#unforeseen incidents

[marshvlovestv]

One of the things I've done in my prep for Fluffuary is sort all the characters in the ships I'll be writing for this year by Myers-Briggs type and make a Powerpoint with all the different types grouped together. Believe it or not this really, really does help me with the creative process.

There are more ISTPs than any other type so I'll share that slide as an example and as a teaser:

Iselda and Cornifer are going to the circus :)

[quiltedlovers]

im not booktok’s intended audience and am a hashtag hater for many reasons but jack edwards is doing something right

[controld3vil]

the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole. 

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead. 

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle. 

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one. 

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification. 

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that. 

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts. 

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother. 

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding. 

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often. 

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper. 

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you. 

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes. 

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!” 

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.” 

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb. 

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially. 

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality. 

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob. 

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds. 

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?” 

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,” 

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy. 

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned. 

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier. 

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered. 

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you. 

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze. 

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage. 

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish. 

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are. 

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle. 

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential. 

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced. 

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies. 

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses. 

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship. 

“No,” 

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply. 

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying? 

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects. 

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,” 

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly. 

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.” 

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover. 

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen. 

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city. 

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another. 

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face. 

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king. 

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure.  You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this. 

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself. 

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire. 

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome. 

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.” 

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes. 

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you. 

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted bloodshed as much as him.

[sunderwight]

SV fic where Shen Yuan's status as a body-snatching entity is revealed before the Immortal Alliance Conference can happen.

Maybe the system suffers a glitch while some unforeseen side quest is active, and suddenly Shen Yuan's status is revealed and some of the other peak lords he's with seize the opportunity to exorcise his spirit and put Shen Jiu back in his place.

Shen Yuan has mixed feelings about this development, needless to say. On the one hand, it's kind of not actually that bad? He got caught out like a week away from the IAC and the necessary Abyss plotline, so at least like this, he's managed to give Luo Binghe a slightly better time on Qing Jing for the past few years and equip him more capably to survive the Abyss, but he also doesn't have to personally throw him down there. That's the silver lining.

On the other hand, everything else about this situation sucks! He got attached to his life as Shen Qingqiu, dammit! And now he's been revealed and branded as some kind of horrible demonic spirit thing, and he was rather painfully expelled (even though he wasn't even there willingly in the first place), and so he's been reduced to some a kind of sparkly ghost light hovering on the fringes of existence, highly susceptible to being harmed if any more righteous cultivators get it in their heads to disperse him!

Which is better than just being catapulted back into his rotting corpse in the other world, but not by as big of a margin as he'd like.

Basically, in terms of his ability to influence the world Shen Yuan has been downgraded back to "read only" status. He finds that he can manifest himself in places that he's already been, or around people he has a particular affinity towards, but they can't perceive him and he can't communicate or even do much more than some minor poltergeist type activity. Which he is cautious about anyway, because if he gets caught around Shen Jiu, Shen Jiu is going to disperse him with extra prejudice.

Unfortunately, nearly everything Shen Yuan cares about is in Shen Jiu's orbit.

So he can only watch, metaphorically gritting his teeth as the newly-restored Shen Qingqiu kicks Luo Binghe out of the bamboo house, burns all the bridges that Shen Yuan painstakingly rebuilt for him, refuses point blank to let Liu Qingge help with Without-a-Cure, resumes and even begins taking more frequent trips to the nearest brothels, and neglects his duties to turn into a paranoid wreck as if he half-expects Shen Yuan to steal his body back from him the next time he lets his guard down. Corporal punishment spikes back up on Qing Jing Peak.

Shen Yuan is surprised to hear the whispers of dissent, even so. A spirit possessing a righteous cultivator is a pretty damning incident, and there's no way that he could come out of it smelling like roses. And yet, even though his -- Shen Qingqiu's disciples know enough to be circumspect about saying anything of the sort, there are still murmurs and rumblings about how things used to run, not too long ago.

Ming Fan quiets any such talk as soon as he hears it. Ning Yingying scarcely seems to know how to respond to the situation, except to sometimes plaintively insist that she hadn't even noticed much change between Shen Qingqiu's at all. But Luo Binghe...

Well.

Whenever there are mutterings, it often seems as though Binghe is there. Nodding. Whispering. Carefully putting forth suggestions that others barely seem to recognize as suggestions. Shen Yuan only notices because he knows what Binghe's capable of when he decides to be manipulative, and even he finds himself wondering if it's not just a coincidence, something he's imagining, because Luo Binghe hasn't even blackened through his Abyss arc yet.

Even so, there he is, musing carefully on how strange it was that he's heard that Hong Jing hadn't identified any untoward presence in Shen Qingqiu before, how Shizun had never done anything bad to the peak despite all the claims that he'd supposedly been possessed by a malicious entity for years, and wasn't this new Shen Qingqiu acting much more suspicious? Much more malicious? Isn't is the new Shizun who jumps at shadows and talks to people who aren't there, and seems so uneasy in his own skin?

If one had to guess which version was an unstable monster possessing a human's body, and which was the righteous and noble peak lord... ah, well. It's just surprising, isn't it? Luo Binghe would of course never suggest that this new Shen Qingqiu was in actuality the being that had stolen someone else's place. He's surely never second guess the judgment of the peak lords, who claim to have let an interloper among them for YEARS in total ignorance. It's just something to think about.

Alas for Binghe, though a lot of the peak seems inclined to agree with him, he can't win over enough to inspire anything worse than discontent. The "new" Shen Qingqiu does behave a lot more like the one that most of the Qing Jing knew prior to his qi deviation, after all, and it's no mystery why Luo Binghe -- spurned former favorite, now back to being at the bottom of the pecking order -- would be unhappy with the change. Shen Yuan appreciates that this is at least doing a good job of setting up Luo Binghe's altered opinion on his shizun, and he's touched that he made a good enough impression for Binghe to be mad about the sudden regression, but he wishes he could tell Binghe that there's simply nothing to be done about it. That is the real Shen Qingqiu, and Binghe ought to concern himself more with the upcoming conference!

At least, despite being kicked out of the bamboo house, Luo Binghe managed to farm enough good opinion with some of the other disciples during his tenure as Favorite that he doesn't go back to sleeping in the woodshed. Without Shen Qingqiu expressly demanding it, no one would dare, just in case Luo Binghe might regain his status one day. There seems to be an awareness that "evil" Shizun would have made them run laps, but "good" Shizun would now probably whip them half to death in a fit of temper. No one wants to take chances.

Finally, the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around. Shen Yuan can only watch and cheer Binghe on as best as he's able to, even knowing the probable outcome. And Binghe does so well! He fights bravely but also smartly. When Shen Qingqiu arrives, Binghe doesn't lose an ounce of his caution, though he does still nobly defend his master even though the good feelings between them have dried up. He correctly identifies Without-a-Cure's flare up and silently helps compensate for Shen Jiu's weakness, and sticks by him even though the Original Goods is hardly appreciative.

When the Abyss opens up, and Luo Binghe's demonic seal is broken, Shen Qingqiu seems almost relieved to have this information brought to light. He accuses Luo Binghe not only of orchestrating the invasion of demons at the conference, but of arranging fro Shen Jiu to be replaced too.

"Of course, for a demon like you, summoning some wicked force into this master's body would be easy!" he spits.

Luo Binghe looks bowled over by the accusation. But rather than defending himself, he latches onto it as if it might be some kind of lifeline.

"For a demon like this one... it would be possible?" he echoes.

Shen Jiu hurls more accusations. Of course it is. Luo Binghe is not just any demon, but the most powerful, dangerous, and destructive sort there is. Little is beyond the scope of a Heavenly Demon's power, or wretchedness. Luo Binghe must have uncovered his heritage and seen a convenient means of ridding himself of an inconvenient master. Wherever that horrid spirit is now, it's probably just waiting for the next chance to leap back in at Luo Binghe's call!

"Shizun's spirit... that spirit from before, it still exists?" Luo Binghe catches.

"As if you don't know. Beast. Even the sect leader could not destroy your minion completely," Shen Jiu sneers.

"And it would be within my abilities to put it back in your body. Instead of you."

"You won't get the chance."

Shen Jiu stabs Luo Binghe before throwing him into the Abyss. Binghe fights back, but he seems reluctant to injure his shizun, even now.

Shen Yuan supposes that such reluctance won't survive the Abyss. Still, it's emotional for him. That such a little kindness could cause Luo Binghe to hesitate, even at this point, it really speaks to the resilience of hope in Binghe's heart.

Shen Yuan's little ghost light almost follows him down. But the Abyss would be too dangerous for him, even as he is now. He'd be a little mote of spiritual energy, easily gobbled up by any number of creatures in that place, if he wasn't just swept up by the chaotic ambient energies themselves. So he can only stay behind and think some very colorful swear words in Shen Jiu's general direction, until the rift closes and leaves no trace of Luo Binghe behind, except for the shards of Zheng Yang.

The shards are left behind. Shen Yuan finds that he has a little bit of spiritual storage space. Just enough to maybe fit all of them, so he goes and painstakingly uses his limited powers to lift up each piece and drop it in. It takes him hours and hours, but luckily the clean-up of the whole disaster is something that will take months. No one seems inclined to go reclaim Luo Binghe's shattered blade or risk getting too close to the remnants of the rift, even closed. So, Shen Yuan manages.

The next few years prove difficult. Shen Yuan finds that it's hard to retain his presence in the world. His little spirit has dampened considerably, and few things seem to perk him back up. He has more troubles following anyone who isn't Shen Jiu now that Binghe is in the Abyss, and Shen Jiu is depressing as hell to spend time around. He's rotten with kids, sucks at teaching, he has no friends, his health is deteriorating, and Shen Yuan has no interest in seeing what he gets up to in the brothels.

But Binghe is definitely coming back, and Shen Yuan wants to see him again.

His patience is rewarded the first time he finds his consciousness drifting, only to snap back to awareness in a place that's not Qing Jing Peak. He instead finds that he's in an unfamiliar patch of wilderness along a river, watching as Luo Binghe fights a small pack of demonic beasts.

It's definitely not the Endless Abyss. Has it been five years already...? Shen Yuan hadn't thought so, but then again, he's not the best at keeping track of time in this state.

Luo Binghe defeats the beasts, but they land more hits and wound him worse than Shen Yuan would have anticipated. The wounds aren't healing as quick as they should either. Was Binghe poisoned? Or is this a remnant of Shen Yuan's own poor teaching, the clumsiness in sword practice he never totally managed to correct leading somehow to this?

He gets it when Qin Wanyue and several other Huan Hua cultivators show up, however, and Luo Binghe manages to play the righteous cultivator who just survived a harrowing battle role to the hilt. It takes him very little effort to get the Huan Hua disciples to take him back with them and help "patch him up", and soon enough Shen Yuan has front row seats to watch as Binghe ingratiates himself with the sect.

Mostly, Shen Yuan is just relieved to confirm that Binghe did indeed survive, and glad that he's out of the horrible Abyss and in a place where he can rest and eat decent meals and be fawned over by his well-deserved admirers. Though Luo Binghe seems colder even than Shen Yuan expected, especially in some places where a bit of charm would serve him better. He declines outright to address the Palace Master as "shizun", even though he accepts the offer to stay as a guest disciple at Huan Hua Palace, and he is abrupt and aloof towards both Qin Wanyue and the Little Palace Mistress, despite their obvious interest in him.

Binghe doesn't seem to sleep as soundly as he should either. At night he often brings out a dream stone, which Shen Yuan recognizes as an amplification tool from the novel, but it seems that whatever Binghe is trying to search for with it is beyond his reach. Sometimes Shen Yuan imagines he can hear his disciple's voice calling Shizun at night. But always, Binghe is asleep, and there's no one in Huan Hua Palace he has deigned to address like that anyway. It's a trick of his own imagination, missing the days when Luo Binghe could call out and he himself could answer.

Things go mostly according to the plot, with a few disruptions here and there. Luo Binghe seems to be lagging behind on the romantic subplots, but rushing ahead on the vendetta against his old teacher. The Trial of Shen Qingqiu takes place at Jinlan City, with demon instigators who work for Luo Binghe accusing the peak lord of colluding with demons and setting him up to seem like he was involved in the sower attack. Shen Yuan knows, from watching Binghe, that the sower thing was mostly taking advantage of an existing situation to frame Shen Qingqiu. Binghe himself didn't have anything to do with Jinlan's suffering, but is obviously not above using it to his advantage.

Combined with Qiu Haitang's testimony, Shen Qingqiu is arrested and locked up where Luo Binghe can torture and dismember him at will.

However, Binghe... doesn't do that?

Instead he swiftly relocates Shen Qingqiu to a prison in the demon realms, and seems to abandon his concerns with Huan Hua Palace and the righteous cultivation sects altogether. He just leaves them to fight it out amongst themselves, as if he's got no concern with who comes out on top, and in the meanwhile he keeps Shen Qingqiu locked up but surprisingly well-treated?

Despite Shen Qingqiu's obvious terror and vitriol towards him, Luo Binghe forces him to eat nutritious meals, and attends to his health problems, and makes no move to injure him at all. He has nothing good to say to Shen Jiu, but he doesn't hurt him. Yet there is something distinctly weird about the whole dynamic, not at all like someone who has decided to keep a prisoner under ethical conditions for moral reasons or something like that.

Shen Yuan's not sure what to make of it.

In the end, Shen Jiu himself illuminates the situation.

It happens after Shen Jiu has rejected food. Luo Binghe tuts and asks if Shen Jiu suspects it would be poisoned. Shen Jiu sneers at him.

"I know it isn't," he says. "You wouldn't poison this body. I know what you're after."

"Oh? Wise Master Shen figured out this much?" Binghe replies, dry as the fucking desert.

"You're keeping me in this condition because you want to put that thing back in my body!" Shen Jiu accuses.

It takes Shen Yuan a moment to realize that Shen Jiu is referring to him. That he thinks Luo Binghe is keeping him fit and healthy for Shen Yuan's sake.

Wouldn't that be going too far just for some old teacher who was nice?! Yes, he knows that he made an impact on Luo Binghe, but it wasn't hard! Shen Jiu set the bar at the earth's crust, clearing it hardly required the kind of effort or devotion that would inspire an entire elaborate scheme purely on Shen Yuan's behalf!

He can't believe it.

But, Binghe doesn't deny it.

In fact he smiles, his expression somehow conveying that Shen Jiu guessed perfectly correct, but also that there's no good it can do him. Binghe has never looked so much like a piece of PIDW fanart before, with some dark and potent rage simmering just beneath the veneer of his placid smile.

"Shizun should not be referred to so impolitely," Luo Binghe counters. "If anyone in this room is a thing, it is this usurper in front of me."

"Usurper?! In my own body? You're mad."

Binghe tuts.

Master Shen should understand that his claim is contested. After all, if one woman gives birth to a child but then casts it into a river to die, but another fishes the babe out and cradles it to her breast -- which woman deserves to be called that child's mother? Just because Shen Jiu was born into that body, doesn't mean he deserves it more than anyone else.

But even if he did, Luo Binghe wouldn't care. He would kill to get his Shizun back. This isn't really so different from that, is it? And there is no love lost between him and Shen Jiu to make him hesitate. If his Shizun disagrees, he may disciple Binghe as he sees fit once he returns.

Shen Jiu points out that Luo Binghe's machinations have ruined his reputation. Even if he gets that creature to possess his body again, there's no way that they could infiltrate Cang Qiong Sect a second time.

But Binghe waves off his concerns. He clearly has thought of this, and has plans for it, but is also not about to be stupid enough to monologue any more at Shen Jiu. Once he leaves, Shen Yuan lingers for a little while, and notices that Shen Jiu actually seems genuinely concerned about what might happen to the sect if Luo Binghe succeeds and gets Shen Yuan put back on Qing Jing Peak.

Of course, Shen Yuan knows he wouldn't actually do anything to harm Cang Qiong, but Shen Jiu doesn't. This is the first time Shen Yuan has seen him actually reveal shades of what might be called a noble impulse.

It's not much, but... sigh.

The thing is, Shen Yuan doesn't really want to steal anybody's body! No one consulted with him the first time it happened! And they sure aren't consulting with him now, either, although to be fair they can't. But he might just have enough ability as a little ghost light to stave off some of this whole process, and he's got to decide if he wants to try. Or if he'll let Binghe have his way, and succeed in pushing Shen Jiu back out and giving Shen Yuan his life again.

Because Binghe will definitely succeed if he really does try. That's how the world works.

And if he did... that might be the only way for Shen Yuan to get his life as Shen Qingqiu back. Which he does want, desperately! He misses it. He misses it both in the general sense of having a body at all, but also in the particular sense of all the things he managed to attain as Qing Jing Peak Lord. As Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Jiu, also, makes a very tempting sacrifice in all this. Shen Yuan frankly hates his guts. Maybe it could have been different, but the fact that Shen Yuan worked so hard to try and make that life better, only for Shen Jiu to just go right back to being an intractable asshole who, frankly, should never be in charge of children ever, rankles! He went right back to mistreating Luo Binghe as well, and threw him into the Abyss, and if Binghe's plan was to violently kill him again as revenge for that then Shen Yuan wouldn't fault him. He didn't fault him the first time. He wasn't going to fault him even when it seemed like he would be the one Binghe was destined to rip apart in justified vengeance.

This is different, though. Shen Yuan wants to fight for the life he longs to be living, especially now when the axe of the Abyss is no longer hanging over him.

But is he willing to actually become the thing everyone else decided he was in order to get it? A body-snatching, malicious spirit?

Shen Jiu is horribly unsuited to his life as Shen Qingqiu. But, it is still his life. Shen Yuan really just managed to borrow it for a while.

Deep down he knows that, even if he would like to ignore it.

So when Binghe finally sets up the ceremony, and Shen Yuan's soul is called back into Shen Qingqiu's body, he hesitates. Shen Jiu is poised like a snarling, wounded animal within the confines of his own body. Even the gentlest tap would knock him back out again. Shen Yuan gets the sense that the system is also there, just waiting and even eager for him to do it. Take back the body, resume whatever quests or directives are waiting for him there.

Shen Yuan, even as fragile as his own spirit is, could crush Shen Jiu's battered soul to dust.

Instead he withdraws.

Binghe tries the ritual again, and again, and each time Shen Yuan feels stronger. But it doesn't matter, because he doesn't want to be an evil body-stealing parasite! He wishes he could just tell Binghe to stop wasting valuable resources on this, especially when Binghe could be focusing on other, more important things! Like building up happy relationships or consolidating his rule of the demon realms or establishing an actual strong foothold in the human world, or something!

Somehow, Shen Jiu figures this out before Luo Binghe does. Of course, he conveys the information in the worst way possible, snidely wondering what Luo Binghe did to alienate "that creature" he's trying so hard to resurrect so badly that it will refuse even the open, glowing invitation he keeps writing for it!

