when Link was healed enough, Midna said that she needed to return to the Twilight Realm, so they traveled to the Gerudo desert, his heart hurting from having to say goodbye to Midna. She may not think of him that way anymore, but she was still a dear friend to him, and he still cared about her deeply. And though they could visit each other, it was always sad to see a friend go.

But sad did not describe the feeling he had when the mirror was shattered, with Midna gone forever. That feeling was sheer agony, the worst pain he’s ever had to endure in his life. It almost ended him, he almost changed into someone unrecognizable, and thoughts plagued his mind over it. Was it something he did? Was she that upset over that night? And what ate away at him the most: would she have a child because of that night? The thought of her giving birth without him being able to support her killed him on the inside. He felt like a complete failure, he hated himself, and he wished that none of it ever happened.

So he prayed to the goddesses to be merciful on him. Just this once. To not let Midna suffer because of his foolishness, to simply let that mistake be. He would never do it again. Just please… don’t let anything come of it… please…

Two years later had passed, and so did some of the pain. With help he was able to recover, his dear pa tried to reassure him that Midna didn’t leave because of him, that she still cared for him. It helped, even a little. And so he slowly began to move on from Midna, move on from that night. He never told it to anyone, hoping that it would be forgotten by him and the goddesses. No one else needed to know about the best and worst moment of his life. Though he did wonder, even though it hurt, if he had a child out there somewhere, a child that he could never give his love to.

But his question was answered one night.

It was pouring rain with distant thunder, and Link was tossing and turning for hours. He couldn’t do anything to get his mind to relax and finally sleep, so he let out a frustrated sigh and stared at the ceiling. Normally rainy nights helped him sleep, but for some reason that wasn’t the case tonight. He closed his eyes and let out another sigh. He knew it was better for him to stay laying down with his eyes closed, but being alone with his thoughts was almost maddening.

He listened to the pouring rain outside, the different sounds it made as it hit his tree house made him grateful that he had a roof over his head, and a roof over Epona’s head. Being wet was the worst feeling for him. He rolled over and tried to let the rain soothe him, and it almost worked until—

Thump thump thump.

He opened his eyes at the unnatural sound, sitting up and staring at his door, slowing his breathing so he could hear better. Did he imagine that? Who would be banging at his door in the middle of the night?

He flinched when there were three more loud thumps at his door, confirming that he did not imagine it in his half asleep state. He was wide awake now, and got up as his heart grew worried over who could be at his door. Was it Rusl? Was he alright? Was something wrong with his daughter? Or was it Illia? Was she alright? Though they rarely spoke anymore, she occasionally came by when she needed comfort. He reached for his door and let out a breath to calm himself, opening the door quickly.

But who he saw sent his heart into his throat.

It was Midna, she was standing there, a desperate look in her eyes. Her clothes were soaked as she stood in the rain, and the two were silent for a moment as they stared at each other.

Midna… after two years of accepting that he’d never see her again, here she was. She got much taller, almost double his height, her jewelry was more extravagant, but she herself, she still took his breath away.

Finally after a moment of silence, he finally found his words.

“Midna?”

Her breath hitched, and she shifted a bit, a bundle in her arms that he finally noticed. His heart stopped when he saw a child, no older than two, crying silently in her arms. He was clearly a twili, having bright red hair, dark blue skin, and black markings. He looked like Midna, but when he opened his eyes, it was without a doubt that they matched his own. Gray-blue eyes stared back at him in fear. For Din’s sake…

“Link,” Midna breathed out, “I… desperately need your help.”

Link stared at the boy in silence for a long moment, but he finally got ahold of himself. He took a deep breath and gave room for them to head inside.

“Y’all will get pneumonia if you stay out for any longer,” he said gently, gesturing to his home.

Midna smiled and a relieved tear rolled down her cheek as she slowly moved inside. Link got dry blankets, ignoring his thumping heart. The child was cautious around Link as he tried to dry him off. He stared at Link with confusion and awe, his mouth agape as the rag Link was using to wipe him down slid off his head. Link paused when he noticed his left arm covered in bandages, and he gave Midna a look, but she did not return his gaze, she just stared at a corner in the room.

“What’s your name, little one?” Link tried to ease the pressure, being as gentle as he could with the child.

The kid looked at Midna, then back at Link. He had fear in his eyes, Link could tell.

“You’re safe here, I promise… What is your name?”

The child looked down, and it took a moment for his sweet little voice to speak up.

“Um… Kowi,” he mumbled.

“Kori?” Link repeated, just to make sure he heard him right. Kori nodded and Link smiled. “That’s a lovely name.”

Kori smiled, dimples that matched Link’s appearing on his cheeks, only making it more obvious that he was his own. “Tank you, uh,” he looked up at Midna and she gave him a reassuring look. “Whasis… youw name?”

“I’m Link.”

“Nink? Um… tat’s a— um— nowvwy name.”

Link chuckled at the little boy trying to speak. He barely understood him, but it was the cutest thing in the world. “Thank you.”

Kori nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Mommy towd me stowies ‘bout Nink.”

“Really?” Link looked over at Midna, who continued to avoid his gaze. He sighed and returned his attention to his arm. He reached for the bandage but Kori froze and pulled back. His eyes were full of fear again. “What happened there?”

No one said anything this time. He looked at Midna and stood up.

“Midna… What’s going on?”

Midna closed her eyes and finally looked at him.

“It’s… He’s…”

“My son?”

Midna looked up with shame written on her face, and Link’s anger quickly went away. She shouldn’t be ashamed…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, returning to Kori’s injured arm, “let me clean this, ok?”

He finished drying off Kori and changed his bandages as gently as possible. Kori stopped talking, only his soft cries and the sound of the rain against the roof was heard. As Link cleaned and redressed Kori’s arm, he noticed that it was a nasty wound, a slash mark trailing up his arm, and from the looks of it, it was fairly new. Who could’ve done this to a child? Kori whimpered and pulled back as Link tried to clean it.

“Sh, it’s alright Kori. The pain is only temporary,” he said gently. He wrapped up the arm and gave it a slight pat. “See? All done! You were brave, little one, good job.”

Kori sniffed and rubbed his eyes again, and Link frowned as his tired little eyes looked back at him. He didn’t know if Twili ever slept, so it must’ve been a Hylian thing for him.

“Here, let’s get you a nice place to sleep, ok?”

Kori watched Link as he set up a comfy bed made of blankets, gesturing for Kori to sleep in it. The boy stared for a long moment until Midna got up and nudged him towards the bed. With his mother’s reassurance, Kori wobbled over to the bed and laid down. Link grabbed his goat plushie Billy and stared at it for a moment. He knelt down next to the bundled up boy and handed the plushie to him.

“This is my friend Billy,” Link bounced the plushie around with Kori watching, amused. “He always gives me comfort when I need it.”

Kori shyly grabbed Billy and snuggled up against him. He closed his eyes and smiled.

“Tank you,” was all he said before he fell asleep.

Link smiled at him, he was a sweet little boy. He stood up, and the heavy situation returned to him. He walked to where Midna sat, still and unmoving and took a deep breath

“Midna… I,” he started, trying to think of what to say to her, trying to think of something to keep the conversation going, just trying to talk to her again, but all he could muster up was, “Hello again.”

Midna stared at him for a moment before smiling.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

Link pursed his lips and decided to get everything off his chest.

“Clearly my actions have hurt you Midna, and I’m so sorry…. I’m so sorry about that night. If I could take it back I would!”

Midna’s expressionless face changed to confusion.

“What?”

“That boy… he’s ours… because of what we did…. And I’m so sorry… I know I hurt you and I wasn't there for you when you had him and I’m really sorry and I should’ve stopped and–”

Midna raised a hand to stop him, standing up and stepping closer to him.

“Link, do not blame yourself for what happened that night. It… wasn’t your fault alone…”

“Alone?”

Midna sat down, her head hung. “I didn’t do anything to stop it either… I knew that I needed to break the mirror, and I tried to keep my distance from you but… I didn’t. You didn’t know what I was going to do.”

Link stared ahead, not feeling any form of relief from that. He still felt confused, guilty, and almost sick to his stomach.

“Did that night mean anything to you?” He asked quietly.

Midna stared at him, her mouth slightly open.

“It meant everything to me.”

“Then why did you break the mirror?”

Midna looked down. “You know why. Deep down you know why. You saw what happened when Ganondorf went through the mirror, you saw what happened when Zant found him,” she sighed and sat back down. “Shadow and light cannot mix.”

Link looked over to where Kori, his son, laid asleep.

“Clearly shadow and light can mix,” he said quietly. Midna said nothing and rested her head against her hand. She looked exhausted, both physically and mentally. Link wanted to help her, but a few more things bothered him.

“How did you get here Midna?”

“I can't say. It must stay a secret.”

Link nodded, he figured that was the answer. Now for a more important question.

“What happened to his arm?”

Midna buried her face in her hands, her exhaustion more apparent. Link walked close to her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, hey, It’s ok, he’s safe now. I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

Link stayed by Midna for a while, rubbing circles on her back. After a moment, she sniffed and opened her mouth as if to say something, but she was interrupted by a sudden shiver.

“Here let’s get you into some dry clothes…” Link said, noticing how she was still sopping wet.

Link quickly dried her off and offered some of his clothes, even though most of them wouldn’t have fit. He was somehow able to find something for her to wear that would fit her large frame, and when she was dressed he sat down, waiting for her to explain herself.

“I…. I hoped that nothing would come of that night,” she finally said after some silence, “because if something happened, then leaving this world behind would’ve been nearly impossible for me to do.”

“But something did happen.”

Midna nodded, not looking at him. Link sighed, the goddesses weren’t merciful to him. His prayers were not answered. He wasn’t there for Midna, he didn’t watch his son grow up, he wasn’t there when he said his first word, when he took his first step, when his true personality began to shine through. To Kori, Link was a stranger, not a father. And Midna had to raise him all by herself. A lump in his throat formed and his stomach felt hollow.

He should’ve stopped that night.

“As princess of the twilight realm, when I’m supposed to have a child, she should be a female, so that the monarchy can continue. I’m the only woman in the Twilight Realm, I’m not sure if you knew that.”

Link tilted his head. He did not know that. It would explain why he’d only ever met male twili besides Midna, and why the only female was the ruler. It almost reminded him of the Gerudo, which was rumored to be a tribe of women except for the one male born every one-hundred years.

“When I gave birth to Kori,” Midna continued, “he was a boy, and he wasn’t fully Twili… that ended up scaring some people. They thought that he was going to bring destruction to us.”

Link’s heart sank. She didn’t have to say, he knew.

“They hurt him.”

“I’ve been trying to find a way back here so he could be safe… but as soon as I found a way… he… got hurt badly by my advisor.”

Her breath hitched at the memory, and Link grabbed her hand. She smiled at him, a small but genuine smile.

“He’s safe now. You both are,” he reassured.

Midna stared into his eyes for a long moment.

“I missed you Link.”

He sucked in a breath. He’s missed Midna more than anything. He wanted nothing more than to see her again, to talk to her again, to tell her about all of the things he’s experienced. But now that she was here, he didn’t find anything to say. He didn’t make a move to hug her, to cry, he just felt… awkward. Midna’s smile went down when he said nothing, and she gently rubbed his hand.

“I know I hurt you, and it’s not right of me to ask this of you but… I was hoping that Kori could stay here… he’ll be safer here, with you.”

“Safer here? Yeah I would never hurt him, but I can’t say the same for the rest of Ordon. How do you know that everyone here will accept him? How do you know that they won’t be scared of him too?”

Midna leaned in closer. “Because they’re your family Link, you have a better influence over them than I over my people.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Just because I’m the princess doesn’t mean they listen to me all the time. It’s complicated but clearly I couldn’t do anything to protect him from my advisors. Your family loves you, they trust you, they’ll try to understand you.”

Link listened for a moment, but pulled his hand away when a heavy realization plagued his mind.

“Midna… we’re not married.”

