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#and my mother tell me i need to understand because it's not easy for him but he still loves me - and no; how can someone love his child -
sunsetreid · 6 months
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back to school night [ s. reid ]
— part one !
part of the ‘ back to school night ‘ series
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paring : teacher!Spencer Reid x single mom!reader
summary : Spencer is your daughter’s elementary school teacher, and they finally meet at back to school night
requested : no
genre : fluff & smut
warnings : age gap (8 years), some language, explicit sexual content, slight hair pulling, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), protected sex, p in v penetration, use of some pet names
【 18+ CONTENT BELOW (minors dni !) 】
She is so late to back to school night.
This was in her calendar for the past two weeks and she managed to still be late. Her 8-year-old daughter Cassia is too preoccupied with her tablet in the back to notice just how late the two of them actually are.
Back to school night started at 7. It’s thirty minutes past the start time. (Y/N) has probably missed most of the parent meeting already. If it weren't for how excited Cassia was for her mother to finally meet her teacher, she would have happily stayed home and watched a Disney movie with her daughter.
Cassia’s father usually does drop off because the school is on the way to his work so (Y/N) has never met her daughter’s third grade teacher. Until tonight.
Being late is such a good first impression.
As soon as she finds a parking spot and turns the car engine off, (Y/N) quickly gathers her things and Cassia before rushing inside.
“Cassie, which way to your classroom?” she asks her daughter. Cassia points down a hallway so she grabs her hand and heads down.
When (Y/N) and Cassia walk inside, they are greeted by dozens of eyes. The man who is leaning over one of the desks and is pointing something out looks up at them.
Cassia lets go of her mother’s hand and runs over to the man, who (Y/N) notices is dressed in a button-up and tie with dress pants. His hair is on the longer side but he still looks handsome.
“Doctor Reid!” Cassia exclaims as she throws herself at him and gives him a hug. “Look who came with me today.”
The man — Dr. Reid — smiles at Cassia before looking up at (Y/N). “That cannot be your mother, Cassie,” he says. His hazel eyes meet hers and she feels a warm sensation spread throughout her body.
A sensation she hasn’t felt since having Cassia.
“It is!” an excited Cassia replies. “That’s my mom.”
Dr. Reid tells Cassia that her classmates are down the hall with the snacks. She runs out of the room and Dr. Reid looks up at (Y/N).
Immediately, she begins to apologize when Dr. Reid turns to face her. “I am so sorry that I’m late,” she says. “I lost track of time when Cass asked me when we were leaving for back-to-school night and I just-”
“You can relax, Miss (L/N),” Dr. Reid laughs. “No need to ramble. I understand very well how easy it is to lose track of time. I can give you a quick rundown of how the classroom works as soon as I'm done with the presentation.”
A sigh of relief passes her lips. “Thank you, Doctor Reid,” she replies.
“First of all, you can call me Spencer,” he replies. She smiles. “I’d also like to say that your daughter is one of my most energized and enthusiastic students. She is always participating in lessons and offering to help others. I love to see that kind of participation in the classroom.”
(Y/N) nods. “Cassia loves to learn,” she tells Spencer. “When her father drops her off after school, she always tells me about the things that she did that day and the facts that you tell her. I think you have actually made her want to learn even more than she already did.”
Spencer laughs and looks down at his feet like he’s shy about compliments. “I know too much and sometimes I tell my students,” he replies with a small smile on his lips. “Especially if it relates to the lesson. I have an eidetic memory and I’m always reading so I remember a lot of stupid facts.”
“That’s kind of cool,” (Y/N) says. “I mean, I’d love to know all these little random facts.”
A light blush coats Spencer’s cheeks. “Um, I actually have to get back to presenting but I’d still love to give you that rundown I promised you after.”
She nods and finds Cassia’s desk. She sits down and watches Spencer get back to presenting.
(Y/N)’s eyes don’t leave Spencer the entire time he is in front of the classroom. He looks professional while also having a goofy vibe, but he sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. He seems pretty confident while standing in front of his students' parents.
Not to mention, he is very handsome. She has never met a nerdy guy who's also as attractive as Spencer is.
When she finds out about his three PhDs and two BAs, he immediately becomes twice as attractive. Intelligence is attractive to her, and Spencer is certainly intelligent.
By 24, he had five degrees and now he’s teaching at an elementary school. (Y/N) is 24 now and she’s a single mother working at a hospital as a part-time nurse with one degree in nursing and struggling to make ends meet.
Parents clap when Spencer is done with his presentation. He takes a couple of questions before the principal comes over the loudspeaker to say that there are snacks and drinks in the cafeteria for those who are interested, need to ask more questions, or just want to hang around and mingle.
Everyone in the room leaves and goes down to the cafeteria while (Y/N) stays behind so she can talk to Spencer a little more to get a sense of how his class will be run.
“That was a nice presentation, from the ten minutes I actually saw,” she teases.
Spencer smiles and closes his laptop. “Well, walk with me to the cafeteria and we can chat,” he tells her. “I’m sure Cassia would love to hang out for a bit while I tell you all about the class.”
"Absolutely she would," she replies.
(Y/N) stays behind and watches Spencer pack his laptop away in his bag. He stuffs some folders inside as well before motioning for her to head to the door so he can lock up the room.
As they begin the trek to the cafeteria, Spencer says, "I don't mean to sound rude or intrude, but you seem really young to have a daughter in the third grade."
"I had Cassia when I was 16," she tells Spencer. "I got pregnant after I got drunk and hooked up with a football player after a game. I'm 24 now and I have full custody of her because her father and I are no longer together, but I let her father bring her to and from school while also spending a few days a week with her."
Spencer looks shocked at (Y/N)'s confession. It's not really a confession at this point. She tells that story to anyone who asks. She's grown so used to saying that she had a baby at 16 that it doesn't even faze her anymore.
"Well, I give you props on raising such a wonderful daughter as a single mother," Spencer replies. "I can't even begin to imagine."
"It took a lot out of me at first but we fell into a routine after the custody battle," (Y/N) explains as they walk into the cafeteria. She spots her daughter playing with some of her classmates and she smiles. "If I could do it all over again, I would. I don't regret having a baby in high school at all."
One of the other parents grabs Spencer's attention and he apologetically walks away with a promise to come back so they can continue their conversation.
(Y/N)'s eyes don't leave Spencer as he walks away with the parent who approached him. He pushes his hair behind his ear and flattens the tie as he nods. His side profile is one of the prettiest that (Y/N) has ever seen.
“Mom, you’re staring,” Cassia’s little voice says to pull her out of her head.
Her cheeks heat up and she shakes her head. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Yes you were! I saw you staring at my teacher,” Cassia tells her mother. A little gasp comes from her. “Aw, do you like like Doctor Reid?”
“Cassia,” (Y/N) sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “It’s very inappropriate for me to ‘like’ your teacher. I am your mother, and he is your teacher..”
Cassia rolls her eyes. “All I did was ask a question,” she says. “I didn’t need a lecture.” (Y/N) looks up and sees Spencer walking over. “Oh. I wanted to ask if I could stay at Brynn’s house tonight. Her mom said it’s okay.”
“It’s a school night.”
“Brynn literally is in my class, mom,” Cassia replies. “I want to stay. Please? I promise we won’t stay up late.”
Honestly, a night to herself doesn’t sound like a bad idea. A glass of wine and Law & Order sounds like a good night.
“There are studies that show that sleepovers can help independence in children,” Spencer says. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear the question.”
Cassia points at Spencer to prove a point. (Y/N) just shakes her head and smiles. “Fine,” she tells Cassia. “I want you home right after school tomorrow.”
She celebrates and runs off. (Y/N) laughs and looks up at Spencer. “Well now that your night is free, mind if I take you out for a late dinner and that rundown I had promised you? If you haven’t eaten, of course.”
(Y/N) is caught off guard by the question. “I, um …” she trails off. “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, you’re my daughter’s teacher. I don’t want her to be accused of favoritism because her mother went to dinner with her teacher.”
“Well, I promise you that I will keep treating Cassia the same way I treat her peers,” Spencer assures (Y/N). “What do you say?”
There’s a little smile on Spencer’s face. That and the confidence he had to ask is the whole reason she says, “Okay, as long as you promise to keep treating Cassia as an equal to her classmates.”
Spencer nods and smiles. “Meet you at Fiola after you drop off Cassia at her friend’s house? My treat,” he says.
(Y/N) mirrors his smile and nods. “Give me a half hour and I’ll meet you there,” she replies. “I just need to get Cassia to Brynn’s and I’ll head over.”
“Mom!” Cassia calls. “Hurry up! Brynn’s mom said she is leaving soon.”
“So, um, see you in half an hour?” she asks. Spencer nods and (Y/N) quickly runs off to her daughter.
There’s a warm feeling in the pit of (Y/N)’s stomach as she and Cassia get in the car. There is a feeling of nervousness as she drives to her apartment that she has and lives in with Cassia.
It’s not a date, but she is nervous like it is. Who knows? Maybe this will turn into something more. Something that (Y/N) has never had before.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It’s a little after eight when (Y/N) drops Cassia off at her friend’s. She snuck a dress into the car with her so she quickly stops at a convenience store to change on her way to the restaurant.
All she knows about Fiola is that it’s a very upscale restaurant that she could never afford to eat at. She couldn’t show up in a t-shirt and jeans. Even Spencer was dressed nicer than she was.
A little before 8:30 and (Y/N) is walking into the restaurant. The hostess greets her with a smile and asks, “How can I help you today?”
“I’m looking for someone who should’ve been here by now,” she stammers. “Um, the name is Spencer Reid.”
The hostess checks something in front of her and nods with some kind of confirmation. “Right this way, miss,” she says.
She turns and walks into the dining room, weaving between tables. (Y/N) sighs and is brought to the table for two that Spencer is sitting at. “Let me know if you need anything,” the hostess tells (Y/N) when she sits down across from Spencer.
As soon as the hostess walks away, (Y/N)’s eyes turn to Spencer. “Uh, wow,” he blurts out. “I didn’t think you would change for dinner.”
“Felt a little underdressed,” she replies. “Especially for here. I changed quickly after I dropped Cassia off. No biggie.”
Spencer laughs in reply.
Their waiter comes over to take (Y/N)’s order since Spencer had already ordered before she got there. He thanks them both, takes her menu, and walks away to put the orders in.
“So,” (Y/N) sighs. “Do you do this for all the parents who are late to back to school night?”
Spencer smiles behind his glass of water and shakes his head. “Only the pretty ones,” he replies. (Y/N)’s cheeks heat up as she sips her wine. “So, the class will be run similarly to how other classes are run. The day starts at eight, sitting down fifteen minutes for the first lesson. We study English, math, social studies, and science every day spending roughly 90 minutes on each subject. Art is on Mondays around ten, gym is on Thursdays at one, music is on Fridays at ten, and this year we’re starting a technology class that will be on Tuesdays. I’m thinking Wednesdays will be a third grade only thing where the students can ask me questions about whatever they want to know and I’ll answer it the best way that I can. I might call it ‘Dr. Reid Responds’ or something along those lines.”
“That’s such a nice concept,” (Y/N) says when Spencer is done talking. “I meant it earlier when I said that Cass comes home everyday and tells me the facts you tell them through the day. She loves it and already adores you.”
He lets out a light chuckle. “Well I adore Cassia,” he says. “I mean it. We’re only three weeks into the year but she is easily my best student. She is so interested in the material. She reminds me of me when I was her age.”
“She’s a special little girl,” (Y/N) responds after she swallows a sip of wine. “She’s so enthusiastic about everything. Including school.”
Spencer nods in agreement.
There’s a quick moment of silence between the two of them, but it’s not awkward. It’s a comfortable silence. She just looks across the table at Spencer and takes him in while she swirls the wine around in her glass.
He really is handsome. His longer brown hair frames his face perfectly. His hazel eyes almost match the color of his hair. He has high cheekbones and (Y/N) remembers the jawline she saw earlier that day.
“Um, Cassia said you were a nurse,” Spencer says. “Where are you a nurse?”
“Sibley Memorial,” she replies. “I work part-time in the emergency department but I’m trying to get a full-time position.”
“That’s incredible. You save lives all the time.”
(Y/N) chuckles and takes a sip of her drink hoping that it keeps her cheeks from beating up. “I try my best to,” she replies. “I save some, I lose some. It comes with the job. I knew that going in.”
Their meals come shortly after. The pasta dishes that they both ordered look incredible. After one bite, (Y/N) wishes she could take it to Vegas to marry it.
It’s quiet between the two of them while they enjoy the food. (Y/N) loves it and finds herself wishing that she could bring Cassia here.
Maybe one day when she makes enough money to buy a dinner like this for the two of them without costing them a week or groceries or utilities.
“So, Mr. Eidetic Memory,” (Y/N) begins as soon as she is done eating. “You probably could have chosen any career in the world. Why did you choose teaching when you could’ve been working for the FBI or something?”
Spencer laughs and wipes his face free of sauce. “I wanted to make a difference in the lives of those around me,” he replies. “I want to leave a lasting impact on my students. I, um, used to work for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit but the job became too much, so I turned to teaching. I love kids so I decided to teacher a younger class.”
“That’s really nice, Spencer,” she says when he’s done talking. “I mean, I wanted to be a nurse to help people and you’re teaching for that same reason. Even when you worked for the FBI. You saved lives too.”
“Not enough.” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice when he says those two words. It breaks (Y/N)’s heart.
Before she realizes what she’s doing, (Y/N) reaches across the table and puts her hands on top of Spencer’s. He looks at their hands before his eyes flicker up to meet hers. (Y/N)’s heart beats out of her chest when their eyes meet, the butterflies return to the pit of her stomach.
There is some sadness behind Spencer’s eyes, but there is something else that she can’t quite describe or explain.
The waiter decides now to come up and give them the check. Spencer snatches it before she can look at it. He gives his card immediately to the waiter. She smiles and sits back in her chair. “You’re ridiculous,” she tells him.
“That’s not nice to say to someone who just paid for your dinner, Miss (L/N),” Spencer playfully retorts.
“(Y/N),” she replies. “My name is (Y/N). If I can call you Spencer, then you can call me (Y/N).”
Spencer smiles as the waiter comes back. “(Y/N).”
The way Spencer says her name makes her shiver.
He signs the check and they head outside to the parking lot. (Y/N) looks over at Spencer as they walk. He’s nearly a head taller than she is, and she put on heels.
Spencer walks her all the way to her car. “I just wanted to make sure you got to your car okay before I head to the metro,” he tells her.
“You took the metro?” she asks. “Oh my God. Get in my car, Spencer. I’ll take you home.” She pauses. “Unless you want to come back to my apartment. We can have a drink or two and continue to talk.” He hesitates and (Y/N) smiles. “I’m not going to kidnap you. I know you worked for the FBI and saw things like this but I promise I’m not going to kidnap my daughter’s favorite teacher.”
He laughs, “Okay. A drink or two then I’ll Uber back to my own apartment.”
She gets in the driver’s seat of her car and Spencer gets in beside her. She starts it up and buckles her seatbelt before beginning the drive home.
The entire car ride, (Y/N) is very aware of the man that is sitting next to her. She’s aware of every move he makes, every time he grabs the “oh, shit” handle when she breaks a little too hard at red lights, and every time he thinks he sneaks a glance at her. At one point, his eyes look her up and down. She accidentally stepped on the break a little too hard because she was slightly distracted.
Twenty minutes pass before (Y/N) pulls into her usual parking spot outside of her building. She sighs and turns the car off before she looks at Spencer. “See? I got you here in one piece and I didn’t put a blindfold over your eyes,” she teases.
Spencer just smiles and gets out of the car. She follows suit, locking the vehicle behind her as she and Spencer walk into the building.
She uses her building key to get inside then climbs a flight of stairs.
As she’s unlocking the door to her apartment, she realizes that the apartment is a mess. She hasn’t cleaned in nearly a week because her schedule and Cassia’s schedule.
“Um, I’m sorry about the mess,” she says as she opens the door. “I haven’t really had the time to clean, if I’m being honest.”
“I get it,” Spencer laughs. “Trust me. I’m glad we came here and didn’t go to my apartment. It’s a complete disaster.”
(Y/N) smiles as she shuts the door behind Spencer. “I can go get us drinks while you go sit,” she offers. “What can I get for you?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
She nods and walks into the kitchen. She hears the couch squeak behind her and she smiles to herself.
An attractive man is in her apartment and isn’t judging her for the mess that is her apartment. It’s been years since she went on a proper date — even though dinner with Spencer was not a date — and invited someone back to her apartment. It feels kind of nice to have another adult in her home instead of a crazy child.
She pours both of them a glass of wine before joining Spencer on the couch. She kicks off her heels and they fall to the carpeted floor with a soft thud before she curls up and tucks her feet under her.
“You know, I should’ve asked this before agreeing to go to dinner,” she begins to say. “You aren’t in any kind of relationship, right? No girlfriend, no Mrs. Reid?”
Spencer laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not in a relationship and I’m not married,” he replies. “I might be 32 but I’ve only had a handful of relationships and I have never been married. I don’t think I’ve ever really settled down with anyone for a long period of time. I haven’t really had a lot of time to date, especially when I worked at the BAU. I didn't really want to put someone in danger either. I've seen what that did to my co-workers."
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“I guess you aren’t in a relationship either,” he points out after he sips his wine. “I mean, you invited me back to your apartment. I think that’s a sign that there is no one in your life.”
(Y/N) chuckles to herself and shakes her head. “I am a very single mother,” she tells him.
“Good to know.” He sends a wink in her direction.
They settle into small talk, asking each other how the week is going. Spencer talks about his students and how they’re enjoying what he’s teaching them. She can tell by the way he talks about the kids that he truly loves what he does.
(Y/N) even tells Spencer about her ER stories from the week. Some of them are more gruesome than others but she enjoys her job, more on the days when no one dies in her care.
He asks about Cassia, which throws (Y/N) off a lot. No one has ever been this interested in her daughter. She doesn’t even tell most guys she goes out with about her daughter until a few dates in — again this isn’t a date though.
Spencer knows Cassia though, and he’s getting to know her mother now too. It warms her heart that he is asking about Cassia. Her daughter is her first love. Anyone else comes after her.
Three glasses of wine later, Spencer realizes what time it is. It’s nearly midnight.
“I should probably get going,” he sighs. “Take the train back to my apartment.”
(Y/N) chews on her lower lip for a second, contemplating. “I mean, you could just … stay?” she suggests. “It’s pretty late. By the time you get home, it will probably be close to one in the morning. You’ll only get a few hours of sleep. More hours of sleep if you just … stay here.”
She sees the gears turning behind Spencer’s eyes. He is definitely thinking about it.
“If you’re okay with it.”
“I’m more than okay with it, Spencer.” Her voice almost comes out as a whisper.
Spencer’s eyes almost darken. (Y/N)’s heart is beating so quickly in her chest, especially when he moves a bit closer to her. His thumb drags across her jaw. Goosebumps break out across her body when he touches her.
She should back away before any lines are crossed. This is Cassia's teacher. (Y/N) isn't sure if the line should be crossed because of that.
“Tell me I’m not reading this wrong,” he softly says, eyes flickering down to (Y/N)’s lips for a split second.
Immediately, (Y/N) shakes her head. "You're not reading this wrong," she tells him. "I'm just unsure if we should do this. I mean, you're my daughter's teacher, Spencer. I'm also almost ten years younger than you too."
Spencer doesn't move away. "If you're uncomfortable then tell me," he says. "If you don't want me to kiss you then tell me because I'm going to kiss you if you don't."
Their noses touch and (Y/N) lets out a soft sigh, her eyes fluttering shut.
It's such a bad idea, but she's starting to not care. She's a grown adult. Spencer is a grown adult. They're both consenting adults.
"Kiss me," (Y/N) whispers. "Please, Spencer."