Excuse you, you miserable old man, Shen Yuan isn't avoiding Binghe! He is facing a very difficult moral dilemma and handling it LIKE A CHAMP! Fuck you!

Unfortunately, even though Shen Jiu has decided that Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan were in cahoots about the first body snatch, Luo Binghe knows that they weren't. He also doesn't know that his old Shizun knew full well that he was a Heavenly Demon the whole time. So now he has a lot of doubts to wrestle with, especially give that, despite the consensus of the rest of the world, Luo Binghe is not convinced that Shen Yuan actually is some kind of demonic spirit.

Maybe he's a good spirit that has rejected Binghe for his wretched blood?

But Shizun always said that things like that didn't matter!

So... maybe it's not his blood. Maybe Binghe's actions are what has caused Shizun to forsake him. All the terrible things he did to survive the Abyss, and the machinations afterwards, framing Shen Qingqiu and imprisoning him, setting himself up as a demonic ruler... all of that.

Binghe entreats his Shizun to forgive him. Or even if he won't forgive him, to still come back. Binghe will... stay away, if that's what Shizun wants. Just so long as Shizun is alive, is somewhere in the world, safe and happy, then... then...

He can't quite get through lying to claim that it would be enough. But it would be better than the current situation, so he tries.

Shen Yuan, luckily, has been juiced up enough from all the failed summoning rituals that later that night, he finally recognizes the little whisper-calls as echoes of Luo Binghe's dreams. And he's strong enough to follow the invitations! He goes to visit Binghe in his dreams, and reassures him that he's not trying to reject him at all. He's very proud of Binghe, and wants him to be happy and successful. Binghe could rule the world and Shizun would just cheer him on!

It's just that Shen Yuan never willingly possessed Shen Qingqiu in the first place. He misses his life, but given the choice, he doesn't want to be that kind of entity.

So, new plan -- if Shen Yuan won't take a body off of an undeserving asshole, then Binghe will make him a new body! Luckily, Shen Yuan knows a way to grow one. They "borrow" some genetic materials from Shen Jiu to aid the process, and then Luo Binghe, surprisingly indifferent about the whole thing, cuts Shen Jiu loose at the border.

Shen Yuan is surprised. Binghe really doesn't care about that? Turns out no, not so much. Shen Jiu is awful, but he's nothing to Binghe in the long run. (Also it's a long shot but if nothing else does work Binghe might have to force Shen Yuan to take Shen Qingqiu's body back, though of course he's not about to say so, and anyway Shen Jiu is still going to have a hell of a time waiting for him back in the cultivation world. Luo Binghe wishes him luck and every pleasure of trying to clear his ruined name, living a life on the lamb with an insidious poison constantly eating away at him, or the full enjoyment of a second visit to the water prison, whichever ends up happening.)

With the help of Luo Binghe's blood parasites, the Sun and Moon Dew whatever mushroom body grows in record time. A summoning ritual isn't even required, Shen Yuan just scoots right in as soon as the body is ready and blinks his eyes open to see his anxious disciple's face peering back at him.

Happily ever after!

[scarletcomalies]

soul bounds intertwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Part I, Part II

Word count: 5,864

Warnings: Ghosting, public confrontation and fighting, Billy being an idiot. 18+ content, degrading, pet names, magic strap that Wanda can feel as if it's real, blowjob (W. receiving), oral (R. Receiving), strap-on usage (R. receiving), taking Polaroid pictures while doing it, slapping, overstimulation, fingering, squirting aftercare.

Taglist: @alexawynters @ageofolsen @imjustvibingsworld @huggingkoalas @unadulteratedballoonduck @megsheather @kimiisims-blog @morganismspam23 @reginassweetheart @vyvvycg @cindyangelicss @newyork1432 @imaginaryblogger01 @sleepless-cloudy @starryskiesandboys

A/N: This is it. I cannot begin to express how unbelievably happy it makes me to see all the love you gave to this trilogy 🥹 I also had a good laugh as I read the frustrated reblogs on part II MWAHAHA!!! Hope you like this last one part. Thank you 3000 once again. 💓

Following the incidents at the Maximoff residence, you thought that Wanda had completely cut you out of her life. However, a few months later, she reached out to you, pulling you into a situation that would lead to unforeseen twists and turns.

You couldn't recall the last time you ran as if your life depended on it.

Your best guess was when you accidentally set the treadmill to 24 kilometers per hour, and while you were figuring out where the button to slow down was, you had to keep that pace so as not to fall.

However, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins the instant Wanda laid her hands and lips on you for the first time, followed by her command for you to leave, was so inmense that it was no wonder your body mistook it for danger, screaming for you to escape immediately.

And you obeyed, running to your car as if Wanda was chasing you with a knife, determined to snatch your destiny and your future in a matter of seconds, when in reality, she remained static. She didn't move an inch from where she left you, but her gaze haunted you all the way home.

You could still feel it piercing right at the back of your mind, causing this sensation to send unconscious impulses to your body, such as occasionally checking the backseat through the rearview mirror, when you knew there was no one but you in the car.

You scarcely noticed when you arrived at your apartment or when you collapsed onto your bed. Your mind was too tangled in a whirlwind of confusion and shock to be mindful of your own actions.

What did this mean for you and Wanda? Was there any way to turn back from this? Questions raced through your mind, but one fact stood amongst all of those uncertainties: things would never be the same again.

Three long months where your mind pirouetted through endless what-ifs.

What if you had turned down Billy's advances from the start? What if you had been more discreet about taking those photographs? What if you had never blurted out the confession Wanda had forced from you? What if you had stayed, on your knees, begging for her forgiveness, instead of running away as though your feelings were a crime?

Despite your mind's endless wanderings, your thoughts unavoidably drifted back to the same place; her lips on yours, like a forbidden fruit that was worth all of your sinning.

Oh, how intoxicatingly wet they felt, how expertly her tongue and hands managed to cast a spell of desire that tormented your very existense, driving you to a fervor that dangerously danced on the edge of madness.

And so you made Herculean efforts with words, devoting at least two hours each week to finding new ways to let Wanda know that you never intended for this situation to escalate like it did, yet none succeeded reaching to her distant heart.

It was painfully clear that just one response from her could end this torment, yet she played a cruel game of a calculated and well-deserved revenge.

She didn't block you. That would have been a closure, a clear statement she wanted nothing more to do with you. Instead, she left you on read immediately, ensuring there was no doubt she was ignoring you. She left you hanging on a thread of false hope, teasing you with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it'll be different next time.

Her behavior was akin to that of a prepotent God, relishing in the power to decide whether to answer the prayers of her humble believers or subject them to the agony of her indifference.

It took you long enough to realize you wouldn't have any of it anymore. You dared to test the predictability of her cruel game, refusing to give her power over you any longer.

Fortunately for you, in the third month since you last saw her —from which a month and a half you spent without writing to her— you received a call from her.

You let it go to voicemail twice, so as not to seem too eager to hear from her, and finally called her back the next day.

"Oh, so fast you were answering my calls before, and now you want to play hard?" Was the first thing she said to you.

You rolled your eyes.

How dare she protest for it when she had you drifting and yearning for so long?

"What do you need?" You asked in as neutral a tone as possible. You weren't going to answer in annoyance, or it would mean you were still affected by this whole situation.

"You're going to show up at the meeting Tony Stark organized, at the Avengers Compound, remember it was a pending thing?" It wasn't a request, it was an order. "This time, I'm bringing the boys, and you're going to tell Billy everything. Everything, (Y/N)."

You scoffed, both indignant and surprised. The latter due to the fact that Wanda might not have told Billy about what had happened.

"You never told him yourself?" You inquired, curiosity getting the better of you.

"I don't have the heart to tell him," she replied. "But I suppose you do, since you had the heart to do what you did."

You were going to justify yourself immediately, but stopped midtracks. You weren't going to sound like a broken record, repeating the same old story to her again.

"And if I refuse?" You challenged her.

"I can ruin things for you beyond repair," Wanda responded confidently. "Your career, your reputation, you name it. Don't underestimate what I'm capable of when pushed."

Her words cut through any defiance you might have felt, leaving you defeated and humiliated, just like that night.

Maybe it was abuse of power, but you brought this upon yourself, and she just wanted to make sure you paid for hurting someone she loved. You would have done the same, and you adored her even more for that.

At your silence, she added, "And bring all the photographs you took of me. I don't want to give you the pleasure of having a single trace of me after this."

And that's how you ended up at the Avengers Compound, Upstate New York.

If your nerves weren't consuming your stomach like a potent acid burner, you would have appreciated much more the fresh air outside the building, and how silence finally prevailed in your surroundings, the hectic sounds of the crowded city now long gone.

"Ready?" Kate asked, looking at you with a sheepish, concerned look once she pulled the handbrake.

"Yeah," you replied amidst a deep breath that you didn’t even know for how long you’ve been holding.

While you both stepped out of Kate’s car, the weight of your hand purse almost pulled you back into the seat, knowing that two things in there held the delicate fate of your relationship with Wanda and of your career.

It contained your lipstick, your phone, and all the photographs, along with a letter that would be a last attempt to clear things up.

At the front door, a female voice through a screen asked for your name and Kate's, and once it was given, she replied: "You're on the list. Welcome, (Y/N) and Kate."

You held your hand purse tightly, as you walked to the elevator and Kate pressed the floor's button. The only audible sound on the way upstairs was the click of your heel anxiously tapping against the floor, and your heavy breathing.

"Easy, you find Billy, tell him, 'Hey, I liked your mom all this time, you just were delusional,' give the pictures and letter to Wanda, take my car, and get out," Kate tried to cheer you up, making it sound as simple as she was telling it, when to you, it was a life-or-death feat.

You laughed more out of commitment than anything else.

There was no point in contradicting her words if the elevator opened within two seconds of her finishing her sentence.

You spotted Wanda almost immediately.

She was standing near the entrance, her posture rigid, and her eyes immediately fixed on you with an intensity that could burn a hole right through you and all the walls of the building together. The way she looked at you so quickly revealed that she was watching the elevator every time it opened, waiting for you.

Kate patted you on the back, and headed off to where Yelena would be.

Lucky her, she would spend the night with her girlfriend, while you were anticipating to drown in your own tears before falling asleep, knowing that you had ruined any chance with the first person who had set a warming fire in your heart, now a conflagration of despair and yearning.

With every step you took her way, your legs felt like they might give out beneath you, but you forced yourself to keep moving, closing the distance between you and Wanda.

"Wanda", you greeted her and nodded in acknowledgement of the person she was talking to. You recognized him immediately from the old pictures rummaging online of Wanda and her ex-partner. Despite his imposing figure, he was just a blurry silhouette that you didn't bother to focus on until you had him in front of you. "Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N).”

"Ah, (Y/N)," he exclaimed with a smile. "I'm Vision, Tommy and Billy's father. I'm pleased you could make it. The boys are over there at the middle table."

"That's a good idea," Wanda said. "Why don't you go with Billy? I'm sure you have a lot to discuss."

You tried to resist rolling your eyes at her sarcastic statement.

"I would prefer to speak with you first," you replied, failing to maintain eye contact with her, still appearing like a nervous lamb.

"I will consider it, after you do what I asked," she replied, turning her attention back to Vision as a way to cut conversation. The latter appeared perplexed, but perhaps Wanda would prefer to avoid the situation or lie about it, which you thanked.

Your steps towards Billy's table felt lighter, which indicated that you were far more concerned about exchanging a simple greeting with Wanda than you were about confessing to Billy that your feelings were for his mother and not him. Once again, it was evident that you cared about her more than you ever did for Billy.

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Billy greeted you with a smile, moving quickly to embrace you. "Oh, I missed you so much. What happened? My mom said you and her had an argument, but never specified why, and always gets pissed off when I ask her."

You reciprocated the embrace, unconsciously offering an apology in advance for what were going to be your next words.

"Hi," you replied, giving him a light touch on the back. “Uhm, that’s true, actually, that’s why I’m—"

"Hi, you," Tommy approached you before you could reply, and offered you a less invasive hug than his brother’s. "You know? I recently saw the infamous Kate Bishop,” he chuckled.

You joined him in laughter, appreciating his presence as a source of comfort. This brief conversation felt like a stop to the train of thought that was threatening to run over you.

"If you would like, I can arrange an introduction," you offered him, shrugging briefly. "Not with that intention, of course, but you would gain a friend. A great one."

"I'm game for new friends, always," he agreed, taking a sip of his beverage. You proceeded to walk with Tommy following you, and you noticed that Billy was completely ignored by both of you, being left behind sitting at the table by himself.

What if, during the lively twenty-minute conversation between you, Tommy, Kate, and Yelena, you had taken just half a minute to ask him to join? Everything would have been different.

"Excuse me," your smile faded and your voice trembled when your gaze fell on Billy. He had the letter in his hands and all the photographs scattered all over the table.

You had left your hand purse on there, and it was inevitable that Billy would be so curious to look through it.

A lump formed in your throat as you watched helplessly as he examined the contents of the letter with increasing astonishment.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest when you realized that he had discovered your deepest secret, and you no longer had a chance to find a way to reveal it in the less hurtful way that could ever occur to you. That possibility slipped like sand through your fingers.

You rushed towards the table. Every step you took felt like torture. As if you were running a ten-kilometer marathon instead of crossing a few metres.

“Billy…” you breathed, a whisper so barely audible that you hoped it would vanish in the air before the inevitable storm swept through.

His fingers trembled on the vertical edges of the piece of paper, now mostly crumbled by the force with which he held it.

Billy Maximoff had always lived in the shadow of his mother’s fame and his twin brother's effortless charm. In that dim corner, he was often overlooked.

Therefore, when he saw your letter, where you expressed regret for using Billy to reach his mother, but admitted you felt no remorse for how her lips had kissed yours with such fervor that night after the bonfire, it struck him like a frigid, merciless wave crashing over him, leaving him breathless and reeling.

A guttural, angry growl erupted from his throat, resonating with such intensity that it caught the attention of everyone present, including Wanda.

Subsequently, he threw the photographs all over the floor, scattering them like autumn leaves blown by a tempest.

His eyes, once filled with affection, now burned with betrayal as they landed on you. However, what caused an icy tendril of fear to coil around your stomach was those sacred photographs, completely exposed for others to see.

You took a step to retrieve the photographs, but a firm hand clasped around your arm, making you gasp in protest, but overall, disbelief. His grip was a desperate, silent warning for you to confront the shattered trust before you, instead of safeguarding your own dignity.

"How could you do this to me?" He questioned. He breathed heavily, each choppy exhale escaping through trembling lips. His brows furrowed in anguish, adorned the torment in his glassy eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. All you could do was stand there, frozen, as now Billy's eyes were just one of the many pairs that fixated on you.

"Answer me!" Billy’s voice echoed through the room.

"I'm so sorry, Billy," you whispered, but the words felt shallow and inadequate.

Wanda's eyes bore into you from across the room, her expression unreadable, yet you knew she was waiting for the fallout.

Billy shook his head, as he laughed sarcastically.

“’Sorry’? Really?” His voice climbed in pitch, raw with fury. “You used me. You lied to me. And for what? To get close to my mom? MY MOM! HOW FUCKING SICK IS THAT?”

You turned around, your gaze sweeping over the room, and the collective shock on everyone’s faces nearly made you crumble right there.

But before you could fully grasp the gravity of their reactions, Billy grabbed your face with a tight grip, and pulled you closer, forcing you to look back at him, demanding your full attention.

“Look at me,” he rasped, his voice breaking with pain. “This is about the pain you caused me, not them.”

Kate, who had been watching every moment with a readiness to intervene and protect you if necessary, rushed to you both in alarm as soon as Billy’s hands gripped your face so violently.

With a sudden, forceful motion, she wrenched Billy’s hands away from you.

“You're fucking done, you hear me, asshole?” Kate hissed, towering over him as she created a protective barrier between you and Billy.

The latter whimpered in pain, a sound that spurred Wanda into action, her own distress evident as she rushed forward.

“That's enough!” Wanda exclaimed, a red wisp of magic surrounding Kate's hand and Billy's wrist in order to prevent her to cause him more pain. In consequence, Kate clenched her jaw in defeat, for she knew better than to defy someone as powerful as Wanda Maximoff.

You didn’t even notice when Natasha Romanoff appeared at your side, wrapping her arm around you with a firm, yet gentle hold.

“You’ve explained yourself,” the redhead said softly, her voice felt like the calm amidst the storm. “Let him handle the truth on his own. Let’s go…”

You were about to comply, the pull of Natasha's presence giving you the courage to leave everything behind for good.

But Billy’s last, scathing remark stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh, great! So now Mommy’s going to fix everything for me?” He snapped. “Isn’t that just perfect? Always stepping in to save the day while I get to deal with the mess you made!”

Her eyes widened in a heart-shattering mixture of confusion and sorrow. Her features altogether conformed what could be best described as the ultimate portrait of devastation.

No wonder. The sole purpose of forcing you to confess your mistakes to Billy was so you could face the consequences, and leavr you with a heavy conscience, never once imagining that she would be cast as a villain in her own son’s eyes.

And even though Wanda blatantly defended her son against your best friend —who was, in turn, protecting you from Billy’s wrath—, you couldn’t fight against the sympathy at such a heartache.

"Billy, I consider you a very dear friend, and I never meant to hurt you," you spoke up, stepping next to Wanda, implicitly offering her your inconditional support. “But my feelings for Wanda... they were never meant to deceive or harm you. I understand if you can't forgive me, but please know that it’s not her fault.”

"I think it's best if we all take a moment to breathe," Vision interjected calmly, stepping forward. "Emotions are high right now, and we need clarity to understand each other." His calm voice stood out against the atmosphere around you.

You knew that he and Wanda had drifted apart due to the demands of their lives; his Avenger missions and her career had led them in different directions. Their breakup was friendly, a mutual recognition that their paths no longer matched. Still, it was impressive how Vision maintained his composure, given the situation's nature.

Wanda nodded in agreement.

"Billy, let's talk privately. This isn't something we should handle in front of everyone."

“Oh, yes, that’s because you don’t want your superhero friends to know how you kissed (Y/N) right after I went to sleep that night, isn't that right?” He scoffed.

Although you didn't turn to check everyone's reaction, you could perfectly picture the shock once more evident on their faces, now at the possibility that maybe Wanda felt the same.

But unlike last time, where everyone decided to remain silent and play dumb, Tony spoke up from the table, “So what, kid? Good for them, now move the fuck on,” he groaned, his voice dripping with irritation that his friendly reunion had turned into a whole drama show.

“I did it to force her to confess,” Wanda justified. “And to punish her for hurting you.”

Billy’s gaze was skeptical, as he raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel anything when you did that.”

Wanda’s resolve fell apart at that very question. Her eyes flickered away from his intense stare, enough to confirm what Billy had feared all along.

You were overpowered by a bliss so intense it seemed to permeate every fiber of your being, immediately making you forget the pain and despair that took place these last months.

“See?” Billy’s voice rose. “I wanted a chance to be happy, to be seen for once, and you took that away from me," he choked out, his voice breaking.