Midna raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“I don’t know how it is in the twilight realm but having a child before marriage is a sin here. I know my pa wouldn’t hurt Kori, but…” fear gripped Link’s heart at the thought of Rusl’s reaction towards Kori. He swallowed hard and shook his head. “There’s a lot of problems here, Midna.”

Midna looked down and chewed on her lip, thinking.

“I… I know… I know there are a lot of problems but… I can’t let him stay in the twilight realm.”

Though he felt like Ordon wasn’t safe, Link understood why the twilight realm was more dangerous. As a half Hylian and half Twili, Kori really wouldn’t be safe anywhere. He’d probably be labeled as a monster all his life because of who he was, especially after the twilight invasion. Link let out a breath and stared at his sleeping son.

“I understand…”

Midna stared at him for a moment while Link stared ahead, avoiding her gaze. She scooted a bit closer to him and tapped his shoulder lightly.

“Hey, I’m not going to let you deal with this alone.”

Link looked up at Midna, a sliver of hope forming within him.

“We both made the choice that night, Link, neither one of us should deal with it alone,” she got closer and stared into his eyes while Link’s heart thumped against his chest. “We’ll raise him together.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and the past two years separated withered away for them. When they were together now, it was almost as if they were never apart.

“I can't abandon the twilight realm, but I’ll try to visit whenever I can. I just need Kori to be safe.”

Link looked down and their clasped hands, then at the sleeping child. An overwhelming feeling of protectiveness came over him, and he nodded. “I understand Midna… I promise I’ll keep him safe.”

Midna smiled. “I knew you would. Trust me, I wouldn’t ask this of you if nothing bad happened but—“

“Don’t worry about it. I’m his father, he’s my responsibility now.”

Midna stared at him for a long moment, then she leaned in, Link’s heart nearly jumping out of his chest. He wanted so badly to show how much he missed her, he wanted to scream to the heavens on how happy he was to see her again, but… he felt too much pain for it to be perfectly fine, and he turned his head away.

“I’m sorry Midna… there’s a lot more we need to talk about.”

Midna let out a sigh and smiled.

“That’s fine, I’m staying for a while anyways. Let’s talk.”

[jester089]

Hello! Today I rewatched Titanic for the hundredth time, so I had an idea: https://youtu.be/EyPpMaIBgkI?feature=shared

do you know this scene in Titanic? In any case, here it is,if you haven’t seen this movie (I highly recommend it, crying every time lmao)

So, imagine that Rose is a character (Jax, Pomni, Caine/Kinger) and Jack is the reader

the reader (their s/o) begins to abstracting , the characters understandably end up next to the reader at this moment in a hope to stop the process, but then both realize that nothing helps, and before going completely crazy, the reader begins to calm down characters (just repeat lines from this scene lol) How would the characters react? I'm really interested in Jax's reaction.

P.S. If it’s not difficult, briefly describe how the characters will behave after the death of their s/o

So sorry for my English is so bad!!! I am not speaking it, hope you having a good day/night!!🫶🫶💋

Boat movie

Thank you for the request! I apologize to any Caine or Jax fans who hate how I write them. But hey you can always just not read it, and I write em how they are. Not how we all want em. From this post on I'm going to ask you all add something to your requests. When requesting either Caine or Jax specify if you want the real ones or the softer loving ones. Thanks! Caine, Kinger, Jax, & Pomni's reactions to Reader dying/abstracting in front of them/in their hands

Caine

You definitely aren't the first. And probably wont be the last. He understands that humans for whatever reason don't want to die alone so he stays with you. He stays there sitting next to you on the floor as you progressively get more and more glitched. Sadly he doesn't catch much of what you say as his mind is mainly just ready to put you in the cellar so you don't hurt anyone. Once your abstracted and in the cellar he moves on. Sure he felt slightly closer to you then with all the others digital circus's inhabitants but he'll get past it. Nothing really changes in the long run.

Kinger

Kinger found you abstracting and was about to turn tail and run to find help but you begged him not to leave. That's how you got to where you are Kinger holding you close while you gently cup his face. He listened to every word you said about how he was gonna get out of there and live his life. Have kids and die safe in his home surrounded by loved ones. He permanently searing every word into his brain. As you lean up to give him one last kiss before you fall off the deep end and abstract forcing Kinger to let go of you. He is crazy yes, but he's tough. And losing you makes him want to give up. But he'll get out of this place and live his life. If not for himself, for you.

Jax

Jax was sitting with you as you abstracted. He was just going to leave and do something else, but your pitiful glitchy voice got him to stay. He sits there staring at you as you progressively get worse not even listening to what your saying, his mind wandering to what he would rather be doing. Once you fully abstract he gets up and sprints away so he doesn't get hurt then leaves you alone to rampage about. Not his problem. Hey if someone else dies to you maybe their death will be funnier then yours.

Pomni

Pomni stayed with you. Despite every bit of code in her being telling to run and get Caine she knew she wouldn't be able to in time. So she stayed and held you gently using everything she had in her to not show how she felt. So you could have someone, have her there with you when you went. She listened to your final words and did her best to remember the feeling of you gently kissing her. Once you were gone she went straight to her room to be alone, and to write something down. In a journal Ragatha gave Pomni to try and help with stress she writes down you. You personality, your final words. And she draws you, draws you how you are (were). She isn't going to forget you. She will get out of this place. And if, no WHEN she does she's going to give you a proper burial. She doesn't have your body but she isn't just going to be the last thing she remembers of you, you or a version of you trying to kill her. (I'm feeling a little burnt out on angst asks. But I did enjoy writing this.)

xoxo, Jester

[99hook]

Hello ma'am. Glad you had fun at aew. I have an idea if you don't mind. So I was thinking like Jack has Anna attack Hooks y/n and she is sent home to recover. Hook spends time with her at home. Yn wants to take this opportunity to have some "alone" time with Hook. But everytime she initiates anything he shuts it down.

She starts to have doubts about herself or if he is stepping out on her. She confronts him about it and explains that he feels bad for allowing her to get in the middle of his feud with Jack. And ya know they work it out and then smut. 😈

I was originally going to add it to the ones I did but you are queen of the fics and I was hoping to see what you do with it. ❤️

18+

———

He felt like he failed at the most important thing that he ever tries to do. Protecting you.

Even though you were as tough as they come and had the outstanding ability to hold your own against whoever challenged you, he still watched your every move with intensive care, waiting for the moment when you’d need him as your backup.

But when the moment came, he couldn’t get to you in time.

He can’t stop replaying the scene in his head. Botched moves happen all the time but not like what happened almost a week ago.

The two of you were being ambushed by Jack and Anna. It was all planned, but the outcome certainly wasn’t.

Jack threw Hook over the ropes, landing him on his spine against the side of the ring. You and Anna’s brawl had made it to the turnbuckles in the corner of the ring. She picked you up and hoisted you on the top one. The intention was for you to bring her up and sell a risky move from the top turnbuckle that, in a perfect world, would’ve been similar to your partner’s signature suplex.

All Hook remembers is hearing the crowd simultaneously gasp before Anna shouted out, “Get the medics, now!”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget that feeling in the pit of his stomach. A nauseating, gut wrenching coil that made him woozy as he ran to where you were limply laying on the outside of the ring.

Everyone broke character that night and nobody cared. There was blood pooling on the mat and Hook was quick to snatch his wrist tape off and hold it to the laceration on the side of your forehead, attempting to slow it down while the medics took what felt like forever to get to you.

You were dazed and couldn’t move. There was a sharp, stabbing pain shooting through your ribs, nearly paralyzing you when he attempted to roll you onto your back.

You let out a pained cry and it breaks his heart every time that sound decides to haunt him. Jack was standing behind him with Anna, both of them frantically scanning the entrance for the medics.

“YN” He cradles your face, “YN, hey! Stay with me! Don’t go to sleep, alright?”

Your eyes rolled back and he lost it. The cameras panned in on him, his voice overpowering the mixed reactions from thousands of fans when they realized this was not scripted at all.

“Jack, go get the fucking medics! Now! Go!” He demands, sending his opponent racing up the ramp.

“YN” he tries again, gently tapping your cheek. “Come on, YN! Keep your eyes open! Please, baby, keep them open for me!”

Anna reached down and held pressure to the deep wound, your blood staining her fingers and Hook’s entire palm and forearm. She kept looking back to the ramp waiting for Jack to bring out the medics and time was a crucial factor to the point that Hook took it upon himself to get you the help you needed.

“Keep her awake” he tells Anna before he sprints towards the stage. Within moments he was back with five medics and a gurney in tow.

He watched their every move carefully, his hand squeezing yours tightly as they strapped you down and rolled you back to the awaiting ambulance in the garage. He never left your side that night, and doesn’t plan to still.

You were granted time off to heal so he took the time off to be with you. Your fractured ribs, a concussion and stitches served as cruel reminders that he just couldn’t keep you as safe as he was supposed to.

It was unbearable for him to see every time you struggled to get out the bed. He felt his heart cracking down the center each time he had to watch you clutch your side in pure agony when the jolts of sharp pain shot through you.

He wasn’t sleeping, barely eating, just waiting on you hand and foot because to him, it was the least he could do. He was the reason you were injured in the first place. If it wasn’t for him, you would’ve never been involved in the feud between him and Jack.

You were feeling better, though. He just didn’t believe that. After a week and a half of him tending to your every need, all you wanted was to show him how thankful you were to him. But every time you tried, he would muster up some excuse as to why he doesn’t want to.

It was starting to get to you. The way he would retreat from your lips when you kissed down his neck. How he kept stopping your hand from slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. He never used to do that. Usually you could just give him a single look and he was taking you to the bedroom, but now you can’t even get him to kiss you fully.

It was late when you asked a question that had been sitting on the tip of your tongue. Side by side in bed, both barely watching what was playing on the tv. You both had a million thoughts swarming around in your scrambled minds, but for completely different reasons.

“Tyler” you whispered, your eyes falling to the sheets that covered you. He hummed in response, keeping his tired, low eyes on the screen.

“Are you cheating on me?”

His head snapped to you instantly, brows knitted tight under the disheveled hair over his forehead.

“Am I cheating on you?” He repeated as if he was taken back by the question.

“You haven’t wanted to touch me at all. You haven’t even been kissing me the same way since-“

“You’re injured.” His deep voice cuts you off. “And why would you ask me if I’m cheating on you? I’ve been here with you every single day since you got hurt.”

“Because you refuse to touch me!” You didn’t mean to get as loud as you did. “Like, I try to kiss your neck and you pull away from me. Every time I try to do anything you stop me! You never do that, so I can’t help but think that something’s going on-“

“A lot is going on, YN. But nothing like you’re thinking. I would never cheat on you, ever. I thought you knew that already.”

He looked hurt. Genuinely saddened by the fact that you felt this way and you actually had to ask him whether or not he remained loyal to you. That was never something he ever thought he would have to hear from you. He aims to make you feel like the only girl in the world every single day and now it’s just another thing that he evidently failed at doing.

He sighs as he drops his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Baby” he breathes out, “I can’t stand seeing you like this, especially knowing it’s all my fault.”

“Nothing was your fault.”

“It was all my fault!” He snaps with a sharp tone. “You wouldn’t have even been brought into this shit if it wasn’t for me.”

“It was an accident, Tyler.” You reached over and rested your hand on his arm, pleased when he didn’t pull away. “And if you remember correctly, we mutually agreed to do this storyline together as a tagteam. You act like you just drug me into it. You didn’t.”

You hoped you were reassuring him, but it was hard to tell. He glanced down at your hand and placed his over top of it, giving it a gentle squeeze before he sighed and dropped his head down again.

“I should’ve been paying attention.” He mutters. “I would’ve been there to break your fall when you slipped or-“

“It was not your fault, baby.” You tell him again. “It was a misstep on me, not you. These things happen all the time. It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just an accident.”

“That could’ve costed you your life.” He interrupts, his eyes widening as the different scenarios of what could have happened bombard him again. “You heard the doctor. You were lucky you didn’t break your neck the way you landed. That’s serious shit, YN!”