With zero hesitation, Spencer closes the space between them and captures her lips with his. They sit with their lips connected for a few seconds before (Y/N) reciprocates the kiss. Spencer leans into her, which deepens the kiss.
It's such a soft yet deep kiss that it nearly takes the breath out of her lungs. Especially after one of Spencer's hands slides into her hair and his fingers curl into her locks. It holds her in place, not that she's planning on going anywhere. She's not.
(Y/N) throws one of her legs over Spencer's knee and moves even closer. She wraps her hand around Spencer's wrist so he doesn't take his hand out of her hair.
Spencer's free hand rests on her knee, slowly sliding up her thigh until his fingers are under the soft fabric of her black dress, tracing the outline of her panties. He grips her thigh under the dress and (Y/N) sighs against Spencer's lips.
When Spencer moves his hand higher, (Y/N) throws her leg over his lap and straddles his thighs. Her hands cup Spencer's jaw while her fingers play with the ends of Spencer's hair.
She feels Spencer's hand move higher and rest on her butt. She begins to untie the tie around his neck without breaking the kiss.
She starts to get frustrated because she can’t see what she’s doing. With a groan, she pulls back and Spencer laughs. “Relax, (Y/N),” he tells her as he puts his hands over hers. “I’m not going anywhere.” He unties his tie for her and drops it on the couch beside them.
(Y/N) meets his eyes and relaxes her body. She smiles at him as his hands come up to cup her cheeks. “God, I haven’t done this in a long time,” she breathes out as she looks back down at her hands on his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, you’re doing fine,” Spencer assures her, dipping his head down and meeting her eyes. He smiles as if to reassure her. “Seriously.”
“Then can we move this to the bedroom,” she suggests. “The couch isn’t very comfortable if I’m being honest. It’s a very cheap and kind of lumpy. Not fun to lay on.”
Spencer smiles and nods. “If you want to get me in your bed, just tell me,” he teases.
(Y/N) gets up off of his lap and begins to walk down the hallway. "Let's go then."
She reaches behind her and unzips the dress as she walks. Footsteps sound behind her as the fabric hits the floor with a soft thud. She turns into her bedroom, which is a lot cleaner than the living room.
Not three steps into her bedroom, a pair of arms wraps around her waist. She’s pulled backward and crashes into something solid. (Y/N) giggles and looks up at Spencer. "You're gorgeous, (Y/N)," he mumbles into her ear. His lips brush against her ear and she shivers.
He moves her hair off of her shoulder and begins to kiss her neck. She tilts her head to the side and lets out a soft sigh. "You are too, Spencer."
She turns in his arms and looks up at him. He tucks her hair behind her ear and pulls her into another kiss. Her fingers begin working on unbuttoning his shirt because he's wearing too many clothes for her liking. Especially since she's standing in front of him in nothing but a bra and panties.
As soon as his shirt is unbuttoned, Spencer untucks it from the waistband of his pants and lets it drop to the floor. His fingers reach behind her and he unclasps her bra and she lets it join Spencer's shirt on the ground.
He tugs (Y/N) impossibly closer to him, their chests pressed against each other. They literally can not get any closer to each other unless she crawls into him.
Without breaking the kiss, he picks (Y/N) up and walks toward her bed. She wraps her legs around his waist until he lays her down on the mattress.
Spencer hovers above her and her legs fall open so he can get comfortable between them. He kicks his shoes and toes his socks off while they both move backward in the mattress. (Y/N)'s fingers slide into his hair and hold his warm brown locks out of his face.
He grinds his bulge against (Y/N)'s clothed core. She lets out a soft moan against his lips. Spencer snakes a hand between them and slides his fingers into her panties. She whines while his fingers run through her dripping folds. He takes advantage of the distraction and pushes his tongue into her mouth.
"Spencer," she whines. He breaks the kiss when she says his name,
"This okay?"
"Yes," she replies. "Do something." She moves her hips so his fingers line up with her entrance. "Please."
Spencer pushes one finger into her. He curls it slightly as he pumps in and out of her. Soft sighs pass her slightly parted lips. Her eyes are on Spencer. His hair is wild from having her fingers in it, his lips are red and swollen from the kisses that they have exchanged over the past few minutes.
A second and third finger is soon added and (Y/N) withers under his touch. "Fuck," she gasps when he curls all three of his fingers. "Spencer."
"Let me hear you, baby," Spencer tells her as he kisses down her body. He makes a quick pit stop at your breasts, swirling his tongue around one of your nipples. Her back arches off the mattress with a moan. "That's it."
He continues his journey down her body. Spencer hooks his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulls them off of her body. He kisses the inside of her thighs before he wraps his lips around her clit. He sucks gently and (Y/N)'s fingers grip Spencer's hair. She looks down and meets his eyes.
"Oh my God," she groans as she throws her head back against the pillow. "Spencer. Fuck."
She doesn't mean to pull on Spencer's hair, but the reaction she gets out of him makes her want to do it again. He hums around her and it makes her entire body shake. She has to bite down on her lower lip so she literally doesn't scream Spencer's name. The last thing she needs is for her neighbors to hear her having what's probably the best sex of her life.
Spencer curls his fingers inside of her and she lets out a borderline pornographic moan, coming without warning around Spencer's fingers. (Y/N)'s breathing is labored as he fingers her through her high.
Her entire body melts and becomes one with the mattress when he withdraws his fingers and she begins to come back to reality. She is quick to notice that her legs are still shaking.
"Shit," she chuckles as Spencer sits back on his knees and licks his lips. That simple motion shouldn't be as hot as it is, but she knows what he's licking off of his lips.
Something comes over (Y/N). She doesn't know if it's confidence or what but she pulls Spencer back down to the mattress. She flips them over and sits on Spencer's waist. She doesn't even know how she managed to do that considering she was just shaking from her orgasm not five minutes ago.
She leans down and presses soft kisses to Spencer's jaw and cheek. "My turn to make you feel good," she whispers when she gets close to his ear. "You lay there and look pretty."
(Y/N) swears she feels Spencer shiver beneath her. With a small smile, she begins to kiss down his neck and chest. Her fingers begin to work at the belt around his waist. The metal clangs while she works on getting the belt undone. She shoves her hand down his pants when the belt and button get undone.
Spencer groans when (Y/N)'s hand wraps around his erect dick. She gives him a few strokes in his pants before she pulls both his pants and boxers down his legs. They join her underwear on the ground next to the bed while she settles between his legs.
He's a little bigger than average, but not too thick. It's still a little intimidating.
She wipes away the bit of pre-come that has collected at the tip of his dick with her thumb. "(Y/N)," Spencer warns. "Don't tease. It's not nice."
(Y/N) smiles and wraps her lips around the bright red tip. Her tongue swirls around the top for a second before she lowers her mouth onto him.
She uses one hand to make up for what she can't fit in her mouth and uses the other to touch herself because the sounds that are coming from Spencer are too much and she needs some relief. She imagines that it's his fingers that are bringing her close to the edge.
Soft groans come from Spencer as she occasionally hollows out her cheeks and sucks.
He begins thrusting up into her mouth. She stops moving and lets him use her mouth. "God, look at you, (Y/N)," Spencer sighs. "Letting me use that pretty mouth of yours."
His words shoot straight to the knot in (Y/N)'s stomach that already threatens to come undone again. He's careful not to choke her with his dick as he fucks her mouth.
Before she comes again, she pulls off Spencer with a soft pop. He raises his eyebrows at her as she moves over to her bedside table. She opens the drawer and pulls out a little foil package. She tosses it at Spencer.
"I want you to fuck me," she tells him. "And as much as I love my daughter, I'm not ready for another one so put that on and fuck me."
Spencer doesn't need to be told twice. He rips open the little package with his teeth while (Y/N) lays down in front of him. Her legs fall open and as soon as the condom is on, Spencer falls on top of her.
"This is something you want?" he asks. "I just want to make sure that you won't have any regrets about it."
She leans up and captures Spencer's lips in a soft kiss. He brackets her head with his arms as she pulls him down so she can lay her head on the pillow. "I want you, Spencer Reid," she mumbles between kisses. "All of you. Please."
In the very short amount of time that she has known Spencer, she already feels very connected to him. Between the way they bonded over why they're in the fields they're in and the fact that they both have some kind of love for Cassia, (Y/N) can see herself with him. He could be the father figure that Cassia doesn't really have in her life.
He's been so careful the entire time he's been over. He's been taking care of (Y/N) the whole time, making sure she's okay before making a move. It warms her heart.
Spencer lining himself up with her entrance causes (Y/N) to come back to reality. She breaks the kiss and stares up at Spencer. There is a fire behind those honey-colored eyes of his. A fire that excites her.
She uses her fingers to push back Spencer's hair so she can see his face as he pushes himself into her since she gave him permission. She gasps as he slowly fills her up. He moves slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size.
Her eyes never leave his. (Y/N) notices his pupils blow up as he sinks further into her. She wraps her legs around her and digs her heels into the back of his thighs, which forces Spencer to completely fill her.
"Let me know when I can move," he softly says as he brushes a piece of her hair out of her face. " I don't want to hurt you, baby."
(Y/N)'s thumbs softly run over his cheekbones. Her heart flutters at the pet name. She nods after a moment of silence.
Spencer slowly begins to thrust his hips into her. (Y/N) lets out soft whines as he moves. Her fingers curl in Spencer's hair and he leans down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and collarbone.
"Spencer," she sighs. "Faster. You're not going to break me."
He nips at the skin on her collarbone and she lets out a soft moan. "You have no idea what you're doing to me, (Y/N)," Spencer pants against her skin. "You look so pretty underneath me. I can't get enough."
She bites her bottom lip again and arches her back off the mattress, trying to get even closer to him. His hand comes down on her waist and he holds her waist up.
His pace gets faster and he moves deeply into her.
With every hard thrust, the bed squeaks and (Y/N) groans. She should be worried about the fact that her bed sounds like it's going to break if they keep up this pace, but that is the very last thing on her mind.
The hand that was holding (Y/N)'s waist slithers lower and Spencer's fingers connect with her still-sensitive clit. She whines as he uses his fingers to get her closer to her orgasm. She bucks her hips up every time he thrusts into her, keeping up with his pace.
"Fuck, Spencer," she groans.
"You gonna come again for me, pretty girl?" he asks. It comes out in pants because of how labored his breathing is. His breathy voice is hotter than (Y/N) should find it. "Go ahead and come for me, baby. Let go. I've got you."
It isn't long after that before she's clenching around Spencer's dick and coming around him with the loudest moan that she's ever let out. Her back arches off the bed and for a second, she swears she's floating when her vision goes completely white.
Her entire body goes numb after her second orgasm in about fifteen minutes. (Y/N) isn't sure that she'll ever be able to move again. Spencer might have just killed her by giving her the best orgasm of her entire life.
(Y/N) doesn't even feel Spencer pull out or notice that he disappeared before she sees him walking back into the bedroom with a towel to clean them both up.
"We are so lucky that Cassia isn't here," (Y/N) says, voice raspy as she talks. Spencer laughs as he wipes away the layer of sweat that has formed on both of them. "I don't think I have ever been that loud during sex. Ever."
Spencer throws the towel on the floor and crawls next to (Y/N). He pulls the blankets on top of both of them and (Y/N) curls up at his side. "Next time, we can't be that loud," he tells her.
She looks up at him and pushes his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. "We should probably shower," she points out.
"Now why should we do that when that's not going to be the only round for tonight?" Spencer's head dips down and captures her lips in a slow kiss.
"What happened to sleep?"
"Sleep is for the weak."
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Spencer leaves early in the morning because he can't show up to work in the same clothes he left in yesterday. The kids would notice if he did that.
(Y/N) tells Cassia's father that she'll pick Cassia up from school since she's "already out". She isn't already out of the apartment. She leaves at two so she can go pick up her daughter, and see her new ... whatever Spencer is.
It's a little after 2:30 when (Y/N) pulls up to the school. She hangs around with the other parents, talking mostly to Brynn's mom about how Cassia was last night.
"What did you do with your suddenly free night?" Brynn's mom asks (Y/N).
"Drank some wine," she replies. "Turned in early and got up late." Not a complete lie. She was technically in bed by ten and only woke up to say goodbye to Spencer after a round of sex in the shower. She slept until noon after he left.
The kids all come running out shortly after. They get dismissed by grade and luckily for (Y/N), their teachers come out with them.
By the time third grade comes out, (Y/N) is practically shaking with excitement to see Spencer after their night together.
She sees Cassia come running out. Her daughter comes running right over to her. (Y/N) leans down and picks her daughter up "I thought daddy was picking me up today like he always does," she says.
"I was out and decided to come get you," she replies. "How was school today?"
"Doctor Reid was in a very good mood today," Cassia tells her mom. There is confusion in her voice. "He didn't even give us homework tonight because of his good mood."
(Y/N) look up to see Spencer walking toward her and Cassia. "No homework, hm?" she asks as Spencer approaches them with a smile on his face. "I think this calls for an ice cream night in celebration."
“Ooh, ice cream,” Spencer says. “Sounds like fun.” She shoots Spencer a little smile.
Cassia looks between her mother and teacher before she says, “You should come over and have ice cream with us, Doctor Reid! Ice cream night is a lot of fun. We watch movies too.”
“Now that does sound like a lot of fun,” Spencer replies, eyes flickering between (Y/N) and Cassia. “It’s up to your mom if I can come or not though.”
Her daughter looks at her and does her puppy dog pout. “Please?” she asks. “It’ll be a lot more fun if Doctor Reid came over and had ice cream with us.”
(Y/N) smiles and looks up at Spencer. “Would you like to come over and have ice cream with us while we watch movies, Doctor Reid?”
“Absolutely,” he replies. “Sounds like a lot of fun. What time should I come over?”
“Seven,” (Y/N) tells him.
Cassia celebrates and her mother puts her down. “See you later, Doctor Reid!” she calls as she runs to the car.
Both Spencer and (Y/N) look at each other while Cassia gets in the car. “Make sure you bring pajamas or a change of clothes tonight, Doctor Reid,” she tells him. “Don’t need a repeat of last night, do we?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Nice mark, by the way,” (Y/N) points out. “Wonder why you’re in such a good mood.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
A/N - this is my first spencer reid one shot so pls let me know how i did. hope it wasn’t bad
MASTERLIST
REQUEST GUIDLINES
PART TWO
2K notes · View notes
0luv9 · 9 days
Text
forlorn || mattheo riddle
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Summary: based on this request.
Beware: angst, fluff, slightly aged-up characters, Hufflepuff reader, sweet reader, she/her pronouns used, mostly in second person, jealousy, mistreatment, a little bit of blood, slightly commanding(?) and intimidating Mattheo.
Words: 7.8k (not beta read)
Note: I am sorry luv, I don't think I did justice to the request. I also apologize for taking so long. I still hope you like it, even if it's just a bit. @cat-loves-music
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Mattheo Riddle, son of Voldemort, or Tom Riddle if you will—for a more humane approach. But then, there's no humanity in the way he's treated. Always an outsider, always a monster.
There is wealth to his name; after all, he is the only living heir of Salazar Slytherin. However, his blood is corrupt, shunned by the very people who kissed the steps his baby feet took. Looked down on by the blood supremacists and not accepted by the other side, the "good side."
Even he was tired of the same sob story. He doesn't even need to introduce himself; they already have a preconceived image of him in their minds. He could try to fix his image in an ideal world, but even then, what would he say?
'Hello, everyone, I'm Mattheo Riddle, son of the man who once threatened your lives. Please welcome me with warm hands.'
Too cliché? Yes, but it's true and the only truth he knew.
Riddle didn't even know why the name Riddle was cursed and didn't know what his father did that made everyone's hate transcend generations. What made their hatred justified and his hate a crime? He didn't know until it was too late.
Mattheo was raised by the only living relative of his, his mother's aunt—the one who died recently. The one who kept all this hidden away from him hid all the Hogwarts' letters, raised him like her own, and protected him until her last breath. She loved him but all within the vicinity of the manor. He didn't know the world that existed beyond those walls.
He knew about the world outside only through the books she'd let him read. He thought it would feel liberating to step off the lavish floors onto the rich earth. It was everything but that.
"But Nona, why can't I go outside?" he remembers asking that silly question when he was about nine. What he wouldn't do to get that naivety back.
"Because, my dear, there are people out there who wouldn't like you. There are bad people outside ready to punish you," he also remembers crying when she told him that. He didn't understand why people would hate him. He just wanted to try the chocolate frogs he read about.
He just wanted to talk to all the different animals out there, the same way he could talk to the garden snakes.
"But I didn't do anything wrong, Nona. Tell them that I'm a good boy. I can even give them some of my toys. Will they like me then?" If only it were that easy. His Nona cried for the first time in front of him then, looking at all the toys he had set onto her lap, looking at her with teary eyes, pleading, "I didn't do anything wrong, Nona, I promise."
Mattheo didn't understand her tears back then, but now as he stands all alone, those same tears fall out his eyes. It's useless. "They'll know that someday, moon pie. You aren't wrong. They'll know." They'll know? What a fucking joke.
Mattheo tries to enjoy the view in front of him, you know. But how can he? When his batchmates are out there partying and enjoying life, he's been a lone wolf all his life. Yet in moments like this, he seems to forget his old ways of existing.
There's not much he can do anyway; he's not needed anywhere. In fact, they all want him gone. Finding beauty in small things is hard when misery clings to him. There's self-loathing in the way he thinks about the night and himself. There's nothing positive he can say.
You'd think that he must've gotten used to it all by now. No, he hasn't; it only got worse. At least little Mattheo held hope that people would understand someday or the other. Every bit of hope was destroyed by the very people who would've feared him had his father been alive. In moments like this, he wished he could see the man, live as the son they paint him as.
He'd have someone to lean onto then, someone to call his own. At least his father would've loved him. But this last bit of consolidation too was stolen away from him when he got to know that he was a backup plan for his father. Mattheo Riddle was not supposed to exist. His father wanted to live on forever; he was the last option the so-called Dark Lord had, to produce an heir and have them further his cause, and control his life as Tom lived on his last lifeline.
But all of it died with him. Mattheo promised himself that he would never be the man they all expected him to be, the man they wanted to point fingers at. So, he stayed in line. But then he thinks, sometimes, maybe, what if—you know?
He simply stares up at the brightly lit sky, it's a shame that he's the only one out there to appreciate the scenic beauty because he's physically and mentally incapable of appreciating anything, you can't blame him now, can you?
Cold breeze in mid-August, how fucking ridiculous just like this life of his, so unlike his peers, who were out there partying and having the time of their lives, the music vibrating through the walls was like salt on wounds. He'd like to drink a few and chat with his friends but then again, he hasn't got any. And it's the bitter truth that he's not welcome there, he'd be greeted with nasty looks if he tried to enter any such party, they'd all glance his way like the ominous thing he is. It's times like this when he really contemplates it.
Mattheo looks down from the height he's on, no one would care anyway, the fall will kill him, might just give it an actual try unlike those previous attempts- he's been a coward all his life, never ready to face the extremes of life but he has nothing to protect at the moment, he's come far too long, life was never going to be worth it.
He climbs over the railing onto the brick ledge, sitting down for a moment, to take it all in for the last time ever. Mattheo remembers all the whispers that followed him, the suspicious looks passed along the way, those words of disdain- at the same time the thoughts of a happy life enter his mind, it all feels unattainable, in fact, he's so far gone he can't even picture joy, all he sees is bright colours when he thinks of a happy life.
Mattheo had desperately sought relief all his life, but the pain only worsened with time, it's only reasonable to want to end this feeling of hopelessness. The weight of his family's legacy feels heavy on his shoulders. He slouches over and looks down once again, sighing as his eyes shift to the ring on his finger, the other Gaunt ring, he slowly removes it- a pathetic heir he is, he doesn't deserve it, couldn't live up to the name, disappointing both sides of the world.