“Oh, Billy, I can’t take away what you didn’t have in the first place,” she scoffed. Her sadness was now replaced by a fierce anger.

She always felt exasperated at how her son had consistently drowned himself in self-pity, ever since he made the decision to age-skip. This wasn't the first time he manipulated every situation to fit his narrative. And this was the last straw for her.

“Ohhh, you think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you?” He spat, stepping close to her. “DON'T YOU?” And in a sudden outburst, Billy shoved Wanda with a force that sent her crashing to the floor.

The room gasped collectively at his gesture, and that was when everyone decided to take action instead of just being mere expectants.

You dropped to your knees, feeling both worried and enraged. The intensity of your indignation seemed to be making the ground beneath you tremble.

How could Billy not recognize the suffering he was causing to his own mother? Why was his need for validation bigger than his capacity to rationalize?

Tommy Maximoff: Yelena and I watched everything escalate so quickly, and we agreed not to get involved if we didn't have to. My father, Natasha and Kate were alert, and my mother has dealt with a thousand times worse than some whiny college boy (pauses) but seeing how that idiot pushed my mother, and wanted to degrade her like that?! All of a sudden, my fist collided with his face.

Tony Stark: Looking back, maybe this whole scene could have made a good dramatic painting (chuckles). I mean... Yelena, Kate, Natasha and this photographer girl giving moral support to Wanda at a table in the corner, while she allowed her son to get his comeuppance for being such a brat. Meanwhile, Tommy hitting Billy so hard it took Vision, Clint and I to separate them.

Tommy Maximoff: Even I'm shocked at the fact that it took my father, Hawkeye, and Iron Man to separate me from him. I guess I had a lot of pent up anger, and that moment was my breaking point.

Wanda Maximoff: Why did I allow it? The answer is simple; I gave up and even made the person I loved suffer in order to give my son his place. And what did he do? He made showed me in every way possible that I was a disgrace to him for the simple fact of having given birth to him. Well, if that's the case, good riddance.

Pepper Potts: Oh, what I'm missing by accompanying Peter (Parker) to a debate in Germany (laughs).

Vision: After the incident, Billy has not contacted us again. He thinks he's an outlaw, and we'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll just say that at least he is managing to make a name out of himself like he so badly wanted.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I hope he's going to therapy!

Wanda Maximoff: What did (Y/N) and I do after it all ended? We went to my room, at the Compound, and… I’ll keep the rest to myself.

"Please, I'll be a good girl," you whimpered, looking up at her with trembling lips and pleading eyes.

She had you kneeling between her legs as she sat on the edge of her bed. You couldn't handle all the torturing teasing she was putting you through, as she smacked her faux cock against your lips, and every time you tried to welcome it into your mouth, she pulled it back, only to repeat the process again.

"Oh, you already are," Wanda breathed, leaning very close to your lips that you could feel the lingering smell of wine on her breath. "But Mommy wants more than just a good girl. She wants a naughty little slut who does anything to please her.”

Before you could moan in response at the nickname she gave herself, she attacked your mouth in an aggressive kiss. At this point, your jaw was sore from so much movement and your lips were swollen, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You had found home on her lips once and you were finally back.

"I’ll make you feel good, I promise, just let me," you pleaded, your mouth watering due all the panting from the anticipation. 

She gave in to the sight of those puppy eyes, swollen lips, and that upper body covered in hickies. Soon enough, she gently guided your head towards her strap, her hands resting on either side of your head. 

“Suck on me. Show me what you're made of.”

Her breathing quickened as your mouth worked its way down her cock. Her hips began to rock, seeking more contact. It was evident that with very little stimulation, she let her guard down, no longer caring to hide how weak she truly was for you.

You gagged at the intrusion but took it as best as you could, even though your eyes were beginning to water.

Just like the merciless woman she has demonstrated you she was, far from going easy on you, she gripped the back of your head, holding you in place.

Whatever the reason, the coil forming on her stomach overwhelmed her, and before she could even notice, the intense wave of pleasure caused her to spurt her hot cum into your mouth, leaving her breathless and trembling.

Perhaps it was because it had been an incredibly long time since she had allowed herself to attend to her carnal needs, or perhaps it was because she found herself utterly and irresistibly attracted to you, or maybe it was a combination of both. 

"Oh fuck," she groaned, riding herself out of her orgasm, giving you little to no participation. Simply using you as a face to get off to. 

You did your best to swallow every single drop she gave you, however a few drops trailed on your chin, and a little bit down on your neck.

Wanda was different nevertheless. She seemed genuinely proud, filled with a warmth and admiration that made you feel truly seen and appreciated for the very first time.

Wanda grinned in satisfaction as she looked down at you.

None of your partners or hookups have ever taken the time to simply gaze down at you with anything more than burning desire. They always seemed to be in a rush, their eyes filled with nothing but lust and impatience. 

"Good girl," she said, reaching out to wipe her cum off with her thumb. She then stuck it into your mouth, and watched you suck it clean. “And you know what good girls deserve after such a delicious treat?"

"What, Mommy?" You asked excitedly. 

"Their reward," Wanda purred, leaning down to kiss you passionately while her fingers trailed down your neck, and gripped it gently. "My little cum-slut deserves some good fucking.”

Wanda gave a quick beckon, motioning for you to get on your feet. You had barely stood up completely, when she gripped your hips tightly with her strong hands and forced you under her. Her superhuman force made you so featherlight in comparison to her, allowing her to have complete control over your movements, leaving no doubt about who was in charge in that moment.

The tip of her cock gently brushed against your entrance making you both shiver at the mere thought of what was about to happen.

She slowly thrust her hips forward, slowly penetrating you with her strap. 

You shut your eyes tight in response, gasping at how exquisite but painful it was to have your tiny hole stuffed by her massive cock. 

"There, you're doing well, baby,'" she said, caressing your cheek as a display of encouragement. “Do you need to stop?” She asked attentively. 

You shook your head in refusal, choosing instead to grasp her shoulders firmly, seeking something to anchor yourself to. The harshness of your touch brought a smile to her face, lighting up her eyes with a spark of joy at your silent approval. 

She slowly picked up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder into you. 

The slapping of your bodies, the headboard clashing against the wall, and your mutual panting and moaning were the only sounds echoing through Wanda’s spacious room at the compound. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, a chaotic blend of screams and moans escaping your lips as you dangerously hung on the edge of tears. 

She looked down at you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes shimmering with delight as you writhed beneath her. 

"That's it," her hips slammed against yours with a fierce intensity. In response, she could feel your nails digging into her back, leaving angry red marks that would soon blossom into bleeding scratches. 

"Fuck... FUCK! I'm gonna cum! I need to cum," you screamed, not fighting against the tears any longer. 

"Cum for me, darling," she accentuated each worth with a single thrust. One of her hands reached between your legs, roughly massaging your clit with her thumb, determined to tear you apart through every single nerve ending that could occur to her.  

You screamed loudly, your walls squeezing her cock as you came hard. She could feel your juices flowing down her bedsheets, coating them in a warm sheen. Her seed didn't take much longer to fill you up, pushing against you as it spilled into every crevice of your pussy.

As her orgasm subsided, Wanda slowly pulled out of you, her dick slipping wetly from your hole. 

"Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now," she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Just then, an idea sparked in her mind. "Stay right there," she commanded, climbing off you.

You watched, breathless, as she stood up, her strap glistening and even dripping with both of your releases.  

She opened a drawer and retrieved a Polaroid camera. 

"What? You're not the only one who owns one,” she stated, a playful smirk on her lips as she gauged at your surprised expression. 

She lay on her stomach, the camera positioned between your pussy and her face. With a playful grin, she snapped a picture, capturing the sight of your hole still dripping with your shared juices. The blinding flash it possessed would illuminate every detail and highlight the intensity of what you both had just experienced. 

She slid a single finger inside you, provoking your walls to swallow her without hesitation once more, making you arch your back in response to the pleasure coursing through you.

She couldn't resist taking another picture, the mesmerizing sight too beautiful to pass up.

She growled in desperate need, setting the camera aside as she flipped you on all fours, her eyes glinting with desire as she admired the view you presented. She as well switched her position, this time beneath you, guiding you to lower yourself onto her face.

As you settled in, she slipped two fingers inside you, curling them in a come-hither motion that provoked you to grip her hair desperately, the headboard being too far away for you to hold onto it.

However, she continued her ministrations, seemingly unbothered and even excited by your aggressive treatment.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you weren't even able to make a single sound as your breath cut down in your throat. You felt a tightness in your chest, and each second seemed to stretch into an eternity. All you could focus on was the intense feeling restricting your ability to breathe.

"S-s-stop! STOP!" She knew from your irregular breath and whimpering what was about to happen.

She would happily embrace whatever reaction you would have. However she wanted to teach you that you didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not through reassuring words but through desperation. 

Therefore, she slowed down her fingers, upom hearing your warning. She took her fingers out of you, pulling her hand out and slapping your ass. 

“Are you sure, slut?” She asked. 

"Fuck... no," you exclaimed, the feeling of your walls clenching at the lack of her fingers was too unbearable to handle. 

She chuckled and moved back to your entrance, finger fucking you senseless with a slow but hard pace. 

To her dislike, she eventually noticed that you were holding back again, and her irritation increased. She wanted you to let go, to embrace the experience fully, and she was ready to do whatever it took to guide you there.

"Baby, if you don't cum right now, I'm going to spank you so hard you won't be able to walk for a month," Wanda threatened. She reached around and pinched your clit, making you gasp as she continued fucking you.

“Mmm, here it comes,” you warned her, a whimper escaping from your lips as you prepared to unleash the inevitable. 

With a dramatic flourish, you tilted your head back, watching as your squirt arced out of your cunt like a shimmering comet, a cascade of droplets splashing across Wanda's face, not leaving an inch unsoaked.

You took a few deep breaths, defeatedly laying on your back next to her, leaving your tits and stomach on her sight, as well as your well-fucked pussy. 

And as if you were made of the most fragile crystal, she pulled the bedsheets from under you, enveloping both of you under the warmth of her bedsheets. 

The sudden shift of treatment caught you off guard, and before you knew it, she had you pulled back against her chest, the sweat of her body mixing with yours.

You could hear her rapid heartbeat. It was both comforting and electrifying, grounding your once racing heart into finding its rhythm again.

"I've got you, little one," she whispered softly in your ear. “I'm not letting you go, ever again,” she vowed, leaving open mouthed kisses on your forehead. 

And she held onto that promise. Forever.

The next day, the soft rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, emanating a warm glow in the room. 

You stirred awake to the gentle sensation of little kisses peppering your face. The older woman beside you, with her playful affection, made you wrinkle your nose in that adorable way that never failed to make her smile.

"How are you feeling, love?" She asked softly, her concern for you palpable both in her tone and expression.

"Wonderful," you replied, stretching your limbs with a lazy grace. You leaned in and pressed your lips against hers. "And you? Did you sleep well?"

"As I’ve ever slept in my life," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and something deeper. "I want to shout to the rooftops how much I love you, how profoundly you mean to me."

Wanda loved you. Truly, deeply loved you. 

What had transpired the night before was not merely a release of carnal desires; it was an intimate, powerful affirmation of connection, a way of claiming you as hers. 

"I love you more," you replied, your heart threatening to come out of your chest, as it was not yet used to this level of bliss. 

You pressed another kiss to her lips, pouring every ounce of your feelings into that simple peck.

"I have faith in us, in all of this," she said, her voice determined yet filled with vulnerability. "After everything that happened, would you give me a chance?" You could see the sincerity in her eyes, the longing for a future together. 

"Absolutely, my darling," you reached out, taking her hand in yours reassuringly. Two souls intertwining like an ivy growing over a sturdy stone. 

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 13 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: took me so so long, but I think the wait was worth it. 😭 let me know what you think, love u!😉

W/C: 4.072

part twelve

"Okay, is there anything left for me to do?"

I raise my head, looking up at my dad from my phone. The stack of papers on the dining table immediately giving me a headache.

"Are you asking me, dad? Or are you talking to yourself?" I ask, getting up from my position on the couch to see what his mid-life crisis is about.

"Myself.." He replies, bringing the ugly ceramic mug I’d decorated at the age of five up to his mouth.

The blue cursed-looking unicorn, with the biggest red eyes staring back at me, makes me clear my throat.

I mean, even I would have thrown that thing away after my child forgot about it.

"What are you doing?" I ask, leaning forward to flip through the stacks of paper.

Poor trees...

"Stop messing with them, y/n. They are important documents for work.."

I hum in understanding, holding my hands up in surrender.

"You're really killing off nature with these.." I add, scratching my itchy nose.

"Will you please go and do something useful, sweetheart?"

I sigh, instead of walking away, I sit down next to him. Turning to him with a smile on my face.

"Give me something useful I can do.." I ask, giving him a sickly sweet smile.

I hear him chuckle, his hand coming to rub my shoulder, before he points to the stack of papers on his left.

"The other documents I’d rather not have you go through.."

He reaches for the papers, placing them in front of me.

"Can you sort these in chronological order? It's images of camera footage, date and time are on the top right."

"Sure, dad.." I agree, flipping through the black-and-white printed images. Curiosity raised at what I'm seeing.

An individual, with more of a masculine frame standing outside of a huge, luxurious house.

Dressed in- from what I can make out to be, a black t-shirt, along with the ugliest pair of jorts I have ever seen.

"Where is this from? New case?"

"Bellingham's case." He replies curtly, writing something down on his notepad.

It was astonishing how anyone could read his handwriting.

Were lawyers second in 'the most unreadable handwriting' competition, next to doctors?

I raise my brows at his answer, interest peaked suddenly. I look around the house, as if Jude would pop up like some ‘Bloody Mary’ game if called out for three times- but I remember he is out tonight, enjoying his break from training at fuck-knows-where.

"Footage from the break-in?"

"Yes, honey- any more questions?" He glances at me for a moment, raising a single brow in question.

"No, not really..." I say, eyes flying to the date and time.

I only recognize the date as the first match we played in the Champions League this season, back in September at Bernabéu.

The dates do match up, and when I continue flipping through the images. Seeing more and more images of different dates, with more damage done to the home, makes me gasp.

How did Jude and his mom even live here for many more months after the first incident?

I feel goosebumps rise up on my skin at the thought of feeling unsafe in my own home. Had I known how terrifying the things that happened to Jude were, I wouldn’t have been such an asshole when he first arrived.

My stupid mouth and I...

I shake my head as if to remove my thoughts, taking a deep breath before quickly sorting and stacking the images correctly.

If I had known sooner, maybe I could have been more civil towards my unwanted roommate..

"Girl, turn the lights on. I literally cannot see a single thing." Amira complains, smacking her bubblegum in the loudest way possible.

"I hate winter. Seriously, why does it get dark so early?.." I complain, hurrying over to switch the light on in my bedroom.

"Stop complaining and do a twirl for me.." She says, placing her phone against something stable, so she can see me properly.

"Oh, sure your majesty.." I mock, chuckling at her, before doing a 360.

"You look so damn good. I swear, if you don't take a man home-"

"It's a party- or event , full of my colleagues. I can't be a hoe tomorrow night.."

"If you wanted, you would.." I watch her smirk, before she runs a hand down her dark locs.

"We can do that when you're visiting next time.."

"Can't- I have a man." I hear her chuckle, and definitely don't miss the sound of another, deeper laugh in the background.

"Oh, great thanks for reminding me. Hey Trent, stop listening in on us.." I say sternly, leaning in towards the screen.

"He's not listening in. He is on the phone with Jude.."

Oh, fuck, great.

I turn towards my door, praying Jude or Trent wouldn't be too loud on the phone.

At this point, I was surprised that the jig wasn't up yet.

Amira already knew about it, of course. I just hoped Trent didn't.

I mean, it would be foolish to think that Jude and I could keep our secret to ourselves. But for once, I trusted he would keep his mouth shut about us living together.

Everyone knows that men gossip more than women. They could know the most intricate details of the juiciest drama you'll ever come across, and never utter a single word about it until you ask about it directly.

"Trent's gone, now speak. Why do you look like you're sweating buckets?"

"I feel sick, like- my stomach hurts.." I begin, struggling to take my dress off.

"Maybe you got your period?" She suggests, using the screen to watch herself dot the pinkest liquid blush on her cheekbones.

"No, my Clue app says I'm getting my period in six days.." I reply, hanging my dress back into the closet. Then, I grab my pajama set, pulling the comfy clothes on quickly.

"You're probably nervous about tomorrow.." She mumbles, fidgeting with the lamp next to her, before blending the blush seamlessly into her foundation.

"What could I possibly be nervous about? I've been going for like two years, since I became eighteen.." I flop onto my bed, cuddling my soft pillow against my body.

My thoughts wander for a moment, something close to déjà vu washing over me.

"It's the butterflies.."

I snap my head back towards my phone, pulling a confused face.

"For?.."

"For Jude- You have butterflies in your stomach for Jude!" She screams unnecessarily loudly, making me drop my phone onto my bed.

I gasp, retrieving my phone from the mattress, looking back at her with wide eyes.

"Are you crazy?! Dude, he's literally across the hallway!" I exclaim, burying my head into my pillows.

"He probably heard you!" I cry out, giving her a middle finger.

"Exactly my intentions! I swear, everybody in the fucking world knows he wants you at this point. I've never seen two people in this much denial before."

"I literally don't know what to do with myself, thanks for emphasizing that.."

"How long is it going to take for you to be honest with yourself? Another six months, yeah? You like him, come on. You like him.."

"I haven't liked anyone since high school.."

"Let's not bring high school love into this. You were sixteen, should’ve been worried about GCSE's instead..."

"Okay, let me do a little magazine quiz for you.." I watch her spray her fixing spray onto her face.

She dries her face with a small fan, before leaning in and looking at me with a serious expression.

"Go ahead.." I groan, sitting up properly.

"What do you think of when you see him?"

"I don't know? 'There he is again'?" I answer stupidly, looking at her. I watch her cover her mouth, probably disappointed with my reply.

"Okay- let's try this. Imagine, tomorrow, you see him in a suit, tie all of that-  dresssed up nicely, with his hair freshly cut. He smells like the sexiest cologne you have ever smelled. No 'Doir, Sauvage' shit- think 'Tom Ford, Oud Wood'.."

The rest of whatever the fuck she says doesn't register in my brain, but the heat slowly pooling into my body, down my stomach and thighs, tells me enough.

It tells me too much.

I’m fucked, done for.

A lost cause.

I need an exorcism..

"I'm ready!" I shout, taking one quick look in the mirror, before grabbing my handbag off my bed.

I stuff a powderpuff, some lip products, and my phone into my bag and rush down the stairs.

"Come on, honey. It's one thing to be late- another thing for me to be late to the event I'm co-hosting.." My dad says, already standing at the front door, navy blue suit making him look handsome.

"Ready! What do you think?" I ask him, pointing to my dress and heels.

"You look very beautiful. I did not think you'd wear such a daring colour.."

I know what he wants to say. ‘You look just like your mother’, but ignore those thoughts.