“I know it is, but that could literally happen to anyone at any given moment! You can’t beat yourself up because I made a mistake, Tyler. I’m okay. That’s all that matters.”

You slid your hand down his arm and caught his fingers, running your thumb over his calloused knuckles.

“Hey” you whispered, leaning over carefully, your lips lingering over his ear. “I love you, and I want to show you how thankful I am to have you. All the time, but especially during times like this. Please?”

“Your ribs are-“ but you cut him off when he turned his head, capturing his lips with your own.

“Please” you hummed against him, letting a slight moan slip out when he finally deepened the kiss. You felt him moving closer, sliding his hands underneath your hips to ease you down gently while he placed himself between your thighs.

But he hesitated as soon as he felt himself twitch beneath those sweatpants.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss to say, “YN, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know how to-“

“Just be gentle and I’ll be perfectly fine.” You breathily whisper before you pull him back down to your lips, desperate for the closeness that’s been lacking since you got injured.

You didn’t know if he was capable of actually being gentle with you, until he proved it.

He tenderly caressed your thigh as he placed a few lingering kisses to your neck. He focused on that sweet spot that earned him a couple soft moans and hums of appreciation but he had to fight the urge to take things to another level like the two of you usually do.

It was a challenge for him to keep his composure after so long of fighting the temptations but he knew he had to be as easy with you as possible, and when you’re fully healed he can take all night with you until you can’t take it anymore.

For now, he just wanted to make you feel what you’d been missing. He wanted to make sure you had no questions about his love for you.

He leaned back and slowly slid your panties down to your ankles and tossed them aside before he slid his sweats down his thighs.

You were needily awaiting what you’d been craving, and he knew it.

He was cautious about bearing too much weight on top of you when he made his way back up to your lips. He kept himself held with his elbows while he cradled your face, slowly and languidly taking his sweet time exploring every inch of your mouth, savoring the flavor on the tip of his tongue.

“I love you, YN” he whispers against them before he pulls back slightly, his eyes strongly holding the contact with yours as if he’s trying to make sure you wholeheartedly believe that. “You’re my one and only. Right?”

You nodded, your heart swelling in your chest as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. He placed one more gentle kiss to your lips before he positioned himself at your entrance. He observed you intensely as he slowly pushed himself in, making absolute sure that you were okay.

Your eyes screwed shut at the feeling of him stretching you out, and he paused.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes” you moaned out, “keep going, please.”

He was hesitant, so he pushed in a little slower. He held himself still despite the fact that his body was pleading for him to do more.

You ran your fingers through his hair, giving the soft locks an encouraging tug.

“Ready?” He asks, struggling to fight the divine feeling of finally being buried inside you again.

“Yes, please” you begged, earning a single nod before he slowly pulls his hips back and to. Your eyes fluttered shut again, but he could tell it wasn’t from pain.

He watched your every reaction until he felt you clenching tighter around him, and he couldn’t help but to drop his head to your shoulder.

“You feel amazing, YN” he breathes against your neck, peppering loose kisses along the way. “So fucking perfect.”

You moaned back to the praises and the feeling of him hitting your sweet spot just right.

He rolled his hips in. The thrusts so slow and steady, yet so powerful at the same time. He was taking the time he needed to really find the rhythm, and knew he succeeded when you let a gasp fly past your lips and a series of louder moans following.

“Right there?” He breathily whispers as he rolls his hips in again. He felt your nails digging into his shoulders, your heart stammering against his chest gently pressed to yours.

“Yes” you croaked out, “Oh my God, Just like that, please.”

“Don’t have to beg me, baby. You know I’ll give you whatever you want.” He continues that same motion. Slow, steady, and strong.

His lips latched to the side of your neck, sucking a deep patch in its place as he reveled in the sound of your broken moans and sighs intermingling through the room.

He sped up slightly when he felt your walls clenching tighter around him, knowing by the way you were hugging him tight that you were getting close.

He pulled himself back up, his lips locking with yours in the midst of another broken moan you couldn’t contain. His hips stuttered once when your tongue roamed over his. If he was standing he would’ve been weak at the knees.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” He groans.

“I wanna keep doing it.” You say back, before your mouth drops when he gives one more forceful thrust. He watches, making sure that it wasn’t too much, but all you did was reassure him when you dug your nails deeper into his shoulders and your eyes begged him for more.

He obliged, snapping his hips in and out, but somehow just as gently as it was when the trusts were slow and smooth.

Your head pressed back into the pillows, eyes screwing shut when he hit your sweet spot with a stronger force. That’s what you’d been missing and he knew it.

He leans down, the ends of his hair tickling your skin as his lips hover over your ear.

“I gotta hold back right now, baby. But when you’re all better, I promise ima take my time making it up to you. However you want me to.”

He felt a warmth arising around him, matching the feeling in his stomach that was quickly spreading through his entire body.

He twitched again and gave two more strong snaps in as your nails accidentally drew half-moon traces of blood against his shoulder blades. He rode that high out with you, doing his best to prolong it for as long as he could.

You had a vice grip around him preventing him from pulling back when your orgasm hit and all he could do was let himself be completely submitted into that feeling that made his head spin.

One of his hands clutched the pillow while the other one tangled up in your hair as an abundance of low groans and the occasional curse word got lost somewhere against your shoulder.

He felt your heart hammering against his chest and you felt his skipping beats. Breathless and spent, he slowly pulled out of you when your walls finally released him, and lazily fell to your side, gently wrapping one arm around you.

“I love you.” You managed to say between deep, breathy sighs as you ran a hand through his slick hair. He nuzzled into your neck and placed a tender kiss over the discoloration he left moments prior, whispering against your skin, “I love you more.”

[fandoms-are-my-friends-1321]

Silly Little Love Song

So, I decided to start with the Margarette Macron x Reader because they deserve more attention in the fandom and I absolutely love how this character is portrayed. The title of the fic comes from the song by Wings (I sang it in my head trying to figure out what the actual name of the song was), and if anyone has future suggestions, feel free to let me know! Extra note - Y/D/N stands for "Your Dorm Name" to make things more inclusive!

Summary: The reader has always admired Margarette's piano playing from a distance but does not want to admit this to them. However, Margarette picks up on the reader's glances and tries to get them to open up. Will a love song that reveals the reader's hidden musical talent finally bring the two together?

Warnings: None, if I miss any please let me know!

Y/N's quill traveled smoothly across the page as they finished the last sentence of their notes for potions class. The professor completed the lecture ten minutes ago, but Y/N was in no hurry. They did not have any classes the following period, and potions was the subject that they struggled with the most, so detailed notes were a must if they were going to pass.

"You really shouldn't worry about taking notes, dear Y/N. Haven't you aced the past two exams?"

Y/N looked up and met the soft gaze of the Prefect of Orca dorm, Margarette Macron, their eyes the color of forget me not flowers that Y/N could get lost in if given the chance. Y/N shook their head and closed their notebook. "Oh, hello Margarette, I wish your statement was true, but my grades are more horrendous than some of the freshmen in this year's entrance exam..."

Margarette chuckled at the comment, and Y/N wondered how it was possible for even their voice to sound like the most beautiful serenade. Still, Margarette was a powerful magic user that was in line to be the next Divine Visionary, so how could they possibly be interested in a mediocre magic user from Y/D/N. Margarette leaned on the table and tilted their head, their industrial piercings reflecting the torch light from the room.

"Such a shame that people from Y/D/N put so much pressure on themselves, especially someone as-"

"Hey, Margarette!! Can you show us some of your magic again?!" A cluster of eager freshmen dashed up towards the table like children sprinting to a glass candy display. Each of them had bass clefs or eighth note marks that matched that of musical magic users, so it made sense why they would want to see the famous piano display that Margarette would sometimes show off. Margarette crossed to the front of the room that was free of any tables, and with a wave of their wand, their piano materialized in front of them. As they sat down on the bench, Margarette's fingers gracefully moved over the ivory keys, causing awes and oohs to fall from the dazzled freshmen, and Y/N found themselves equally entranced by the music notes that swiveled and turned among purple ribbons. Margarette, while at one with their music, took every chance they could to glance over at Y/N. Any time they looked, however, Y/N seemed to be preoccupied with their shoes or an imaginary stain on their cloak. The moment Margarette would not be paying attention, Y/N would remain fully focused on their playing or let their focus wander to take in Margarette's makeup that looked perfect in this lighting. Just stop it, Y/N muttered to themselves internally, They would never take a second look at you if some pretty magic user walked through the door right now.

As Margarette finished the last lines of their signature melody, their head shot up in hopes of finally catching Y/N watching their performance, but all they saw was Y/N leaving the room with their head facing the floor. The freshmen crowded Margarette and praised their magical abilities, but their compliments were not enough to prevent a frown of disappointment to appear on the Prefect's face. Once the freshmen left the room, some more quickly than others at the realization that they would be late for their next class, Margarette let out a sigh. Oh Y/N, why do you flee when the spotlight always shines brighter on you in my eyes...

..............................................................................................................................

Y/N's temples throbbed as they tried to study the potions formulas in their dorm room, but none of the numbers or ingredients were adding up. If anything, they created a murky abyss in Y/N's mind that made no sign of clearing any time soon. Y/N rubbed their eyes as they shoved their chair back with a squeak, the annoying sound miniscule compared to the running thoughts that zoomed in their head.

There was only one thing that could help them at this point.

Y/N traveled down the stone hallway, their feet clicking on the slate colored walkway as the remaining tangerine rays of the sun began to dip below the protective walls of the school. They knew that it was risky to leave their dorm this close to dark since students were not allowed to roam the halls, but Y/N needed to find a way to alleviate their stress and doubt. Finally, they reached the music room, a place where magic users who did not specialize in magical spells imbued with lyrical notes could practice. Y/N could feel a weight lift from their shoulders at the sight of the piano in the middle of the room, the familiarity like a comforting hug from a close friend. They sat down on the mahogany bench and drew in a gradual inhale, their fingers positioned on the keys and waiting in anticipation.

The tune that Y/N began to play was a simple one, but it was a melody that they had learned from their childhood. Each note felt like home, and Y/N could feel themselves swaying with the beat of the song. They were so lost in the moment that they did not hear Margarette enter the room.

It was an encounter that happened merely by chance.

Margarette had just finished the first patrol round of the night, and as they began to return back to their dorm room, they heard the sounds of a piano from down the hall. The tune was simple, but the emotion that came from the music caused goosebumps to cover Margarette's arms and curiosity to sparkle in their eyes. Upon entering the room, Margarette half expected to see one of the freshmen from earlier, but seeing Y/N playing the piano with the grace of a dancer made Margarette's heart swell with pride and a surprised gasp to leave their purple tinted lips. "My, my, you never told me you played piano, Y/N."

Y/N jolted at the sound of Margarette's voice, the shock causing them to tip backwards and the bench below them to slide and topple to the floor. Instead of colliding with the jagged and ancient stones below, Y/N felt a pair of arms wrapped securely around them. The same eyes Y/N could feel themselves almost drowning in earlier were now inches from them, only this time, Y/N could not look away. Margarette assisted Y/N back to a standing position before placing the bench back upright. The prefect dusted off the bench and took a seat, patting the space beside them. "While I enjoyed the heavenly melody you were playing, may I show you a new song? It's one that I hoped to play for you one day."

Y/N could feel a blush heating up their cheeks, but to be so close to the person who inspired them so often was an offer they could not refuse. Y/N sat down next to Margarette, their scent a mixture of lavender and musk, which to Y/N's surprise made them feel relaxed and not nervous. Margarette hesitantly reached for Y/N's hand's, but they stopped themselves. "Is it alright for me to show you how to play the song?"