Maybe they should have destroyed this along with his father's ring but apparently, his dear sweet Nona thought he could change their fate, change the course of history, change the Gaunt legacy for the better, fuck- he couldn't even try and change people's perception about him. Even in this sense, he's nothing like his predecessors, incapable of leaving a mark, of changing the world, be it for the better or the worse. He's just fucking worthless- he fiddles with the ring as he shifts a bit closer to the edge, ready to let go of it.
"Nice ring," he turns around startled, "Mattheo, isn't it?" not Riddle? He hadn't heard his own name in a long time, no one had directly addressed him in years let alone called him by his first name. It all feels foreign, he simply nods not knowing what to say. "Do you mind if I join you?" you don't wait for a response though and carefully bend and climb through the gaps between the two rails, settling down beside him. "Hi, I'm-" he doesn't hear it, he's too focused on your face, you were dolled up, for the party he thinks, but then why are you here of all places? Was this some kind of prank? He steals a glance back at the entrance and the seemingly empty hallway, to see if anyone is waiting for a reaction.
"You know you shouldn't sit so close to the edge, you might fall down," you grab his forearm urging him to move back, your hand feels warm on his skin, it feels unnatural, his hands are always cold. Even though it's on him for a couple of seconds he can't help the multiple emotions going on about in his mind and before he can sort them out, his mouth decides to act on its own, "Why aren't you at the party?" "Oh-" you look disappointed, and he apologises right away, not wanting to upset the only person who had the decency to talk to him, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he's quick to defend himself, it's a natural response after all but you only seemed amused, "No, it quite alright, I was just surprised by your voice-" "Is it that bad?" "Gosh no! It's just not what I expected, quite rough, it's nice," you are quick to shut him up, "And about your question, I am annoyed at my friends forcing me to try more drinks and all, I just came up here to relax."
"I can leave if you'd like," you add on as an afterthought, but you really didn't want to go, it was the only place with some peace, unlike the loud corridors and dorms, where you were mad at your friends and were in no mood for a party. "No, it's quite alright, I was just surprised," he tries to lighten the mood, repeating your words jokingly, it works, you laugh and properly look at him instead of the waters ahead.
"Haha so funny," you say in a monotonous voice, trying to act like you didn't just laugh but you can't contain your smile, and he finds it quite beautiful. You look down at the ring between the two of you, "it's a beautiful ring I must say," You compliment it again since he hadn't acknowledged it before. Mattheo thanked you quietly trying to think of a response that might not make you run away from him.
It's been only a few minutes and you've said more nice things to him than he has ever heard in his whole life, it's quite ridiculous when he thinks about it, seemingly you find it quite easy to compliment him. He stays quiet not knowing how to take a compliment, but you don't let the silence continue, you look around trying to find something to talk about and soon enough you start talking and he's glad, "You know about those plants right there?" you point to the shrubs at some distance from the castle walls. Mattheo shakes his head unable to recall if he had seen them before. "It's alright but now that you know, you have something to look forward to this upcoming month!" you smile yet again, cheerful that you have something to share.
"What's special about them?" "It's not the plant itself but the fireflies that live there!" Mattheo tries hard to keep up with your energy and pace, "Why aren't they out now? They aren't migratory, are they?" "That's what makes it special unlike fireflies that are present throughout the summer, these ones light up only for the last week of August," "I'll look forward to it," "You should! I missed it last year and then everyone thought I was lying when I mentioned it." Mattheo frowns, "No one knows about them? Not even the professors?" "The professors would know but it wasn't that serious that I'd take it up to them," Mattheo finds it difficult to relate, he always would let everyone know that he was in the right if the facts favour him because no way in hell would he let anyone see him in the wrong light, he couldn't bear to be in the wrong.
And it slips out his mouth, "I would've argued till they knew I was right," "I don't like arguing though, reminds me of my parents, they parted ways because they argued a lot, so I try to avoid it myself," his lips purse trying to think of an appropriate response, "Anyway, you are in Slytherin right?" it wasn't a question, you just knew, "I'm in Hufflepuff, nice to meet you!" you turn towards him and extend your hand with a smile, he can't help but mirror your smile, "Nice to meet you indeed." Your hand feels soft in his, he was finding it hard to let go but you pull your hand back almost instantly- remembering something, "OH right I forgot, do you like chocolates?" Mattheo was quite taken aback by your energetic self, it was infectious, "Of course you do, it's a silly question, I mean who doesn't like chocolate-" you stop midway and fix him with a scrutinising look, "Unless you are some heartless monster-" "Nah I like chocolate alright," "Good good."
You fish through your jacket's pocket and pull out two chocolate bars, "It's muggle chocolate," you place one in his hand, "Muggle? I've never had muggle candy," Mattheo inspects the small sweet in his hand, "You are missing out then!" you chuckle as you take the wrapper off yours, "I'll eat it tomorrow, thank you," He pockets it and looks ahead with a small smile, tonight's beautiful now that he looks at it.
"You are a muggle born then?" Mattheo can't help but want to know more, because how dare his fucking father go after your lot, "Yep, I was surprised you know? To receive the letter, I thought it was some prank but of course, after a few days I realised how real it was, couldn't have been happier, to be away from home." It's funny because all Mattheo wants to do is go back to the gloomy old mansion and here you were saying the opposite, the stark difference between the two of you was obvious to him.
You ramble on and he listens, it's nothing but enjoyable to listen to mundane stories being narrated with such interest, he finds himself smiling a bit too much, to the point where his face hurts but he doesn't care because you are quite the lovely company to be around.
Muggle-born, the same year as him, Hufflepuff, living with your mom- it's not the best back home he gathers that much. You were angry at your friends and were going to hold a grudge if they didn't apologise. He learned a lot about you in that one hour and learned a few things about him as well, he didn't know he had jokes like that OR you were just too kind to laugh at his bad quips, whatever it was he was grateful because you didn't make him feel bad or like a burden. Mattheo was glad that you were the talkative one and that you didn't expect him to share anything if he wasn't comfortable, also the fact that he didn't want to send you running away by talking more about himself.
He admires the fond smile you wear when you talk, the stars reflect a bit too brightly in your eyes, and he inhales breathing in your scent, it's surreal, the moment. Mattheo didn't quite think properly until you left, wishing him a good night, "it was nice spending time with you, Mattheo!" He wonders if you knew how much it meant to him.
...
He finds out your name the next day and sees you everywhere, it's annoying because he was tired since he couldn't sleep thinking all night about you and now he has to see your face again. Now that he knows you, he can't seem to avoid you, earlier it was easy to be blind but now, everything else seems like a blind spot but you. Or maybe it's that his head is not hanging low, avoiding looking up at people.
Mattheo got over the irritation rather quickly, discreetly looking at you, eyes following every movement of yours. But you don't look at him once, he was just like any other guy to you, the realisation both hurts and feels nice, knowing that you don't demonise him but also the fact that he's no one special either. And maybe, he can live with that.
He notices the large number of people you keep around, you are never alone, always surrounded by a group and you are always the one talking, you are clearly popular. How had he not noticed you before? But then again he knew no one in the school apart from the professors, he never tried to get to know anyone because of course his fate wouldn't allow that.
Mattheo seeks out the solace of the library to keep you out of his mind for a while but the plan doesn't seem to work when he finds the chocolate you gave him in his bag. He simply sighs, knowing that there is no escape, unwarps the sweet and pops it into his mouth, shutting his eyes, and recalls your sweet smile. Warmth takes over his body, it feels nice like this, he has to talk to you once again because that can't be the only interaction he has with you, not when it's all he can think about. He breathes out slowly, staring down at the wrapper and mindlessly reading the information on the back, his jaw tightens as he realizes his stupid pathetic feelings. Mattheo puts the wrapper in his quill case and tries to study with a head full of you.
...
Okay, now it was really starting to bother him, he practically couldn't keep his eyes off you, it's like a spell had charmed him in. He wasn't even trying to be discreet at this point, he downright stared at you from a distance, it was creepy, he was aware of that but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. Mattheo doesn't like this new feeling you've instilled in him, it's sweet and it's fucking uncomfortable. He finds it extremely difficult to get rid of you from his thoughts, so he gives up on trying and lets his mind go on autopilot.
The way you talked to him without any judgement in your eyes that day, the images of you repeated over and over again in his mind. Even when he sees you with someone else he can't help but think you are in front of him telling him a story, with those animated expressions of yours, but then seconds later he comes to his senses and sees the smile that's not directed at him, the one you gave to everyone, him too. He thinks it was your pity, that made you talk to him. He didn't feel like he was burdening you then but now when he thinks of approaching you, he knows he'd be burdening you. Your life looks no different, every day is full of joy, and you aren't smiling any less.
Why would you talk to him of all people? Perhaps, you only talked to him that day because you needed a change of scenery and not because you wanted to, he's wrong in thinking that but he's also deluded. It's the only way he keeps himself at peace, to not see meaning in your words, to not long for your company.
But he's a Riddle after all, some things just run in your blood, he has his eyes set on you and he finds it difficult to look away. New dream of his, and he'd like to have it, no matter how unattainable it feels. Yet he hasn't got a clue, it's all too new, and he doesn't know what to do, he'd like to have a plan but what would the plan even say? Go and talk to her? Yeah, like he's about to embarrass himself in front of her.
...
Your eyes stretch at the sight of him sitting in the library, alone but not in some deserted corner, he had claimed the whole couch in the centre of the room, sitting right in the middle, reading a book leaning back, a frown on his face. He looked intimidating, and to be honest, you were scared of him, the little beer in you that night had given you the courage to approach him, maybe your fate was too kind to let you find him that night but now your nerves were on fire.
It was no secret to you that he had been staring at you the past couple of weeks, but you couldn't understand the look on his face, his jaw was always clenched, eyes narrowed, and not a hint of emotion on his face. Was he mad at you? Was he the planning on-
No. You didn't like to think about it, you didn't want him to be the man they paint him as, he's just a boy, your age, maybe that's another reason why you hadn't approached him. Staying away because you were scared that they'd be right, you'd rather delve into what ifs than actually be heartbroken, your imagination brought you bliss.
But would it really be your mind if it would let you just forget it? You think and think, getting worked up over every little interaction you've had with him. How could he be evil? He talked to you so nicely the other day, even- even though you were a muggle-born, a mud blood. But when you see how he looks at you, you can't help but feel scared.
It really was an intimidating sight, your courage wore thin but you had made up your mind. You approach him cautiously, as you greet him, you start feeling jittery and flushed, "Hey Mattheo."
Mattheo jerked his head up as he heard your voice, surprised, caught off guard in fact, he didn't trust his words just yet so he simply nodded at you, acknowledging your presence, closing the book and setting it aside, all his attention on you. "I came here to study and noticed you," you look around bashfully before continuing, "I just wanted to ask you if you liked the chocolate I gave you the other day, you know the one with dark brown wrapper-" "Yeah I did," He stops you from rambling on, not that he had any problem with it but you clearly seemed nervous, he just wanted to ease your nerves, "Right so-" you quickly pull out a small pack of the chocolate from your sling bag placing it beside him, straightening up, "I'll go then, enjoy-" you are quick to turn away from him, cursing yourself in your mind, blaming yourself for making things more awkward than they already were.
Mattheo stops you in your tracks as he calls you by your name, you turn around, and he speaks in that cold voice of his, "You said you were here to study right?" you nod timidly, clutching onto the straps of your bag, he leans back and with a flick of his wrist, a table and chair are summoned in front of him, "then study," he motions to the chair opposite of him.
You were quite taken aback, you stood there for a bit before actually registering his words, and you quietly sat down, you didn't have it in you to disobey him, he was Mattheo Riddle for fucks sake, he looked and sounded like someone who doesn't take no for an answer.
A small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you carefully sit down, looking down, not meeting his gaze, he couldn't believe it, you obliged his wishes? Mattheo leaned back fully, arms folding as he watched you, brown eyes capturing each detail, amusement crawled over his face as he watched you pull out multiple books all at once, various colourful stationery items sprawled out all over the table. You looked pretty like this, stray strands of hair framing your face, lips pursed in concentration. He knew how creepy he was being, so he opened his book again and tried to read but he simply couldn't not when you were sitting in front of him, he relished your presence and this was so unlike the others, every time he had looked at you- you had been surrounded by people, so it was a sight to behold, only for him to admire. So he did, in secret, glancing up at you, every few seconds.
It's been two hours and not once did he get bored of looking at you, a small smile lingered on his face as you closed your books and looked up at him, "How's that book?" you nod towards the book in his hand- the one he was supposed to be reading, "Good, good" he bites the inside of cheek as he lies through his teeth, "Got everything done?" he sets his book aside, fixing you with a soft stare, "Yes, I just wanted to revise a bit, I forget stuff easily if I don't revise regularly," you tilt your head a bit, his eyes were much softer now, and it made your heart flutter a bit, feeling a lot more comfortable than before, so you do what you usually do when you are comfortable- talk.
"By the way, did you study for the upcoming herbology test?" And before he could answer, you pulled out a piece of paper from your bag, "This is like the holy grail, a senior gave it to me last year, it has all the specifics, of recognising plants and how to make generalised guesses about their uses-" you speak in a hushed voice, slightly leaning over the table, eyes wide as you shared your little secret, "you can have it, I have it memorised haha" You bless him with that pretty smile of yours, pushing the paper towards him, you don't let him refuse the offer and start talking about something else, he gives you a small smile, and it makes your insides turn into mush, you bite your lip trying to contain your smile, eyes shy as you start fiddling with your hands on your lap.
You talked for hours, he was much more open this time, and the conversation flowed smoothly between the two of you, it was you who mostly did the talking but he didn't seem to mind he looked more than pleased, he didn't like talking much, it seemed, so you filled in the gaps, made it look so effortless like it was easy talking to him, maybe it was easy for you but to him, it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. You two stopped only when the librarian came in and told you it was curfew time, your eyes widened as you turned to look back at him, an amused smile on your face, both of you got up, walking beside each other, not uttering a word till you were out of the librarian's stern gaze.
"I made you miss dinner-" your eyes widened further as soon as the two of you got out, stepping into the empty hallway, "it's alright, I don't mind," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, he chuckled at your antics, "yeah sure, but your stomach would, but- we can sneak into the kitchens, you know, sneak some food out," you wiggle your eyebrows at him with a sheepish grin on your face, he scoffs in disbelief, a fond smile gracing his face, "something tells me, this isn't your first time sneaking around."
"No, it's not," you chuckle a bit before continuing, "So, are you coming or not?" you purse your lips, looking up at him with doe eyes and he questions your motives right then because there's no way you didn't have a clue about what you were doing, "would be an idiot to say no," he muttered under his breath shaking his head, "I didn't catch that-", "Yes, I am."
You give him a pleased smile, you looked so happy at that moment, he was rooted in his position as you started walking ahead of him, he had to look away to catch his breath, "Merlin" he exhaled, a hand reaching over to his chest to soothe his loud thumping heart, and in that moment he knew he was a goner.
"Mattheo-?" you turned around since you didn't hear him walk with you but soon he rushed to your side the moment you looked back, you gave him another smile as he walked beside you, he looked straight ahead then, you needed to stop doing that because no fucking way- would he be able to let go of you.
You lead him to the kitchen, both of you cautious, well just you- he was having the time of his life, getting a detention would be worth it, just a small price to pay. Mattheo repeatedly stole glances here and there, the moment you entered the kitchen, you grabbed his arm and pulled his painfully slow self in, "gosh- you sure do walk slow," you glare at him, but there's no malice in your eyes, instead they are just amused, you roll your eyes when he just shrugs in response, moving over to the tables. Mattheo just looked at you with fond eyes, he was just trying to buy more time with you by walking slowly and he didn't feel one bit guilty about it, he felt a bit too proud. 
You sigh dramatically before returning to him with a small tray in your hands, "I didn't find anything else, apart from these blueberry muffins," your eyes wander around once more trying to see if you missed something, "usually there's still stuff left, that's weird- oh well, at least we have these," you give him a small defeated smile, setting the tray on the table, shrugging as you felt that muffins weren't worth the effort of sneaking around and that you only troubled him further. Mattheo saw through you and he hated that you were feeling that way, "didn't I mention this to you? I love muffins, especially the blueberry ones." he gave you a small smile, picking up the muffin, taking a bite, "yeah, that's good, way better than the dry vegetable and chicken pies they make." He didn't look at you as he said that, but you smiled, realising what he was trying to do, you wanted to cry, why was he being so considerate? You were now beginning to go down a spiral, of all the times you thought of him in the wrong light, how dare you even think like that? 
Mattheo caught you staring and it was hard for him to control the heat that rose to his cheeks, he cleared his throat, "What? You don't like these? Well, guess they are all for me-" he teased, taking the tray in his hand and started walking away, "Hey! No-" you rushed after him with an amused smile, "I want one too," and the tray was shoved back into your hands, "better not eat all of them, yeah?" he gave you a small cheeky wink, leaning against the table, finishing the muffin in his hand. 
Mattheo offered to walk you back to your dorm, he didn't have to insist much, after all, you wanted to spend time with him too, you easily agreed after a couple of tries. You two walked in comfortable silence, as you neared the Hufflepuff dormitory, you were thinking about how you'd part ways, overthinking about what would be appropriate and in the mix of it, you just gave him an awkward side hug, squeezing his arm a bit before mumbling a quick "goodnight" and rushing in. 
He couldn't believe his eyes, were you blushing? No way, he must be imagining things. Mattheo could still feel your warm touch lingering on his side, the scene playing over and over again in his mind, he wanted to scream out of excitement- he was getting cuteness aggression, had to be it, his fists clenched at his side as he stared at the door, for god knows how long, if he could- he would've squeezed you into a bone-crushing hug, but you were quick, left him speechless. 
He walked back to the Slytherin dorm without any trouble, he closed the door behind himself and leaned back against it, he was pretty sure his skin was burning with all the warmth that was flowing through his veins. Merlin, he was embarrassing! Mattheo sighed contently, a big smile on his face as he replayed the whole day, your smile- 
...
The next few days, you guys didn't talk at all, he was back to staring and this time, when you did catch him in the act, instead of pretending you didn't see him, you gave him a knowing smile and a wave. Lingering looks, and subtle greetings, were sweet, Mattheo was now on a new high, he couldn't get enough. But for some reason, he maintained his distance, he stuck to looking at you from afar, it felt comfortable this way, not wanting to taint your reputation by talking to you in front of others, he'd talk to you if it was only you but you were never alone. 
Mattheo starts seeing life for what it is, when he looks at the trees outside, the castle in its entirety, he feels like he is seeing it for the first time. How had he missed this? He finds himself back at the astronomy tower, he looks at the lake ahead, it was a sight to behold, and he is starting to appreciate the view, these days he didn't care about much, you were all he could think about and you were more than pleasant, it was as if the grey lens of his life was replaced with a coloured one, and it would be foolish to credit anyone else but you for it, and he was fucking grateful for it. The reason he was here was, that it was the end of August, and the fireflies you so damn wished to see would be out tonight, he came here just in the hope that he'll get to see you alone. 
He was zoning out when some movement near the edge of the lake caught his eye, it was you- with a few of your friends, his smile faltered the moment he saw some blonde Hufflepuff dude pull you to his side, slinging a hand over your shoulder, you all walked towards the shrubs and didn't have to wait long before the fireflies lit up and started raising above the shrubs. He was about to leave, he was mad for some reason, really pissed- but then he took another look at you. You were standing a bit behind your friends, who had all their attention on the flies ahead, you seemed sad, looking down, messing with the soil beneath your shoe, hands in your jacket. Mattheo could make out the pout on your face, the deflated shoulders, you then turned to look right where he was, and he felt his breath catch in his throat.
Your posture straightened immediately, the pretty smile returning to your face as you looked up at the astronomy tower balcony, having spotted him, you waved at him. Mattheo nodded, forearms on the railing as he leaned forward, a smile gracing his features, the anger leaving him. You excitedly pointed at the sky, and he nodded, you turned back around when your friend called you and he couldn't look away, he was staring at you till you left, Mattheo started feeling the warmth creep up to him when he saw you making an effort to steal back glances at him. He felt seen, fucking special- 
...