I shrug at him, glancing in the mirror again. The scarlet-red dress clinging to my skin is just the right amount of sexy and chic.

Of course, I had to go for a mini dress, ignoring my dad's wishes, because I could and I'm an adult.

I adjust my silver necklace, watching it glisten in the overhead light.

"Come on, y/n. Enough admiring.."

I nod, quickly walking behind him into the car.

I buckle my seatbelt, the mix of my dad's cologne and my perfume overwhelming me for a second.

"Wait? Where's Jude? Is he not attending?" I look at my dad, watching him pull out of the driveway.

"He will attend, but he said he would arrive with his teammates. He didn’t want to inconvenience us."

Inconvenience?

What did he mean with that?

I mean, we had not spoken properly for days- but inconvenience?

Am I overthinking things?

"Come and grab a drink with me.." Lina says, grabbing my wirst to pull me towards the cocktail- or in this case, mocktail bar.

Due to the discouragement of the players drinking alcohol, mid-season- it was the upmost important for this party to only offer non-alcoholic drinks.

And considering what had happened last time I was drunk- I wasn't complaining, at all..

The party had started two hours ago, though a little formal. We made the most out of it, while dancing along with the beautiful live music. The clock would strike twelve in a little, indicating the beginning of a new year.

Something about New Year’s Eve made me incredibly emotional at times. Maybe, it was the realization of life going faster than I thought- or maybe, it was some resentment I held against the negative things that happened in the year.

Even so, I tried to make the most of this party every year. Dancing wholeheartedly, tasting the food the chefs had worked so hard on, drinking the delicious drinks made by the bartenders.

"I'm going to get a Negroni- How about you?" Lina asks, wrapping her arm around mine as we walk towards the bar.

"I don't know- maybe I’ll just ask for a recommendation.." I speak, looking over at her. Her black dress hugging her figure as our high heels click against the floor.

"Oh, look who's here too.." She says, motioning ahead with her eyes and chin.

I follow her gaze, furrowing my brows in confusion. My eyes land on a couple of the football team players, all looking happy as they order their drinks one by one.

"Oh.." I mouth, lips pulling back into a straight line as I spot Jude next to them.

And of course, just like my dear best friend had described last night. He is dressed in a sleek, black suit matched with a crispy white shirt.

I watch him interact with his teammates, unconsciously staring at him as we near the bar.

His pearly white teeth show as the corners of his eyes crinkle, probably laughing at something funny one of the guys said.

I almost gasp out loud when he turns around, my eyes moving down to see the deep red handkerchief, placed neatly in the pocket of his suit.

Why in heaven's name- did we match?

I lean against the bar by instinct, drawing my attention back to the bartender who's standing in front of me. Eyes darting to the menu, of course- to only see non-alcoholic options.

Maybe, I did need a different type of drink.

'I'll have a Negroni, please.." I hear Lina say, and look at her for a moment before turning back to the bartender. Trying to ignore the fact that I can feel a pair of eyes burning holes into the back of my head. 

What was that called again?

Scopaesthesia?

Whatever it's called, there should be a name for someone's warmth too- because Jude probably could feel the heat radiating off my body at this point, even if he isn’t standing that close to me..

"And what would this beauty like?”

I stand up straight at the words, looking at the smiling bartender.

I give him a soft, appreciative smile back, enjoying his non-creepy way of delivering a compliment, and quickly ask for a recommendation.

As y/n speaks to the bartender, he laughs back, leaning in to whisper something into her ear. It earns a chuckle from her, making her lean against the bar again.

Unaware of his own body language, Jude tightens his grip on his glass. His jaw twitches, and he turns away from the scene, scoffing to himself before taking a gulp of his drink.

His body tensing up does not go unnoticed by his friends slash teammates. He gets a pat on the shoulder from Dani, making him relax for a moment.

"Loosen up, brother. Have some fun.." Eduardo speaks, giving him his signature smile while clinking his full glass with Jude's.

Jude nods, walking closer towards the crowd of his teammates, trying his absolute best to remove his brown eyes from the girl.

The girl his brain has not stopped thinking about, ever since that drunken night..

From the way she looked, spoke, dressed- he was infatuated with her.

And tonight?

The sexy red dress, hugging her body- showing skin-

He is fucked, absolutely fucked, especially when he realizes how clammy his hands are.

The normally confident and playful Jude vanishes for a moment. He's acting like a lovesick teenage boy, too nervous to ask his crush out for prom.

The hour passes painfully slow, with the both of them sneaking glances at each other every other minute. Their friends notice, of course, smirks on their faces as they realize how clueless they are.

Young love shouldn't be this complicated, they think, wanting to push them towards each other already. Tired of the back and forth they were a part of these past months. The patience they had was running low, even though it wasn't anything harming or hurting them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!" A sharp, ear-piercing sound echos from the microphone, booming out of the speakers.

The speaker is none other than a Real Madrid executive, standing next to the chic, wealthy woman, is y/n’s father.

The entire venue’s attention turns to the two individuals, conversations and laughter cut off immediately.

"Just like every year since our successful partnership with Mr. l/n. We thank you for being here at our annual New Year's event!"

The room answers with happy and loud cheers, some clapping along in agreement. An interesting mix of almost all the athletes signed to Real Madrid, their hardworking staff, and not to forget, esteemed lawyers from the law firm.

"We will enter the new year in ten minutes! Please enjoy the rest of your night!"

As if on cue, the room goes back to their own conversation. And the restless, nervous wreck y/n immediately turns around to visit the bar again, asking the bartender for another one of the drinks he'd made for her earlier.

She didn't even remember what it was called. All she tasted and saw were strawberries- which meant that the bright pink, iced drink was good enough.

She grabs the drink off the counter, thanking the bartender, before turning around to return to her friends.

She looks down to watch her step, high heels starting to hurt her feet, as she tries to walk without tripping, making her forget to watch where she’s going.

Before the girl is aware of it, her body collides with a harder one. Glass in her han, tipping over, the pink drink splashing all over a white, crispy shirt.

y/n gasps, eyes widening in horror. Looking up from the disaster, she makes eye contact with a shell-shocked Jude. His own, brown eyes widening impossibly wider than hers.

Covering her mouth, she places the glass on a small, round bar table next to her, turning to him wordlessly.

"Oh- I, umh.." She stutters, sweat practically visible on her temples at this point.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She thinks, multiple thoughts running through her head like Usain-fucking-Bolt..

With only one brain-cell working in between them, and their hearts beating like crazy. She grabs his hand, pulling him off the dance floor- into a small closet, behind the stage. Away from the peering eyes and cameras at the event.

She turns away from him, closing the door, before locking it. Ensuring no one would walk into this disaster of a sight.

"Take it off.." She begins, speaking without thought. Reaching for a roll of paper towels, ripping off a stack of them before starting to dab away the moisture from his now pink-stained-shirt.

Her eyes dart up, lips parting slightly as Jude shrugs off his jacket, throwing it to the side.

The dim light flickers in the small, suffocating room. She halts the hurried dabbing, making eye contact with an equally entranced Jude.

"Sorry.." y/n whispers, breath hitting his plump lips. Her hand moves up again, rolling some more of the paper towel around her hand, before wiping off the excess moisture again.

Jude's body stiffens, particularly his abdomen. He takes a sharp breath, looking down at the flustered girl.

For some reason, a sudden switch flips inside of him. He sighs, eyes roaming up and down her form, a warm, but burning feeling settling in his stomach.

He decides to move for a moment, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. It causes y/n to freeze up this time, her body going rigid as she watches him expose his arms.

Even in the dim light, his muscles protrude, along with the bulging veins running down his forearms.

"Fucking hell.." He says in a low voice, unbuttoning the top buttons of his ruined shirt, making the girl’s eyes widen again.

"What- What are you doing?" She asks, heart almost exploding due to the pace it’s beating at.

"I'm burning up in this room.." He replies, making direct eye contact with her, as he fidgets with the white buttons.

Revealing more, and more skin..

It's like he's dropped the nervousness within seconds. Looking into her eyes while fixing the collar of his shirt.

Even though it takes him approximately ten seconds, to the girl in front of him- the moment is dragged out horribly long and in slow motion.

Her breath hitches at the delicious sight, and she gulps while looking up at him.

Deeply entranced in the tension filled- sensual moment, she drops the wet, used paper towels mindlessly onto the floor.

The lights flicker once again, making her eyes squint as she takes him in.

No doubt, the image will be burned into her infatuated mind from now on. Gnawing at her sanity and logical thinking.

Of course, he smells good. So damn good, the perfect mix of musk and powdery cologne.

Not only is the sight delicious, but the smell is too.

The loud music outside of the small enclosed space continues, the crowd singing along to the chorus of a well-known song.

She looks down for a second, trying to collect her thoughts before she says something completely unhinged.

"Jude.." She whispers, heart beating erratically in his chest. y/n can feel her hands shake, her legs trembling in her high heels.

Their breaths mingle as they look into each other's eyes. A silence settling in between them after she says his name.

Jude's veins practically burst at the sound of his name leaving her lips. His eyes dart to the perfectly glossed lips that say his name so sweetly, so softly..

His mind goes dizzy at the sound. Wanting to hear it over, and over again. Loving the sound most ardently..

A soft groan leaves his mouth, and he traces her beautiful features with his eyes, until he makes eye contact with her, again.

"We should leave this place. The countdown is about to begin.." She whispers the only words she can think of saying, breath shaky and faint.

Jude does not answer with words, but his eyes do dart towards the door. Ears perking up as he hears the familiar countdown begin.

"Twenty!" The crowd exclaims, happiness and excitement buzzing throughout the venue- except in the small room they are in.

"Jude!" She says again, voice a little more stable than before. She raises her left hand, pulling on the hem of his now- untucked shirt.

He snaps his head back at her, watching the soft skin in between her brows pinch together in frustration.

"y/n.." He whispers back, head leaning closer against hers. Making her grip on his shirt grow tighter. Skin on her knuckles tightening from the strength she's using.

"What?" She asks, voice fiery sharp, and impatient. Emotions making her eyes glisten, along with the jewelry adorning her neck and ears in the light.

Though, the tension is high and suffocating- Jude grins suddenly, plump lips stretching as he leans in closer. His own eyes, now with a hint of playfulness in them, roaming around her face.

"Ten!" They hear the crowd exclaim, continuing to cheer and laugh together.

"What?" She says again, lifting her chin up to look him in the eyes. Her breath hitches at the playful expression on his face, like he's an imminent danger to her heart and lungs.

"You're the most annoying fucking person I have ever met.." He speaks, with no real malice in his tone. A chuckle leaves his mouth, soft breaths hitting her lips.

y/n's heart stutters at his words, and the change of emotion in her eyes makes him go absolutely crazy.

"Fuck, and I love that. I love you, y/n.." He breathes, his hand cupping her jaw.

He watches her face intently, watching her blink multiple times, before her hand travels from the hem of his shirt to his unbuttoned collar.

She wraps her hand around the fabric, pulling him closer with a small jank. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she speaks again.

"Then fucking kiss me, you annoying douche bag.."

The words leave her mouth in a fluid, rehearsed way, and she loses herself in his deep eyes.

"Three!"

"Fucking gladly.." He mutters, both of their eyes fluttering shut as his hand moves over to the small of her back impatiently.

"Happy New Year!"

Their lips brush against each other, her hands gripping onto his shirt with a vice-like grip.

Her breath hitches at first, making him chuckle cockily against her lips. His hand supporting her jaw in the most tender way possible, as his thumb rubs against the softness of her cheek.

The soft press of their lips touching make their hearts flutter.

Realizing there is no point of return from this, the feathery touches turn into heated, greedy ones.

The rush of adrenaline makes them lose their self-control, an unstoppable, alluring feeling injected into their veins as they continue soaking in the moment, until they part for air.

Their ragged pants brush against each other's faces, a small smile pulling at her lips. Eyes finding each other again, as their hearts beat in unison.

Jude stares into her eyes, thumb running down her jaw, as he smiles back at her.

"Beautiful. You're beautiful.."

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Masterlist

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader

genre: mafia, e2l

summary: As the youngest daughter of the most powerful family in the country’s crime syndicate, you never thought you would be forced to takeover your father’s money-laundering casino. Due to unforeseen circumstances, you and your brother, Jungkook, are left in charge to carry on with business. But in the absence of your father and oldest brother, Seokjin, the two of you are targets of rival bloodthirsty mobs desperate for power and turf. You must be protected but the man who’s assigned as your bodyguard is someone you never thought you would see again. This wasn’t in the cards.

warnings: violence and murder (not explicit), one incident of partner abuse, guns, drugs, alcohol, smoking, gambling, smut (eventually), ANGST!!! So much angst, trauma, PTSD

Snippet - september 7, 2024

Teaser 1 - september 9, 2024 20:35EST

Prologue - september 17, 2024 00:20EST

Part 1- october 2, 2024 00:00EST

Reminīscēns: strangers - pending

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 8 | chapter 9

You would never love anything in this world the way you loved your first child.

The murder of King Joffrey was an unforeseen event even when everyone knew it coming due to his conceited attitude. He was never fit to be a King. But for all the wrong deeds he had done, no one would say he didn't deserve it.

Joffrey was poisoned on his wedding day. And Cersei immediately blamed her brother Tyrion, the one who served the spiked wine to the King as he was being humiliated in front of the guests. It didn't help Tyrion's case when his wife Sansa mysteriously disappeared after the crime.

The Queen was hysterical as she wept for her first son in her arms, demanding justice. You wanted to approach her, but that would only raise unwanted questions from the guests. Besides, Oberyn stopped you when you suddenly stood, ready to comfort Cersei, gripping your wrist as he did. It was only when Jaime ran towards the Queen when you managed to control yourself.

~~~

Cersei had started to shut herself off, ignoring your letters, ignoring your visits, even ignoring your attempts at making small conversation as you greeted her at the dining hall, as if nothing happened between the two of you. Grief does that to a person.

The incident caused the house Martell to postpone sailing back home, for leaving the Capital would only bring suspicion. The ongoing tension between the Martells and Lannisters were not a secret.

During the days you had extended your stay, you had made it your mission to seek justice for Cersei's son, no matter how he didn't deserve it.

You wanted to comfort her, you did, but when you saw Jaime came out of her chambers at nights almost looking disheveled, you knew you'd only be hurting yourself.

~~~

"So was it you?"

"Do you think I killed Joffrey?" Tyrion mocked, his gaze bored and on the ground. He sat on a small wooden barrel with drenched filthy clothes. The cell he was imprisoned was for common prisoners, but not for a highborn like him. "No. I wanted to. But no, I didn't."

Oberyn sighed, crossing his arms across his chest while leaning against the wall, as he observed the interaction. He insisted to come with you, no matter how he wanted nothing to do with it, to visit and interrogate Tyrion about the murder. Let them kill each other, their own blood, he had said.

"Can you prove it, your whereabouts, or doings hours or even days before the wedding?" Oberyn asked after a moment, seeing you troubled.

"Would it make any difference?" Tyrion stood, chains around his hands and feet making a noise. "Father doesn't care if I killed him or not. Cersei will never believe me that I didn't, of course she wouldn't-"

You interrupted, "But if you can only reason with her-"

"Reason with Cersei?" Tyrion laughed, his eyes rolling at you. "Look, Lady Y/n, I know you mean well. But do not be blinded by love. Cersei has always hated me and I will always be blamed for killing her son just like I killed our mother when she birthed me."

When he saw your frown grow deeper, he added, "I know you're in love with her."

Your eyes widened, filled with fear and guilt.

"I can see it in your eyes," he went on. "You two weren't really that discreet, you know. I think father suspects too."

"Do you think-"

"Cersei is not, well I don't know how to put this gently, she's not a kind woman, Y/n," he said. "So I suggest you lot better leave for Dorne and save yourself. You could be in my shoes if you weren't too careful."

~~~

It was four days after Joffrey's death, two days after his funeral, when you had managed to corner Cersei. She was staring into the horizon from the Red Keep's garden, the vast sea ahead. When she had advised her kingsguard to leave the both of you, you knew you finally had the chance to talk to her.

Carefully approaching her, you swallowed a nervous lump. Cold breeze from the sea made you shiver slightly as silence enveloped the two of you. You watched the Martells' ship from a distance, ready to sail in a fortnight, after Tyrion's trial.

"I watched my son die," Cersei began, "and I couldn't even do anything about it."

"It wasn't your fault," you said, finally facing the Queen. You then held her hand and squeezed it for assurance. She only let you, her gaze still fixed ahead.

"It was mine. Father said so. Even I could tell others had been judging me. I had been negligent, I had forgotten what I'm supposed to do."

"And that is?"

"To serve the kingdom, to be a King's mother-"

You stopped her, cupping her face as you did to make her look at you. "Cersei-"

"You will go back to Dorne," she ordered, her eyes boring into yours, a shadow of the Cersei you fell in love with present. "And never return."

Brows furrowing deeper, you sighed with a frown. "Let's not be-"

"I will never ask you to see me in my chambers nor in yours-"

"Cersei, stop!"

"You distracted me from my responsibilities," she interjected, her voice slightly rising and her cold eyes glaring at you. "Any actions moving forward will only affect my children."

"It wasn't your fault!"

"It was! My son wouldn't be dead if I was there for him!"

"You did your best," you said, holding her other hand as she began to walk away from you. "You were an amazing mother to him, even when he's not that kind of a person-"

Slap. "You do not speak ill about my son ever again!"

"I'm sorry, Cersei, but-"

"Leave!"

"Cersei, please don't close yourself off."

"The imp did this," she said out of trance, hysteric. "My brother imp did this. He's always hated Joffrey-"

"Hey, hey," you brushed her trembling shoulders, "you need to open your mind. And see reason. Tyrion might have his own reasons to kill Joffrey but do you ever think he'd actually do it? Because it doesn't seem like he did-"

"Get off me!" Cersei pulled away from you. "How dare you? I know he's been wanting to kill Joffrey since he was born."

"Oberyn had Tyrion list his whereabouts until the wedding day and Cersei, it doesn't really add up-"

"You talked to him?"

"Only to interrogate-"

"He and Sansa plotted it," she stated, nostrils flaring. "They both hated Joffrey. And with Sansa gone-"

"Sansa could have just run away because she was scared," you explained. "It's not possible-"

"I said leave!" The queen spat, punching your chest and you only let her. "You've already made up your mind not to believe me. You're just like everyone else. You're just like Jaime."

Your arms instinctively embraced around Cersei to stop her. Eventually, her fists curled against your clothes as she ended up sobbing into your chest.

Shushing her gently, you hugged her tight, your nose burying into her hair. Quiet moments passed as you both treasured the warmth from your bodies.

Until your heads slowly moved in synchronization, as your mouths met almost an inch close. Barely there. Eyes closed. Breathings hitched. Noses brushed against each other. As if one of you was terrified to close the distance yet desperately wanted to.

And you decided to place a soft kiss against her forehead instead.

"I'm always here for you, Cersei," you murmured. "Please do not ever forget that."

After a small pause, you whispered hesitantly, "I . . . I love you."

The Queen opened her eyes.

"What good will your love do?" Cersei said with a scowl as she pulled away from you. "Will it bring my son back alive?"