Y/N nodded as they rested their hands in Margarette's palms, their fingers gently intertwining as Margarette placed them on the piano keys. Margarette took things slow and allowed Y/N to sense which keys to press when and what notes would follow next in line, and unlike the usual purple ribbons that surrounded Margarette's music, the musical notes were surrounded by a pinkish hue. Once the tune was complete, Margarette let go of Y/N's hands and their chest rumbled with laughter. "You are a natural, Y/N! You should play more often and share this beauty with the world!" Margarette looked away then as a thought crossed their mind. They rubbed the back of their neck as their pale cheeks appeared more red than normal. "Then again, I would gladly cherish your beauty on my own."

Was Margarette really confessing their feelings right now? Y/N's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but after seeing the brief glimpse of fear enter Margarette's eyes at the potential of being rejected, Y/N knew how to respond. Y/N leaned up and kissed Margarette on the cheek, but they retreated soon after with their arms wrapping tightly around themselves. Despite the cold temperature of the room, Y/N 's embarrassment made it feel like they had been hit by one of Dot's spells. "As long as I can admire your beauty and learn more songs by your side as well, then we have a deal..."

Margarette felt as if someone had just told them that they were the next Divine Visionary, and yet this overwhelming adoration was far greater than such an announcement. Margarette cupped Y/N's chin, their fingers light as they leaned closer. Margarette pressed their lips against Y/N's in a feather light kiss, parting away with a grin wider than before. "I would accept that deal any day, my darling."

Tags: @ansbobcar, @rainee-da, @mayurin17, @thebasicbword, @mashleverse, @xram7x

[sunflowersandsapphires]

If the Sun Starts Setting

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 7

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: Swearing, family drama, characters celebrating Christmas, mom with terminal illness, crying mentions

a/n: Sorry to post this so late everyone! I have had the WORST brain fog today. I hope you enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs fuel me!

After just one semester of law school, the drive between suburban Connecticut and the Columbia campus was one you were becoming well-acquainted with. It wasn’t unbearably long, nor flooded with traffic on a dark Sunday evening. Headlights of oncoming vehicles painted swatches of light against the navy sky, a semi-urban work of art unlike anything you’d enjoyed before. Usually, it was a sight you took the time to admire. However, this particular evening you were unable to focus on anything but the tinny voice bubbling out of your phone’s speaker. 

Gritting your teeth and rolling your eyes to the heavens, you cursed the universe for a moment, tuning out the man on the other end of the line while you did so.

The sharp call of your name across the speakers regained your attention. ”Are you listening to me?“

Your father's inflection was grating on the best days. After three weeks spent waiting on him and your two ungrateful siblings while they preached about the importance of family during the holidays, you were ready to scream with every word he spat at you. The two hour drive back to campus was supposed to be the growing light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, you'd spent the last third of it arguing with your father about healthcare charges.

”Yes, I'm listening.“ ‘Unlike some of us’, you thought to yourself. ”As I said, that charge was for her brief hospital stay over Thanksgiving. I've already paid it and it might take a week or two to reflect—“

”This is a debt collection notice, hun. That means they didn't receive the payment yet. Which means they'll be coming after me when your mom inevitably cannot pay.“

Contemplating banging your head against your steering wheel just to remove the memory of this conversation, a flash of movement across the parking lot caught your eye. Expression softening, you almost sobbed in relief when you caught the two beaming expressions of your friends waving from the exterior door. Unfortunately, your father wasn't quite done arguing with you.

”Dad, I understand you don't want to be on the hook for this—“ ‘Not like you would be anyway.’

”I most certainly do not.“ He interrupted. Once again ignoring his rambling, you snatched your backpack and exited your car, slamming the door with a bit more force than usual.

”Dad, just forget about it, ok? I'll deal with it, just—“

”Well, clearly you won't deal with it in a timely fashion, which is why I'm calling...“ ‘Was he trying to kill you? It sure felt like it.’

”Ok, well I just got back to school so I need to go now.“ You tried to nudge him into polite farewells as you practically sprinted across the pavement towards your friends. As expected, he didn't take kindly to being rushed off the phone.

”Of course you do,“ He laughed incredulously. ”You know, this is your mother's livelihood we are discussing. It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more compassionate.“ ‘You're one to talk asshole.’

”You're right. I'll try to work on that this semester,“ You remarked drily. ”Gonna go inside now. Bye.“

Not bothering to listen to the screaming that answered your callous goodbye, you hung up, breaking into a strained smile as you greeted your boys. ”Why hello there, strangers.“

As if he didn't just witness you walk literally and figuratively closer to a breakdown, Foggy squealed, nearly taking you to the pavement in a tackling hug. “Welcome back, bug!”

“Christ, Fog, you're gonna crush her.” Matt laughed, hearing you grunt as you fumbled to stay upright with Foggy coiled around you like a boa constrictor.

“I missed you too, Fog.” You murmured, tears welling in your eyes at the sensation of being embraced.

You had missed them. Deeply and almost pathetically. After an entire semester at each other's sides, the few weeks in your hometown for Christmas had felt like an eternity.

After Matt and Foggy had been struck with the campus flu, the rest of the semester passed in a whirlwind. The two clingy boys had unsurprisingly infected you, meaning you were unfortunately sick for Thanksgiving and had to remain on campus to avoid passing the virus on to your immunosuppressed mother. Matt had been incredibly apologetic, and plagued with his typical Catholic guilt, so he'd stayed with you while Foggy returned to Hell's Kitchen for Turkey Day.

The next few weeks were spent cramming for finals and, eventually, celebrating the end of your first semester at Columbia—which you had all, amazingly, passed. Leaving for the lengthier winter break had been an abrupt end to the joy you felt over your grades, however.

You returned to New Haven a day earlier than expected to sit in the local hospital's oncology ward with your mother. While you were ill over Thanksgiving, she'd had a recurrence of stage 3 pancreatic cancer, which meant more frequent trips to see her doctor as well as numerous bills that neither of you could afford. Because of her declining health, your father and siblings had come to Connecticut for Christmas. The extra company meant that your holidays–which were meant to be a time for recuperation following a strenuous first semester–had been frustrating to the point of tears. Which, embarrassingly enough, Matt had been burdened with when you called him to complain.

The two of you called multiple times a week, exchanging stories and annoyances just like you did when you were living within a few blocks from each other. But it didn't stop you from missing him and Foggy fiercely for 24 excruciating days.

Swallowing a lump of pent up emotion, you huffed out a shaky exhale, your breath clouding in the frigid winter air. “Ok, Fog. You know I love you, but it's cold as fuck out here.”

“Right! Sorry.” Foggy withdrew from the embrace, blushing furiously as he scratched at the back of his neck.

Immediately replacing Foggy in front of you, Matt took a chance to hug you quickly before pulling you inside. “Glad you're finally here, I thought Nelson here was going to combust.”

Letting Matt usher you inside, you heard Foggy's baffled scoff. “Do I look like a patient man to you, Murdock?”

Matt smirked, “How would I know?”

You and Foggy both groaned loudly, looking to each other for support as Matt cackled. “C'mon, you set that one up perfectly. What's a guy to do?”

“You should've heard him over break, bug. He was driving my poor mother towards a stroke, I swear.” Foggy shook his head in feigned irritation.

“Oh please, she loved me.” Matt shoved his roommate, nearly bowling the three of you down the staircase as you trudged toward their room.

“I bet she did.” You snorted, “You probably dialed the charm up to 11.”

“Try 15.” Foggy remarked, unlocking the door and shoving it open.

Ignoring the jab, Matt held out a hand for your bag, allowing you to slip out of your coat and shoes.

“Who were you on the phone with?” His question was meant to open the can of worms in a structured way, rather than answer his own burning question. He’d bet dollars to donuts that it was–

“My father.” Came your fatigued response, confirming his suspicions. Your words were tinged with a bitterness that he’d expected, but they held a deeper upset thinly veiled by your exhaustion.  

“Is everything ok?” Foggy asked quietly, his brow pinching with worry as he studied the bags under your eyes. The blond was less informed on the hell you’d been put through over the last month or so, only picking up bits and pieces if Matt relayed them.

With a groan, you collapsed unceremoniously onto Matt’s bed beside him, leaning heavily into him as one of his arms fell across your shoulders. “Of course, it’s just…it wasn’t the pleasant send off I was hoping for.”

Your pulse jumped when you spoke, steadying out as you reached the end of your sentence. Matt already knew that things weren’t “ok” with your mom or your home life in general, but he blinked in surprise to hear the disappointment that coated your words as you referenced your father’s curt goodbye. Making a note to bring that up when you seemed more inclined to be vulnerable, he rubbed a palm over your arm in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish it had been better.”

Huffing a tiny laugh, you let your head fall against his shoulder. “Me too. How were your holidays?”

“Pleasant.” Matt murmured at the same time Foggy clapped his hands together.

“Fantastic! I forced Matt to watch all of the Star Wars movies with me and we ate our weight in cookies.” The long-haired boy explained with genuine enthusiasm. As he began to recount the escapades from the annual Nelson holiday party, your eyes flicked upwards to look at Matt, whose arm was still moving slowly across your shoulder and back as he caressed your sleeve. His eyes were trained forward, but a muscle in his jaw twitched as you focused on him, so you had a sneaking suspicion that neither of you were listening to Foggy’s story. You’d forgotten how well he could read you, until he gave you the option to pretend everything was fine with your dad.

He knew it wasn’t, and you did too. And maybe shoving that shit deep down and pretending it didn’t exist wasn’t a healthy way of handling it, but if you met Foggy’s worried gaze right now it would make you cry, which you were not prepared for. So, whether it was a wonderful coincidence or Matt could truly read you like a picture book, you were thankful for his deflection.

Smiling softly, you looked back to Foggy, listening to him talk about his drunk aunts fawning over Matt and feeling the thick tension bleed out of your shoulders.

Eventually, Foggy took a deep breath, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Woah, head rush!”

Matt chuckled, “You didn’t even stand up, buddy. You ok over there?”

“Yah, I’m fine! Just excited!” Foggy waved a hand, unfazed.

“And I can’t wait to hear about everything, Fog. But maybe we should take a break for presents?”

“Presents?” Foggy’s eyes widened along with his grin, his behavior as animated as a child’s at the mention of gifts. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

You laughed, prying yourself out of Matt’s secure grip and opening your bag. Tossing two wrapped bundles across the room and onto Foggy’s bed, you set the other two in Matt’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, my lovely Musketeers!” You giggled as Foggy mime-fenced toward you. As soon as the blond was finished beating you in the imaginary sword fight, he eagerly tore into the glittery wrapping paper. Next to you, Matt looked much more apprehensive about the packages in his lap.

“Go on, Matty. Open them!” You encouraged, bumping his shoulder with your own.

“But we don’t have anything for you,” Matt’s lips curled into a pout, looking like a sulking kitten as he trailed a single finger along the crisp edge of the parcel nearest to his hand.

You rolled your eyes fondly. The poor kid had a strong enough sense of justice for the whole campus. ”Matty, we're in college. And I'm the only one with a job. I didn't expect you to get me anything.“

”But—“ Matt argued, but you cut him off with a laugh.

”No more buts! I got these presents for you because I wanted to, not because I thought I’d receive something in return. Please open them?“ Though he couldn't see your face, you batted your lashes and widened your eyes, hoping he could sense the pleading expression.

With a frown, he nodded once, carefully peeling the tape from the paper as if the task required surgical precision. Grinding his teeth as the paper crinkled raucously, he slid the first gift out of its casing carefully, as if he was expecting it to shock him if he moved too quickly. Withdrawing a lump of the softest material he'd ever felt, he ran a thumb over it, trying to decipher what it was. The strip of wool was composed of thick braided stitches, promising to retain warmth in even the most bitter winter weather.

”A scarf?“ He asked, his lips pursed into a small, surprised oval. A rosy blush dusted the tops of his cheeks.

”Yes! I made one for you and one for Foggy. Except yours is a deep red and his is orange.” You spoke softly, smiling over to where the longer-haired boy was wrapping the length of yarn around his neck triumphantly.