Mattheo still hadn't talked to you, he couldn't catch you alone really, it was starting to get to him, he longed to hear your voice, hear you talk to him- and yet, he didn't have it in him to approach you in front of others, it would ruin you, you thrived in the company of others, he couldn't snatch that away from you. Maybe if he was a bit more selfish, he'd do it, snatch you away from others, have you all to himself but he wasn't about that life, it was something his father would do, he's sure of it, go after what he wants, not caring what others would think- 
Mattheo feels like passing out when you deliberately look at him just to give him a shy smile, a flushed look on your face. He walks away because he cannot handle looking at you, the urge is too strong, to just take you into his arms, he walks out to the empty hallway, a hand over his chest- it had become a subconscious habit of his, whenever you gave him that smile, the one that felt like it was just reserved for him, yeah that one, he felt like he was in heaven, you sent his heart rate through the roof when you did that, it borderline hurt him since he couldn't do much to satiate this feeling. 
The longing was etched into his eyes when he looked at you, one thing he realised was, that when he had his head up, no one dared to look his way, he was enjoying that power for some reason, it filled his veins with something dark, he liked seeing people look down instead of him looking down, it felt fucking nice, and it felt even better when the only person that did look at him, was you. People averted their eyes when he entered the room, choosing to ignore his presence but the fear was very much evident, so he knew they didn't see him staring at you but at this point, he really couldn't bring himself to make an active effort to look away even if someone noticed. 
It was no lie, that Mattheo wasn't up to date with all the gossip and news, he just lived life passively but now that he was out there more, he couldn't help but hear the words that fell onto his ears, Yule Ball, huh. WAIT- ball dance? That meant having a date, who were you going with? Fuck his mind was rambling shit to him, he could not let someone else take you to a fucking dance as their date, no, he wouldn't let that happen. He had to get to you before someone else did, it was nighttime, and tomorrow's the weekend, approaching you will be the first thing he'll do after he wakes up, he has to plan shit out, you know, make it special and heartfelt, you deserved nothing less.
But his heart nearly broke when he overheard two Slytherin guys talking about you. The way one of them talked about you made his blood boil, his jaw clenched tight, nails drawing blood from his palms as they dug into his coarse skin, "I told you not to ask her out, plenty of guys tried and guess what? She rejected them all." the guy who was being talked to only scoffed angrily, "She's a fucking slut, that's what she is, leading people on-" the other boy just stopped him and Mattheo exhaled, a bit relieved because if it wasn't for him, Mattheo would've smacked the guy and pushed him to the fucking wall, "dude, come on, that's not true, all she did was smile at you when you gave her your seat, she's a nice girl," these guys were in the fifth year, he recognised that much, "sure, whatever," the guy walked away to his room, making sure to loudly slam the door behind him. 
Mattheo then gets up and walks towards the guy left behind, the one who stood up for you, when he stands in front of him, he sees the dude cower into the seat, Mattheo tries to speak in a polite voice but the anger is still radiating off him, his irritated stare didn't help either, "she doesn't have a date, yeah?" his hands were behind his back, over one another, the blood still fresh, "who-o?" the guy stutters out, looking around for help but no one was there- "You know who," he fixes him with a glare, before uttering your name out loud, "no no, she doesn't, rejected them all." Mattheo then nods at him and leans back, then finally he walks back to his room, allowing the guy to catch his breath. 
Mattheo feels relief wash over him as he lets the information sink in, okay good, you didn't have a date but then again, why were you rejecting them all? What if you reject him as well? Yeah, he couldn't handle that wound, he'd fucking die, he contemplates whether he should ask you or not but he's done fucking waiting, waiting for his fate to fuck things over, if things are going to be fucked, he'll be the one to do it. 
...
Mattheo puts on a black shirt and black pants, not caring to tuck his shirt in, the cold metal ring stings him as he puts it on, the feeling is grounding, he's doing something his dad would've done and for some reason that doesn't feel half as bad, he feels like himself, it was like something had possessed him, the confidence was unwavering, even as he stepped out into the crowded hallway, hands in his pockets, looking ahead, people parted, giving him space and Merlin, did that feel fucking powerful. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he approached the room you'd be in, you always were there on the weekends, with your friends and he didn't think before he stepped into the room, heads turning towards him in shock, even yours but the shock on your face was soon replaced with a smile, quietly waving at him and that right there, fed right into his ego.
He walked over to you in a few quick strides, eyes zeroed in on you, nothing else mattered at that moment, "Can I talk to you?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement, you were ecstatic, you've wanted this for so long, to talk to him in front of others, you never knew if you should because he might've felt uncomfortable, "Yes ofcourse, what is it?" you nod, a smile still on your face, "Alone," his voice was cold, "oh yeah, sure-" you step towards him, thinking he'd lead you somewhere private but he stayed rooted in his place, eyes never leaving yours, he stayed quiet for a bit, taking in your whole self, the bright clothes you were dressed in, the equally bright smile on your face. Then he looked over your head, to the shocked faces of your friends, "Alone." It came out as an order, he couldn't care less. 
Mattheo liked this newfound authority, he also relished in the fact that you were being so compliant as if you wanted this to happen and he couldn't be more glad, "Guys, I'll be back, you can go ahead, don't worry," you explained, seeing their hesitance, his unwavering gaze was back on you, brown eyes were intense. The apprehensive group slowly emptied the room and just went the last person was out, Mattheo muttered something under his breath, and the door slammed shut, locking itself. 
Mattheo cursed that pretty smile of yours before smiling back, "You have a date? For the ball?" you lowered your eyes to the ground at the question, a shy look grazing your features as you shook your head, the more he looked at you, the more positive he got. "Good."  He finally pulled his hands out of his pocket and suddenly there was a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand and a velvet box, he wordlessly handed them to you, your eyes were wide, full of amusement, face warm, you noticed how the lights around you got dimmer, the small mock firefly charms that floated in the air, you didn't have a clue on how he was doing all this without his wand but you couldn't bring yourself to think of it, not when you had him standing in front you, in all his glory, about to ask you to the ball, gosh you felt like you were on cloud nine, the guy you were waiting for had actually approached you? You had to be dreaming. 
Then out of nowhere, you hear your favourite song but on strings, you look down at the box curiously- "It's the muggle chocolate you were talking about, the one you said was hard to get your hands on," he shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal but in reality, he was finding the courage to finally tell you what he was feeling, ask you out. Your brows pinched together, as you noticed that all of it was a muggle, even the flower arrangement- the song, how did he do all of this? You looked up at him with an amused look. "No questions please," he breathed out like he was out of breath, you then smiled at him gratefully, and he quickly averted his eyes, his hand subconsciously reaching over to his chest, "Oh Merlin," he exhaled quietly, not being able to look back at you. 
He then slowly gathered the courage to look back at you, you were just looking at him patiently, the smile still on your face, Mattheo cleared his throat before opening up, "I have never been the one to be graceful but I want to this properly." he inhaled sharply before continuing, "Ever since that night, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, I think I've gone mad honestly," He lets out a dry chuckle shaking his head, looking into your eyes, "I think I've taken a liking to you, your voice, your smile-" and then he interrupts himself, forgetting the little speech he prepared as he watches your smile widen at his words, "yeah that, more of that please," and that makes you blush, the genuine interest in his eyes, the way admiration shines in his eyes, you are so close to him, that you can hear his heart thumping loudly, "I'd like to have the honour of taking you to the ball," then he says your name quietly, "would you like be my date?" 
"Yes yes!" you couldn't be more excited, you are quick to throw your arms around him, and all the worries leave his body as soon as he is subjected to your embrace, he closes his eyes, pulling you closer, finding everything comfortable in your grip. His heartstrings thrum at the moment, it was embarrassing how quickly you got him flustered but he didn't seem to mind it. He whispered a small "thank you," before hugging you tighter, you just giggled into his chest and Merlin, did he feel like he had just won the lottery.
...
<<prev work: this love || mattheo riddle
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peachypinkygloss · 8 months
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Hii babes! 💗 Congrats on the milestone, for my request can I have Jungkook who kidnapped oc and is fucking her Infront of the TV where it shows her missing? Dumbification please! thank you love <33 💕
hello baby!! 🤍 o.m.g i gotta say I am baffled, BUT IN A GOOD WAY! how didn't I think of this myself 😪 love u, mwah 💋 x
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crafting new memories
You're his and nothing else matters.
pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
genre: smut
warnings: stockholm syndrome, dub-con, dumbification, unprotected sex, 900 words.
a.n.: ok sorry but I needed to put fluff, you guys know me. nothing's better than twisted fluff 🫣 you know the drill: don't like, don't read 🫶🏻
This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game! 🤍
♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡
It doesn't do anything to you anymore. All those strangers, those people that you didn't really know before, crying and asking you to come back home used to make you cry, too.
Your eyes would become watery, your hands would shake and your heart would beat louder in your chest. It didn't really matter who they were, all you knew was that people were mourning you as if you were actually dead.
You wanted to call your mother, tell her that you're fine, that you're still alive, that she doesn't need to worry. But it doesn't feel so necessary anymore.
The news only mentions you when they're talking about other missing people because it's been too long now. They've stopped showing your parents and they've stopped updating everyone on the police investigation. They've just stopped searching for you.
You're the past now and they're living in the present. They've moved on, and so have you.
You're embarrassed to say it, but it was easy to do. It was easy to turn the pages and finally close the book of your previous life. It's terrible how the man who took you away is the very same one who also gave you a new life.
A new home, a new heart.
It's incredible how he's managed to make you forget by just replacing the old memories with new ones. He crafted them for you. With his words, with his hands, with his lips, he created every thought of yours so the old ones would never come back haunting you.
"Feels good, baby?" Jungkook whispers above you, his hips thrusting in.
"Yes," you softly moan and grab onto him, passing your arms around his shoulders.
You keep him against you as he fucks you lovingly, breathing onto your face, hovering over you with his hands on each side of your head.
You can faintly hear the sound of the TV playing, someone stating the daily news. Jungkook takes a hold of your jaw and makes you turn your head to the side, your blurry eyes laying on the TV's screen.
You think you hear your name, but you're not sure. Your mind is fuzzy, clouded with thoughts about Jungkook and only Jungkook. You squint your eyes as the picture of someone familiar appears on the screen but you're too distracted by his cock entering and exiting your wet pussy.
You don't understand why he forces you to look, his large hand keeping your head in place. "Do you recognize her?" He asks, his lips brushing against your skin, his nose pressing down on your face.
You feel like you're going to suffocate, but you don't dislike the feeling, not at all. You love being so close to him that it becomes difficult to breathe, difficult to think.
"Is it... me?" You frown, another moan ripping out of you as he pounds you onto the couch, not missing a beat.
"It was," he answers breathily. "But not anymore. You're mine, now," he says and makes you face him again, your lips centimetres away from his. "Only mine, right, baby?"
"Yes," you agree without hesitation and Jungkook chuckles, a beautiful sound that makes your stomach flutter.
"Yeah," he grins, biting down on his lip. "It's the only thing you can say, too dumb to think for yourself," he mocks you, but you know there's no mean intention behind it.
He just finds you adorable, loves how pretty you look under him, totally in bliss.
"My stupid little girl." He trails kisses down your neck and over your breasts, perky nipples pointing at him. "What would you do without me, hm? You poor little thing," he coos, still smooching the tender skin of your neck.
"Jungkook, please," you beg, getting a bit impatient, clit pulsating. "Need to cum," you whine and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it so he looks at you.
He groans at your neediness, leaving the crook of your neck to connect his eyes with yours. "My baby wants to cum around my cock? Is that what she wants?" He questions, even though he knows that's what you're asking for, pussy clenching helplessly around him.
"Please." You nod repeatedly, twisting his hair between your fists.
Jungkook smiles sweetly and pecks your lips, slowing the pace of his hips. "Everything my baby wants."
He sneaks his tattooed hand between your two bodies and reaches your puffy, swollen clit. He does quick circular motions on your bud with his thumb, picking up his pace again.
You moan out, showing him how good it feels, the knot in your stomach tightening. "I love you, Jungkook," you admit, even though he already knows.
Your pussy clenches around him and he has a hard time focusing on anything else than his cock sliding in your cunt. "Shit, me too, I-" he cuts himself off, looking down where your bodies connect. "I love you too, baby," he mutters under his breath, feeling his balls tightening.
You whine into his ear and he could get off just at the sound of you. He keeps going, fucking you until his thighs begin to shake and he has to steady his hips against yours.
"Fuck," he curses, releasing himself inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum.
It's shortly after that your orgasm passes through you, sweet moans escaping your mouth, walls quivering around him. Jungkook takes his time to pamper you in kisses, staying inside of you a bit more, lazily thrusting in.
"Mine," he repeats so you don't forget, but there's no need to.
You'll never leave him.
.
.
.
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crappycamille · 8 months
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a/n: gasp, i actually wrote something. be easy on me okay, i haven’t done this in a while. just some fluffy conjecture tbh, although there is one suggestive line but that’s why all my stuff is 18+, minors dni please… enjoy <3
Bakugou Katsuki had never experienced touch.
Well, that’s not entirely true. He had been touched before: punched and hit by those desperately trying to escape his pursuit, clung to by those fearing for their life, gentle yet encouraging pats on the back from friends, loving but annoying pinches of the ear from his mother. He’s even been pawed at and caressed by lust-filled women that satisfy temporary needs. And even more dangerously, he’s been fondled by the promise of love disguised as lust… But never had Bakugou been touched.
At least until you.
The first time you touched Bakugou is a memory he will never forget. He was bone tired having worked an incredibly grueling month-long mission.
Instead of going home to catch up on much-needed sleep, he immediately went to his office to get the paperwork done. Most people don’t know that a lot of things on the legal side can’t go through until his side of the paperwork is done. Bakugou constantly feels like he’s never fast enough. No matter how fast he can get to the victims. No matter how fast he catches the villain. No matter how fast he gets things done he wasn’t fast enough to prevent the victims from becoming victims in the first place. So, in his mind, the least he could do is get his paperwork done as fast as possible so that those involved can get their justice.
But, of course, the moment the mission is done—before he’s even had a chance to change out of his hero suit—he’s met with nothing but a mountain of news articles and tabloid headlines ridiculing his name. They find joy in villainizing him over the smallest of details.
Most of the time, Bakugou ignores those things. It doesn’t matter to him what others think. They can nitpick whatever they want because despite that he won. He saved the people who needed to be saved. To him, that was all that really mattered… usually.
It must have been his level of exhaustion, but he couldn��t help the way his brows furrowed in disappointment reading the headlines. The words for the public sitting heavier on his chest than normal. His emotions got to him more than normal as he walked down the hallway from his official, finally heading home.
It was late.
Far too late for anyone else to still be there. Yet, he swore he could hear the soft pitter-patter of heels clicking against the floor. As he turned the corner he was met with the sight of you packing up. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he watched with confusion as scurried around filing documents, turning off computers, and locking doors.
“The hell? Why’re you still here?” He internally cringed as his voice boomed more than he meant it to since you nearly jumped out of your skin upon hearing him.
“Oh Dynamight, Sir! I apologize I meant to be out of here before you noticed I was here.” Exhaustion seeped through your voice, giving you more rasp than normal.
“That’s not what I asked you. The hell’re you still here for?”
“Well…” you scratched your head feeling a bit shy, debating on whether or not to tell him the real reason why you were there. “I stayed to make sure all of the paperwork you submitted just now went through. As head of your legal team, it’s my job to make sure things on the agency’s side are squared away. I understand you like to get things done immediately after a mission, Sir.”
Bakugou was speechless. So many questions riddle through his head he wanted to ask. Had you done this after every mission and he never noticed you? yes When had you noticed that he came in after missions to do paperwork? Why did you care? Instead, he watched wordlessly as you gathered your things.
“You don’t need to do that.” He finally spoke. His tone was unusually soft, nearing sweet if you squinted hard enough. You breathily chuckled. You had been working for Bakugou long enough to know that was his way of saying thank you.
“It’s really no problem, Sir. No reason you have to be the only person in the office so late, especially after working such long missions.” You softly smiled at him. With you being so close, he could see the exhaustion prominent in your own face.
The two of you worked your way out of the building together in silence. Bakugou felt that he had so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to ask, but they all muddled to the back of his mind.
It was only when you guys reached the front lobby exit that he became aware of the incessant buzzing of his phone. Countless mentions, tags, reposts, and message requests were flooding in from every social media app. He could’ve sworn he turned his notifications off a long time ago, but there they were. Those same articles that called him a corrupt hero, a heinous/reckless man, and nitpicked things down to the way he breathed were being sent to him over and over again. A constant reminder that so many people disapprove of him.
He hadn’t noticed how tightly he had been gripping his phone. How clenched his bicep was until he felt a gentle squeeze on his arm. Your hand was small in comparison to his but its presence was overwhelming.
Your thumb subtly rubbed soothing circles on his clenched bicep. “If it’s worth anything, I think you’re incredibly kindhearted. The world is lucky to have a hero like you protecting it. Goodnight, Sir. Get some rest.”
Bakugou thought he was going to melt the second you pulled your hand away. Your words rang loud in his ears, but his skin buzzed even louder at the lingering effects of your touch. He had to stop himself from sobbing in the lobby that night.
There was something oh so special about your touch.
From the first time you ever touched him to the way, you touch him now as his wife. He swears he has to stop himself from sobbing every time. It’s the overwhelming love that pours out of you every time your skin connects with his.
He was so incredibly touch-starved before you came along. Starved from the kind of touch that doesn’t come from platonic relationships. Starved from the touch of someone that didn’t expect to gain something from him in return. Starved from the intimate touch of true love.
He revels in every little touch you grace him with. The way you hold his hand under the dinner table. The way you pinch him lovingly, reminding him of his mother, when he says something out of pocket.The way you squeeze his thigh and rub soothing circles on him when tensions get high in a meeting. The way you nestle your face in his back as he cooks. The way you lightly slap his shoulder as you laugh hysterically. The way you drag your hands along his sides as he lays on you. The way you claw at him desperate to somehow bring him impossibly closer as he thrusts into you.
In all honesty, he still has a hard time fathoming that you are his. That you are in love with him. That you choose to be with him every day. He feels undeserving, but you always definitively object. He believes that you are so much more than anything he could ever be, but that’s exactly how you feel about him.
Your touch is just one of the things he obsesses over you. Because he is just so incredibly in love with you.
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reticent-writer · 2 months
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Hey! Well, actually, I really like the set of stories about Teen!Reader and Alostor where the reader is classified as an assistant, I would like a story that shows how they met and how they get to the point where they consider him an assistant and their confidence to say him dad? Thank you, I'm sorry if the request was very long. (Writing this I remembered the fight Alastor and Lucifer had over Charlie about who she calls Dad, I felt it would still be a good scenario for indignation)
An: I had a storyboard for this exact thing but its messy and if you don't know me you probably wouldn't understand how my mind works but basically i have ocs for this
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This took a bit longer because it happens before Alastor and reader dies plus I gave reader a family so...... some basic info
Y/n was born into a family that was picture perfect on the outside
father was a factory worker Mother was a dressmaker
Doll House by Melanie Martinez fits them perfectly
Y/n was the middle child of 5
When Y/n was born the eldest (Atticus boy) was 10, Second eldest 6 (Alma girl), Middle child (y/n)
when y/n turned 4 their parents had twins (Giles boy, Gideon boy)
This is a glimpse into my mind. It might not make sense.
✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・**・゚゚・*:.。..。.:*゚:*:✼✿ 
-1920-
Y/n is 10.
Your parents were perfectionists, especially when it came to the public eye. The L/n family was always the center of attention in your little town, deep in Louisiana.
You and your siblings were constantly dressed in Sunday's best.
"Kids make yourselves look presentable. A client is coming soon." Your mother called out from her 'workspace'. kids aren't allowed in there.