~~~

The ongoing turmoil inside you kept you awake most nights. You knew the worse was yet to happen, but it didn't stop you from worrying too much. Until one night, Lord Tywin sent for you to meet him in the council room. Your cousin Oberyn was already there when you arrived, ready to leave.

"Lady Y/N," Tywin greeted. You bowed shortly before opening your mouth. But then Tywin raised his hand to stop you. "I apologize for having to call you at a late hour. I was about to send another Kingsguard to disregard my prior request, given that I have already relayed my propositions to Oberyn and I trust Oberyn will be the bearer of good news."

"What's going on?"

Tywin smiled coyly as he placed a cloak around his shoulders, as if dismissing you. Oberyn walked towards you and pulled you out the room. He must have dragged you back to your chambers with difficulty, not with you always hesitating if he wouldn't tell you anything.

"Tywin knew about your affairs with Cersei," Oberyn began once you both were in your room. "He's suspicious about you getting too close to the queen without any objective."

"What? Does he think I killed the King?"

"Could be," he shrugged to which you let out a scoff, "especially when poison is known as a woman's weapon, Y/n."

You then fell silent, thinking of ways to defend yourself.

"You are to marry Cersei," Oberyn said, his eyes looking all worried.

When you only stared at him dumbfounded, he went on.

"Tywin suspects we had something to do with his grandson's death," Oberyn explained. "He doesn't believe Tyrion, his son, is capable to do that. And I know the Lannisters don't want to start a war against the Dornish folks for setting up a blame he cannot prove. So he made a proposal. For you to marry Cersei. You marrying Cersei would diminish doubts of any rebellion against them."

Somehow, your knees grew weaker as you leaned unto your bedpost before slipping to sit on the edge of your bed.

"Tywin and I discussed it at length-"

"When have you become friends with Tywin?" you interjected. "And aren't you the one insisting I should stay away from her?"

He walked closer towards you. "They believe sending your enemies far away is a disadvantage. I think Tywin wants to keep his enemies closer."

"Clearly, the ones who believe that doesn't have too many enemies."

"This is only to get assurance until we're safely back in Dorne," he said. "You won't be touched if you're married to a Lannister. Besides, that's what you want right? To be with Cersei?"

"Does father know?"

Oberyn shook his head as he stepped towards the window. "I have yet to tell him of the proposal. I'm sending a raven tonight. But I don't think he will take this lightly."

"What . . . about the Queen? Does Cersei know about this?"