“Our favorite colors.” Matt murmured, his fingers still tracing the fuzzy stitching. “You remembered?“

”Of course I did, trouble. That's important information. I'd be a fool to let it slip through the cracks.“ You hoped the joke would make him laugh, but he continued to stare blankly at the scarf as if it was an animal that had just died in his arms. ”If you don't like it, I can take it back, and donate it or something–“

”No!“ Matt looked up, horrified, clutching the scarf to his chest. ”No, I love it. I just...“

Turning his face back to his lap, he licked his lips before continuing. ”I've never gotten something like this before. I don't know what to say, is all.“

”No need to say anything, bub. I'm glad you like it.“ You rubbed your palm over his arm, mirroring his actions from just a moment ago.

Still focused on his own gifts, Foggy's excited screech startled both you and Matt. ”NO WAY!“

Turning to you with a dropped jaw, Foggy shook his head. ”There is no way you got this.“

”What is it, buddy?“ Matt asked, his lips curled into a soft smile as he heard Foggy open a hardcover book eagerly.

”A first edition of The Fellowship of the Ring!“ Foggy was practically giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he rifled through the pages. ”How did you even get this?“

Grinning at him, you giggled. ”My mom has a friend with an extensive book collection and asked where we could find one. Turns out, the friend had one of her own and was willing to part with it for next to nothing. Guess she owed my mom a favor.”

Diving across the room to crush you in another hug, Foggy kissed the top of your head. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!”

Laughing brightly, you struggled to shove your friend off of you. When he was this worked up, Foggy had the tenacity of an overexcited golden retriever. As usual, Matt helped release you from his clutches. ”You're welcome, Fog. I wanted to get you a nice copy since you lost the one you brought to school.”

“I'd say you accomplished that, my lovely jitterbug.” Foggy ruffled your hair, retreating to his bed and launching himself onto the mattress–the rusted springs creaking in protest.

Giggling at him, you turned back to Matt. “Alright, Murdock. Your turn, again. After this, I promise never to put you through this torture again. Until next year.”

Matt groaned in response, snatching the second gift with more vigor. “Let's get this over with.”

Approaching the gift with the same systematic tactic as the first, he slid the paper off of the box without a single tear. Setting the wrapping aside, he opened the cardboard package and pulled out his real gift.

“Ok so, I'm not sure how helpful these will be,” You warned, fidgeting with your hands as he ran his fingers along the band connecting the ear pieces. “But, they're, um, noise-canceling headphones?”

Matt's breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed with guilt and affection and surprise at the present, all words of gratitude pulled back down to his vocal chords as he focused solely on not bursting into tears.

Over the past few weeks, the Nelsons had been kind enough to invite him to stay and celebrate with them. He was flattered, and so thankful, but he wasn't used to so many...people. During a few of your phone calls over the break, he'd mentioned that the excessive stimuli, mainly noise, had been getting to him and giving him headaches. And rather than chastising him for being ungrateful, you'd listened and sympathized with him over the phone, ultimately buying him a solution to the issue with your own money.

Sure, there was no guarantee that these would work for his heightened senses, but you didn't know that. And the idea that you were willing to go to such immense lengths to ensure his comfort...it was evidence of a love he hadn't experienced in a decade.

“Are you ok? Did I do something wrong?” Your worried murmur broke his train of thought.

“No,” He choked out. ”No, they're perfect. So is the scarf. Thank you, bug.“

”Of course. Merry Christmas, Matt.“ You kissed his cheek gently and he felt a flush crawling up his neck. Wrapping an arm around you, he tucked you close to his chest, hand cradling the back of your neck.

”Merry Christmas, sweetheart.“

The two of you sat there in silence, holding each other close for a minute before your phone rang. Sighing deeply, you rested your head against Matt's shoulder as you fumbled for your phone. Thankfully, the screen displayed your mom's contact information, not your father.

“Sorry, trouble. I have to take this.“ You squeezed his arm, pulling out of his embrace and stretching as you stood. ”I'll be right back. Hopefully.“

Smiling at your near-groan, Matt jerked his chin towards the door. ”We'll be here.“

Slipping into the hallway, you lowered your voice. ”Hey mama, everything ok?“

”Hey baby, everything's fine, just had a couple questions for you about bills.“ Her sweet voice was strained and you could practically see her flicking her gaze to meet your father's, his metaphorical gun to her head as she made the call.

”Ok,“ You ground out, trying not to snap at her when she wasn't the reason you were frustrated. ”Um, what questions did you have?”

“You did pay the one from November?” She asked, predictably.

“I did. It'll reflect soon and Dad has nothing to worry about. The bill is attached to our names, not his. That's why Collections isn't writing to him.“ You explained as calmly as you could, knowing that she was aware of this already, but probably had you on speakerphone. ”Was that all?“

”Not exactly.“ Her tone shifted, pitching lower and sounding almost embarrassed. A crackle rippled over the line and suddenly your father's gruff voice replaced the one you adored.

“You need to come home next weekend to help your mom with the next round of billing. I've run out of time off and can no longer assist.” He commanded, the ‘compassion’ he held for her livelihood nowhere to be found.

‘Oh because you were so helpful this month when you were ordering us around.’  You griped internally. “What round of billing? The one from Thanksgiving–”

“Was four appointments ago. These things aren't free, you know. They’re wanting us to pay for them.”

Both you and your bank account were intimately familiar with the steep cost of her treatment. Inhaling deeply, you paced a few steps from Matt and Foggy's room. “I know they aren't free. We signed her up for a payment plan two weeks ago that offers a deferral–”

“She was denied.” His laconic answer made your spirits plummet as time came to a halt. Your pounding heart froze in place, dread creeping up your spine. 

“What?” On the off chance that he was being unintentionally misleading, you needed to clarify.

Your mother's apologetic voice came over the line once again. ”I wasn't accepted into the financial assistance program, baby. But, it's ok! I can pick up more shifts–“

”No!” You exclaimed, the shrill edge of your cry echoing down the hallway. You tried again, digging your nails into the flesh of your palm as you fought to keep your voice steady.

“Don't...you don't need to do that mama. I don't want you to overwork yourself. I'll come home on Friday and we can talk about options, ok?“ You bargained, running through your work schedule in your head to create a plan.

”Are you sure, honey? Won't you be busy getting a head start on the semester?“ 

Blinking back tears at her obvious care for you, you cleared your throat before answering. “It’s alright, mama. It’s just syllabus week, I’m sure I’ll have time to come home and sort things out.”

“She’ll make time.” Your father’s promise was more for your mom than you, but it felt like a swift kick to the gut all the same. 

Because you would make time. You had to. No one else would. You were your mom’s last line of defense. Prioritizing yourself and failing to be there for her wasn’t an option you had. The emotional burden you were carrying felt impossibly heavy, as if there was a line of anvils across your shoulders and chest, slowly forcing the oxygen out of your lungs until you perished. 

“Of course I will. I’ll see you this weekend, mama. Love you.” You choked out, slapping a palm over your mouth before you broke. 

“I love you too, baby. Have a good week at school!” You could picture her tired smile as she wished you a proper goodbye, the image cracking your composure. 

You hung up before the first tear rolled down your cheek. Dropping your face into your hands, you bit your lip to stifle a sob, letting the tears flow silently instead. Falling back against the wall behind you, you let your legs give out as you collapsed to the disgusting dorm hallway carpet. 

The blood rushing in your ears drowned out the noises drifting through the thin walls, an urge to scream churned in your chest. Ugly, rage filled sobs were barreling up your throat, desperately trying to claw their way out, to make your pain known. Hunching over your knees in a pitiful crouch, you shielded your face with your arms, preventing any passersby from seeing your much-needed meltdown. 

Choking out a breath around another half-smothered sob, you nearly screamed when a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Looking up frantically, the outburst downgraded to a strangled whine when you saw Matt’s furrowed brow directed at you. 

Wordlessly, he sank down beside you, opening his arms with a frown. Throwing yourself into his embrace, you couldn’t help the hideous sounds that escaped you as he enveloped you in his muscular arms with ease. Tucking your head under his chin, you shook violently against his chest as you bawled. 

“I can’t do this, Matt. I can’t–” You gasped out, your breath stuttering as you wept forcefully into his shoulder. 

Shushing you gently, he rubbed circles into your back with his large hand.

Whimpering at the touch, you wiped at your tear-streaked face furiously. “”I’m barely an adult. How am I supposed to do this?” Your voice shattered around the words, throat constricting with anguish.

“I don’t know,” Matt cooed, stroking a fresh pair of tears away from your skin with his thumbs. “But I’ve got you, sweetheart. We’ll get through it together.” 

Burying your face into his neck miserably, you shuddered with distaste. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask.” He whispered gravely, pressing a kiss to your crown. 

With that promise, your brain seemed to shut off. Your tears gradually slowed to a halt, leaving you dazed and exhausted in Matt’s lap. Heaving out a shaky exhale, you closed your eyes, letting his soft touches wash over you like the tides. Kissing your forehead tenderly, Matt cupped your cheek. 

“Why don’t we go sit somewhere softer than this shitty floor, hmm?” His small question was meant to make you laugh, but your fatigue had chased away every other emotion. 

Nodding softly, you let Matt pull you from the ground and back into his room, welcoming the darkness after the harsh fluorescent lighting of the hallway. Sliding off his glasses and placing them on his nightstand, he guided you to Foggy’s bed. The blond frowned at you, setting his book aside. 

“You ok, bug?” He asked, sitting up to inspect your puffy eyes.

Shaking your head tiredly, you crawled onto his mattress and let him wrap you in a hug. Matt, with an impressive amount of agility, somehow leapt onto the bed behind you, snaking his arms around your middle so that you were sandwiched between him and his roommate. You listened to their steady breathing, letting the sound lull you into a more peaceful state of mind. 

Tangling his fingers with yours, Matt’s lips scratched over the back of your head. “Fog, think you could read some of your book for us?”

“Uh, yah totally.” Foggy pouted, gaze still lingering on your drained face. “Let me just find my page.”

The combination of your worn-out consciousness and the comforting presence of your two best friends was dangerous. Your eyes fluttered shut and you could feel yourself drifting off. 

As if reading your thoughts, Matt kissed your hair. “Go on, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Squeezing his fingers, you stopped fighting the darkness pulling at the edges of your vision, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @jadeunstablexx @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @mattmurdockstateofmind

Please tell me if these tags aren't working for you all because Tumblr has been acting up :/

[pinkrelish]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶One missed call. No new messages.✶

NSFW — angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for smut

chapter: 9/15 [wc: 4.8k]

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Chapter 9: A Slow Rejection

——January 1, 1986——

[One missed call. One new message.]

“Hey! It’s getting pretty late, so I thought you’d be back by now.. Call me when you get this, so I know you made it okay.”

——January 3, 1986——

[One missed call. One new message.]

“Are you back to working on Fridays? Wayne let me know you made it home safe. Uh.. Miss you and stuff. Call when you can.”

——January 12, 1986——

[Two missed calls. Two new messages.]

“Been missing you, again.. Been so long, I’m starting to forget what your voice sounds like. Ha, I know, I’m being dramatic, but yeah.. It’s really not fair Wayne’s gotten all your calls, while I pick up the ones from bill collectors. I’m sure he’s a real riot, too. Telling the same story about how he tore his thumbnail clean off in that accident at the plant, but need I remind you, I’m the one you’re supposed to be.. Oh, fuck–shit–!”

“Man, sorry about that. You ever manage to burn pasta? Anyway. What was I saying? Right! We should try scheduling calls again, so we stop missing each other. Well, I guess we’d have to talk in the first place, but you know what I mean. Hope to catch you soon, so we can work something out.”

——January 24, 1986——

[Three missed calls. Three new messages.]

“I know you’re out of town for a meet, but Goddamn, I hope you don’t mind me ranting–because–holy shit, I just dropped the biggest plot twist on the club tonight. They totally didn’t see it coming, and shit, I’ve been planning it from the start. I’ve got even more twists later in the campaign, but this one was so good.. Hey, If I fill this whole cassette, I’m sorry, babe, I’m just excited–”

——January 27, 1986——

Every part of you ached. Wincing at the smallest tasks like lacing up your boots, and zipping your winter coat. Lower back pleading with you to stop bending over to pick up your purse. Arms shaking under the strain of textbooks. Eyes burning from lack of sleep. Head spinning. Water. Food. You needed both, had time for neither. Instead, you grabbed your waitress uniform, loaded your other shoulder with your gym bag, and walked the three flights of stairs down to the parking lot.