"Can't we just stay in our rooms." Atticus complained from his spot on the couch.
"Get. Dressed."
Atticus groaned as he got up to go to his room. On his way, he knocked on your door before opening it.
"You're supposed to wait for a response, Jackass."
"Next time you curse at me I'm poppin' you." He threatened but you knew he wouldn't do anything, "Mom said get dressed, tell Alma."
He closed the door before you could complain. You heard the shuffling of his feet as he ran to his room.
His room was at the end of the hall. the hall was short with 2 doors on each side. Alma was across from you and the twins were next to her.
Right across from your room is Alma's. She's going into her preteen years and started to spend more time in her room. Your mother says she's adjusting to becoming a woman and needs her time alone. She's also becoming very snappy.
You slowly opened your door to stare at hers. You slowly walk into the hallway and up to her door. You knock three time and wait for a responce. She didn't open the door.
"I heard Atticus." Her voice was horse and strained but you believed what your mother told you.
That was all you needed to get yourself ready.
-------
Your mother made all (except for Alma) of you sit in the living room and wait for the client.
*knock knock knock*
"He's here. You better behave." She says before opening the door with a smile only guests see, "Alastor, It's so good to see you again."
"Good to see you to, my dear and my my look at the children. They all seem to be in good health." He greeted all of you with a smile.
"Hello sir." Atticus spoke for all of you.
"You seem to be missing one." Alastor commented, making your mother chuckle.
"She's been feeling under the weather as of late, come along I need to take your measurements. Atticus, Y/n prepare some tea." She ordered.
Alastor and your mother went to her workspace and she shut the door.
----------
That night went smoothly until your father got home. He didn't like the fact that your mother was in her workspace with a man and the door closed, even if he was a client.
It caused fighting -well more than there normally is anyway- between your mother and father. It's always been easy to make your father mad.
It got worse when Alastor took notice of it he came by more often with the excuse of having gifts for you and your siblings.
He gave you a radio to listen to him when he went on air. Atticus was offered a job at the radio station. Alma got a set of jewelry.
This angered your father more and instead of taking it out on Alastor or your mother he took it out on you and your siblings. Atticus tried to protect all of you.
One day your father and Atticus got into a really bad fight and your brother was shot. He didn't make it.
It was around the same time when a horrid smell started coming from Alma's room. Your parents said she caught a fever and no one noticed but you didn't believe them anymore.
From then on you started distancing yourself from your family and growing closer to Alastor.
--------
When you got older (16) you started working with alastor at the radio station. He taught you how to live life without worry.
He treats you like your a person and not just your parent's child.
Your parents treated you like a decoration. Alastor treated you like a child he didn't know he wanted.
You found out he was a murder by accident. You forgot someone at the station late at night and went back to get it to see blood spattered in the talking booth.
At first you thought it was Alastors so you took a gun that the station had in case of emergencies and followed the trail.
Opening the back door you saw Alastor dragging the body. The two of you made eye contact. Your body moved without hesitation and helped him hide the body.
------
Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud.
✿✼:*゚:.。..。.:*・゚゚・**・゚゚・*:.。..。.:*゚:*:✼✿ 
This is long and not what I usually write but it's been stuck in my head for a while.
A/n: I've decided to cut the twins and make y/n the youngest. I had something for them originally but it's better for just Alma, Atticus and Y/n
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Art by @ghostly-one
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rboooks · 9 months
Note
If you take requests can you do a dc x dp with dead tired ship?
I love requests~! I really hope I got dead tired, ship, right. I need to find out the ship names. It's Tim/Danny, right? If not, let me know, and I'll fix you another one.
Tim really wasn't looking forward to meeting the new heir to Vladco. Usually, his parents didn't want anything to do with new money, as they thought that new money was too close to no money, but Vlad Masters was different.
The difference? He bought out almost all of Drake Industries' shares, and now Tim honestly thinks he owns more of the family company than his parents. Jack and Janet hoped to make good connections with the man and slowly but surely trick him into selling the shares back to the Drakes.
Tim thought if he was smart enough to get the people that bought shares of his family company generations ago, not just once but at least eight times, then Vlad Masters wouldn't be as easy to trick as they thought.
Then again, his parents aren't the best businessmen around. If they were, they wouldn't be flying through the family wealth, leading them to bankruptcy.
Tim would know.
One day, he looked at their books when he was bored a few months after discovering Batman's identity. He tried to tell his mom about it, but she told him that he didn't understand the business well enough to tell.
So he signed himself into college-level business courses online to learn it. She didn't appreciate his initiative.
"Remember, Tim, Daniel Masters is who you must befriend," Janet says for the third time as they climb out of their car. " Friendships are the ladders to climbing up in the world."
"Yes, Mom." He tries to smile at her, but all Tim wants to do is go back to the roofs of Gotham and watch the Bats.
Jason is supposed to start his solo patrols tonight, which is a big deal, and he's missing it. His parents weren't supposed to be back for another month. However, their latest job was canceled due to locals complaining.
His dad grumbled about people getting in the way of history, but Tim thinks it has more to do with his parents wanting to dig up an old cemetery......apparently the locals like their grandparent's resting place to be left alone.
Tim also thinks it's not lovely to dig there just because the locals are poor, so he may have hacked into the country's files and flooded the internet with the disrespectful attempt that his parents were trying to make. It received the right amount of backlash to stop the whole operation.
He then sent the community an anonymous donation so they could fix it up, get the gravestones washed, and the stories of the buried people turned into a book. It's the least he could do.
Tim's parents didn't realize the loss of funds only because he carefully hid his tracks with shell companies.
They are greeted at the door by Vlad Masters. He gives his father a handshake, compliments his mother's dress, and even offers Tim a gentle hello. Masters is known for being a bit of a humble hermit, soft-spoken but with sharp, intelligent eyes.
Everything he expects new money to be, down to his mannerism and even the way he stands. Tim would have been able to clock him miles away without even knowing his name.
"This is my son, Daniel," Masters says, patting the head of a frowning boy Tim's age. He stands just a bit away from Masters as if he does not want to be near him. Tim notes the way he shies away from Master's hand.
Interesting.
"It's Danny." The boy hisses. Mom's face tightens at his manners. She never liked children being heard instead of seen. Danny takes a small breath before smiling at the Drakes with a friendlier composure.
The hostility was only toward his father?
"Please call me Danny. It's my real name, not a nickname," He says, offering his hand for a shake. Tim fights a wince. As the son of a wealthy family and not the head, Danny is not supposed to initiate a greeting with Tim's dad.
He just told the Drakes he needs to be aware of high society rules, making him easy pickings. His parents jump onto that weakness like a lion on a trap gazelle.
"Daniel. It's lovely to meet you. " Mom's articulation is just a shade away from being mocking. Danny's smile falls off his face closing down into a near-emotionless mask. "How old are you, deary?"
"I'm old enough to still hear correctly, unlike you. That's not my name. It's Danny." He says much to mom's surprise. Tim guesses she's not used to people challenging her so directly. He learned that, too, while he was running Gotham.
The elites always made passive-aggressive backhanded comments to insult each other. The poor told you to fuck off to your face.
"You do not speak that way to my wife, Daniel-" His Dad starts, but Danny holds up his hand.
"You either call me Danny or don't talk to me." He says. "I don't need to waste my breath repeating myself."
Wow. Tim thinks, watching the red growing on Dad's face. He's cool.
"Are you going to let him talk to me like that?" Dad demands, turning to an amuse-looking Masters. The other man raises a brow, his gentle smile still on his face, but somehow it looks more....dismissive now. As if he was looking at a child demanding the impossible.
"Why ever do you mean?" Masters asks, "Your tone implies you were insulted, but that would mean you are upset with a child asking to be spoken to with respect. Surely, a man of your standing knows children deserve respect?"
"They need to respect their elders." Mom cuts in her voice like ice.
"He is my son, so I am his elder. Not you." Master counters, "But not to worry, I will remedy this issue. Danny will no longer be speaking to you disrespectfully, as I will not allow him to be near you."
His parents had a few seconds of looking smug until Masters waved his hand back towards the driveway. "Have a lovely night, Mr. and Mrs. Drake."
"Excuse me?" Mom cries, and Tim can't believe his eyes. The rest of the wealthy guests have caught on to the issue and have gathered near the windows and doorway to watch.
"That's Fruitloop for You can leave now." Danny chirps starting to look more like his father by the amusement on his face. "Except for him. He's cool."
He points to Tim, who flushes at the attention. He had been staring at Danny, taking in every detail of his expression and body language, fascinated by the fact he did not once seem intimidated. He didn't even look bored.
He seemed comfortable in his slightly slouched posture and confident in his skin and abilities. But his earlier behavior implied that just as he is confident in himself, he also doesn't think very highly of himself.
Tim's never seen anyone like that. It's strange. New. Exciting.
Heck, it was exhilarating.
Tim wanted to break Danny Masters' head open and figure everything about him out. It felt like a new case just begging him to uncover.
"I am?" He asks in a slight daze, and the other boy offers him a dazzling smile.
"Yeah, you respect the dead. The spirits adore you."
What?
"Oh, this is the young boy who protected that cemetery in Guatemala?" Masters asks with genuine warmth this time. "A fine job, Timithoy."
"It's Tim." He hears himself say, and Masters nods.
"A fine job Tim."
Danny offers him a wink, and Tim thinks his stomach just fell out of his body. What is this-?
"Timothy, we are leaving!" His mother screeches, tugging on his arm and yanking him away. The rest of the guests laugh as the Drakes are driven away. Tim knows he will never be allowed near Danny after this, so he turns his head around to give the boy one last look.
He meets the glowing green eyes of the Masters, who wave their fingers at him.
Tim starts following Danny around after that.
(Danny and Vlad know he's there and think it's cute. That's how ghost courts, so they don't see it as a problem. What is problem is getting along long enough for them to figure out a way back to their home dimension. Danny allowed Vlad to overshadow people just so they could have the means to eat, but he's getting really sick of Gotham. At least the soft clicking sound of a camera lures him to sleep at night.
Tim approaches Robin before his hero can go to Ethiopia. He doesn't understand what he is experiencing as his first crush and concludes that the Masters are aliens planning on luring small children by making them fall under a spell through their glowing eyes. Jason takes this very seriously and agrees to wait on his mission overseas. He realizes early on what's actually happening but, by that point, thinks Tim is hilarious and just edges him on.
He, too, thinks the Masters are aliens, but he's not about to tell Bruce.)
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cultofdixon · 3 months
Text
Stress is a silent killer
Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Don’t get me wrong, mothers are strong motherfuckers. But that doesn’t mean you can abuse an expecting mother’s abilities. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Pre-Term Labor Anxieties / Anxiety
Requested by: Anon
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Daryl silently returns his home he shares with Y/N who was currently seated in the living room wide awake. She was decked out to go outside the walls and search for him after the news but thankfully he came back in time before she risked herself at the hour it was.
“I’m sorry”
Y/N didn’t say anything, all she did was let the tears that build up roll off her cheeks.
“I’m sorry I walked away when yea first told me” His voice broke as he brought himself to kneel in front of her resting his hands on her thighs watching her tearful expression meet his gaze.
“I’m scared, Dar…”
“I know, me too. Cuz I want this. I want this with yea and I’m afraid of losing you…like Lori…or like…the others. I can’t lose yea to anythin’ or anyone.”
“You can’t…you can’t walk out like the way you did” She choked out through her sobbing as Daryl brought his hands onto her cheeks wiping away them while they fell. “Please…if you do that again, I’m only going to think the worse possible things”
“I’m stayin’ right here, sunshine. I’m never leaving again.” Daryl pushed himself forward and wrapping his arms around her as she did the same gripping onto his vest. “I’m never leaving you and this baby, I promise”
~
7 1/2 months later…
Another cold spring morning comes through causing the somewhat irritable not-a-morning person Y/N to bring herself to sit up the best she could given her “natural” circumference was different compared to the first and second trimester.
“Did you leave the window open?” She tiredly asks her husband who had sat up when she did, given the closer they get to 9 months the more he’ll be up and at it for anything.
“It was stuffy last night, yea asked me too” Daryl yawns stretching out his back hearing his partner hiss when she heard the occasional stretch out crack. “I’m good”
“Working on the wall repair does you no good…and I think I just forgot I asked you to open it” Y/N frowns bringing herself to the edge of the bed causing Daryl to get up in his shirtless glory about to close the window. “What are you doing?”
“I told yea you don’t have to get up and close it”
“I gotta get up and pee cuz a certain someone is stepping on my bladder.”
“So is that a no on me closing it for yea, love?”
“Can you please close it and help me stand up?” Y/N gave him a tired smile as he did exactly what was asked and while Daryl helped her up she couldn’t help but grab his face to bring him to her level to kiss him before separating to do what she needed.
“Are you sure you don’t need me or want me this morning? Rick completely understands why I can stay here” Daryl started to remind Y/N about the run he was asked to go on that involved stopping at the Hilltop to drop off supplies and go pick up more from the Kingdom.
“You pawned it off to somebody for the past two weeks. I’m not going to go into labor the second you leave. I’m not 8 months yet”
“Pre-term shit. You were put on bedrest during the second tri—whatever it’s called because your stress wasn’t helpin’” Daryl states slipping off his sweats to put jeans on when Y/N stepped out of the bathroom. “It’s easy for yea to stress out and back in the prison you passed out once cuz of it. Now you’re pregnant and Siddiq said it could cause more harm than good”
“Are you trying to stress me out now?”
“No, I’m just telling—-“
“It’s only for half the day. Both Maggie and Ezekiel know who you have to come back home to, they won’t hold you up and we also know Carol will shut Ezekiel up if he does start another endless conversation with you. You’ll be back before nightfall and I’ll be here waiting for my husband to come back”
The archer only gave her a worried expression because of how calm she was being, since a month ago she’d scream at him for just leaving the house. He brought himself over kissing her lovingly and holding her for as long as she let him, which could be hours and he’ll not be able to go anymore. But Y/N knew this trick.
“You seriously walking me out to make sure I actually go?” Daryl smiles walking his bike with his pregnant wife on the other side of such still wearing her sweats and one of his shirts.
“Did you forget about the morning and evening walks we do?”
“Nah I did not. Which reminds me to tell yea to wait for me for the night one. Take it easy walking back home and stay away from the new infusions”
Y/N whistled for Daryl to stop given she can’t maneuver fast enough to grab his arm. “Stay away from the new infusions?”
“Rick let in more ex-saviors to help around here. They are staying in the apartment looking houses” Daryl parked his bike a moment bringing himself to rest his hands on her belly. “Two of them are annoying shit stains of humanity. I don’t know the other one’s name but one of’em is Bryan and they’d much rather pawn their work off to somebody else”
“Daryl. I doubt they’d make a pregnant woman do shit”
“Well. I told Aaron to check on yea if he sees you doing anything sketchy”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Rick is at Oceanside, Michonne is watching a sick Judith, and the others are working on the bridge repair. You won’t let me stay to make sure you don’t over exert yourself. Somebody’s gotta check on yea and since he’s takin’ care of a baby girl at the moment? He’s more than happy to check up on you when Gracie is napping”
“You really have everything planned. Even have a radio?” Y/N smiles crossing her arms as he took out said device to show her resulting in a playful eye roll. “I’ll do my best, my love. But I’ve never seen those individuals before…you can’t blame me if something happened”
“Yeah, but I sure as hell can kill a man if he harms my wife and baby” Daryl states, sneaking in a kiss before getting his bike back up and heading toward the gates.
“I promise nothing will happen, Dar”
What was meant to be an easy day, turned into a weird one.
When the gates closed, Y/N held her belly for a moment feeling the shifting baby inside her make it a bit difficult to go immediately back to her home. She decided to take a longer walk around Alexandria, stopping occasionally to talk to her friends and see what they were up to improve their community. Then on her way back there were two Alexandrians carrying a few boxes to the pantry and infirmary. Both looked at her with curious expressions…
“Yo!”
Y/N ignored it at first until she flinched to the sound of the box dropping beside her.
“You’re Y/N right? The other Dixon in this place”
“Yes…? And you are?” She frowns, not liking the feeling the atmosphere gave when the individual didn’t share his name right away.
“I’m new here. Do you mind helping us with something?”
“Uhm I’m not exactly supposed to be…lifting anything heavy” Y/N gestures a bit on the obvious side about her pregnant belly as they both still gave stone cold stares.
“We’ll carry it to the pantry and infirmary. Just could use somebody to put it away while we bring the rest”
“Is Siddiq not her—-“
“Seriously, Dixon. You’re just pregnant not incompetent” one of them stated only for Y/N’s expression to go south as she supported her belly telling them that she’ll meet them in the pantry first to unload the boxes.
Once she stepped far enough, one of them couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.
“Cant believe that worked”
“Can it Bryan. We still gotta bring the boxes over then we can go fuck off for the rest of the day” The other scoffs picking up and the box carrying it to where it needed to be.
It had been a couple hours of putting supplies away in their perspective areas, thankfully Y/N has worked with Siddiq before so she knows where he likes everything to be. The doctor just didn’t expect to come back from checking on the little ones of Alexandria after lunch time to find Y/N standing on a stool putting away spare gauze in a tub that Siddiq put them in.
“Are you crazy?” Siddiq frowns watching Y/N stumble a bit unexpected as he quickly drop his medical bag to help his friend off the stool. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you in here?”
“Because I have to be useful!”
“Y/N what the hell do you mean?!” Siddiq frowns watching the discomfort grow on her face along with the tears forming. “Okay, come on. Sit down and tell me what happened” he made her sit on the gurney sitting with her.
“My husband—-“
“Did Daryl get hurt?!”
“No! He warned me about some slackers and I just. I didn’t think I was this stupid enough to fall for their shit” Y/N frowns wiping away her tears before wincing and holding her belly instantly. Siddiq pulled away to get the portable machine helping her lay down onto the gurney adjusting it for her to sit up. “It was just one damn conversation and I felt like I was being useless. We won that stupid fucking war. Lost a lot of people. Then this happened and it’s the best thing but all my hormones are all over the place—-“
“And that’s normal! It’s normal for hormones to take over control with all your other emotions.” Siddiq carefully rolled her shirt up to apply a bit of the gel and gently place the wand to check on the heartbeat. “Can you tell me your pain level? And I’m talking from the moment you’ve felt uncomfortable”
“A six…”
“Are you lying?” Siddiq stated watching the tears build up more. “Y/N how long have you been working today?”
“About an hour after Daryl left”
The look on Siddiq’s face only grew even more worried for his friend as he cleaned her up and before she even tried to get up, he carefully helped her back down grabbing a blanket to cover her.
“Siddiq—-“
“You’re having contractions and I don’t want you to force this baby out from your stress because it’s too early and while I think we can…handle that intense situation…I don’t want you to lose this baby if it goes south.” Siddiq frowns covering her more in the blanket and putting the gurney in the trendelenburg position to have gravity help slow the contractions. Before he pulled away to grab a few things that will help, Y/N grabbed his arm. “You stay here and I’ll get someone to radio Daryl to come back a bit early”
“You think he’ll…uh…y-you think he’ll be mad at me?” Her voice broke as Siddiq took her hand into both of his shaking his head.
“No. But when he finds out about who made you overwork, they aren’t going to see the next day”
By the time Siddiq got Daryl on the line, he was already making his way back to Alexandria and when he heard about his wife he was speeding even faster. Daryl parked in front of the infirmary, dropping his bike without another thought as he enters the building bringing himself to her side resting his hand on her belly.
“How are yea feeling?”
“I’m sorry—-“
“Love, please—-“
“I’m really sorry” Y/N broke down in a sob making her husband out of instinct gently wipe away her tears. “I’m really sorry I didn’t take it easy—“
“Y/N. I’m serious when I say this. You don’t have to apologize.” Daryl frowns rubbing circles on her belly watching her bring her hand over his. “Did Siddiq tell yea how long you’d have to be—-“
“She can go back down.” Siddiq interrupts the two coming down from his flat above the infirmary with a filled canteen for Y/N. “You can take her back to your home to be more comfortable in her bed but again, bed rest—-“
“Fuck” Y/N sobbed hating it already and she’s not in her own bed.