Oberyn only stayed silent as he stared out into the dark sky.

~~~

There was a knock in your chambers later that night. Consumed with thoughts about the recent events, sleep was hard to get by. The moment you opened your door, a sliver of golden hair in white gown flew past you.

"Cersei, you could have been seen-"

A harsh slap met your face, almost making you lose your balance. "You think you're so wise trying to get into my father's favors?"

The marriage proposal.

"Cersei-"

Another slap. "I'm still your queen!"

"Your Grace, I had nothing to do with it," you said, slowly approaching her. Yet, she didn't want anywhere near you.

"Father wants to punish me," she declared, her stare cold. "Marrying someone like you is a punishment."

And curse to seven hells, because that hurt.

You controlled your temper as she went on, pacing angrily around the room. "Just like what he did with Robert. As if marrying you would have any difference."

And when you didn't answer back, she continued. "How long have you known me, Y/n? A month and a half! And you think we're already in love."

"I'll try to persuade him-"

"Persuade my father?" she scoffed. "As if that man ever needed persuading. He'd kill you, put your head on a stake for everyone to see if you disobey him."

"I'm sure my father would seek-"

"Your father?" Cersei snorted a laugh. "Who's your father, Y/n? What power does he have that would help your case?"

She went on, observing you motionless leaning against your desk. "You've wanted this all along-"

"Cersei, I had nothing to do with it."

She pursed her lips as she walked towards the door. Then she looked back, her gaze at the floor. "You'll never ever have me. Not while I'm alive."

People warned you about it. And now you were too stupid to believe this woman could ever love you.

(Author's note: I will change the storyline from this moment on, so the events might not be in line with the books and movie any longer.)

[solar-wing]

⚣ Safer With Me ❌

⚣❌ A/N → Yandere! Arkham!Jason Todd. Inspired by @yanderes-galore and their prompt writing for Jason. Prompts below were selected with a randomizer wheel. WARNINGS: Abduction/Kidnapping, Minor themes of Non-Con, Stalking/Obsessive Behavior, Depictions of Violence and Gun-Use

Prompt List Here! #40: "I know what's best for you, just trust me on this one." #18: "There's no use in sucking up to me now."

⚣❌ Summary → Homeless on the streets after your parents kicked you out when you came out to them, fate seemed to take mercy on you as you were taken in by Gotham's Billionaire Playboy, Bruce Wayne. But, your stay with him is not long as someone has been keeping an eye on you. An old acquaintance of your new guardian who had a plan of getting you away from the famed CEO. Why? Because you were safer with him, why else?

⚣❌ Words → 1.8k

REBLOGS and replies very appreciated, please! ❤️

⚣ ENJOY ❌

You couldn’t figure out how you ended up in this situation.

A few months before this entire mess of a night, your parents had kicked you out on the streets after coming out to them as gay. Kind of ironic knowing the other stuff they ‘tolerated’, but whatever. 

So after that, you were sleeping on the streets, doing what you had to do to survive. It’s Gotham City, so you were bound to eventually run into trouble. Some guys who were clearly drunk off their asses decided to start harassing you then Batman showed up to save the day. But he barely got a punch in before you had all three of them laying on their asses in pain.

There was a reason you asked your parents for self-defense classes the moment you came to terms with your sexuality. The world was changing, but not quickly enough.

So, the Dark Knight dropped you off at the police station where coincidentally, Bruce Wayne happened to show up and offered to take you in. You’d heard about the billionaire’s ‘hobby’ of taking in kids off the street and giving them a better life, and what more pleasing way to shove the middle finger at your parents than to end up in the care of someone who seemed to actually give a fuck about you more than they ever pretended to?

Then, the tests started. You figured Bruce was testing your skills to see how well you’d be able to take care of yourself just in case another incident happened as the one Batman found you in. They continued for a while, and before Bruce got to tell you what they were actually for, it was too late.

A few months after your move-in into Wayne Manor, you started getting the feeling you were being watched. And growing up in Gotham, you always knew it was better to listen to your instincts and be wrong than not listen and still be wrong.

A week before the attack on the city from Scarecrow, you had been on your way home walking since Bruce wasn’t able to pick you up due to some ‘unforeseen circumstances’. You’d soon come to find out all of that was a diversion so Arkham Knight and his militiamen had a clear shot at nabbing you. 

When you turned down a corner to an empty street, they pulled you into an alleyway and jumped you. You did your best to fight them off, but they began to overwhelm you. Somehow, you gained an upper hand though, the goons not expecting you to be as trained as you were. 

Just before you could take out the last of them though, he showed up and surprised you from behind, covering your nose and mouth with a rag seeped in nitrous oxide, putting you right to sleep.

Right before you lost consciousness, you heard a modulated voice chuckle in your ear, “Don’t worry, I got you. You’re safe with me now.”

You woke up in a dark room with hands and feet tied together and a splitting headache to match the aches around your body. You looked around to see the room you were in was empty, but you could hear voices on the outside talking.

“Why do you think Knight wanted him in the first place?”

“If I had to guess, it probably got something to do with the Bat himself.”

“Hmm, maybe. Personally, I think he’s got a thing for him. Not my place to judge, but I’ve heard and seen how protective he gets of him. Did you see the way he brought him in? Not one of us was allowed to even touch him.”

You didn’t know what to make of it or how to make sense of it. Didn’t have the time to do it either since you heard footsteps approaching the door. You listened to that same modulated voice you’d heard before you passed out giving an order to open the door. 

Laying back down in the position you were in before, you pretended to be still asleep.

You could hear the heavy footsteps as if whoever this was wearing the heaviest of heaviest boots in the world. The nervous feeling in your chest grew more and more the closer they sounded. Doing your best to stay still, you tried slowing your breathing down to a relaxed pace as you felt the thuds on the ground from him coming to stand next to you, feeling his entire presence standing over your body. You prepared your body figuring he may kick, slap, or even yell for you to wake up.

You did not expect to feel a gloved hand caressing your face.

“I know you’re awake.” He spoke before removing his hands and standing back up.

Opening your eyes, you saw a glowing screen mask staring down at you. 

You heard their modulated voice chuckle as he watched you slowly sit back up. “You didn’t think we’d have cameras inside watching to see when you’d got up?” He stated before gesturing to the cameras around the room. 

The mysterious soldier turned around to grab the only chair in the room, moving it to the middle of the room before coming back to lift you off the ground, settling you into the chair gently.

“Why am I here?”

“I know what’s best for you, just trust me on this one. You’re safer with me than with him.”

“Him? Who are you talking about?” You asked with a puzzled look coming across your face.

He didn’t immediately respond, but you could tell he was debating on something, you just didn’t know what.

“In time, you’ll find out.” He replied simply.

“What do you want?” You asked.

“Direct and to the point, huh? Knew there was something I liked about you.” He laughed, walking to stand in front of you with his arms crossed.

“Must be a lot of things from what I’ve heard. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d be sitting here.”

“Really? Well, if I were you, I’d think better than believing everything I hear.” He said, grabbing your chin a little rough, forcing you to look up at him.

You scowled at the armor-clad man before spitting at him. You watched the glob of saliva run down his mask before the hand on your chin grabbed at your neck. You clawed at his wrists to no avail as he lifted you out of the seat.

“That wasn’t very nice. Say you’re sorry, and I won’t hurt you… much.” He said, getting very close to your face to the point you could feel the electricity buzzing off the screen.

“Fuck you, asshole.” You spat at him.

He chuckled darkly, before kicking the chair you were sitting on.

“If you insist.”

He slammed you down on the ground, your breath escaping you and your vision going blurred. He kept his hand tight on your neck while the other one went down to your pants, undoing the belt and button before attempting to pull them down.

“No!” You whimpered, trying to fight back against him. He placed his body over your kicking legs, his heavyweight managing to hold them still while he now went to put his hands up your shirt. He felt all over your upper body, even stopping to pinch at your nipples a few times, before his hand went back down to your pants, sticking them down your underwear. You cried out at the feeling, trying your best to get him off you, but the dude was like a tank, and you were getting weaker with the more time he spent choking the air out of you. He started trying to push down your pants again before you both heard pounding against the door.

“Knight! Scarecrow says we gotta move!”

He held still for a moment before you felt him release you. You gasped for breath while he re-did your pants before pulling you up from the ground. Your body lay against his weak while feeling a little lightheaded from being jerked up so suddenly.

“You got lucky, this time. But, I wouldn’t try a move like that again. You won’t be leaving anytime soon

“Batman will. He’ll kick your ass.” You groaned from the soreness around your throat while panting into his chest armor.

You felt the chuckle vibrate from his chest before he bent down to lift you in a bridal hold.

“I was held captive once too, tortured even. Thought the same thing. It’s nice for a while but you’ll get over it soon enough.”

You struggled in the hold as he moved toward the door letting out a whimper from the pain your body was still in. “Please… just let me go.” You begged.

“Aww, already giving in? Cute. And smart. But, too little, too late. There’s no use in sucking up to me now.” He said, before heading out of the room to wherever.

You watched from around the corner, a gag tied over your mouth now with your hands bound in front of you as one of the militiamen held you in place. You saw Batman come around the corner and tried to scream out to warn him but was too late as Knight had jumped from the ledge he was hiding on shooting at him. 

Batman managed to dodge but was quickly knocked to the ground. Before he could get up, Knight walked over and placed his foot on his chest, pinning him down to the ground.

“Oh no, no, you’re not going anywhere, old man.”

You looked in horror as Knight switched hands with the gun he was holding, pointing it down directly at the masked vigilante.

“Tri-weave, titanium coated, armor plating. Nice. Unless you know exactly…where to shoot.” He said, before placing the gun down on his lower abdomen and pulling the trigger. You flinched at the sound, watching him groan in pain before Knight moved his foot off his chest.

“You’re good, Dark Knight. Even better than I remember. It’s going to make it even more satisfying when I kill you. Oh, and, don’t worry about Barbara. I’ll take better care of her than you ever did. Y/N too, he’s mine now.” You heard him say, walking toward where you and the others were standing around the corner.

“Batman’s in the control room. Show him what happens when he messes with my city and tries to take what doesn’t belong to him.”

Knight walked toward you as the militiaman immediately released you into his embrace. He cradled you gently even as you tried to push out of his hold. When he got tired of you fighting him, he just picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, carrying you away from the room.

“You’re better off without him anyway.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[marshvlovestv]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Unforeseen Incidents (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jane Helliwell/Harper Pendrell Characters: Jane Helliwell, Harper Pendrell Additional Tags: Fluffuary 2024, Fluff, Bad Puns Series: Part 2 of Indie Game Fluffuary 2024 Summary:

Fluffuary 2024 Day 2: Being Silly

Jane needs to learn to laugh at herself every once in a while.

[freakinator]

thinking about kab and the thing about her i think is she knows just enough to keep herself safe Generally but not enough to really predict what would happen should something more... complicated??? unforeseen??? idk whats the right word to use but something not covered by someones reputation and/or vids happen, believe it or not this also affects her view of clownpierce (we'll get to that)

for example, mapicc has a reputation for being an violent, angry, & impulsive guy and nothing else which makes sense but is incredibly surface level and something that only really works if you dont have a lot of experience working with him

another is reddoons, his betrayal after the base incident while shocking is not unforeseen but his reputation as being a guy whos seen as being a reasonable person whos fairly loyal to his team made it seem like something he wouldnt do even tho it absolutely is

regarding how it affects her view of clown, since he isnt perfectly aligned with his reputation she instead pivots in the complete opposite direction and forgiving basically every crime he does even tho hes something much more mild and complicated than either his reputation or her view of him will ever be (think madonna-whore complex which is especially obvious when it comes to kabs vs woogies view of him)

another side effect of this Just Enough amount of knowledge aside from being blinded by her own expectations is that it frustrates ppl who think shes oversimplificating things (like me and seemingly several other tumblr users as well) especially when she claims that shes objectively correct and the smartest in the room at any given moment

how this roughness in her analysis affects her in the server still has yet to be fully seen but we do still have at least a couple months until the end but 'til then shes just gonna keep stumbling as more and more complicated situations pop up as is typical in lifesteal to happen and eventually shes gonna have to learn to adapt or else she'll be suffering the consequences one way or another

[desb3ar]

Vulnerable

Pairing: Miguel x Reader

Summary: A heart to heart. Comforting Miguel.

Genre: Emotional, uplifting

Warnings: Forms of self-neglect and self-loathing.

Disclaimer: This is placed during the heat of his tragic event. Just a couple weeks after. I can’t tell you the gap between then and the time the movie was placed since I don’t have a timeline at my disposal, so I’m sorry if theres some inaccuracies within here that don’t sit right.

The reader has no indication of gender.

~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since the tragedy. The moment the world had crumbled around him like an earthquake wreaking havoc in a city, debris crushing those around him, just out of his reach. That horrific day of seeing the unforeseen result of his actions left an ugly stain on his decrepit psyche. The unforgettable memory of hearing his foster daughter desperately yell out to him for aid as she glitched into nothing right in his arms had messed him up completely. Seeing his palms, like her blood was on his shaky hands. Someone he had a strong connection with, someone who he loved dearly, was gone, and he was the person to blame. A whole universe was in the palm of his hand, unbeknownst to him.

As he would stand tall, the Miguel he was before being gutted out of anything, he remained in his office. Empty and cold. That space was nothing but a tomb with someone buried alive inside by the worries and concerns for keeping everything together. Dealing with nails-on-a-chalkboard humor by numerous Peter Parkers and other variants was something he endured every waking hour when he was working. Which is every day.

With his neglected emotions aside, shoving them into the back of his mind, he keeps himself ready to order when he’s on the clock. An anomaly was taken down in minutes if it wasn’t some big shot super villain. He’d rid himself of the need for back up, he didn’t need anyone. He can do it all by himself, he’s a strong guy. Isn’t he?

He’s lost track of the days, or weeks, he’s taken a day off. That led to certain needs not being met. His shower wasn’t touched for days until he actually took his focus off his screens to get a whiff of himself. He had no shame, nothing was worse than the reason he’s brought himself down to hell. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. Jess and Peter B. gave him a push to get his tail up. He was able to return to his home just to bathe, but then it was back to work. That was his plan, to pop in then pop back out.

However, someone knocked on his door. With a slight groan and great reluctance, he made his way over to his door and pulled it open.

“You got the wrong house. I don-“

His mouth froze when he saw who he was about to shut down.

It was you.

Miguel and you had gone way back to his early days of being Spiderman. You and him had chemistry that not even the most skilled chemist could understand. You were a calm, reasonable, and sweet being with a heart made of gold, seems like you gave him a chance when he was accepted into your orbit.

The two of you hung out with each other frequently, drinking at spots you found in the cities, downtown too, and swapped between who’s pad you two were gonna hang out in that day.

Your bond was believed to be unbreakable. Until the incident.

Days together turn into the days you’d only remember. When life was just alright, when he smiled. Now they were counted, tallied up to the grand total of 47 since the last time you two faced one another.

What you saw was a walking dead man, his eyes sunken from the lack of overall care, eye bags telling his horrific sleep schedule, skin dry, hair messy, he was not the same man. You couldn’t even make out if he was even the guy you’d steal food from and share drinks with. Its been weeks and then some of radio silence on his end.

You’ve ruthlessly contacted him, but he was never keen on responding to your messages and endless calls. Multiple calls turned to one a day. Messages followed suit. You lost enough hope with long-distance communication and decided with better judgment that this reunion needed to be face-to-face. The untold but expected awkwardness was your push.

You two stood in heavy silence until you let out a soft sigh. Then, you pushed your way in, making him stumble as you moved him away from the door and pushed it close. His cracked and damaged heart skipped a beat.

“I’d believe you’ve lost your phone given your silence.” You started. Miguel stared at you as you found your place in front of him. “… But you make way too much money to not have another one if you even lost it to start.”

Miguel sighed and just… Walked away. This left you wide eyed. “Wha- Hey! Don’t just walk away from me- TALK to me! Where have you been?” You exclaimed as you followed behind him. “It’s been ages without a single word and you don’t even have anything to say now that I’m here?”

You went on to vent about the worrying abrupt absence that came from him as he set his route to his room that was devoid of filth. You’re heart ached when he didn’t say a way to your words, as if they hadn’t meant anything, or simply went through him with no effect. He sat on his bed facing away from you with you standing at the doorway.

"It's nothing." He monotonously muttered as he kept his eyes off you,

"Like hell it is." You spat. "C'mon, don't get fresh with me. Where have you been all this time? I get that you have your whole superhero thing goin' on, but nothing's kept you away for this long."

"Nowhere." He answered dryly as he put a hand on his face.

You took a deep breath and sighed at his response. "Miguel O'Hara, you have got to talk to me, not just respond. Gimme somethin' to work with." You protested.

Your friend was going through something. You let your excitement to see him and annoyance at him being a brick wall get to you. Thinking he died tragically without a trace made it seem valid. You took a second to get yourself together before you walked to his bed, joining him. Your own weight made the bed mattress seep, moving him slightly. He didn't grant you not a second of a glance.

He wasn't always the most vocal about how he was mentally. It had always been a thing you wanted to get into with him. Having deep coversations about life once a bluemoon had opened a window of oppurtunity.

One night, the two of you were talking about childhood and other endeavors that sculpted out how you turned out. You spilled some details about the past and he was surprised about how you seemed so vastly different compared to how you were brought up. That surprise came with validation when he was somewhat relating to you. Everyone who wasn't sheltered as much had suffered through some form of childhood trauma, that's obvious. However, with Miguel, going through his neglectful and troublesome past, he was stuck on the fence of reaching out when he truly needed help.

“… Miguel. What’s going on?" You asked him, your voice now lacking the fierceness you once had, just filled with worry.

Miguel stared down at the floor. His mind was flipping through the pages of a book on how to even explain. The pain he felt these past couple weeks crept back through him like a cryiptic plague.

"... I'm sorry." He spoke gravely. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything." He closed his eyes as if it would make it easier for him. "I... I went through something that really... Troubled me..." He confessed slowly.

"That's fine, that is alright, Miguel." You reassured him. "Just..."

You looked down his lap. His fingers tightly gripping his pants as his forearms shivered. You looked at his face with only your eyes. He was trying so desperately to keep himself together.

"... I hate myself for this." He grieved, his eyes were tightly shut. "I made a horrible mistake." He confessed.

He wanted to speak more, but it wasn't coming out. He knew you deserved a better explanation, but he didn't know how'd you see him after he foolishly let a whole universe blow away into oblivion. All because he wanted a family, to take care of a daughter that wasn't even his. Who makes that seem so innocent. Anyone could find that immoral, but he couldn't just let her be on her own. He wouldn't be able to bear it. Yet, he would have much rather her go through it alone now instead of her not being here at all. He couldn't think of a reason to care for himself, or even look at his own reflection. He only saw someone who was naive, someone he didn't deserve much more than a passing glance.

During his attempts at trying to speak, his lips remained parted to only spill nothing. His breath was shaking with anticipation, that was when a horse sob broke past his guard.

"Hey, hey." You placed an arm on his shoulder, rubbing it. "Look, you can talk about it later. Okay?" You told him with a gentle tone.

Silence reigned when he looked at you.

It was a sight you never thought of seeing.

He was on the brink of breaking down right in front of you.

This was not like him.

That's what broke your heart.

You went in and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry." You said.

That was when he finally broke down in your arms, hugging you tightly. His painful sobs ripped through his throat as tears ran down his cheeks like faucets, wetting your shoulder. All the pain he's gone through up till this point was finally being let out.

You pat his back gently, gasping and panting, catching his breath. The sounds of his despair made it harder for you to keep it together yourself. You nearly caved when, through sobs, he spoke about how much he despised himself. Treating himself like someone that committed the worst crime. He gripped onto your top tightly.

You spoke against it, knowing this was all just things saying out of spite of himself. You didn't want him to keep up with this mindset. You started to give him soft and gentle kisses on the cheek. You spoke words of reassurance and small truths that was able to break him out of his shell of self-hatred.

He was beginning to find ease, taking you in, he didn't loosen his grip around you however. His breathing hitching as you rubbed his back.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

There was never a time in your life where he was even close to shedding a tear. However now, he was completely vulnerable.

.

.

.

.

.

got a little rushed in the end so i apologize.

comforting miguel is so nice so why not write about it??

[dragoneyes618]

L.A.’s largest Jewish neighborhood was the site of an anti-Jewish riot on Sunday, as a pro-Hamas and Hezbollah mob attacked Jews and blocked access to a synagogue where an Israel real estate fair was taking place. At around 11 a.m., rioters gathered outside Adas Torah Synagogue in the Pico-Robertson area and came mask/kefiyyeh-to-face against Jews who had come to rally in support of Israel, responding to a call on social media to turn out after recent Israel real estate events in other cities, including Teaneck, NJ and Toronto, drew antisemitic hordes, and one in Brooklyn was preemptively canceled because police would not guarantee the safety of attendees.

LAPD riot police responded to the chaotic scene and eventually cleared the area in front of the synagogue. But what happened in between is drawing ire from Jewish community leaders.

Political consultant Noah Pollak posted on X that he was at the synagogue and that the LAPD “let the Hamas supporters take over the sidewalk in front of the shul and block its entrance. In fact, LAPD had formed a cordon around the front of the shul to keep Jews out and Hamas supporters in. I tried to enter with my kids through the front door and was turned away not by Hamas supporters but by the LAPD. Anyone who wanted to attend had to use a secret back entrance.”

Shouting now familiar slogans including “Long live the intifada!” and “There is only one solution, intifada revolution,” the crowd quickly grew violent, punching and shoving and weaponizing bottles, sticks, and even their sign handles to attack Jews. Bear spray was also used, including against journalist Cam Higby, who posted videos of the attack on social media.

Police made only a single arrest – for carrying a prohibited “spiked flag.” They are reportedly investigating two allegations of battery.

Echoing coverage of the Israel-Hamas war, many news outlets framed the incident as a spontaneous “brawl,” “outbreak of violence” and “violent clash” (CNN’s take was “Violent scuffles break out between pro-Palestinian demonstrators and counter protestors in Los Angeles”) – yet this was anything but a random, unforeseen occurrence. Community activist and former Los Angeles City Council candidate Sam Yebri posted on X that “these terrorists told us when and where they were coming. For a week, we pleaded with our elected leaders to speak up. Not one made a public statement condemning these extremists.” He said elected officials “told LAPD to stand down and not intervene… Fortunately, proud Jews and well-organized Jewish groups stepped up to prevent a mass casualty event and the total destruction of the Pico-Robertson.” The Palestinian Youth Movement LA and Code Pink LA were among those behind Sunday’s riot.

“It’s like the media [are] bending over backwards to be politically correct,” the founder of Americans Against Antisemitism, former New York State Assemblyman Dov Hikind, told The Jewish Press. “The people that appeared at the synagogue [in Los Angeles] were radical Palestinians, Arabs, others who were there to disrupt. There are no two sides to that story. There is only one side, there are the good guys, and the other, the evil guys.”

Yebri said what occurred in front of the synagogue is “a dark stain in the history of Los Angeles. Violent extremists who proudly praise Hamas and Hezbollah marched outside an Orthodox synagogue in America’s most heavily Jewish neighborhood outside of New York – where my kids go to school, where my family worships, where my family eat and shop – and brazenly terrorized Jewish Angelenos with impunity and without any consequence. These violent masked domestic terrorists bludgeoned Jews, vandalized synagogues, schools and stores, keyed cars, assaulted anyone who appeared Jewish blocked Jews from entering their synagogue, and chanted for the genocide of the Jewish people. These violent masked domestic terrorists are now dispersing into Jewish neighborhoods hunting Jews and causing more destruction and vandalism.”

Indeed, videos of so-called “Jew-hunting” on the on the streets of L.A. that same day have circulated on social media, one showing stick-wielding thugs exiting their car to attack Jews, and another showing a mass of screaming protestors, having moved on from outside the synagogue, making their way down the block of a Jewish neighborhood threatening residents.

“Pro-Hamas and Hezbollah extremists violently attacked American Jews in Los Angeles and the politicians ordered the police to do nothing to defend them,” wrote Mark Dubowitz, CEO of the Foundation for Defense of Democracies. “Radical leftists and Islamists are ruining our country.”

Late Sunday night, California Gov. Gavin Newsom and L.A. Mayor Karen Bass issued statements denouncing the morning’s violence, specifically condemning the targeting of a house of worship. President Biden also issued a statement of condemnation.