“God fucking damnit.”

You dragged the door closed from the white abyss, and stomped up three flights of stairs, rage simmering to a boil as you remembered you left the ice scraper and shovel behind.

But as soon as you entered the hallway, you sprinted. You could hear your phone ringing.

“Hello?” you answered, disguising the nauseating hope in your voice under a layer of genuine curiosity at who would be calling at dawn, and a touch of fear in case it was bad news.

It was never bad news when it came to him.

“Hey!” The pure relief in Eddie’s exhale wrapped you in a warm hug, placed a chaste kiss on your chapped cheeks. “I finally caught you.”

Finally. God.. finally you could reconnect with him after he swept you off your feet on New Year’s Eve.

You imbued your gratefulness into your voice, trusting he’d understand the magnitude of comfort he brought you, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for school too, Munson?”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he promised with that little laugh of his, surely grinning ear to ear, pacing around his kitchen, probably annoying Wayne. “I just had a feeling I should try calling in the morning, and hey, it worked out. Do you have time to talk?” He knew the answer as soon as he asked, hearing the pause.

“I’m sorry.” Another pause. He didn’t interrupt. “My car’s buried under snow, and I’m running late as is.”

“It snowed there?”

“Mhm..” Certainly did, and if you didn’t get a move on, your coach was going to chew you out. But the temptation to keep sharing this blip in time was too enticing. Pretending things were better. “If you were here, would you shovel the snow for me? Scrape the ice off my windows?”

Eddie’s boyish, smitten murmur tingled across your skin. “Of course I would, baby,” he spoke in a lower range, in a whisper from where his heart resided. “Wouldn’t even have to ask. I’d take care of it.”

You knew he would. He was reliable like that.

“I’d have breakfast made, too,” he said. “Probably something frozen, but! Not to brag or anything, I know the exact amount of time to microwave a burrito so the inside is cooked, but the outside isn’t soggy, nor stale.” His warmth coaxed you into joining him in laughing, but it was repressed. Hollow. Delaying the inevitable. You both knew what was coming.

Aware he was burning the spare minutes you could afford, he asked the question you dreaded answering, “Do you have time to talk later?”

Oh, Eddie. Silencing your apology before it upset him more, you explained, “I have work later. What about Wednesday?”

“I have a date booked with Jeff’s mom. They moved into a new house over the weekend, and need help fixing faulty electrical stuff in their bathrooms. His dad is out of town in Indy. How about Thursday?”

“I’m usually in the gym until 11, and I have an exam to study for the next day.. I’m really busy during the Spring semester, with competing and stuff, on top of school bullshit–exams, papers, projects, whatever–and waitressing.”

“Mm..”

“Yeah..”

“Yeah.”

Ugly silence.

He said, “Well, I’ll let you go. We can work something out some other time.”

“Of course,” you promised. “Some other time.”

——February 8, 1986——

[No missed calls. One old message.]

“Uh.. I had to convince your roommate not to answer the phone, so I could leave this, and uh.. Now I feel super cheesy, but I wanted you to have a message waiting for you when you got back from New York–and–here it is, I guess. Jessica, are you listening to this? Whatever, I wanted to say I missed you, and hope you won all golds. I know you did, because you’re the best, but I wanted to wish you all the luck in the world, regardless if you needed it or not. Think of it like you opened a chest and found a Stone of Good Luck. +1 to all your rolls.. or tumbles, I guess.. Jesus Christ, I swear I’m done being weird. Call me when you’re back. Okay, bye.”

——February 9, 1986——

You called. No answer.

——February 10, 1986——

You listened to the fourth ring on the other end, and hung up. Defeat welcomed you like an old friend. Draped its blanket over your shoulders, squeezed you tighter than the lump in your throat, and reminded you to grab your new grips for the uneven bars on your way out of your dorm. It’s not like you had time to talk, anyway. You just wanted to try.

————

Eddie sprinted from his van. He heard it, he heard it, he heard it. Trailer door was locked. Wayne wasn’t home. God. Fucking. Loose doorknob he’d meant to fix yesterday knocking his keys from his shaky hands. Hehearditheheardit. Scraping his nails on the steps. Couldn’t find the right key. No, not the gold one, the bronze. Fucking hell. The ringing stopped. Maybe he could still–

He got the door open and dialed your number faster than his tunnel vision could discern. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

Ringing, ringing.

It rang. It rang.

It clicked over to voicemail.

——February 12, 1986——

You took matters into your own hands.

——February 15, 1986——

“There’s a letter from your girlfriend waiting for you on your nightstand,” Wayne told him.

Eddie reminded him with a dull glare, “Not my girlfriend.” To which his uncle’s grin grew, watching his nephew fidget under the scrutiny of his curious gaze.

“It was delivered yesterday. What exactly do you call someone who sends you a Valentine’s card?”

Paling, then flushing at the suggestion, Eddie’s tongue stumbled over a half-assed response about the date being a coincidence, and disengaged from the odd twinkle in Wayne’s eye, hurrying down the hall to his room. Closing the door behind him, and locking it just in case.

The density of the card was substantial in his palm. He wanted to take his time, but his eagerness got the better of him. He ripped into the envelope and pulled out the thin letter stuffed with goodies. Beige cardstock. Crinkled along the top.

He meant to read the note first, but when he unfolded it, an abundance of riches slid to the floor, onto his dirty Reeboks. “What the..” With shame, he gathered the money first. It was no secret Wayne was throwing away the bills before Eddie could see the bright red stamps of FINAL NOTICE on them. Any time the lights went out, they would share a look from across the trailer, or a sigh if it was at night, until they flickered on due to a random outage. Things were rarely permanently cut, they made sure of that–with longer shifts at the plant, and Eddie selling weed, amps, acts of service, whatever he didn’t need–but there was always the looming threat. A voice in the back of his head when he needed to buy milk, and it had gone up another 4 cents. Morals; that’s what those voices were. Allusions of rules set by the wealthy. He bought the things he cared about, and stole the rest.

But with what you gave him..

“Damn,” he whispered, counting. Recounting. The weight of the money was comfort stacked in his dirty hands. A warm greeting after a long, cold day of working on his pregnant neighbor’s car for next to nothing. Granting him, and Wayne, the luxury of rest. It was enough to pay what they owed. Maybe more.

“Luckiest man on Earth,” he said, in reference to his sweet girl. “And you sent me..” He picked up the Polaroids and matched them to the paragraphs in the letter. One of you on a podium when you won first place overall; the picture was taken from the sidelines, far away. Another one of you competing on beam. Cute. Nice back shot of you in a leotard, too. Then..

You were at the edge of a pier overlooking the Statue of Liberty. Another girl was beside you, arms hooked around each other’s waist, having the other hand raised in the air as if you were holding the torch. The pose helped open your jean jacket, and beneath that, he saw peeking between the buttons, his Hellfire shirt.

“Sweetest girl.” He shook the picture steadily, like a nod. Gradually doing it more vigorously, until he was outright slapping it across his other fingers. “Goddamn, baby. You make me so proud.” Wearing his Dungeons and Dragons shirt out in public.

You would be a keeper, if you were his.

——February 17, 1986——

He meant to write back.

——February 22, 1986——

[One missed call. One new message.]

“.. I know it’s been a while, I’m sorry I haven’t called. Things got busy over here. Seems like when one thing goes wrong, more piles on. Did finish my book report for class, though, so you can be proud of me for that.. Yeah, miss you. Hope you’re doing okay. I don’t know if you’ve been calling and we’ve both been missing them, but Wayne hasn’t heard from you, either. You’re competing out of town today, aren’t you? Uhm.. Call when you can. And thank you for sending us money. Bye.”

——February 26, 1986——

You meant to call back.

——March 1, 1986——

Nothing really happened to trigger it, he was just sad.

Eddie sat at the kitchen table. Small and cramped with magazines and mail. He picked at a scab on his knuckle, twisted the black ring around his finger. Was tired, hungry. Quiet, and reserved from his usual personality, using all his energy yesterday to entertain Hellfire. Wayne would be back soon, he knew. The grocery store closed in 30 minutes. He just needed to occupy himself until then, but couldn’t find anything to do. New Metallica album in two days. He could listen to his bootlegs and finesse a song. But.. None of it sounded intriguing right now. Instead, his mind filled in the blanks. What were you doing on a Saturday night? Were you in your dorm? Out with friends? Working? Training? On a date–?

No. He stopped himself from fleshing out that last thought.

Tucking himself into the corner, huddling until his shoulders sagged, and drawing a knee to his chest, he grabbed the phone from above his head and dialed.

It didn’t matter if you couldn’t talk for long, he just wanted to hear your voice. Your voice would make things better. Shake him out of this cycle. These unfair consequences of being the one who could leave remnants of his heart for you to listen to at your leisure, but wasn’t afforded the same luxury. Unless you were both available, he didn’t get to hear you speak. Just ringing, ringing, ringing. Suffering ringing.

Wrapping his arm around his leg in a hug, he rested his temple on the stained wallpaper, and rocked his head back and forth, grinding his forehead into the wall. Ringing. Ringing. The same position he took when he was a boy, on the rare–very rare–occasion his mother called on his birthday, or Christmas. Mostly Christmas, that was easier for her to remember. And he sat in this exact arrangement, curled up as small as he can be, wishing the person on the other end of the line loved him.

“Just thinking of you,” he said, after swallowing the thick spit in his mouth foretelling the water in his eyes. “Miss you. Call me when you get this.” He hung up.

——March 5, 1986——

You wanted to call, but last week’s graded essay was burned onto the back of your eyelids. So much red ink.

Under the buzzing fluorescent lights of the library, you squeezed in the last of your allotted time before they closed, and forced your cramped hand to write, making it to your dorm in time to pass out.

[No missed calls. No new messages.]

——March 8, 1986——

He meant to start his letter to you. Really.

——March 10, 1986——

The quarter-sized blister on your palm you attained due to your own negligence around the flat top griddle at work burst on your fourth pull up. Fluid snaked down your forearm, cutting a stark line through the chalk. Coach would be livid if he knew you had a job. No distractions, he said. Not for champions like you.

[No missed calls. No new messages.]

——March 15, 1986——

Wayne took one look at him and sighed. He pulled Eddie’s wobbly desk chair up beside the bed, and sat facing him, lighting a cigarette. The heavy wooden box beside his nephew’s feet told him everything he needed to know.

Eddie held out his hand for Wayne’s lighter and lit the end of a joint.

“So,” his uncle started, drawing his eyes from the decades of memories stacked neatly in the keepsake box taken from the top shelf of the closet, to the Polaroids tacked onto the wall above his bed, to the worn black journals spread around the boy who laid there with his eyes on the ceiling, moping. “What’s gotten to ya, now?”

“Same old,” Eddie answered. Nonchalant, he took a drag on the joint pinched between his thumb and index, and rested his wrist on his forehead. Wayne waited patiently. And as usual, Eddie caved under the silence. “Unless she’s purposefully calling when we’re busy, she’s just.. not calling at all, and I don’t know what pisses me off more.” He shook his head. Long shakes, rolling cheek to cheek on his limp pillows. Eyes drifting closed. “I think I fucked up.”

Wayne leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs, preparing himself for a long conversation. “Why do you think that, son?”

The corner of his mouth twitched at the memory. “I promised her we’d be together forever, and she said ‘okay.’ That’s all. ‘Okay.’” He started to mock himself, “I want to be with you forever,” and shifted his pitch higher, “Okay!” Eddie stopped his theatrics, and sank to his mattress. “Jesus.”