“Just for a week until your stress levels and blood pressure go down. Thankfully trendelenburg worked with the contractions but don’t want you, again, to overwork yourself” Siddiq set the canteen down to help Daryl get Y/N on her feet before giving her the filled bottle. “Don’t let her leave the house, then maybe nobody would abuse your hormones” he stated letting them be to finish what Y/N started before he made her rest.
After getting Y/N back home and in their bed, Daryl stuck by her side thinking of the words Siddiq had said before they left. But he wasn’t going to address it when she was still experiencing a bit of discomfort.
“You want another pillow?”
“Then what are you going to sleep on?”
“A mattress? I don’t need a pillow, just need my woman comfortable while she’s a human incubator” He jokes getting a short lived laugh out of her as he moves the extra blankets and his pillows to support her back and belly. When she first started getting uncomfortable, he tried looking for one of those pregnancy pillows that Carol had told him about but it was a lot of work and he didn’t want to leave her at all. Like he promised and is semi-regretting given he left to take care of business and some assholes were pushing her limits with emotional abuse.
“Daryl…?” Y/N tiredly calls out for him as he returns with her canteen filled for a fourth time since being home as he brought himself to sit on the edge of the bed setting her bottle on the nightstand.
“Yes, sunshine?”
“You still love me right…?” Y/N pouted only for Daryl to scoff at such a ridiculous question, leaning over to shower her in kisses making her bring her arms around his neck to keep him close for the moment. “Dar…”
“I’ll always love you. Even when yea risk yourself. But, imma stick by yea for the rest of this.” Daryl states. “No more tellin’ me I gotta go cuz I promised somebody. Someone else will get the work done, doesn’t have to be me and definitely doesn’t have to be you”
“Can you hold me tonight?”
“As long as you don’t kick me out of the bed when it got too hot” he laughs softly, bringing his lips to hers for a few short soft kisses before pulling away to get into comfortable clothing to sleep in and hold her.
The second Y/N fell asleep and was in deep enough sleep for the archer to slip away to check on a familiar hiding spot in Alexandria. Said hiding spot would have those who didn’t want others to notice they were smoking. Knowing damn well he’ll find the right men that have been bothering his partner.
“Ayo the other Dixon has retur—-“ Bryan immediately shut up when Daryl grabbed him by the collar forcing him against the walls of the community.
“You talk to my wife today? Mess with her and had your buddy over here help?”
“Dude I have no idea—-“
“Don’t lie. Don’t even try, or I will fucking end you right here and now” Daryl hissed shoving him harshly against the wall letting go of his shirt. He quickly turned to his buddy who put out his cigarette before holding his hands up defensively. “If I see you and or this son of a bitch near my wife or even hear about it, I’ll feed you both to the walkers after I’ve knocked the living shit out of you both. And don’t yea worry…I’ve got friends to let me know if yea fuck with the love of my life and soon to be mother of my child” and with that he took his leave letting the two regret their decisions and contemplate being moved to a different community to avoid the harsher Dixon. But even then, he’d tear them apart anywhere.
Y/N shifted slightly when the bed moved behind her, she relaxed instantly feeling her husband bring his arm around her pulling her into him.
“Where’d you go?”
“Got yea more water, and heard somethin’ outside”
“Another possum?”
“A pest that’s for sure”
“Mmm…” Y/N snuggles into his embrace getting comfortable as Daryl kissed her temple. “Nothing you can’t handle right?”
Right.
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grcnseer · 1 year
Text
Surfeit of Thorns ➢ Aegon II Targaryen
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synopsis :: As his twin you’d always had strong bond with your older brother Aegon, understanding one another in a way many could not comprehend. However, when the king passes and others push for his right to the iron throne, you’re left wondering if anything was truly as you believed it to be.
pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x twin!Reader
warning(s): targcest, angsty, fem!reader, aegon gets horny when sad, switches galore, SMUT, no beta we die like stannis
note: Here’s my first piece of work for hotd, I truly hope you all enjoy it! I’m still fleshing out the characters so go easy on me. Of course likes, reblogs & comments are always welcome. Requests are currently open so feel free to send a raven!
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The chamber door rattled, wood splintering to the point you were worried it would give before it ceased completely. You held your breath and didn’t dare chance moving. Surely he hadn’t given up? It wasn’t in his nature to not get his way. Risking a few steps closer to the door, your ears were ringing as you waited with bated breath.
“Please, sweet sister.” A low whine pierced the silence. “You’re being cruel.”
Heat licked up your spine, urging you forward as you landed a fist against the frame. “I’m being cruel? You left me! After all I’ve done for you— all I’ve given for you, you’re a coward!”
“Unbar the door!” He snapped, tone dropping as he allowed his anger to seep through. “I am king now. I will have it broken down if need be.”
Of course he would. 
Aegon had never shown respect for anything. It was foolish to believe yourself any different. You took a deep breath, trying your best to steady your hand as you lifted the lock. There was barely a chance to step away before it shoved open and Aegon rounded on you. 
His hands grasped at your waist, fingertips biting so sharp you were sure there would be bruises come morrow. You shoved against his chest despite the urge to succumb to the warmth seeping from him. “You’re drunk.”
“You abandoned me.” He countered, shoving a finger in your face before ripping himself away from you. “And now you’re angry with me? When I’ve done what you’ve wanted all along?"
You were utterly baffled by his statement, shock evedant on your face as you held his gaze. “Pray tell when I have ever abandoned you? This is not what I wanted!”
In all your years you had stood beside your brother. From birth you had been his shadow. He was older by a few moments, but you had been there all the same. You defended him, took blame for him— you would never abandon him. But he had abandoned you.
“You told me to make a decision because you were tired of waiting!” He seethed, arm lashing out and knocking the contents of your vanity to the ground. Jewelry scattered across the stone floor. “Now that I’ve done what you asked you’ve avoided me! You’ve asked mother to consider a betrothal!”
“Aemond told me!” You closed the distance between you, fists clenching at your side, “he told me that he found you hiding, waiting for the chance to slip aboard a ship! That you offered him the iron throne should he let you leave?”
His features twisted with annoyance, whether it was toward Aemond or yourself you couldn’t be sure. “That’s why you’re so angry? I would have come back for you!”
“Stop it.” You scoffed, not bothering to suppress the roll of your eyes. “I know you too well, brother. Or have you forgotten?”
His hands grasped at your face, cupping it between his palms. “Do you truly believe I could leave you behind? That I could leave Sunfyre behind? I would have returned after Aemond was crowned.”
You fought his hold, shaking your head and refusing to meet his gaze as he cooed over you. His grip did not let go. He had always been able to sway your thoughts with sweet words, playing on your hopes and the love you bore him. Aegon was selfish and would always put himself before all else, despite the way he was gently cradling your face. 
“Yes, I would have.” He forced you to meet his gaze, “I would have returned for you both and taken you away.” 
“It does not matter. You are king now.”
“It does matter!” Aegon pushed forward then, tangling his hand in the hair at the back of your head as he shoved you against the wall. You arched away from the cold stone, hips knocking against his and spurring a deep groan from him. His head dropped to the curve of your neck and lips brushed the sensitive skin as he spoke. “You will recant the betrothal and you will stay here, with me, where you belong.”
“And I will be stuck just as I was before, watching as you get your fill of whores and wine. Listening as mother urges you against them and into bed with your wife.”
“I begged her for you.” He whispered between hot kisses to your jaw. “Told her you were mine to wed, mine to take— mine to fuck.”
“And yet you haven’t.” You hissed, reaching up to wrap a hand around his throat. “Because I refuse to be your whore.” 
A smile played at his lips, amusement and arousal dancing in his gaze as he pushed into the contact. You didn’t want him to enjoy it. You wanted him to ache the way you had while watching him take the crown. As any hope of happiness slipped through your fingers.
You shoved him away and crossed the room, grasping the edge of your vanity with your back to him. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he filled the goblet on your bedside table and you cursed yourself for requesting a jug of sweet wine. He slumped in the nearest chair, drinking deeply from his cup. 
“You will not leave me.” He mumbled and for a moment you weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or himself. You twisted to face him, exhaustion washing over you in waves at the thought of continuing the argument, only to halt at the gleam in his eyes. “I will not allow it.”
You couldn’t be sure how long you stared at each other. An unspoken debate being held before you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You crossed the space between you, plucking the cup from his grasp and downing the remaining liquid. “I’ve sacrificed every chance I could have had at happiness in hopes that something would change. Waiting for you to whisk me away and when the time came you ran.”
“I will annul my marriage.” It was so sudden, so baffling that you couldn’t help but laugh. A childish pout formed on his lips at the sound.
He lurched forward to snake his arms around your waist and pull you to straddle his lap; albeit clumsily as the chair nearly tipped when you fumbled on top of him. “If I am to say I wish to cast aside my wife and take you, who is to stop me?”
“Our mother and grandfather,” you countered, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. The week that had passed since his coronation gave you the time to accept the harsh reality of what would follow. All dreams of escape were ripped away as the threat of war lurked just outside the keep. “They wish to offer my hand to secure an alliance for the war they started.”
“There would be no war if not for me.” He sneered, pushing up until his chest was pressed to yours. “They will allow us to wed or I will give my crown to Rhaenyra.”
“It is not that simple—”
Any further attempt to dispute his claim was swallowed by his lips. His tongue forced into your mouth as his arms tightened around you, hands fisting your dress as if you would slip away the moment he let go. He held you impossibly and he rolled beneath you so you could feel his hot arousal pressing to your core. 
“Aegon—” You spoke against his lips, only to be caught off by a rough jolt of his hips. 
“Tell me what to do.” He begged, voice raising in pitch as he clung to you. “Please, don’t leave me— I’ll do anything you ask, just don’t go.”
Tears welled in your eyes as he dipped to bury his head in your chest, hopelessness returning with a vengeance as you laced your arms around his neck. For years you had danced around your feelings for Aegon, despite his never-ending attempts to claim you as his.
You couldn’t get past the guilt of allowing him in while your sister sat just as miserable in their marriage. It wouldn’t be fair and in your eyes, she deserved the world, let alone that sacrifice on your behalf.
“I know no other way. You must believe that I have searched.” You couldn’t hold the bitter laugh that broke through your words. “We should have left after that damned dinner.”
A hush fell over the room and the finality of your tone sank into his bones. A tremble rolled along his spine, hips rocking up to grind his hardening length against you and he let out a guttural moan. You gasped at the friction, arousal wracking your frame and you gripped the nape of his neck. “Aegon, we can’t.”
You resented the whine that lingered in your tone.
“We can.” He insisted, craning back to catch your mouth with his own. “If you are requesting leave then this,” he slotted himself fully against your wet heat, “will be your price. You’re going to come on my cock and when your husband takes that sweet cunt of yours it will be all you think of.”
You didn’t miss the way his lips curled at the mention of your undecided husband and the slick between your thighs increased at the possessive glint in his eyes. It would be easier to push away from him at that moment. To spare yourself the future torment of longing for a man that would never be within reach. Yet your mouth crashed against his in a heavy kiss, licking at the seam of his lips to request entrance that he eagerly allowed. 
Aegon’s hands pawed at you desperately, letting you explore his mouth. His tongue slid along yours, using his grasp on your hips to urge you into rhythm. “Fuck, I want those lips wrapped around my cock.”
The thought sends a flush of excitement through you, hands finding their way around his neck as you angled him to meet your gaze. “You don’t deserve my mouth on your cock.” His pupils were blown wide as you tightened your grip, only stopping when he let out a soft moan. “You’ll finish like this or you leave the way you are.”
You didn’t give him much time to think about it, increasing the pressure of your hips until his name slid past your lips. He let out a soft whimper, head dropping back against the chair. Tension hung heavy in the air as a line that had been drawn so long ago was crossed. 
Aegon had first kissed you after the celebration of your sixteenth name day. He had gotten last in his cups and caused a scene. Your mother had found you in the corridor, attempting to smuggle him away from her wrath with linked fingers and a harsh tug. His lip was bloodied by the time you arrived at his chambers and after you dabbed it away he asked if you loved him.
You had been shocked by the question, of course you loved him, why else would you bother with his antics? Then he closed the space between, hissing at the sting of his lip but not breaking away. 
His betrothal to Helaena was announced soon after.
“Lift your skirts at least,” he begged, palming at your thighs in an attempt to move the heavy fabric. “Please, I need to touch you.”
If you weren’t just as desperate to feel him you would have said no. Instead you pulled until the material was hitched and fell behind the dip of your thighs, exposing them to his hungry gaze. He wasted little time gripping your flesh and arched up to catch you in a sloppy kiss. His hip bucked, spurring a moan from you both. 
“Fuck— ‘s not enough, I need more,” Aegon lurched forward, knees hitting the ground as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your breast. Your back was barely cushioned by the rug beneath you and the air was knocked from your lungs. His speed increased, rubbing your clit with deep and desperate thrusts. 
“My cock aches for you.” You were both panting, heat filling the room as you flattened your feet and lifted to meet him. A broken moan ripped from his throat and he smack a palm against your bare thigh, “take it— it’s always been yours.”
You took a sharp breath, brow furrowing at his words. Take it. You knocked the arm that was holding him up, using the bow of his elbow as you pushed forward.
He fell to his back, eyes snapping open in surprise as you straddled his lap. The words playing at his lips vanished as you grasped his throat and bent to meet him with a glare. “Don’t lie, it’s unbecoming of a king.”
Aegon laughed and you were quick to cut it off with a squeeze of your fist. He let out a choked moan, hips lifting desperately for relief, but you held steady against him. His hands grasped your hips and before he could take control you fumbled for his wrists. 
You never thought there would be a time you were thankful for your twin's weakness. A simple roll of your hips was enough to gain the upper hand and you pinned his arms beside his head. Before he could whine in protest you covered his mouth with your own, teeth knocking as you grinded against him. His tongue pushed past your lips, luring you closer and sucking at your bottom lip until it was red and swollen. 
A particularly harsh thrust sent you spiraling, heat filling your chest as you broke away to release a pitched moan. His head dipped between your breast, licking at the skin before biting until he was positive you would be marked by him. 
“I love you,” Aegon mumbled between kisses, followed by a whisper of your name as his cock twitched against your cunt. You tangled your hands in his matted silver curls and leaned back until you could see his face. His eyes were glazed, a sheen of tears glistening in the candlelight, and the pure need creasing his features sent a spark of pleasure straight to your core.
The only sounds were shallow breaths and frantic open-mouthed kisses as you chased your highs. You were soaking through his breeches, the material sticking to you both as his length settled between your folds. Synchronized moans bounced off the walls. 
“Love me,” he begged breathlessly.
“I do!” You hissed, tugging at his locks while your peak washed over you in waves. White flashed behind your lids, a far-off cry of his name ringing in your ears as you pulse against him. 
Aegon’s thrusts were wild, nearly lifting you from the ground until he lost rhythm completely. He growled as he spilled, chest heaving while his cock twitched and jumped between your thighs.
Your head dropped against his shoulder, ghosting kisses against his collarbone until he slumped beneath you. He collapsed to the ground with a laugh, arms snaking around your frame to keep you tucked against him. 
“How do you expect me to let you go now, sweet sister?”
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munson-blurbs · 18 days
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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)
♫ Summary: Eddie lowered his guard during a late night conversation, revealing crucial details about his past. But was it enough for you to reciprocate? (4.3k words)
♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, brief mention of neglect, brief mention of sex work, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)
♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult
chapter four: show me yours, i'll show you mine
If convincing Eddie to take the job wasn’t enough of a struggle, you still had to explain the situation to your parents.
Hi Mom and Dad, I invited a guest to help fix up the motel. The same one who stole a blanket–but don’t worry, I got it back. Oh, and he’ll be staying here for free.
They were understandably taken aback by your decision, especially without consulting them first, but you’d mustered up a strong argument: Eddie was young, he was easy to get along with, and he showed a basic sense of personal responsibility. Not to mention that the place could certainly use the repairs; peeling wallpaper was just the tip of the iceberg. Lightbulbs needed to be replaced, carpets needed to be scrubbed, and the outside of the building desperately needed to be power washed. 
“Plus, summer break doesn’t start for another few weeks,” you hastily added. “We won’t need to worry about renting out Eddie’s room until then.”
Mom arched an eyebrow at the newfound ascription—not room four, but Eddie’s room—but said nothing, only looking at your father for his seal of approval. 
He breathed out, long and low, trying to do the calculations in his head. Your heart flip-flopped when his gaze dropped to the ground, his signature move when he was about to tell you no. 
“If he doesn’t help out, he can’t afford to stay here anyway. It’s not like we’re losing money if he keeps the room for a bit.” You winced at the slight whine in your voice, the opposite of the infallible exterior you’d wanted to present. 
Dad laughed, not unkindly, but belittlement panged in your chest nonetheless. “Except for the water, air conditioning, and electricity he uses,” he pointed out, ticking off each item on his fingers. “Unless he plans to only sit in the dark, sweat, and never shower.” He sighed as unmistakable disappointment weaved into your eyes and filled them with tears. 
Now you’d have to tell Eddie that the offer was off the table, that he was shit out of luck, that you’d let him down. You never should’ve opened your big mouth in the first place. Captain Save-the-World, except you only ever made things worse. If you wore a cape, it would get snagged on tree branches each time you tried to fly.
“You have a good heart,” Mom spoke up, trying to nurse your wounded feelings, “but kindness doesn’t pay the bills.” She glanced at Dad again, her mouth set in a straight line. “Maybe we can discuss this further.”
You fought to ignore the hope that bloomed from her words, but the corners of your mouth turned upwards before you could rein it in. “Thank you,” you murmured, offering them both a grateful smile. 
People called you a ‘bleeding heart,’ teasing you about your constant attempts to solve problems beyond a reasonable scope. At last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, your uncle had informed you—unprompted—that he would never vote for you for President because “you’d just give all my money to the poor.”
While your parents were more realistic with their goals than you were, they did their best to encourage your compassionate spirit; there was no doubt that you got your sense of morality from them. After deliberating on Eddie’s fate for a few hours, they had finally relented—with one stipulation. 
“Your mother and I are not going to supervise him, so he’ll have to work night shifts with you,” Dad had said sternly. 
“Really?” You clapped your hands in celebration. “Thank you! I mean, um, Eddie thanks you.”
Dad gave your shoulders a quick squeeze; it was his version of you’re welcome. “Yeah, well.” He played it cool, keeping his tone breezy. “It’ll be good practice for when you take over the place.”
You’d nodded in response, your insides twisting in a clashing mix of excitement and shame. Eddie wouldn’t have to live on the street, but it required you to continue lying to your parents. 
I’ll tell them the truth once Eddie finds a real job and gets his own place. I can only handle one crisis at a time. 
That was how you’d found yourself spending your Tuesday evening with Eddie Munson. The motel was otherwise empty, save for your parents, a middle-aged trucker in room 7, and Phyllis in her usual digs.
You and Dad had spent the end of his shift covering the floor with giant flimsy drop cloths. They hadn’t been used in years, evidenced by the thin layer of dust that coated them when you’d dug them out from the back of the supply closet. You’d tried your best to shake it all off but instead sent yourself into a sneezing fit. 
Eddie sauntered into the lobby at a quarter after ten. Gray sweatpants sagged at his waist, the drawstring noticeably missing from the elastic band, and his white cotton undershirt had a tan stain that spread across his left pec. 
“Coffee,” he explained with a shrug, rolling a hair tie off of his wrist and pulling his curls into a messy bun at the nape of his neck. He looked at you blankly and waited for you to instruct him, but you had already dove into your schoolwork. “Um, is there a ladder? Tools?” He pursed his lips and scanned the room with indifference.