Meanwhile, on the East Coast, a Jewish woman and her husband were attacked and beaten at their children’s graduation at a Brooklyn elementary school last week. Members of an Arabic-speaking family at P.S. 682 in Gravesend threw the man to the ground, grabbed his legs, and kicked and punched him. To the tune of “Free Palestine!” “Gaza is Ours!” and “Death to Israel!” the man was put in a chokehold and assaulted with a sharp stiletto heel the couple alleged.

The Jewish mom and her husband, a Dominican who is Catholic, shared their story with the New York Post after police refused to classify the incident as a hate crime. The NYPD is now investigating the incident further. “They targeted my family because we are Jewish,” said the woman, whose 10-year-old twins witnessed the assault, and whose 16-year-old was punched in the face after trying to help his father. While trying to video the assault, the mother was also attacked, pulled by her hair from behind and knocked to the ground by a woman shouting, “I will kill you.”

“The other side is saying, ‘Oh, they started it,’” Hikind said. “We in the Jewish community should be very, very concerned about the future…I say that because unfortunately, there’s no leadership as far as I’m concerned. These incidents happen, there’s no plan, there’s no plan to deal with everything going on…There are so many situations that don’t even make the news, so things are even worse than what we think they are.”

In an incident which did make the news last week, a mob of teens attacked a 41-year-old hasidic man late one night in Williamsburg with traffic cones and bottles while shouting antisemitic slurs. The NYPD hate crimes task force is investigating.

As of May 21, antisemitic crimes were up 55% in New York City compared with the same time last year – amounting to 143 incidents, according to the NYPD. Nationally, the Anti-Defamation League reported a record high of 8,873 antisemitic incidents in 2023 – a 140% rise over 2022 – with 5,200 of those occurring after October 7. The period of October 7 through January 7 saw a 361% rise over the previous year. Figures for 2024 are not yet available.

“There are no consequences for antisemitism,” Hikind told The Jewish Press. The message violent demonstrators get, in his words: “You’re free. Go ahead and do it tomorrow again.”

[wutheringcaterpillar]

An Assassination of The Heart

Pairing: High School!Jackson Rippner x Reader

Summary: Jackson had always had a rough life after being taken into foster care, having no positive outlook on life until you walked into his life. Only an unforeseen circumstance changes him forever.

Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of blood and murder, heartbreak, mentions of drug abuse, cigarette smoking, very brief mention of smut

I wanted to have a take on Jackson’s life before he became whom we know him to be on Red Eye. I hope you all enjoy this concept as much as I do.

August, Autumn of 1989

Waking up to the sunlight peering peacefully through the blinds, Jackson brushed the beads of sweat from his forehead, glancing toward the alarm clock ringing before pressing down on the button.

“Jackson are you up yet?!” He rolled his eyes from the screeching sound of his foster mother Evie.

“Yeah!” He hated his life. His biological mother had abandoned him on the sheriff department’s door, step father dead before he was even born from overdosing on heroin.

Now here he was in the small town of Harpeland, Georgia, in a house with seven other “siblings”, cramped in a small square room with nothing but a twin size bed and a rickety old dresser. The only plus side was the small window that looked out toward the creek where deer often resided for food and rest.

He had no friends, often staying to himself and failing in school but his needs were often pushed to the side, his achievements ignored, causing him to believe there was no point in trying anymore.

Pulling out his converse from underneath the shitty excuse of a bed, he grabbed his backpack, throwing on his beanie and began walking down the dirty old trail to school.

There was hardly ever anyone around since he liked to get a head start not wanting to deal with his foster siblings annoying him. He rarely ever got peace and quiet, often finding solace in old novels and looking forward to the time he had study hall but his schedule was quite different this year. With failing so many classes he had to double up, which he didn’t really care about. He was a smart individual, always acing his tests but never turning in homework or showing up and participating in side projects.

Walking up to the school, other students shouted their jokes at him for his last name being Rippner. He never payed attention to them, their words never bothering him.

As the bell tolled, he walked into the classroom late.

“Mr Rippner, the rules haven’t changed, you’re expected to be in your seat at 7:15 am.” He ignored her protests silently, and took an empty seat near the back wall, getting ready to put his head down until he noticed the principal walk in with a girl he didn’t recognize.

The teacher huffed at the interruption as the man whispered something in her ear and she nodded in response.

“Class we have a new student, this is Y/N L/N. She’s coming here from Ohio, give her a warm welcome and-“ Jackson faded her voice out, breath hitching in his throat when he layed eyes on you.

His crystal blue eyes transfixed on your immense beauty, he couldn’t help but think you were kind of cute with your backpack hanging off one shoulder carelessly, arms wrapped around your torso nervously.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach when you approached him, pointing to the desk in front of him.

“Is this seat taken?” 

“Ugh-no, no. All yours.” He smiled brightly, your cheeks blushing a rosy shade of pink from the strange boy’s smile as you thanked him and sat down.

Jackson couldn’t stop himself from staring at the back of your head in disbelief, his hormones running wild. He had never felt like this before and was convinced there wasn’t a girl out there for him but now, maybe that wasn’t the case.

“Shit..” Your pencils fell down onto the floor, the students around you giggling and chuckling at the incident while Jackson was quick to bend down and help you retrieve the yellow wooden utensils.

“Oh, thank you. You didn’t have to-“

“I know, but I wanted to.” The class carried on but his mind couldn’t escape the intrusive thoughts, thinking what it would feel like to have his fingers interlaced between yours, stargazing with you, knowing your hobbies, exchanging books. 

Time passed slowly, watching the clock tick by with each excruciating passing second. 

When the bell finally rang you gathered your book, stretching and standing from your seat but when you were in the midst of walking out to your next class a hand brushed against your arm gently, that swoonful voice.

“Hey! Um, let me walk you to your next class?” You nodded kindly, biting down on your plump bottom lip trying to simmer the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was cute, ridiculously cute and the only person who’s reached out and been kind to you, who would you have been to deny the boy a simple walk to class?

Jackson shared many classes with you, and always offering to carry some of the heavier textbooks out of the kindness of his heart.

The last period of the day seemed to be the only one you hadn’t shared and it completely dragged on considering it was algebra, the worst subject to ever exist.

When the bell rang at the end of the day, you packed up your belongings and headed to your locker only when you opened it a note fell out. The writing was particularly neat, and the grammar and punctuation nearly perfected.

Scanning the words, you read the mysterious letter.

“Meet me at the at the dock down the hill by the creek. You seem like a smart girl, I know you’ve done your research as you said. I’d love to have the chance to get to know you better. I want to know your interests, hobbies, everything. I look forward to seeing that beautiful smile tonight.”

Jackson

Your cheeks heated a rosey blush painting your skin as your stomach fluttered with butterflies. Maybe this school wasn’t so bad after all.

~

Arriving home, Evie noticed a spark in Jackson. He didn’t walk through the door brooding or tired, he didn’t throw his backpack onto the sofa like he normally does. More importantly he actually sat down in the chair at the kitchen table while she continued to rinse off vegetables for dinner, the soft sound of the antenna radio playing in the background while his siblings were outside playing in the summer heat.

Jackson tapped his foot nervously, hid mind still revolving around you and he wanted to hold it in, but for some reason he couldn’t.

“I met a girl at school today.” Evie’s eyebrows perked up in interest while tossing the roast in the oven snd the vegetables in a pot on the stove before removing her apron and taking a seat across from her son.

“Oh yeah? What’s her name? Given it’s a small town I assume she’s new, am I right?” Jackson nodded adoringly.

“Her name’s Y/N, and she is breathtaking. I’ve never seen a girl as pretty as her before. I um-“ Jackson itched at the back of his neck nervously.

“I asked her out tonight by slipping her a letter in her locker. I think she likes me to, I hope at least.” His mother settled her hand atop of his motherly, expressing how overjoyed she was for him. 

“That’s great honey! Remember what I always say, you’ll know when you know. You did the right thing by trusting your gut, the smart kid you are.” She ruffled his hair and excused herself to check in on her other children outside by the sandbox and tire swing. 

Mentioning that dinner was almost done, she sent everyone to go wash their hands and mentioned that Jackson had first dibs on the shower tonight, winking his way happily. For the first time in a long time Jackson sat at the dinner table, tossing jokes back and forth with his siblings enjoying the meal Evie had prepared.

Washing up and showering Jackson slipped on a jacket and jeans, tying his converse while heading out in the starry night sky toward the dock.

Evie couldn’t stop the acute smile painting her face as she watched her son chase out the door after a girl. He was always a difficult book to read and if it just so happened there was a girl that was able to decipher the writing inside his mind she wasn’t going to complain.

Opening the window, she shouted out through the screen.

“Don’t forget curfew is at 10!” Jackson waved at her, and turned down his path.

Upon arriving to the wooden dock, crawdads sang melodically throughout the atmosphere, crickets singing harmoniously in rhythm with the critters. This always held a special place to him, where he would go to clear his thoughts and just get away from the noise and clutter of his house. He had never brought anyone here, it was his only little peaceful sanctuary.

Sitting down, he placed his backpack beside him and checked his watch, it was only five pm but his heart pattered in anxiousness to see you and if you’d show.

He passed the time by pulling out his notebook, creating a portrait from memory of this morning when you walked into the class room. Reminiscing the way your hair flowed effortlessly over your shoulder, the blue jeans and black sweater draped over your body. He had always been a talented artist but like the dock, they were his creations that he didn’t wish to share with the world.

As he was etching out your figure, he thought he heard a tumbling in the grass, his head whipping around in curiosity only to be met with nothing and carrying on with his drawing.

That was when your hands curled in on his sides, spooking him but his frightened frown and girlish scream ended abruptly, a sincere grin forming when he saw it was you.

“Didn’t think I’d show did you?” You challenged him, taking a seat beside him and flinging off your flip flops into the grass, dipping your feet into the chilly water.

Jackson was quick to close his notebook, embarrassed and not wanting to you to see his drawing in fear of creeping you out.

“So, you said you wanted to get to know me. Ask away, also I brought snacks.” You shook a baggy filled with chocolate covered pretzels, sprinkled with your love.

Jackson took one willingly out of the baggie, slipping his shoes off and dipping his feet in next to yours. The sudden skin to skin contact causing bursts of electricity to pulsate through your body.

Looking down shyly, Jackson did the same but hadn’t moved his ankle away.

“Alright. So what’s your story? Any siblings, what do you like to do for fun? Any stories I should know about?” He chuckled slightly, his blue eyes shining subtly in the moonlight as he explained the complicated living situation he had been involved in his whole life. He normally would have felt uncomfortable talking about the reality of what his biological parents were like but you didn't seem very judgemental, if anything listening with open ears and an open mind. Although you felt sorry for him with the nearly non existent memories he had of his parents, there was a pang of jealousy when you'd learn he had siblings, and just that his mother was genuinely concerned about him. You would have killed for that.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have siblings. It gets quite lonely at times and I find myself falling asleep reading a book on the floor of my room. My parents constantly fight, hardly pay any attention to me. I could be dead, floating down the river right now and I still don’t think they’d notice.” Maybe Jackson hadn’t realized how good he had it compared to others. His face softened at the sad story, lapping his bottom lip in thought of what he could say to turn that inquisitive frown upside down.

"Well, for what its' worth you're more than welcome to come steal one of mine, though I must inform you if you are used to privacy, you will learn real fast it's nearly non existent with siblings." And there it was, that delicate, alluring laugh that left him hypnotized by your beauty.

Time passed slowly, but the conversation never staggered. You talked about the past, present, and the future. Fears, school. The basics, but he didn't want to mention about his interest in art, not yet, at least until the portrait was done. He didn't want to scare you off too early.

A week passed like the speed of sound, every night you ended back down at the dock.

Jackson had spent his nights after leaving you perfecting the portrait he was drawing of you sitting in a meadow, a small stray cat sitting beside you while birds and deer perforated the background at sunset.

When he would rest his head to sleep he found it difficult due to his mind running wild with the vision of you and him together forever. The way your eyes shined in the sunlight, how you smiled widely every time you saw him, and the way your voice sometimes staggered when you were nervous, he had never heard a laugh that sounded so heavenly and perfect, everything about you was perfect to him. He was falling fast, and it didn't scare him.

The following day he had to run to the post office for Evie whom was sending a package to his grandmother for her 80th birthday. In the process of walking back home, as he passed stores, he stepped backwards when a bracelet caught his eye.

It was a simple white band with different types of flowers decorating the width and he couldn't stop himself from going inside and purchasing the personal gift for you, knowing that you'd love it.

When he arrived home, he rushed to his mother, wanting to show her what he had bought for you in excitement and anticipation of her approval.

"Jackson, it's beautiful! She'll love it!" He smiled brightly, not being able to contain the clear blush heating his cheeks. Evie took him into the dining room to find a gift bag and some tissue paper, her heart warming that her son was finally opening up to her more and more every day now that you had entered his life. She just hoped that it would last for the sake of her son.

At the normal time, he had met you down at the dock, gift bag in hand. You had loved surprises and dropped your bag in the grass as he passed you the bag.

"Jackson what is this?" He shrugged, smirking confidently.

"I saw something I thought you'd like, so I bought it." Pursing your lips, you untied the bag, tossing the tissue paper out onto the ground to reveal the simplistic accessory. Your stomach fluttered with butterflies much like the first day you met him. No one had ever bought you anything just because, but maybe that was because your parents were too busy trying to buy out each other on business deals to care too.

"Jackson, you didn't have to do this for me..." Your voice was low, tone settling in disbelief. He reached for the bracelet pushing it onto your wrist gently.

"Don't say I never gave you anything." Wrapping your arms around, you rested your head on his shoulder, hands caressing his back while you listened to his pulse thumping rapidly.

When you pulled away, you pecked him on the cheek before taking your usual spots next to each other on the wooden surface.

“You smoke?” You shook your head shyly, never having really tried. 

“Do you want to? You don’t have to. It helps calm my nerves.” Motioning with your head, he pulled the tobacco tube from the containment of a hidden compartment in his backpack.

He handed you the lighter, giving you the honors of alighting the unlit tip.

You watched the butt glow orange, the smoke diminishing into the summer air as he puffed from the tube, his plump wraps securely around the white object.

Passing you the cigarette, you took it nervously, Jackson showing you the best way to hold it between your fingers.

“Now when you put it between your lips, you’re going to breathe in gently. You’ll feel the smoke clouding your lungs. You’ll then release and expel the remnants, got it?” Nodding nervously, Jackson watched intently as you inhaled.

You didn’t get very far, the discomfort in your chest causing you to cough and choke on the smoke, passing Jackson the cigarette back causing his insatiable laugh to reveal itself for the first time. He began patting your back, hand rubbing soothing circles into the delicate skin.

“Okay, okay. Fair is fair. What do you think about roller blading? It was all I really did where I’m from. Never really had friends and found a thrill feeling the wind blowing through my hair. It’s actually quite fun and I researched some trails in the area and checked them out before starting school. Wanna give it a go?” Jackson shook his head checking his watch realizing he was already late back home. 

“I can’t, my mom will have my ass if I’m not on my way back. I’m not going to make you walk home alone though, where do you live?” You giggled slightly in astonishment that his parents cared enough to give him a curfew, something you weren’t used to.

Nodding forth, he picked up his belongings following after you. 

To his own surprise, you didn't live far, quite the opposite. Your family had just moved into a new home next door deep in the woods. He hadn't even known they were doing construction but the more you know. Now he knows how you found the dock so easily.

The following afternoon, he had met you down the road near the roller rentals business that had just opened. Jackson was slightly unsettled that the bearded, partially overweight man running it he didn't recognize. It was a small town, everyone knew everyone but he shook off the uneasy feeling when your arms wrapped around him from behind. After all people moved all the time.

"Boo! Did I scare you?" He chuckled awkwardly, not wanting to admit that you did in fact startle him.

Having never done this, he followed your lead.

"Two pairs please!" After telling him your sizes, the man disposed his cigarette in a plastic container sitting on the edge of the stall.

The man's hand brushed over yours to exchange the cash but you didn't think much of it as things like this happen all the time, surely it was an accident. This went unnoticed by Jackson as he was looking out at how empty the park was for a sunny saturday afternoon. The only thing that caught his sight was a bird taking a bath near a bush. He knew your love for animals and grabbed your attention. Handing him the blades you gasped in awe at the adorable scene, before bending over in front of the stall to put your own on.

"You ready?" The guy behind you grunted as if he were waiting a tip but you didn't bring your wallet and Jackson had no more cash on him. Honestly he thought it was quite rude of him to do so. Nodding forth, you skated side by side down the empty streets, wind blowing freely through your hair as the sun shined down in it's ball of heat, warming your skin. Jackson had fallen quite a few times, his cheeks turning red embarrassment but you thought it was quite cute. With each incident he seemed to be more determined to not mess up, wanting to impress you that he was a quick learner and able to skate even while smoking a cigarette.

For once in his life he felt care free with you by his side, once he finally got into a steady stride. You screamed and laughed together like you were in complete control of the world, not a worry in your heads. He didn't think he'd enjoy this as much as he did.

Stopping to get ice cream, you shared a cone like lovers do, giving him the cherry while you showed him the skill of how you could tie the stem into a knot within seconds. He believed you to be quite impressive, and just an easy, kindhearted person. Who couldn't love you?

After making a few stops at a book store, and some antique outlets, Jackson skated home with you, kissing you goodnight on the cheek, skating home with a smile that never left his face but he felt like someone was watching not only him but both of you. When he'd look back no one would be there, maybe he was just being paranoid.

The following night the crickets chirped throughout the breezy atmosphere, water rippling calmly in the pond as you layed on the wooden dock star gazing.

“I promise, I’ll always be around.” Jackson smiled softly, crystal eyes shining under the moonlight. Involuntarily, your hands inched toward one another, intertwining your fingers together and latching in a display of affection. You giggled from the touch, staring at the size difference of his hand on yours. After a few moments of star gazing, Jackson caught your stare in him, biting down on your bottom lip playfully. He watched you quizzically but with an endearing smile on his face.

“What?” Before he had time to think you leaned in, not being able to resist the urge to kiss him any longer. In an alluring motion, your lips captured his, causing Jackson’s breath to hitch in his throat and his eyebrows raising in surprise.

Your lips were chaste, soft, the taste of the strawberry lip gloss insatiable. His hand grazed over the softness of your cheek, heart thumping rapidly in his chest while he deepened the kiss, his lips slowly curling into a smile as he dipped his tongue playfully onto yours.

The night sky settled as you slowly grazed your hand up the nape of his warm neck.

Falling back into the dampened grass, the atmosphere seemed to come to a still. Adrenaline and hormones rushing through your veins in a wave of disparity and lust as your lips curled in unison, hands skimming one anothers' bodies slowly scratching at each other’s clothes.

“Are you sure? I-I don’t want you to feel pressured, and-“ You shushed his concerns by pulling him back  down, hips grinding upward to feel his hardened mound, giving him all the reassurance he needed to pollen your untouched rose.

The night had passed slowly, the sun starting to peer up as you awoke in his arms, checking the time on your watch.

“Shit. Wake up we’re going to be late!” Jackson groaned from his deep slumber, goosebumps on his skin from the chilly evening, wiping off an ant from his arm in the process.

Shoveling around, he began to panic when he saw the sun knowing full well his mother would have a field day with him once he returned home.

“Fuck, I-I don’t mean to run off but my mom will kill me. It’s better if I just go home and let her know I’m alright then to even bother going to school. Will you be okay walking alone?” Giving him a reassuring smile, your hand caressed his soft cheek, calming him down merely instantly.

“I’ll be alright. I wish I had parents that cared as much as yours. Go home I’ll catch up with you later, I’m sure your mom will understand. You worry too much y’know?” He chuckled kindheartedly, his hand inching toward yours and thanking you for being understanding and just having a calming demeanor. Leaning in you placed a kiss to his lips, reminiscing back to the memory of last night, falling asleep in his arms after making passionate love. He was the boy you had been waiting for all along.

As he left you shouted after him. 

“Oh and Jackson, I don’t regret last night, I um- I’m really happy it happened.” He smiled sweetly, rushing back to give you a passionate kiss before agreeing he hadn’t regretted it either and he would see you soon.

Evie paced the kitchen, hands trembling as she bit her nails nervously waiting for the clock to strike 8 am so she could call the school. The police were of no help, informing her that a missing persons report could not be created until it was at least 48 hours past when she had last seen or heard from him.

Marcie, Jackson’s older sister consoled their mother, reminding her of the fact Jackson was a teenager, surely he was alright and just forgot to call.

“Bye, love you.” Your voice was like soothing music to his ears and for a moment, he didn’t think you realized what you said. Those two words, seven letters, making his heart patter quickly, stomach fluttering with butterflies while he smiled to himself watching you walk off through the meadow back home, not giving him a chance to say it back but one thing he was sure of was that he was falling fast at the speed of love, knowing in his gut from that moment forward he would do anything to protect you.

When Jackson arrived home, his mother slammed the door closed behind him in fury and anger.

"Where have you been?! I've been worried sick about you, for all I know you could've been dead in a ditch, you know the rules!" Jackson began to apologize right away, explaining that he had fallen asleep at a friend's house but she knew better than that. In his flustered state, he attempted to speak further but Evie wasn't having any of it.

"You are grounded for a week. I expect you home right after school." When Jackson tried to argue, she cut him off.

"It's not up for discussion son. Now go to your room." Scoffing, he threw his hands up in defeat, walking in a fast pace toward his room slamming the door shut in irritation. What was he to do not having alone time with you, especially after last night.

He needed to be near you, to talk with you. It was only your touch, your voice that could calm him down, keep him sane from this fucking house. He wrote a letter, asking his mother if she could at least walk it over to your house and give to your parents. He didn't want you to think that last night was a mistake or that you weren't good enough.

After much debate, Evie gave in knowing how much you had helped Jackson come out of his shell and settle his disruptive emotions. She had explained to your parents it was for only a week but they acted as if they didn't even know you were dating Jackson. When she peered in through the door way, papers were scattered across the table, expensive decor hanging on the walls. She hadn't known that they were that financially set.

When the moonlight bore and the ruckus settled in the house, Jackson quietly inched his door open, seeing that all the lights were off and not a person in sight.

Walking back to his room and closing the door, he snuck out through the window, walking over to your house and seeing a singular light on. Maybe that was your room, maybe you found it hard to sleep as well. Glancing down at the driveway, he picked up a few pebbles before going to throw them at your window, praying he had the right one.

The sound reeled you away from the book you were indulged in, your heart pounding in your chest when you raised the window to see Jackson standing outside in the midsommer night.

"Jackson, what're you doing?"

"I had to see you, can you come down?" Nodding, and telling him to wait a moment. You wrapped a robe around you, tumbling down the stairs and rushing outside, jumping up into his arms while he caught you effortlessly. He was everything you wanted, everything you needed. You nuzzled your head into the warmth of his neck, breathing in the freshly shower scent of his sea breeze body wash while he held you, basking in the moment of solitude with one another, nothing but the sounds of the awakened night animals cooing softly in the background.

"Your bracelet, you still have it on." He smiled in adoration, his voice like a velvet day dream.

"And I'm never taking it off for a single second." He didn't have long, knowing Evie would often wake up through out the night.

"I have one more surprise for you that I'm always done with. I've been working on it since the day we met but I want to wait until I'm off from being grounded and then I'm going to make sweet love to my baby girl." You giggle, pressing your lips to his before bidding him goodnight. He waited to ensure you were back in your house before heading back over to his.

The following morning Jackson arrived at school, he walked to class worried that he hadn't seen you at all but tried to convince himself that perhaps you had fallen ill. It wasn't too far fetched that there was a bug going around school. He sat anxiously, finishing up the final touches of his portrait for you, hoping it would help time pass. Around 12:00 pm, there was a phone call made to the school and Jackson was pulled from class. Only it wasn't his mother who made the call, bu they must have received some kind of verification for him to be pulled. Furrowing his brows, he gathered his books, walking back home.

The school hadn't told him much but the teacher and other supervisors watched him with sorrowful eyes, looks of pity. Jackson was confused as to what was going on but he just lived down the road so he'd have an answer soon.