“You seemed really happy the next morning when I came home.. Are you sure you’re not reading too much into her reaction? Maybe she was surprised, is all I’m sayin’.” Eddie didn’t give so much of an eyeroll, as it was him sliding his gaze away from Wayne, disinterested in analyzing what he’d been poring over for the past few months in solitude; as the phone calls decreased, and his loneliness worsened. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what it is you said?”

At an impasse, they inhaled their vices at the same time, and tapped them into the ashtray on Eddie’s nightstand in sync.

“Fine,” Eddie heeded, “But it’s not like I remember it verbatim.” Wayne spun his hand in encouragement to try. “It was something along the lines of.. I don’t know, man. She has these amazing opportunities lined up for her, and I told her after I graduate, I’m gonna work odd jobs, so wherever she goes, I can go with her, so we can.. you know, be together. Forever. I explicitly stated ‘forever.’ I’ll follow her forever, so we never have to be alone.”

Wayne spoke with the cigarette between his lips, “Sounds sorta stalker-like.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just givin’ ya a hard time,” he said, after a slight laugh, and a coughing fit. His nephew seemed less amused, rubbing the back of his thumb across his forehead in a self-soothing gesture. “Was there anything else?”

Eddie burned through another fraction of his joint as he recalled that night. “She sucks at taking care of herself, so I said she needed her best friend there to look after her. Meaning me, obviously. Y’know, help keep her car functioning, make sure she gets rest so her injuries heal, cook for her because she doesn’t eat when she’s stressed. Stuff like that. I just want to be there for her, and.. Why’re you looking at me like that?”

Cigarette paused half-way to his mouth, Wayne debated with himself over which style of guidance he should take. For as long as he’d known him, Eddie was stubborn. Liked to figure things out for himself. But this? This was a little much for Wayne to sit back and watch.

“You told her that.. platonically?” he asked, a touch of astoundment at his nephew’s stupidity in his inflection.

“Yes.”

Jesus, kid. Get a clue. “And did it ever occur to you..” he drawled, waving his cigarette, “to tell her how you really felt, so you wouldn’t have to go through this? So you’d have a definite answer, whether she rejected you or not, and we could avoid all this back and forth worryin’?”

Eddie begged him to understand, “You know I can’t just.. say that to her. I mean, I said everything but that and all she could say was ‘okay.’ What if I actually told her? Made some grand confession at midnight, and kissed her? Christ, at least she still sort of talks to me.” He cut his arm across his chest. Quick, hard, and final. “No. No way am I doing that.”

Calming himself down, the joint between his fingers burned to a nub, and he spoke through the haze. “We’re finally friends again. I’m not going to jeopardize what we have by talking about my feelings.”

“Well, you’ve already lost her once, and you’re worried it’s happening again.. So, why not risk it?”