“Oh! Right, yeah.” You could have smacked yourself for not having everything set up for him. “We don’t have a ladder per se, but this step stool should work fine.” You pulled it out from behind the desk along with a scoring tool, a spray bottle filled with a vinegar and water solution, and a putty knife. “I also grabbed the clock radio from my room if you wanted to listen to some music. Might help pass the time.”
Eddie nodded, watching carefully as you switched the radio on and tuned the dial to a Top 40 station. He shook his head the moment the electric beat of Haddaway’s “What is Love” played through the tinny speakers.
“Absolutely not,” he said with a scoff, dropping the supplies right where he stood, footsteps heavy even with the cloth underneath him. Without another word, he spun the knob past the static until the sound of an electric guitar crackled through. He bobbed his head a few times, finding the rhythm. “This’ll do.” 
“Not a Eurodance fan?”
His back was turned to you as he returned to the task at hand which left him unable to see the sarcastic smirk you sported. “Fuck no.” He stepped up on the tool and began cutting into the old wallpaper, puffing out an irritated laugh. “I can’t believe—scratch—you voluntarily—scratch—listen to that–scratch–shit.” His biceps flexed with each flick of the blade in a consistent rhythm. 
Drumming your fingernails on the desk, you twirled your pen in your free hand as you reread your own handwriting. You’d stayed at the library and filled notebook pages with bullet points about early childhood development until a squirrely librarian kicked you out at closing time. The choppy sentence fragments begged to be fleshed out into a fully-formed essay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus.
Write words. Make edits. Add a comma. Do something, anything, dammit.
Almost an hour passed without you making an iota of progress on your paper. The words swam on the page until they just looked like inky squiggles with no real meaning, your brain blank as if you’d never written anything in your life. Cool air tickled your nose as you exhaled through your lips. Why couldn’t you just concentrate?
“It’s this music,” you muttered to yourself, too low for your company to hear. Your temples throbbed with frustration, and you reached over and snapped back to the previous station. 
Eddie’s head whipped around at the sudden change, frowning when he heard pop music instead of the metal that had just been playing. “Seriously?” He leaned one hand on the wall and threw the other up in exasperation. 
“Yes, seriously,” you bit back, teeth clenched in annoyance. “I can’t focus on my writing with that on.”
Eddie grumbled something unintelligible but went back to work, the scratching serving as a strange backdrop to the song. 
Janet Jackson faded out to a too-chipper deejay. “You folks know what time it is!” His voice reminded you of old-school toothpaste commercials, over-exaggerated and unnaturally polished. “That’s right; it’s time for Rad or Retch—where I play a song from a new artist, and you call in and let me know whether you think it’s rad or if it makes you wanna retch!” 
Eddie rolled his eyes, adding an exasperated “Jesus H. Christ,” under his breath. 
“This one’s called ‘Watch Me Leave’ by Death’s Echo, a grunge group from—”
The announcement came to an abrupt end as Eddie nearly leaped from the stool to the desk and yanked the plug out of its socket. The two-pronged head hit the floor with a soft thud. 
“Hey!” Your eyes widened in confusion and then disbelief, flickering over to where he stood. You expected him to wear a scowl that matched your own; instead, he looked like he’d just taken a knife to the gut, and you took a step back. “Whoa, you okay?”
Eddie tensed the moment he detected your sympathetic tone, shoulders pinched and jaw rigid. “‘M fine.” He pressed the heel of his left hand atop his right knuckles until they cracked. “Sorry.” He bent down and gently plugged the cord back into the wall, but you immediately flicked the power button to the off-position. 
It was silent for a full minute, save for the scorer against the wall and the scratch of pen on paper. When Eddie finally spoke, his voice was so soft that you barely heard it.
“That was my band.”
Confusion creased your brows. You set down your pen and stole a glance at him. His body remained facing the wall, but he was no longer working, hands lamely at his sides. “What?”
“Death’s Echo was, uh,” he shook a rogue curl from his eyes, “that was my band.”
“Oh.” Awkwardness seeped into the room and filled every crevice as you wracked your brain for a suitable response. “But…not anymore?”
Eddie clicked his tongue. “Nope.” The p sound popped softly as though signaling the discussion’s end, but there was a pregnant pause before he started removing the wallpaper again.
“Why not?” The question sprang from your tongue, curiosity getting the best of you.
A hesitant chuckle accompanied his sigh. “I thought you didn't make small talk with strangers.” He climbed back on the step stool and ripped off a strip of paper.
“I thought we weren’t strangers anymore,” you quipped back, not missing the smile that ghosted his lips.
“Fair enough.” Eddie conceded easily, not at all angry to be proven wrong. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared up at the yellow-tinged lighting overhead before slicing into the wallpaper. “Sometimes you think you want something, but it turns out to be a steaming pile of horseshit.” The last word was punctuated by a grunt, and the last panel of wallpaper fluttered to the ground. “That’s the music industry in a nutshell.”
You nodded in agreement despite an obvious lack of knowledge.
“They sign your band,” he continued, aiming the spray bottle nozzle at the wall and pulling the trigger, “and you think it’s because they like you. Or at least your music, your sound, whatever.” He wrinkled his nose as he got an unexpected whiff of the vinegar solution’s pungency. “But you’re really just a front for whatever they want to sell. Which, apparently, is grunge.” 
You had too many questions. They probably referred to record producers or agents or some other bigwigs, you surmised, but what did they do that made Eddie so cynical? 
That was far too loaded to ask, at least in that moment, so you opted for a more humorous follow-up. “You mean it wasn’t all sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll?” you joked, but Eddie didn’t share in your lightheartedness. 
“At the beginning, when we first got signed, yeah.” His brown eyes exuded wistfulness, remembrance of better times. He blinked twice and snapped himself out of it. “We put out a few albums that didn’t completely flop, I guess. And we were the opening act on a couple of tours. Got a good chunk of money in the bank.”
That explained the Calvin Klein underwear he was wearing on that first night. You capped your pen and leaned in, trying not to be overly inquisitive but unable to contain yourself. “So…what happened?” What led you here?
“We get called into a meeting, and we’re all thinking that the label’s gonna tell us we’re headlining, right? Maybe not, like, The Garden, but bigger venues than we usually played. But, uh…” he trailed off and rubbed the tip of his nose with an open palm, “it was an ultimatum: shift from metal to grunge, or get dropped.”
You listened intently as Eddie relayed the ordeal. The label executives had cited the increasing popularity of Nirvana and Pearl Jam along with decreasing interest in heavy metal bands. “Cobain’s selling; Ozzy isn’t,” they’d explained. If Death’s Echo wanted to play to packed arenas and have their music on mainstream radio, they had to adapt to the times.
“I told them we weren’t sellouts and to kiss my ass,” Eddie said to you, huffing out an annoyed breath. “But the rest of the band didn’t give a shit about that; if those suits told them to jump, they’d say ‘how high.’ So, I quit and waited for them to come crawling back.” 
He didn’t elaborate after that. He didn’t need to. Because if they’d done as Eddie had hoped, he wouldn’t be performing manual labor just to live in a struggling motel, basking in the gloominess that he wore like a second skin.
“If you could go back and do it differently, would you?” You grimaced at your own intrusiveness. “Sorry, that was—”
“It’s fine.” Eddie didn’t give an answer right away, his teeth grating against his lower lip. “Y’know, I’d like to say no, but losing your record deal, your apartment, your girlfriend, your so-called ‘friends,’ and every nice thing you own can make a guy kinda cynical.”
Girlfriend?
It was far from the most dire item on that list, but it needled at you. Maybe it was the mental image of Eddie watching everything get taken from him and then adding heartbreak on top of it all. 
“How about you?”
His voice yanked you from your thoughts and had your heart in your throat. “Huh?”
“You. Your whole deal.” He gestured at you with the scraper. “Why you’re always doing homework like a little nerd.” You couldn't detect a note of taunting in his teasing, only playfulness, just as it had been that very first night. 
You scowled for only a second before a smile broke through. “Don’t you have wallpaper to remove?”
Eddie snorted out a laugh. “I see how it is: when it’s my shit, I’m free to talk. But when it’s your shit, I’m a lowly employee.” He held up both hands in mock surrender. “My deepest apologies, Heiress.”
You didn’t bother to argue, choosing instead to pivot to a new subject altogether. “How long does this take, anyway?” Walking out from behind the desk to inspect his work, you ran your finger down the wall. Once you got past the stench of vinegar, he was actually doing a pretty good job.  
“You think you could do better?” He saw your gentle ribbing and upped the ante, holding out the putty scraper as if saying, be my guest.
Plucking it from his grasp, you smirked and chose a spot right at eye level. Challenge accepted. 
Though the glue had softened considerably, removing it still required decent muscle. You put your bodyweight into it and pushed through the resistance, but you only managed to pull off a little bit. 
You heard Eddie laugh through his nose as he stood behind you, watching you struggle. “Harder than it looks, huh?” He ignored your middle finger and stepped a half-inch closer. “Let me help.”
One calloused hand dwarfed yours, his fingers wrapping around where your fist held the scraper. The other found purchase on the bicep of your free arm where your T-shirt’s cuff met skin, stabilizing without entrapping you. You could easily get out of his grasp if you wanted. 
You stayed there. 
He tightened his grip around yours and made short, downward strokes, admittedly taking off far more glue than you had. “There ya go,” he murmured. His breath was warm on your neck, gooseflesh rising when he spoke. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Just like that.”
Butterflies beat their wings in your stomach, a result of the unexpected proximity compounded by an unmet need for connection that starkly contrasted the night shift’s normal solitude. A loose tendril of his hair tickled against your ear, and the realization of how close your bodies actually were shattered whatever spell had been cast. 
Eddie pulled away quickly, the air cooling where his hand once rested. Did he also feel that sudden loss of contact, or was it all in your head?
With a shaky breath, you stepped aside and silently returned the tool to him. “Should probably leave this to the expert,” you muttered, forcing nervous laughter. “I have to get back to writing anyway.”
His eyes bored into you as you walked back to the desk, but neither of you said another word. You glanced over at him every so often, noting the perspiration dampening his collar and under his arms as he toiled away at the glue and wished you had a water bottle to offer him.
Maybe next time. 
You got halfway through the first body paragraph when Eddie spoke again.
“You’re really not gonna talk?”
You looked up to see him swipe his forearm along his brows as he shot you a tired grin.
“We just had a whole conversation,” you pointed out, returning your attention to your essay. 
“About me,” he said. He wiped his palms on his pants, leaving behind a sweaty print, and traipsed over to you. “I mean, every time I see you, you’re either going to school or coming back from school or doing work for school…” 
You shrugged, no big deal. “Okay, yeah, I go to school.”
“For what?”
Shit. “Hospitality and hotel management.”
“Really.” Eddie leaned over and snatched up your paper. You reached out to grab it back, but it was too late. The bridge of his nose scrunched as he read the opening paragraph to himself. “Doesn’t look like hospitality to me.” Amusement raised his brows. “Care to explain?”
It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you felt strangely obligated. He’d confided in you, so you should at least moderately indulge him. 
“Fine,” you relented, “I’m studying psychology.” That might have been the first time you’d ever said those words aloud in the motel lobby; it was oddly freeing. 
Eddie nodded and continued to scan the paper. “You wanna be a shrink?”
“Social worker.” 
He let out a low whistle. “That’s a tough gig. Especially if you’re working with kids.” He shook the essay pages for emphasis. 
“Yeah. I know.”
“Right.” He shoved one hand in his pants pocket. “What made you decide to be a social worker?”
You breathed out a laugh. “You want the easy answer or the real one?”
He didn’t hesitate before answering. “Real one. Always.” He returned your essay and rested his un-pocketed hand on the desk. Inquiring eyes beckoned you to continue.
With less trepidation than you’d anticipated, you tell him the story of that fateful day in the summer of 1987, just two years after you’d graduated from high school.
You were still working the afternoon shift, and summer break brought its usual influx of guests. People came and went in blurs of luggage, but there was one particular patron who had made her presence known.
“Hi!”
You peered over the desk to find the source of the lively greeting. A young girl, no older than five, stared back at you, syrupy grape stickiness surrounding her lips. The cause was most likely a popsicle, as evidenced by the purple stained stick clenched in her right hand.
“Um, hi,” you said with a smile that was, for the first time in a long while, not encased in customer service insincerity. “What’s your name?” And where did you come from?
Unfazed by your bewilderment, she introduced herself as Izzy and asked you if you wanted to play. “We just have to stay here, or else my mommy will get mad,” she explained with urgency.
You nodded slowly, sorting through the information without raising any alarm. “And where is your mommy?”
Izzy’s hazel eyes darted back towards the hallway. “In our room. She’s with a friend so I can’t go in.” She dropped her voice to what she considered a whisper, but it was still clear as day. “Her friend is a boy.”
Your stomach turned. Of course. Instead of watching her child, this mother was probably shooting up with her boyfriend of the week. 
“I can’t play right now, but you can sit here with me until your mommy and her friend come back out,” you said. “I have paper and pens if you wanna draw.”
This satisfied her, and she plopped down on the floor and patted the spot next to her. That day hadn’t been particularly hectic, so you obliged and sat.
“What’re you gonna draw?” Izzy asked, reaching for a blue pen. You didn’t have time to answer before she proudly announced, “I’m gonna draw a flower. Do you like flowers?”
“Mhm.”
Izzy smiled as she surrounded a circle with swirling loops. “You can draw a flower, too. Maybe a rose. Or a sunflower!”
Her excitement at the latter option was all you needed. “Sunflower it is, Miss Izzy.” You drew a circle of your own and filled it with a cross-hatched pattern, curating pointed-tipped petals around it. 
“D’you have crayons?” she asked, not looking up from her own flower.
You put down your pen and offered a pitying frown. “No, I’m sorry.”
“S’okay. You should get some, though. ‘Cause you can draw prettier flowers with crayons.” 
The two of you stayed on the floor for ten minutes. All the while, she quizzed you on your favorite color, animal, food, and TV show. She was halfway through a heated explanation of why Friend Bear was superior to Share Bear when a frantic voice called out her name. 
“Mommy!” Izzy practically flew into her mother’s arms. You watched as the woman’s entire body sagged in relief, pulling her daughter in close. A man trailed behind her, discreetly zipping up his fly and walking out the front door. 
“Izzy, I told you to sit in the hall and eat your ice pop,” her mom gently scolded, words muffled by her lips being pressed to Izzy’s scalp. 
Izzy scrunched her nose in confusion. “But I finished it.” She pointed at the empty stick, now on the ground where she’d been sitting, as proof. In true childlike fashion, she jumped to a new topic without waiting for the first conversation to conclude. “Mommy, you wanna see what I drawed?”
“Of course, baby.” She easily feigned excitement as Izzy presented her with a series of scribbles that were meant to be various flowers, people, and farm animals. “Wow! I think you’re gonna be an artist one day.”
The little girl continued chatting, blissfully unaware of the panic she’d inadvertently caused. Her mom allowed herself to look away for just a moment to glance at you, mouthing a tiny “thank you” and blinking her tear-filled eyes.
“And…I don’t know,” you lamely supplied as you wrapped up the story. “I guess I realized that I had all of these assumptions, this sort of preconceived notion that this woman was a deadbeat parent, but she obviously loved Izzy more than anything.” You picked at your thumbnail nervously. “No one should have to sell their body for money just to survive. She deserved better than that.” 
Eddie stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing everything you’d thrown at him. “And you wanted to help her,” he finally said.
“Yeah.” You thought back to the way her gaze simultaneously held gratitude and guilt. Her daughter was safe, but she knew that this was not the final time she’d be in this predicament.
The experience had awakened a realization in you: working at the motel was never your dream, but it kept a roof over your head and food in your belly. You weren���t left to navigate the world on your own. Independence was a privilege, not a mandate.
“For what it’s worth,” Eddie broke in, “I think you’ll be a great social worker someday.” He rapped his knuckles on the desk twice and slipped back to the awaiting task; despite insisting that you talked to him while he worked, he hadn’t touched any of the tools while you spoke.
Your smile was a thank you, and you tuned the radio back to the metal station Eddie had chosen earlier. He didn’t say anything else, but you noted the subtle tap of his toe against the drop cloth.
Eddie worked for a few more hours until he’d stripped the wall of all paper and glue. “All right,” he said, balancing the step stool on two fingers. Sleepiness softened his own smile, all lips and no teeth. “Let me know when the new wallpaper comes in. You, uh, know where I live.”
“Will do.” Your thumb absently grazed against the words you’d just written, smudging them. You rubbed at the black ink seeping into your skin, silently chastising your own carelessness. “Good night, Eddie.”
He stretched and scratched at the U-neck of his collar, exposing a sliver of chest hair. 
“Sweet dreams, Heiress.”
--
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He's not unlovable.
König x Reader.
König is not in his best moment, you never expected to hear about his past, now that you know a little, you understand why he feels in the way he feels.
Remember every ♥️ is important, thanks for your support.
Warning: I think there's not a big warning, lol, but If you're not In a good moment maybe it's not a good idea to read it rn, I'm sure I wrote it for a neutral reader but I warn you perhaps I wrote or made allusion to a fem and I didn't notice it, if I did I apologize, spelling and grammar errors.
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König doesn't have an easy life, you know that, he reminds you that you can leave whenever you want, not because he wants you to leave, he says it because he feels like he's not enough for you, the kind of relationship, the kind of life you share, he simply thinks you will leave one day, and he's fine with it «i prefer to see you fly away from here than keep you in a cage mein kleiner Vogel (my little bird)» «I don't have much to offer, but all I am and all my life belongs to you, Schatz», that's what he always says.
You feel a hole in your chest every time he says that, because you don't want to leave, he has been the best boyfriend you ever had, he's kind, he loves to give you little details, he's gentle with you, he sometimes acts like a little kid, and you love all those things about him, you're there when his anxiety is at the maximum level, you constantly remind him how handsome, special, smart, funny and charming he is.
You never question him about his job, you don't need to, you know the man under that mask is different to the man you have at home and still, you are sure you would love that version of him too.
You don't know much about his past, «I don't look at my past Meine Liebe, I only look at my present, my present is you and that's all I need» but lately the past has been calling to König, you know something is not okay, he has been stressed and anxious, you don't want to ask but you know he's having a hard time.
You walked to his little office at home and you could hear him on the phone, you waited outside to not interrupt him.
«I understand, but it's impossible for me to go right now (...) Ja! I know I have to make at least 2 visits per year but I can't (...) Because I can't be in the same room with her!» «Scheisse (shit)»
You knocked at the door softly and opened.
- König?
- Ja?
He was with his hands covering his face, sitting on his chair, you walked to him but without invading his personal space.
- I just... I just came to tell you that dinner is ready, do you want to eat right now or... Maybe Later?
You're trying to be gentle, he doesn't respond, he just only extended his arm, asking you to get close to him, you give him your hand, you can feel his hand sweating, once you're close enough he hugs you, his face is on your abdomen and his arms are around your waist, you Caresse his hair with your hands, you don't want to ask, you really don't want to but it seems like you need to, so in the most calmed and softest voice you try to ask him.
- What's wrong Kö? You can talk with me baby.
He sobs and you can feel hot tears on your shirt, you kneel down in front of him and hug him, his head now rests on your shoulder.
- König, my love, you're worrying me... Shhh, it's okay baby, I'm here, it's all alright, you're safe here.
Both stay like that for a moment, you let him cry, you hate to see him suffering you would burn the world just to see him smile. You managed to take him to bed, you ran to the kitchen for a cup of lavender tea, when you're back, he's laying in bed, looking at the window.
- I brought you a cup of tea...
- My mother... She's in a nursing home, they have been calling me, because I haven't visited her, last time was 2 and a half years ago.
You're still in silence, he never talked to you about his family, you don't know what to say, you sit at the end of the bed while he continues talking and looking at the window.
- I took her there a few years ago because she was diagnosed with dementia, a politic of the nursing home is to pay a visit to the patient at least a couple times every year, but I can't, it's very difficult to me, she's a reminder of how unlovable I am.