When he approached his house, Evie was on the porch sitting on the swing with a reddened face, tears streaming effortlessly down her cheeks while she blew her nose. This was unlike his mother, she normally didn't cry, and why were there police cars in the driveway? His first thought was something happened to one of his siblings.

“What’s going on?” Evie cried with a whole heart for her foster son, she had never seen him so happy, the light at the end of the tunnel seeming visible until now. This would surely wreck any and all progress Jackson has made. She wasn't prepared to tell him but what choice did she have?

“Honey maybe you should sit." He nodded awkwardly, gulping back an anxious lump before taking a seat next to her. She didn't really know where to begin or how to rip the band-aid off. How could she explain a situation she didn't truly understand herself?

She stood from her seat sighing and glancing out the window knowing that if she didn't speak now, he was going to find out for himself. She owed him the explanation. Softening her tone, she turned to her son with apologetic eyes with a look of motherly endearment and sorrow.

“It's Y/N. They found her body in a river this morning behind the tracks, Jackson honey I’m so sorry.” In that moment time seemed to stop. Jackson was frozen in his seat, lips partially agape. When Evie took a hesitant step forward to attempt to console her son with open arms, Jackson merely shoved her away the tears springing freely as he ran out the door.

Sprinting all the way to your house, he saw the police cars in the driveway, your pup whimpering with sadness next to your father’s leg. When the ambulance carried out your body on a stretcher, covered with a white sheet the reality crept in harshly, all too sudden.

“Jackson!” His mother yelled after him trying to get him to come back inside but her voice was merely a whisper, his eyes fixated on the bloody sheet covering his first and only love’s body. 

He stumbled and ran to the ambulance, tears springing freely. Ripping the sheet off of your head freely, he was met with the cold, hard reality of the situation. Your skin was pale, lifeless, blood stains on your cheeks and in your beautiful hair. It had looked like your face had been beaten in with a weapon. He wasn't sure if he wanted to vomit, to keep crying, or kill someone.

The ambulance workers pulled him away against his will, recovering your body and closing the ambulance doors. Jackson fell to his knees, your mothers touch on his shoulder startling him.

"I-I just saw her last night. I-I didn't even get to say goodbye...I never got to say it back."

He searched every trail you walked, every pond, every dock, every diner but there was nothing. Not a single clue. Strangers passed by him hastily, rushing to get their morning coffee, none of them appearing familiar. 

He was desperate, he was tumultuously sad and depressed, but the anger outweighed any other emotion.

After a long day of searching and investigating, he returned home to his bed, ignoring his mother and siblings wanting nothing more than to just be left alone. No one understood his pain, no one could understand the profound connection he shared with you. Most importantly no one would ever be able to surmount the palpable, tentative, fragile love you held for one another.

Toward the end of the long, dreary, tiresome day Jackson found himself walking toward the dock where you shared probably one of the most intimate forms of love, the moment that you made love with one another.

Sitting down on the ground, the rain continued to pour down relentlessly, lightning shocking the sky and rendering the animals into a safe space for the night. His feet swished in the water, staring down at the ripple effect when he noticed the bracelet he had bought for you laying in a mud puddle in the dampened grass.

He didn’t hesitate for a second, reaching for the only thing he had left of you. He examined the beaded accessory in his hands, squeezing it, causing him to cry more. How did this get here?

“What am I supposed to do!” He screamed at the sky, feeling completely hopeless, knowing someone had done this to you and he hadn't had a clue. If it was here, that meant someone had eyes on you, but who?

Looking through the photo album, he skimmed as his tears painted the pages until he realized there was a common, terrifying theme that neither of you had caught in the photos.

The man from the rollerblading rentals was somehow in every photo lurking in the background menacingly. How had he not noticed? Perhaps he was too blinded by living a happy life with his first love to notice anyone but him and you together.

Shutting the album he ran to the phone book pulling the hefty book from a side table drawer near the landline in the living room. 

Flipping to the back where local advertisers were listed in hopes of figuring out the man’s name. With his thumb he traced down each page, ready to give up until he reached the last one.

Derek Lauer was his name, listed along with a business and personal number. Finally one step forward into finding out who this man was that took his innocent little birdie away.

The following morning Jackson had set an alarm, wanting to be at the clerks office as soon as they opened hoping to find an address.

When he retrieved what he wanted after some convincing to the older woman sat at the desk who clearly hated her job and life. The odd thing was the address was nearly three hours away.

Formulating a plan, he waited until Evie and his siblings were asleep, taking the car keys and heading out to the road. His knuckles were turning white from how tight his hands were wrapped around the wheel. Jaw clenched, in anger and fury, his heart rate increasing with each passing moment.

When he pulled up to the driveway, the house contained a sold sign, the date being just yesterday. This didn't make any sense. He knew he wrote it down right, glancing down at the paper again, he was about to look back up when a man's voice echoed through the night.

"Jackson, right?" He whipped his head around, recognizing the man to indeed be the one from the roller blading rental. It took everything in him to think rationally and not pounce at the man and rip his toxic, sick, twisted brain out.

“I know it was you. You sick fuck, what did you do to her.”

“Oh you don’t want to know, a pretty young thing like that. I think your imagination will suffice.” Jackson’s blood boiled inside, heart pounding with anger. He was ready to jump at the man, wanting to strangle him and torture him slowly for what he did to you but the cops around the corner staring at the scene made him stop. He wouldn't be any use to you locked up in prison for killing a murderer he couldn't prove to be guilty.

With technology not being too advanced at the time, Jackson had no actual proof, DNA identification was just beginning and it wasn't rare for the wrong person to be convicted. It's not like he could go to the police station and just say this guy confessed when he had no idea where he was going. How did he know his name?

"You should really watch over your girlfriend more, never know what kind of demented people roam the streets, do ya?"

What was his motive for taking you to the dock? How long after Jackson left you did he break into your home and abduct you? There were still missing pieces Jackson had to fill in but he would get his revenge one way or another, even if he had to do it himself. The law, the police, the courts they were always corrupt, never fully doing their job. No, the only way Jackson was going to get his revenge was to leave home, and start a life of his own. Surely an 18 year old was better at researching the some old sick fuck. People always doubted Jackson's thinking and learning skills, well he was about to prove them all wrong with his first target.

The man got in his car with his final box, making the rookie mistake of having a clear plate on his car. Jackson wanted him to think he wasn't going to follow him and stayed stood there in the rain until the cop cars left. He'd figure out a way to dump Evie's car somewhere once he finds a new, safer ride.

He clutched the portrait and bracelet he kept in his jeans, taking off in a fit or rage but remaining calm to keep his thinking clear, and tactical.

From that day forward Jackson vowed to obtain his revenge by taking these rich, scumbag assholes off the streets for good. They never had to pay any time, always sweeping things under the rug, cops covering for them. No, no that just wouldn’t do. If they thought for even a second they had the upper hand they were sadly mistaken. Jackson would forever be a frigid, moral-less man after losing his one true love, unable to love another woman ever again.

[alovesongtheywrote]

Nightmare Academia - Masterlist

You and Spencer are rival professors at a university. Hijinks ensue

Part 1 - Have you ever seen the tiktok where that guy brings a typewriter to his class because his prof doesn't allow laptops? Yeah, it's that, but you are the source of the typewriters. In other words, you're Reid's worst nightmare.

Part 2 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia: Reid's proper response to the typewriter incident(s)

Part 3 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia: 1000 words of Reid scheming against the reader with the help of some familiar faces!

Part 4 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia: the outcome of Spencer's most recent prank- and the Reader's well deserved revenge

Part 5 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, the prank war continues- you steal Spencer's mugs, he uses one of your worst fears against you, and you're both dicks to each other

Part 6 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Morgan and Garcia hijack a prank.

Part 7 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Reid and the Reader shut down a party, hold hands, and lie to the police. Not in that order.

Part 8 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, things go south. (Doubt comes in.)

Part 9 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, the reader meets the team and the world crashes and burns.

Part 10 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Spencer gets what he deserves and then some.

Part 11 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Spencer gets stabbed.

Part 12 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Spencer goes to the hospital, and you fill out paperwork.

Part 13 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Spencer makes up for past mistakes and you take him home.

Part 14 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, someone shit-talks Star Trek.

Part 15 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, a prank has unforeseen consequences.

Part 16 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, a ghost encourages promiscuity.

Part 16.5 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, it's the holiday season and Reid pulls a lil prank.

Part 17 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, your author presents you a series of vignettes about you and Reid sharing an office. In other words- you and Reid share an office. Shenanigans ensue.

Part 18 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Reid fixes your mistakes and you get all blushy about it.

Part 19 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, somebody dies, somebody leaves, and somebody ends up alone.

Part 20 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, you and Spencer are separated. Neither of you take it well.

Part 21 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, a community recuperates and Spencer comes back to you.

Part 22 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, you and Reid reunite. And you get a little tipsy.

Part 23 - In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, case stuff ensues and you prepare for heartbreak.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 1 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: part one is here, enjoy! <3

W/C: 3.398

Introduction

"Can you try smiling this time?"

I mumble, holding myself back from rolling my eyes in annoyance. I click my tongue, standing behind Luis, my close friend and cameraman.

"The photo needs to be edited later, for sure. Looks a little off compared to the others." I tell Luis, sending an insult to the man in front of the camera, in English for him to hear.

Even so, Luis and I usually spoke English to each other. It being a language we were both very well versed in.

Jude doesn't even look like he wants to be here, at all. He wouldn't be the only one, that was for sure. 

"That's good enough, Bellingham. You can go." I say, folding my arms up to my chest.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes, the Brummie accent, which was quite new to me, rolling off his tongue.

He raises his hands, smoothing down his shirt, before nodding at Luis with a smile and leaving, not acknowledging me per usual.

"Douchebag." I mumble, solely for myself to hear, but I notice Luis glancing at me.

"What?" I ask, rolling the papers in my hands into a tube out of boredom. The letters curving with the bend of the paper.

"You two are becoming more insufferable every day." He says, going to wipe his camera lens with a microfiber cloth. He treated his cameras like his actual children.

"Not my fault." I reply through clenched teeth, placing a hand on my hip.

"You spilled an entire americano on his brand new, white kit. On his first day here." He says, recalling the embarrassing and aggravating incident.

"It was just an accident!" I retort, unfolding the papers again. "We could have moved on from that after I apologized, but he's decided to be an asshole about it."

So, who was the insufferable one here?

He doesn't say anything else, an uninterested sigh leaving his lips as he distracts himself with the lens.

I saw Luis as the older brother I never had, but he wasn't even taking my side in the situation.

Traitor.

I huff, turning away and looking around the pitch for some entertainment I could turn into content.

My eyes catch the players of the club warming up a couple meters away.

Easy content, my favorite.

"Can I get a camera?" I nudge Luis, his eyes looking up at mine.

"Should I trust you with one?" He says, voice unsure.

"Yes, just give me the smaller one." I usher, holding my hand out in anticipation.

He sighs again, grabbing the requested camera out of his equipment bag.

"Two hands." He mutters.

I roll my eyes, grabbing the camera with the apparently very necessary, two hands.

"I'll take care of your child." I mock, smile tugging at my lips as I see him get annoyed.

"Chill, I've got it." I add, walking away from him.

I was being serious, of course.

Firstly, I wanted these shots to come out perfectly. Secondly, I didn't want to get killed by him for ruining his precious camera. I had enough enemies in this club already. Losing an ally wasn't on my bingo list this season.

I turn the camera on clumsily, pointing it at the training players as I'm standing behind the goal.

How the hell does a small camera weigh this much? It genuinely felt like a bag of rocks weighing down on my arms.

I try to ignore the heaviness of the camera, filming the individual shooting of the players. Moving the camera when necessary.

I stand there for a moment, before I hear Luis come up to me, finally taking the camera out of my hands.

"How the hell do you even hold these cameras? My arm almost went numb." I say, rubbing my tired arm as I look at him.

"I go to the gym, unlike you- and I'm used to it by now." He replies, focusing on filming.

The urge to say something petty back is interrupted as Camavinga suddenly yells at us, our heads snapping up.

« Tu filmes? » are you filming?

He shouts in French, standing in his position.

I used to whine and complain about having to take French back in school, but now I was genuinely grateful for it. It was very useful now, even though I had forgotten a great chunk of it.

"Want us to?" I shout back in English, ignoring the fact that we are shouting back and forth like maniacs. He nods, giving us a thumbs up.

"Yeah, go ahead." I nudge Luis, making him film again. I grab him, making him take a step back for safety, watching Cama receive the ball and shoot, hitting the net perfectly.

I cheer quietly, not wanting to disturb the audio of the footage as he smiles back at me, walking back to stand and watch the other players.

I have been working in the marketing and PR department at Real Madrid for about two years now. The club and players were generally very nice to work with, which made my job so much better.

It wasn't my permanent job. I had just started my third year of my law degree this new school year, combining online classes with this job. Balancing did get difficult at times, but I liked the fact that it kept me busy and motivated.

"Think we're good to go." Luis says, interrupting my thoughts as he points his camera downward.

"You sure?" I ask, whipping my head around.

"Yeah, the sun is about to melt us and the camera. Come on, let's go inside." He says, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away from the pitch

"If you read this sentence, does it sound like I know what I'm talking about?" I ask Lina, her face scrunching up almost instantly. 

I was confident enough to write this essay on my own, really, but having a friend keep me company made it way more fun. 

"You know I don't like thinking about school. That's in the past for me." She says, her hands coming up in front of her defensively. 

"Come on, please? I'll grab a drink for you in a minute." I beg, placing my hands on her shoulders, shaking her back and forth.

"Make it two."

"Deal."

"Okay, show me." She says, shoving a piece of pineapple into her mouth, grabbing my laptop and leaning forward as I repeat the question. 

She types away for a second, adding a few words before turning to me after reading the sentence again. 

"What are you writing? The damn Magna Carta? What kind of essay is this?" She asks, her eyebrows raised. 

"It's about EU law." I sigh, I liked this subject, it was very interesting, but I couldn't wait to be done with this fifteen page essay. 

"Explains a lot." She says, shoving another piece of fruit into her mouth. Her fork suddenly appearing in front of my face, a piece of watermelon spiced onto it. 

"Thanks." I mutter, biting off the piece of fruit as I hear commotion in the hallways. 

"Get me my drinks, please?" She asks, blinking at me. I roll my eyes, push my laptop back and get up. 

"Let me guess, a lime soda and an orange juice?" 

"You got it." She winks, smiling at me. 

I chuckle at her, looking up as I watch the players pile into the cafeteria. 

"Lunchtime?" I mouth at Lina, she checks the time on her phone, nodding. 

I make my way to the bar, extending my arms up to grab two cups. The feeling of someone's hand on mine catching me off guard as I immediately let go of the cup. Turning around to see Jude right behind me. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, sending him a nasty look. Invading my personal space wasn't enough, now he wants to steal my cup?

"Grabbing a cup?" He retorts in a menacing tone, sending a glare back. 

I look at him, watching him fill his stolen cup with water, before he looks at me again. 

"What?"

"Can you move?" I ask through gritted teeth, motioning to him how he's basically entrapping me in between the counter and himself. 

He looks at me for a second as if to provoke me more, finally stepping away when I sigh. 

I scoff, rolling my eyes and extend my arm to grab another cup apart from the one I already had. 

I give him another nasty look, before filling both cups up and finally leaving his vicinity. 

"Don't spill it on anyone." He says, mocking tone clear as day. 

I turn again, fighting the urge to throw the precious orange juice into his annoying face before sighing and walking away. 

"Hope he chokes on his water." I mutter, finally putting the two cups down on the table, in front of Lina. 

"What was that back there? Another one of your tantrums?"

"No, his tantrum after he couldn't grab another cup, other than the one my hand was already on."

She chuckles, and I send her a slight glare, trying to delve back into my essay. 

I was maybe halfway through already, having to hand it in next week. I might have procrastinated a little, but one thing about me was that I'll always get it done on time. No matter what. 

Though, as I keep reading the word vomit I had written, I feel a wave of annoyance flow through me. I grunt, putting my face flat on the table. 

Two more years, then I could finally do my specialization. Two more years. 

"What's gotten into her?" I hear, recognizing Luis' voice. Then I hear a shift of the chair across from me as he sits down with- probably a tray of food. 

"Essay." I hear Lina mumble, a hum coming from Luis in acknowledgment.

"Are you still not done with that essay? You got it assigned like three weeks ago." He says in a nagging tone. 

I groan, remembering that I said that I wouldn't procrastinate this school year. Past me definitely hated the present me, and for sure hated future me even more if I kept this up. 

I raise my head, huffing before sitting up straight.  I blink a couple times to clear my vision and start to vigorously type again. 

"Have you guys seen the final edit for tomorrow's match?" Luis says, covering his full mouth with his hand. 

"No, who approved it?" I ask confused, glancing at the both of them and returning my gaze to my screen.

"Valeria did." He says. I look at him for a moment, scrunching my eyebrows together. 

"Not surprised." I mutter, taking a sip of my coffee. 

"Speaking of the devil." Lina says, and my eyes immediately dart around the room to find the devil in question. 

She's staring right at our table, making a beeline towards us as the clicks of her heels get louder and louder. 

Please don't sit here. 

She gives us a painfully fake smile, swinging the iPad in her hand back and forth. 

"Have you guys seen the edit I approved?"

Not even a hello?

"No, we haven't." Lina answers, and I stare at Valeria as she unfortunately sits across from me. 

She chuckles, practically shoving the IPad in our faces, showing off the edit. 

"It's perfect, isn't it?" She chuckles again, and I fight the urge to cover my ears instead of hearing her ear deafening, high-pitched laughter. 

"It's alright." I say, giving her a smile. My opinion really didn't matter to her anyway, the least I could do was pretend to like it. 

She nods, suddenly looking directly at me, glancing down at my laptop. 

"Still working on school? Can't even think of how someone like you can balance it with this busy job." She says, smile pulling at her lips. 

I raise my brows, looking at Lina and Luis for confirmation of what I had just heard her say. 

They give me the same 'what the fuck' look, and I look back at Valeria, giving her a fake smile. 

"I'm sure you couldn't think of it, Valeria." I say, keeping my retort minimal, I had to keep it professional, unlike her. 

She looks at me, no words are exchanged further as an almost minute long silence follows. 

She finally decides to leave after, sending both Luis and Lina a wave, doing her best to ignore me further. 

"She's so weird. Always on my ass about something." I mutter, starting to type again. 

"Don't think she's gotten over the fact that you were chosen to travel with the team this season." Lina says, patting my shoulder. 

"Well, too bad for her. Like I've got time for her petty conversations."

If I was being honest; I couldn't stand being within five meters of her. And with the amount of meetings we had together, made life a little more difficult than I would've liked. 

"Besides, you're coming with me. Why isn't she on your ass as well?" I ask Luis, seeing him shrug. 

"Because I'm handsome?" He smirks, starting to flex his arms. 

"She's annoying, but she doesn't have a vision problem." I hear Lina say, the both of us bursting out in laughter. Luis looking at us with the most defeated look ever, making us laugh even louder.

"Okay, alright, sorry. You're very handsome, we're just having a little fun. I promise." I say patting his hand, holding back more laughter as I dab away moisture from my eyes. 

I finish typing my current chapter after calming down, observing the text, and double saving the document before turning my laptop off. I look around for a second, seeing the players and staff chat and laugh together. The buzzing of my phone redirecting my attention back to our table. 

"y/n- your phone." Lina says, grabbing it to hand it to me. 

I grab it after thanking her, reading the caller ID. 

"Oh, it's my dad." I mutter. "I'll be back in a minute." I say, standing up to walk out of the cafeteria. I look around for a moment, then slide my finger to the right to pick up the call. 

"Dad?"

"y/n, how's work going?" He says, the sound of a paper shredder in the background almost sabotaging my understanding of his sentence. 

"Good, we're having lunch. How about you?" I reply, leaning against the wall. 

"Same old. I called to tell you- I'm not having dinner at home tonight. Ask Carmen to make something you want to eat." 

I hold back a sigh, closing my eyes in annoyance. He'd been working a lot since I was little, day and night. It had paid off very well. We had a big house and a beautiful backyard. He owned a law firm, in a nice area of the city and had a lot of clients.

His firm was also the legal representative of the club, being very close with President Pérez and manager Ancelotti themselves and other higher ups. 

Of course, I was still thankful, I never had to worry about necessities like food and clothes, they were always provided for me on a silver spoon. 

"Alright dad. See you tonight, love you." 

I hang up, shoving my phone into my back pocket, and walk back into the cafeteria.

"I'm going back to the office." I tell Lina and Luis, them looking up at me in concern. 

"Why? Did something happen?" Luis asks, fixing his dark, curly hair.  

"No, I just want to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow." I force a smile, trying to cover up the fact that my mood was definitely ruined after that phone call. 

I grab my laptop, holding it in between my arm and chest as I start making my way out of the cafeteria. 

Not before I'm stopped by someone calling out to me. 

"y/n!" I hear, looking up and seeing Vini call me over, Rodrygo and sadly, Jude standing next to him. 

How did this communication even work?

I raise a brow, walking over to them. 

"What's with that face? Trouble with your boyfriend?" Vini says in Spanish, greeting me with a hug. 

"It's nothing like that! It was just my dad." I deny, laughing at him. My smile totally disappearing from my face when I make accidental eye contact with an irritated looking Jude next to Vini.

"Right, how's your dad? He hasn't been around lately." Rodrygo asks, greeting me as well. 

"Busy- you know how he is..." I reply, swatting my hand. "I'll try to convince him to visit." I smile. 

"Will you be coming with us to tomorrow's match?" Vini asks. 

"Oh yeah, I'll be joining you on all the matches this season. You guys got lucky this time." I joke, giving him a little wink. 

The two Brazilian men laugh, Vini patting my shoulder as I excuse myself to go up. 

I twist the key in the door lock, opening the front door to my house. The smell of spices and sauces filling up my nostrils. I scramble to take my shoes off, throwing my bag onto the floor and making a beeline to the kitchen area. 

"Aunty Carmen!" I exclaim, hugging her tightly. 

"Oh my girl!" She coos, squeezing me even tighter. 

"I missed you so much." I say, planting a kiss on her soft cheek, letting go of her. 

"Me too. Come on, get cleaned up and we'll have dinner." She says warmly, going back to stirring the food. 

Aunty Carmen was the lady who had been cooking for me and my dad since I was a child. Her food was finger-licking good, and I don't think I could ever survive without it. 

She'd partially raised me, alongside my biological aunt, whom I lived in the UK with for a couple of years. 

I had begged my dad to not send me to a boarding school, so he'd decided to send me off to live with my aunt, and made me attend an international school instead. A place, consisting of cultures and languages I always craved to be surrounded with becoming my second home. 

"When is your dad coming?"

"Oh no, my dad isn't coming for dinner." I explain, pulling out two spoons and two forks out of the cabinet and walking over to the dinner table. 

"He wasn't home last time either, why?"

"Too busy. You know how he is." I mumble, filling her glass with water. 

"I'm sorry, my girl." 

"It's fine- I'm used to it by now. You're here tonight at least." I beam, starting to dig into the food. 

"Aunty, you never disappoint!" I exclaim, shoving another spoonful of food into my mouth.

"Slow down! It's not going to run away from you." She fusses, taking a bite of the food herself. 

A comfortable silence falls in between us, the sound of our utensils clattering against the plates and bowls accompanied by the occasional comment about the taste of the food. 

I join her in cleaning up the table, placing the rinsed dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and putting  the leftovers into the fridge. 

"If you look closely, you can see the food I made for the rest of the week. Make sure you close the lids well, so it can stay fresh." She says, drying her wet hands on a kitchen towel. 

"Thank you." I say, giving her another hug. 

"Oh, you're leaving already?" I ask, watching her grab her handbag. It was a pretty brown bag, a birthday present from me a couple years ago. 

"I do sweetie. Take care of yourself." She says, pulling me into a hug. 

"-and lock your doors, don't open them for anyone." 

"You know I'm not a child anymore. I'm twenty already! Besides, we have security cameras everywhere." I complain, folding my arms up to my chest. 

"You've grown up too fast." She says, pinching the fat of my cheek, making me whine at the pain. 

I sigh, a little sad as she opens the front door and walks out. I wave one more time, closing the door behind her and locking it as she had instructed. 

My dad had keys to get in when I went to bed anyway. 

I decide to get ready for bed, turning on the now full dishwasher, and going up to my room. Hoping everything will go smoothly as planned tomorrow.