“Because now I know what it feels like for her to be a stranger.”

~~~

More words were exchanged, and many of them circled around the same subject without a resolution, but Wayne made sure to end the night on a positive note before he left for work.

He leaned over and dusted the ash from Eddie’s hair, pushing the fringe out of his face for a sincere, long moment of eye contact. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“I hope she calls. I’m sorry, son.”

——March 16, 1986——

The red lights on your alarm clock blared 2:35AM. You rolled over, adjusted the foam cups of your headphones onto your ears, brought the quilt to your chin, and rewound the tape to play it from the beginning.

“Crashed at Rick’s last night.. Sorry if you called.”

Then, a slurred message an hour later. “M-Mm.. Miss you.. I.. Hm? I.. Damn.” A drink spilled. Music played in the background. Something recognizable in the depths of your subconscious, but too quiet to place. Eddie inhaled deep, held his breath, and resumed with a steady cadence, “Wish you were here.”

——March 19, 1986——

Black. Black. Black. Searing white.

You came to holding onto a rope, and someone’s hand gripping your shoulder, acting as your sole buoy in the sea of your dizzy spell.

“Are you okay? Don’t answer that.” Katherine’s voice cut like a snake’s tongue. She lowered you to the spring floor next to the foam pit, and released a string of infuriated whispers about miracles, and you not falling from higher up. They came muffled against the high-pitched whine in your ears, and the pounding heart beats racing blood to your face.

She had a first aid kit with her. “Hello? Do you not feel that?” You looked at your hands. A cold flash of sweat prickled your skin. Nausea rose. The bleeding wasn’t bad, but it did leave a streaking trail on the last few feet of knotted rope dangling beside you.

At least Coach was in his office while the rest of you did your conditioning, so he didn’t see.

You rubbed your knuckles into your brow bone. “I think those caffeine pills caught up with me,” you muttered. Kat sucked her teeth, and handed you what you needed to patch up your torn calluses.

“I wish you’d stop taking those and give yourself a break. Rest isn’t a punishment.”

You may not have known her long, but she was the first friend you made, and her disappointed voice struck you in a way your Coach’s didn’t. Kat understood. She had a similar upbringing to you, and could relate. She also worked at the diner, and you helped cover for each other when other girls asked why you couldn’t make it to their bonding nights out.

And being vulnerable with her meant she knew intimate details of your life no one else did, and you were beginning to regret it.

Not really. But it sucked when she knew she was right.

“I can’t take a break now,” you mumbled, surveying the rest of the gym to make sure your conversation was private. “I’ve gotta study for next week. Gotta go to work. Gotta make money. Gotta–gotta–” You moved your hands erratically, drying the sharp sting of rubbing alcohol on your palms. “Gotta live up to everyone’s expectations.”

“Why not at least cut your hours at work? I know you don’t need the money that bad right now.”

“No.. But he does.”

The exasperated sigh Kat released grazed your cheek. She placed the first aid kit in her lap, and shifted closer to you. The side of her thigh squished against yours, and you wondered if anyone else on Earth would have stopped breathing at the small sign of affection. If anyone else’s eyes welled with tears at what others took for granted.

Kat’s tone went gentle, “You’re killing yourself over a guy who will never commit. You deserve better than that. Why not try going out with Roger again? You already know he likes you.” She bumped your shoulder and tipped her head at the group of sweaty guys standing under the rings. Most notably the stand-out amongst the men’s team jumping and grasping the apparatus, hoisting himself up for minute-long holds in poses that had your abs burning in empathy.

Roger was nice. His smile was nice. His short, sandy blonde hair was nice. Your date with him at the Italian restaurant in town was nice. He paid for the meal, which was nice. His eyes crinkled when he laughed at your bad jokes in a nice way. He made it a point to walk you to your dorm at night, like a nice man. He spoke to you nicely. He hugged you tight, and long. And when you made your intentions clear, he accepted you didn’t want a kiss, and left like a gentleman, without complaint. Nice. He was nice.

“You didn’t hear the way Eddie said–” the most romantic thing anyone had ever promised you.

“He called you his best friend.” She took over bandaging for you, turning her body to block the others from seeing the tears run down your cheeks. “He doesn’t love you like you want, and you’re starting to worry me. Well.. You’ve been worrying me. You need to take care of yourself, first. Coach might turn a blind eye because you’re still able to compete, but I see the way the stress has been eating away at you.” An opportune moment for your stomach to growl. “And I love you, and I want better for you than some guy who’s not into you, taking advantage of your kindness.”

“Eddie’s not like that. He’s different..” you offered meekly. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“Just.. consider going out with Roger again. Pay attention to the date. How he treats you, what he says. Maybe compare him to Eddie, and see what I mean.”

Done patching you up, Kat tossed the first aid kit to the side while you chalked your hands over the bowl, not caring the white powder clung to the wet smears on your face. She opened her mouth when you grabbed the rope again, fists on her hips not unlike a mother who actually cared for her children.

“You’re going to get hurt,” she said.

You put your weight on the rope. Your open flesh wrung against the fiber, padded by a few layers of athletic tape rapidly losing their adhesive from the blooming blood soaking through. The pain stung deep. Not enough for you to quit. You could persevere. Climb up to the rafters of the gym, and back down again without rest two more times, as Coach instructed. You could remain calm. Focus on the task, finish it, and still read your textbook until the crack of dawn, and go in for a quick morning shift at the diner before your afternoon class. You could do it all. You could. You could do it all if it meant securing a future for you, and for Eddie.

You replied, “Maybe I will.. But it’ll be worth it.”

Kat waited until you were half-way up to question, “Will it?”

——March 21, 1986——

If Eddie answered, you wouldn’t go out with Roger. That was the deal.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you whispered with your head resting against the doorway to the back of the diner. The two line cooks gave you sympathetic looks. “Pick up,” you pleaded with a bite of anger.

You hung up.

Dialed again.

“Come on, Eddie..”

When he didn’t answer, you let Kat embrace you in the walk-in cooler, blotting your tears on her brown uniform shirt, and she listened to you sob about how not only had the phone calls stopped, Eddie had stopped calling you by pet names long before that.

————

Roger was soft. His grin was soft. His hair was soft, brushing across your forehead. The callus on his thumb was smooth, soft as he traced your bottom lip. The back of his fingers were soft as he caressed them over your cheek. His lips were soft, too. Placing them gently on the corner of yours after you turned away at the last second.

His voice was soft. “You don’t like me, do you?”

“I’m sorry..” You struggled to say more. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said, and left. Softly spoken through the rejection, and accepting it like the nice man he was, not coercing you into more.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, long after Roger walked away. You went inside your dorm, and did the thing you always did, pressing the blinking light on your answering machine, noticing the cassette through the plastic window hadn’t moved.

[One missed call. No new messages.]

Oh.

He’d never not left a message before..

——March 22, 1986——

You awoke with a start. “Wha–?” Your bloodshot eyes refused to open under the disturbing amount of daylight streaming through your window. What was that noise? Was the phone ringing? 

The phone was most definitely ringing.

Answering under the grog of not knowing when you went to sleep, nor what day it was, you said the first thing that came to mind, “Eddie?” You winced, and jerked the phone away, taking a moment to place the loud, exuberant–panicked–voice on the other side. “..Dustin?”

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift @emokid-ellie @mantorokk-writes @drdvlss @mirrorsstuff @bebe0701 @eddiethesexy @edsforehead @b-irock @brittney69 @princesseddie @hes-a-rainbow @churchmuffins @barbielibra 

[msmarvelouswinchester]

If We Love Again

Summary: Whatever problems we had back then don’t exist anymore. It’s why we have this second chance, and we can’t throw it away. -Michelle Maddow

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N (Reader)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

WC: 1942

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Post-canon where DEAN IS ALIVE, kinda sappy, body-shaming (not by the boys), hugs and kisses

Square Filled: Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong ( @taylorswiftbingo )

A/N: Alright. Alright. Hello you people! Jfc, how long has it been? A lot of things happened (personal matters and fandom problems too) so I took a break. Kind of gave up writing for a bit. Then two boys - Alex and Henry (RWRB fandom, I'm looking at you) got me back to writing! And of course I had to write for my baby, Dean Winchester!

And I've also lost my taglist. So sorry for not tagging anyone in this.

Completely unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

“What’re you doing here?” The usual routine of the bunker had been thrown off-kilter when Y/N had appeared, looking…frazzled. Maybe a tad smile but her eyes shone with unshed tears. And she was drenched to the bones and panting like she had run a mile to get to the bunker. The man welcomed her inside, saying, “Come in first, you are fucking wet.”

The words slipped and the man’s eyes widened, expecting a snobbish remark from her about the word and its placement in the sentence but soon enough, he frowned because Y/N didn't comment on the…apparent opportunity of turning the entire conversation inappropriate. Like she always did. But today, she wordlessly accepted the man’s gratuitous welcome and headed inside the old establishment.

Once at the end of the stairs, she said, rather whispered, “Hey Dean. Can you do me a favour? I need a hug.” If Dean didn't know what heaven looked like, he would have guessed he had ascended to heaven at Y/N’s request.

Dean, who had sprinted down the steps, looked at her and nodded, opening his arms. Y/N stepped into the hug and wrapped her arms around his torso, hands finding the nape of his neck. Dean’s hands had also instantly found their shelter around her body. They stayed in the position for a while. Y/N inhaled deeply quite a few times. The unforgettable scent of cinnamon and gunpowder hitting her and she let the tears fall as she let her guard down for the first time that night and Dean’s hold around her tightened. The sobs that left her, wrecked his heart. Each wail was like a dagger to his chest. He hated seeing her sad. He rested his chin on the top of her head, the familiar smell of her shampoo gave him whiplash as the memories of…everything queued up inside his head. But he still didn't know what had prompted her to show up at her place. “Y/N, sweetheart, can you look at me? I need you to look at me,” Dean murmured, “please.”

His voice washed over her and the sobbing turned into sniffles. She sniffled against the now wet, snot-covered spot on Dean’s tshirt before her red-rimmed, puffy eyes found his worried green ones. “‘M sorry,” she whimpered.

“Hey, shh, what're you sorry for? For ruining my shirt? Oh, I'll just bribe Sammy to do the laundry,” Dean grinned but the worry never left his eyes.

“I just—Dean, I'm sorry for…s-showing up tonight unannounced…I shouldn't have…what was I even thinkin’? Dean, I’ll—uh…see myself out.” Y/N said, and fidgeted in Dean’s grip but he was reluctant to let go. Not when she had just shown up a few minutes ago and broke down in his arms.

Dean said, “Stop, Y/N. Stop. It's alright. That's what best friends are for.” Nope, not letting you go this time.

“But…” Did you forget the part where we dated and broke up and vowed to never see each other again because it would break our hearts even more?

“No buts,” Dean said, as if he could read the thoughts in her head, “Whatever happened…happened. You were my best friend and you still are. If you need me, in a heartbeat, I'll be there for you. Do you understand that?” He glanced up, Jack if this is your doin’ because I pretty much dreamed about second chances last night then thanks, buddy.

Y/N nodded.

“Now let's go sit down. I'm gonna go find Sam and let him know you're here. And then we can go and kick some asses.” Dean gently guided her to his room in the bunker and sat her down on his bed, asking if she needed anything to drink, water or beer or anything to eat, knowing all they had was pie and a greasy two-days old burger in the freezer. They really needed to stock up their fridge more now they have started to live normal lives.

Y/N, though just asked for water.

Dean winked and said he would be back in a minute. And he was, with Sam in tow who had scooped her up in a giant hug. Oh, she had missed them.

“Hi, Sam. You look…different.” Y/N giggled at Sam in his formal clothes instead of the layers of plaid she was used to seeing on him. She had heard that the Winchesters had retired from hunting but seeing them bask in their post-retirement glory was astonishing.

“Yeah, had a makeover sorta, got myself a job and everything—”

“And a girlfriend,” Dean wiggled his brows and his brother blushed furiously. In between the conversation, Dean had handed Y/N a glass of water and sat down beside her on the bed.

She sipped on the water and hummed thoughtfully, “Who would have thought? Our little Sammy, all grown up!”

And for the first since her alarmingly sudden visit to the bunker, Y/N smiled.

“Oh shut up. Enough about me. Dean said something to me about kicking someone's asses. Do we have to bring out our hunting gear?” Y/N’s eyes widened at the question.

“No! Jesus, no guns. And no violence.” She warned the Winchesters.

“Can’t promise on the violence part, sweetheart!” Dean smirked. “So what happened?”

“Honestly. I think I'm good. It was a moment of…sadness but I'm oka—”

Dean cut her off, saying, “Y/N you were wailing. That was not nothing. Come on, tell us, we swear we'll be good.”

Y/N hesitated and Sam decided to put her out of her misery, “Whatever Dean says, if you don't feel comfortable in telling us. Don't tell.”

“Oh…” Dean sighed, “Yeah, I…I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You seriously don't have to tell us, if you're not up for it.”

“It's just not that,” she swallowed hard. It should be easy to tell them, right? They were her best friends. She took a deep breath and said, “The guy, I am…or rather was dating—” She felt Dean tense up beside her and Sam side-eyed his brother but she continued “-well, he was an asshole. A dickhead. A fucking son of a bitch.”

Sam chuckled. “That's quite a description.”

“Yeah. So I applied for this job in NYC and well…I got it—” her heart soared in her chest as she watched the brothers’ faces split into a huge grin “-but this moron of my ex-boyfriend decided to throw my insecurities to my face because he didn't want me to go to NYC.”

Now looking back, Y/N didn't know why she was sad. She was angry. No, she was pissed because how dare a pathetic little man order her around about whether or not she should work in New York. “He was worried that I wasn't too pretty for the NYC girls, that I was too soft to survive in a big city like New York—”

This time Dean chuckled. Because Y/N wasn't soft, she was a hunter. Born into a hunter family only to give it all up because she wanted a quieter life. But she knew how to fight, how to wield a gun. And she was pretty. Too pretty and even after four years of breaking up, Dean’s heart still skipped a beat when she called his name, looked at his face and he was still enamoured by her very existence.

“So I told him that I would leave his sorry ass,” Y/N’s lips trembled, “and he said it was going to be the best thing because I wasn't worth enough for him to fight for because I…I am ‘too much’ and I…I don't put an effort into being the woman a man wants, no…needs. And in that moment, I got so sad, I needed to see you. Because I missed you guys so much. I missed this where no one judged me or at least didn't use to until…well, I…yeah. So, this is how I showed up here.”

“You're always welcome here, Y/N. And I'm sorry, things haven't been…good for a few years but don't think for a second we will judge you or not let you back into our lives,��� Dean’s hands had snaked back around her waist, pulling her closer while she continued, “Well, he was kinda right. Don't you think? I talk too much. Sometimes I go on a ramble. I don't watch my diet—”

“That son of a bitch body-shamed you?” Dean was seething.

“Yeah. And he said, I was too much of a work to stay with. I have always been told that I'm too much of a work but it still hurts—”

Dean said, “Well the guy is an idiot. You aren't too much of a work, sweetheart.”

Y/N, this ain't gonna work. You want me. I want you but you don't want this hunting life while THIS hunting is my life. This relationship is going to be so much of a work and with Cain on the loose, I don't think I can put that much effort in this. Y/N gave Dean a soft smile, “I don't want to bring up old memories but you also said that, pretty much four years back.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “What the hell, Dean?”

“W-I? I was under the influence of the mark, Y/N and you knew it. I pushed away so many people. Letting you go was my biggest mistake. And I regret it because I still fucking love yo—” Dean’s mouth snapped shut.

And for the second time, Sam exclaimed, “What the hell, Dean?”

“Yo–love…what?” Y/N whispered.

Dean turned towards his brother, “Sammy.”

“Yeah.” Sam quickly stepped out of the room.

“Y/N. Letting you go was my biggest mistake and never calling you up was my biggest regret. I should have called because I still need you. And now I have this life. You know I start a new job next week? It's a construction but yeah. And it got me thinkin’ about you. Yeah. I was thinking how I fucked us over and never got to tell you the truth. I never got over us, you. I…I never wanted you to go—”

“I remember very clearly you throwing me out of the bunker and telling me never to contact you again. You know what, showing up tonight was my bigges—”

“Son of a bitch, I can't believe I'm fucking doin’ this,” Dean murmured.

“Wha–” The rest of the question turned into a squeak and Dean’s lips crashed into her. And then the thoughts crashed into him. Fuck.

Dean immediately jumped back from her. “I'm so sor—”

“If you dare to say sorry for this, I am telling Sammy to shoot you in your dick, asshole,” Y/N panted, “Fucking come, kiss me, you moron!”

“You sure? You just had a breakup and…”

Y/N looked at Dean, “I know. But Dean, I had kept loving you all along and maybe by some, heaven’s grace—”

“Jack’s grace.”

“Who’s Jack?”

“God. Well, new God. Jack had been living with us…its a long story for another time.”

“Yeah so, by Jack’s grace, maybe it's my second chance at being with you. Loving you.” Dean’s breath hitched at her words, “Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong.”

So he walked up to her, and pulled her into a loving kiss. It was soft, eager and…just like old times.

They separated but their foreheads touched as they panted for air. “Second chance?” Dean asked

Y/N nodded, “Second chance.”

He smiled, “This time I'll leave no stones unturned to make this work. Because Y/N, sweetheart, you are worth everything.”

Oh boy, I'm kinda rusty XD

Let me know your thoughts! Comments are highly appreciated!

[louloulemons-posts]

can you do a eddie fic where gets cursed by vecna or whatever and eddie is the only one with reader if you already havent? its alright if not though

Heaven

Eddie X Reader

Word Count : 0.6k

Warnings : Not proofread, 4am writing (she’s back 👹) vecna, billy, reader feels guilt, fluffy ending, like minor angst, petnames.

A/N : i’m so sorry this took so long! I’ve had the worst writers block, but hopefully i’m back now with many fics to come. Enjoy!

- Lou 🫶🏻

1K Celebration Found Here

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It couldn't end like this, you refused to let it end like this. Your head had been pounding for days, your nose running regularly, the inability to sleep had become a regular. It was just like Chrissy.

Vecna had targeted you, taking you back to the horrific things you'd experienced because of the upside down before. The demogorgons, demodogs, the night at the mall you so wished you could forget.

Your vision has gone fuzzy. Where were you?

The mall?

No that wasn't possible.

"Hello?" you called out.

There was no answer, nothing at all.

"Hello?"

"Y/N."

Jumping and turning quickly you saw, well you could only assume it was Vecna. The monster walked towards you.

"Please," you said softly.

"It's time. I can take it all away. How you left Max without a brother, the guilt you feel for him pushing you out of the way. Poor poor Billy," he taunted, his voice deep and vile.

Your skin was full of goosebumps, as you stepped back and hit something. Turning, you saw a familiar face.

"Billy?"

His big blue eyes were glossy, his skin covered in sickly black veins, covered in a thick layer of sweat.

“Billy I-“

“You did this,” he said, voice angry but face so numb of emotion.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry,” your eyes filled with tears, you didn’t want him to die for you.

“You just wanted Max for yourself, you’d always wanted a sister. So why not take mine right!” he shouted, pushing you back towards Vecna.

“No! No I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!” you cried.

“Liar!” he shoved you down on to the floor, the skinless beast grinned from above you.

“It’s time.”

His long fingers came towards you, grabbing hold of your face. “No!” you screamed kicking your legs to get away.

He was too strong. “No please! Please! Someone help!” you sobbed.

“Nobody can save you now Y/N, nobody but me. You let out a cry, this was how it was going to end. This was it.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. To your friends. Your family. Eddie. Oh Eddie. Your sweet boy.

“Goodbye Y/N.”

Oh thinkin’ about all our younger years

There was only you and me

We were young and wild and free

What was that?

You began to struggle again, wriggling your wrists against the vines that had appeared around them.

Vecnas eyes had rolled to the back of his head, meaning he didn’t notice when yours came swinging forward, headbutting him away.

The shock knocked him back, giving you time to wiggle out of the vines. Ripping them off you, you were up and sprinting towards an opening.

It looked like Eddies trailer. “Eddie!” You called out, seeing the familiar brown curls.

Baby your all that I want now

When you’re lyin’ here in my arms

I’m finding it hard to believe

We’re in heaven

You ran and ran, feeling the ground shake beneath you and heard a violent scream from the monster behind.

Large rocks began falling in your path and the ground began to crumble beneath your feet.

You had to make it, had to get back to him.

Now are dreams are comin’ true

Through the good times and the bad

Yeah I’ll be standin’ there by you, oh!

A large rock lifted behind you and before you’d even thought about it you were launching yourself over it and through to the trailer. To the boy you loved.

With a loud gasp of breath your body fell into Eddies arms. His huge frame wrapping around you, holding you to his chest.

“Thank god you’re okay,” he spoke into your hair, leaving a kiss there. He pulled back holding your face in his hands.

“I know I spoke badly about Bryan Adams, but he’s now my favourite artist ever.”

“Even more than Metallica?”

He let out a laugh, “Baby he saved your life.”

“No, Edward Munson, you did.” Standing on your tip toes you pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth.

“I love you.”

“I love you too Baby.”

You’re all that I want

You’re all that I need

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

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