You only knew König left his home at a very young age, he never told you why and you never forced him to talk more about it.
- Why? What makes it difficult?
- I know I never tell you about my past schatz because you already have enough with all the mess I am already... When I left my house to join the army, my mother told me not to bother to come back, that's what I did, I never came back but sometimes I sent her some money and a note, I always waited to have a response, but never arrived, eventually I stopped to do it. One day the police called me, they found her in a park, she was lost, she forgot where she lived, she told the cops she was looking for his little son, they took her home and found a note with my telephone number, they said I needed to take her to a nursing home if I didn't have time to take care of her, that's what I did. I tried to visit her during her first months in that place but all those times I tried, she was yelling at me, reminding me that my father left her because of me, telling me how hard it was to have me around because all she could see in me was my dad's abandonment, that's why I stopped to try to visit her.
- Oh König...
Your tears are blinding you, but you just lay behind him, you try to spoon him and you kiss his shoulder.
- You don't need to go, don't force yourself to do something you don't want to, baby I'm so sorry all this happened to you.
- The nurse who has been calling me, says my mother has been asking for me, that my mother is 'stable' at the moment, and it would be good for her to see me... I don't know what to do schatz...
- König, look at me please...
He turned around and looked at you, you caresses his face softly and kissed his forehead, you have never seen him like this, your heart is breaking, his eyes reflect all the sadness and darkness inside him, it's a new version of him you never expected to know, but you're sure that what you're feeling is the necessity to give him all the love he deserves.
- You're not your mother's rage and you're not your father's abandonment, okay? You're better than that, you're the most amazing person I've ever met, I love every version of yourself, you're all I ever wanted and whatever you decide to do you have my support and love, I will not leave you alone, never, we will solve this together, alright?
There it is, the spark in his eyes is back, he nodded in silence and kissed you over and over again, whispering how much he loves you and how safe he feels with you at his side.
It doesn't matter how unlovable he feels sometimes, you know you will be there to show him how wrong he is.
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m1ssunderstanding · 1 month
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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.1
So disclaimer: I took screenshots instead of photographing my screen this time, but the quality of footage is a thousand times worse so the images are still mostly shit. But anyway, here we go :)
We're going to have to keep a tally on how many times they refer to their relationship in romantic terms. Less than a minute in, Paul has used the description, “great love affair.”
And John's right on his heels with “the sexual equivalent of . . . People in love.” So there's 2 already. Oh boy.
That opening montage of John and Paul just living for the light in each other's eyes should actually be the official music video for “I wanna hold your hand.”
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Also I wonder how many songs they have about hiding. Someone's got to have a list somewhere right?
I adore the absolute lack of reaction to John manhandling Paul.
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And then This Look. He's in love with him, ladies and gentlemen.
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I remember seeing somewhere that this footage was literally right after they'd finished “she loves you.” Which was pretty recently after Bob Wooler, which was right after Barcelona. And if you're like me and you think that song is secretly about their relationship? If Paul's just been singing “she said you hurt her so, she almost lost her mind, but now she says she knows you're not the hurting kind. She said she loves you” at you, after all of that? Of course John's acting like a fucking puppy dog.
Poor George tally number 1
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Excuse me??? John wants to live in the Beatle apartment instead of with his actual literal wife until Paul decides to move in with his girlfriend? What? He's so insane. Cynthia, you're lucky Paul's a fucking social climber.
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I think it's indicative of two things that Paul said “screw secret girlfriends” while John happily went along with secret wives. One: different levels of security in masculinity (John doesn't have gay eyebrows etc) and two: different relationships. Jane and Paul's relationship was a smart career move for both of them and I think, being upper-class, and having her own career, and not being a mother, Jane was in more of a position to have a say.
Every time I watch that footage of Ken Dodd asking about their parents I physically cringe. Poor poor babies. Do your research you idiot! I don't think that ever happened again. I wonder if Brian made sure of that.
Paul literally talks like such a husband here. “We've thought about it, and probably the thing that John and I will do . . .”
Obsessed with Paul shouldering himself between George and John after George's little joke shove. It's so protective and yet so subtle. Exactly the same strong posture and easy smile as when he stepped between John and that interviewer during the Jesus scandal.
Poor George tally number 2 (you can't quite tell from the pic but John is shoving him out of the way because how dare he put his suitcase by Paul's?! That's John's suitcase's spot!!)
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All the Beatles were cuddly with each other. It's one of the cutest bits about them, the puppies in a basket aspect. But I think we'll need a “noticable spacing difference” tally for this rewatch, too, and here's the first.
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Paul wearing John's hat for attention and it fully and completely doing the job? They're so embarrassing!
I actually love that John's imitation of his upper-class Scottish family (which Paul can't do) is actually much more convincing than his broad Liverpudlian (which Paul nails in two variations, one based off his own family) I'm obsessed with the class dynamics between them.
Poor George tally three. He shares this one with Ringo. That moment when Paul's pretending to interview them about their purple hearts and cuts them both off with, “thank you. Mi-mister Lennon,” and John and Paul proceed to completely forget the other two exist for who knows how long – certainly longer than the videographer was willing to record.
I find John sliding into Paul's raspy “tiiight yeeeah” with his very turned on “mmmMM it's been a hard” extremely suggestive. I'm sorry but I do.
It's like he thinks if he looks away for too long he's going to disappear or something. Which. Now that I said that. Yeah. That is what it is. Poor separation-issues baby.
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Ringo: Paul, you wrote a beautiful song and you sing it great. John: yeah and you're SEXY! Let's not forget that, everyone.
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Am I crazy to obsess over every little musical similarity in their songs? Yes. Can I help it? No. The little “oh-oh ohoho” in the If I Fell demo is exactly the same as in Imagine and (frothing and writhing) it means something I can feel it! I just have no idea what.
I also find the lyric change from “i hope that she won't cry” to “i hope that she will cry” extremely interesting. There's always a heterosexual explanation. Trust me, the straights are the Simone Biles of mental gymnastics. But while the published lyric can be read as a man bitter toward his ex girlfriend hoping to hurt her by flaunting his new relationship, the demo version is trickier. Could it be that he doesn't want to hurt his wife's feelings by letting her know he's in love with someone else? But who else could John Lennon possibly have been in love with at the time?
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“Too too much in love. Woah, too too much in love with you.” My heart
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blackopals-world · 7 months
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Motherly Advice
Angst to hurt your feelings
Malleus: Do you think you will ever stop loving Lilia? Even when he dies?
Celestial!Yuu: My dear, a time like that will never come to pass. Because even in death he will be with me. One of those perks of my being. Though we will be saddened to not all be together at once.
Malleus: But what if that wasn't the case? What if he died and you have to live without him?
Celestial!Yuu: Then I would still love him. I will love his memory, the joy we shared, and the precious treasures he gave me. When I look at you, Silver, and Sebek I will see him. In your movements, your expressions and hearts he will be there.
Malleus: And you won't love anyone else?
Celestial!Yuu: That is a heavy question. An answer I can't predict. Lilia and I are mature adults. We understand what obstacles we could face and have discussed them. But that isn't something for you to ponder. You do not have the maturity to understand that yet. Malleus I know this is about that human you've developed feelings for but I will tell you now to be careful. Lilia and I can handle anything right now but it isn't easy. Love is complicated and I know you don't want to hear that but you need more than love to make things work. Love alone isn't enough, even true love requires work and effort. Malleus you have a long life ahead of you. Longer than any human. You must weigh the risks of this fate.
Malleus: Mother, it's fine I understand.
Celestial!Yuu: No, you do not. You have yet to grasp what love really means child. I understand your loneliness and your desire to hold on to the one person who treats you as a dear friend without fear. But, love that does not make. It is like that of a child holding onto a comfort blanket and refusing to let go. You know that human desires to return home yet you'd consider keeping them with you. You both will be miserable when they die of old age and never see their home again. We have filled your head with too many tales.
Malleus: Mother, I know I love them. They will be happy with me. Lilia agrees! He said I should marry them. Do you not like them?
Celestial!Yuu: Just the opposite. I care for them as my own. That is why my heart breaks for them. Lilia and I aren't in agreement on this matter. He has always been shortsighted and seeks instant gratification. That is how we go Silver after all. But I look at the big picture. Malleus I'm a goddess. I know how the human feels. I know they have feelings for you but more then that they are full of grief and longing for their home. That is something you can't change.
Malleus:...
Celestial!Yuu: Malleus I am your mother and I know what you're thinking. And no. You can't use Magic to stop them.
Malleus:Mother don't you want me to be happy?
Celestial!Yuu: Not at the expense of others. We raised you better than that.
Makleus: What can I do?
Celestial!Yuu: Think. Consider what you really want and if this is real love you feel or just infatuation. Tying both of you down in something you may not want ultimately will only bring pain. And be honest with your answer for your sake. I want what's best for you.
-later-
Malleus: Your wife said not to listen to you.
Lilia:(shrugs) She's probably right.
Malleus: How did you get her to marry you?
Lilia: Tricked her with a convoluted bet. I think there is a myth about it now.
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rwrbmovie · 7 months
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BTS of #RWRBMovie: Alex's bisexuality
TZP via Glamour:
TZP: He's had sexual experiences with guys in the past, but he doesn't lead with it. I think it's not even top of mind. He's kissing girls at a New Year's party. And then Henry comes and kind of forces him to grow up and go, ‘Oh, I'm really into this.’ It turns into love, and his identity and family and relationships become even more important. I love that about Alex. Because who knows? If there's an alternative universe, who knows what would have happened if he didn't meet Henry? What if he didn't find a purpose or a higher path for himself other than just being a powerful politician?”
ML via Teen Vogue:
Alex's bisexuality is as important to who he is as Henry's homosexuality is. 
This is the story of a young bisexual man discovering that, in addition to being into women, he also — he kind of knows that he's into guys. He admits freely to Nora that he has messed around with guys before, but he's never really had the need to identify until he meets Henry. One of the things that was important to me is that line that he has in that scene with Nora, that “I can wrap my head around being low level into guys, what I'm really confused about is being into Henry.” That for me was key. I needed the audience to hear that, that we're not dealing with a person who's — Alex isn’t a closet case. Alex isn't confused. Actually, if there's anything Alex is confused about, it’s “why am I hot for my sworn enemy?” That's a more interesting story to me. Alex's bisexuality finally needs to be identified in order to articulate his feelings for Henry.
ML via Variety:
In both the novel and the film, Prince Henry first kisses Alex on New Year’s Eve, but Alex’s reaction changed significantly in López’s adaptation. In the book, the kiss sends Alex into a profound realization of his bisexuality, something he’d never given himself time to consider amid his feverish devotion to his mother’s presidential campaign and his undergraduate studies at Georgetown University.  In the film, however, Alex is older — he appears to be in law school — and takes Henry’s kiss in stride, in so far as his attraction to men is concerned.  “It was born of my decision to cast actors who are older than the characters were in the book,” says López. “I really wanted there to be some genuine stakes and gravity for these characters. If they were too young, you could just explain this away as puppy love. I wanted this movie to be about that first real romance of your life, the first real love affair, the first real love.” Rather than tell a story about a kid in his early 20s who is plunged into uncertainty about his sexuality, López says he wanted Alex to be someone who had messed around with guys but “has yet to have a reason to really understand himself as bisexual.” The director continues, “I wanted Alex’s angst to not be about his sexuality. I wanted it to be focused on Henry.”
ML via Metro Weekly:
One of the things that I think was so beautiful about the story that Casey wrote, is that Alexis such a refreshing character because Alex is so clearly, very definitively bisexual, and that he might even be, I think, maybe that sociologists would term him as bisexual preferring women. He just happens to find himself really preferring Henry, and it surprises him. There's a scene in the movie with Nora, in which he says, "I can wrap my head around being into guys, what I'm really confused about is being into Henry." And I love that there is such an easy acceptance to Alex and who he's attracted to. And that for me was something so unusual about the story and that was so refreshing, and I wanted to bring that to life.
ML via Pink News:
“One of the thing I thought was really refreshing about the book, is the idea that room can be held for people who desire men and women and the journey that Alex takes,” López said. “I really appreciate that in the novel and we’ve kept it in the movie. There is space made for Alex as a bisexual character.”
TZP via Newsweek:
TZP: And Nick and I were always in deep discussions with [Robbie Taylor Hunt] about this because the intimacy part is so important because Alex's arc as a character as somebody that has only dated women in the past—maybe a couple guy hookups—to not liking Henry to getting kissed by Henry and then having a relationship. It's just like, excuse me, the different degrees of comfort that Alex starts to have, this needs to be represented in in a proper way. And Robbie was with us the whole way. And Matthew was there. It was always a group effort, which I really respected. 
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sapphire-writes · 1 year
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hii! Could you write something with Aemond x reader? Reader goes to Kings Landing with her family because her sister is betrothed to him but he ends up falling for the reader instead? Her sister fight with her and he defends her.
The Other Sister ~ Aemond x Reader
note: I love this request it really reminded me of Bridgerton season 2 and I'm such a sucker for Kate and Anthony (as I bet you can guess 😂). Hope you enjoy this! 💚 word count: 1.4k warnings: none really, some angst, language masterlist
“Introducing my daughter, Lady (Y/S/N), and her sister, Lady (Y/N),” your mother said, announcing your arrival at court. You stood before the Iron throne with your sister. You gave her an encouraging smile as curtseyed first, shaking like a leaf.
You curtseyed next, eyes drifting towards the floor. Your sister was betrothed to the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond Targaryen. The prince stood now next to his mother and siblings, while his father sat atop the throne. 
The prince has a harsh face, handsome but seems as though cut from marble. He wears a patch over his left eye, and the deep scar that slashes through the left side of his face is hidden mostly. He catches your eye as you watch him.
Your sister is so gentle, she is so kind. Here she presents herself, a flower blooming towards the heat of the sun. Towards the promise of safety and nurture. Can this prince provide all your sister's needs?
You look towards her again, and though she is your elder, you cannot help but feel a protectiveness come over you. She smiles softly at her betrothed, a shy maiden presenting herself before a Valyrian god. 
He walks over to her, passing you. You can smell the scent of smoke, the tang fills your senses making your mouth water. Prince Aemond holds his hand out to your sister; his palm engulfs her small hand as he places a kiss on the back of it. Your sister lets out a nervous breath, looking towards you for approval. You give her a small smile and look towards the prince. His violet eye gazes back, neither of you looking away. 
A feast is held to celebrate the union. As Aemond and your sister sit at the head table, you still feel unsure about the match. When the dancing begins your sister approaches you. 
“You must talk with him,” she commands in a hushed whisper. You scrunch your nose.
“Why?”
“You have been glaring at him since we arrived,” she hisses, “he shall think you hate him. And you cannot hate my husband. It simply will not do.”
You sigh, but decide to appease her. Besides, you want to make sure his intentions are good. 
Aemond stands by himself next to a pillar, holding a goblet of wine in his long fingers. He watches you approach from across the room, bringing the cup to his lips, never letting his eye leave yours. 
“Prince Aemond,” you greet, and he nods, acknowledging you.
“Lady (Y/N), such a pleasure to converse with my future kin,” he murmurs. A beat goes by.
“May I speak plainly, my prince?” you ask. 
“I would hope so,” Aemond tells you, nodding his permission. 
“I only wish to ensure my sister will have a happy marriage to you.”
“She shall be marrying a prince, what more happiness should she acquire?’
“My sister desires a love match.”
“Hm”
“I understand you have only just met her,” you continue, “but I encourage you to get to know her, she is a kind and gentle soul. She shall be easy to love.”
“What about you?”
You freeze, bringing your eyes to his face. Aemond’s violet eye is watching you carefully, the other obscured by his eyepatch. 
“What about me?” you ask, confused at his question. 
“Are you easy to love?”
You feel your heart skip a beat, as you wet your lips. 
“I am not betrothed, my prince,” you tell him, earning a low hum from the Targaryen prince.
“That is not what I asked.”
You hold his gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. 
“I think this conversation is rather inappropriate. I only wish to see my sister cared for.”
“I have told you she shall be. A princess wants for little,” he says, waving off your concerns.
“She shall want affections of your heart.”
“And if I cannot give her that kindness?” he challenges. 
You swallow the lump in your throat. 
“Then do not marry her.”
“You speak so freely, Lady (Y/N). You would wish I break my word, rather than marry your sister whom I do not love, nor do I know if I am capable of such a thing.”
This causes your brow to furrow. 
“Not capable of love?” you question and he nods, “That seems unlikely.”
A curious expression appears on Aemond’s face. 
“Why do you say that?”
“I have seen you with your sister, with your mother. I think you love very truly, my prince.”
“But not her,” he says, referring to your sister. Your gaze lands on her across the room, as she is engaged in a dance with some lord. She smiles blissfully, unaware of the conversation you have with her betrothed. 
“No, not her,” you agree, though it saddens you. 
“There is little I can do.”
“Then do what you can.”
You leave it at that. Aemond is flustered by your boldness, and the ease you had whilst calling him out. His eye rakes over you, taking in your confident stance, the crease between your brows as you look upon him without fear.
You hope the prince cannot hear your heartbeat quickening in your chest at the intensity of his gaze. You can feel a flush creeping up your chest, your neck, and onto your face. 
Aemond’s mouth curls into a smirk.
“I shall try, m’lady,” he tells you, nodding before leaving you.
The rest of your visit does not go as planned. Aemond seems to seek out your company more so than that of your sister’s. Not that she notices at first, she is simply thrilled you seem to be getting along. 
It isn’t until one night, Aemond corners you during a dance. You have no choice but to engage with him as the music begins once more. 
“You must stop this,” you hissed as he moved around you in the dance, arms barely touching yours. 
“I do not know what you mean,” he tells you.
“This flirtation, it has gone far enough. You are to marry my sister.”
“I wish to marry you.”
Your head whips around to look at him. 
“I want you,” he repeats, his voice a dark whisper. His hand strokes a path up your arm. 
“I want to marry you, I want to fill you with my seed and watch you bear my children,” his voice is raw with emotion as your lips part. 
Aemond pulls you closer by your waist, eye falling to your lip. 
“What do you wish?” he asks, face close to yours. You look down at the perfect shape of his lips, and feel your body relax into his touch. 
“You.”
Aemond’s hand grabs the side of your face, causing a gasp to slip through your lips. Remembering where you are you pull away, eyes searching desperately for your sister. You spot her across the room, eyes wide watching you. 
“Sister,” you whisper as she leaves the room, her skirts a whirl behind her. You desperately chase after her. 
“Sister please!” you call and she turns on her heel, slapping you hard across the face. 
“How could you?” she yells, as you bring a hand to your stinging cheek. Your sister’s eyes are full of angry tears that threaten to spill over. 
“I am so sorry.”
“Sorry?” she laughs, an angry, unnatural sound, “do you love him?”
You feel a tear fall down your cheek, a cool path. She scoffs at you.
“Does he love you?” she asks.
“Yes,” Aemond’s voice calls from behind you. Your sister’s gaze falls on him. Her expression is bitter, angry, and above all, hurt. 
“I am sorry, Lady Y/S/N,” he says earnestly, taking your hand from your cheek to inspect the mark. Aemond’s lip curls at the sight of you injured. 
“How could you?” your sister hisses, “both of you?”
“The gods fashion us for love,” Aemond quips back at her, “who are we to question what they desire of us?”
Your sister stares him down, and to your surprise, Aemond looks away first. Gone is the shy maiden who met him the day the betrothal was announced. In her place stands fury incarnate. 
“Well,” your sister says, “I hope you are happy together.” She continues to leave. 
“Sister, please,” you cry.
“Do not follow me,” she says, looking back at you both one final time. You turn to Aemond, burying your face in his chest as he soothes you. 
“This is wrong,” you said, “we are terrible people.”
“Love is not wrong,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on your head. 
“Then why does it cause so much pain?” you ask, squeezing your eyes shut.
“The gods are mysterious, indeed,” Aemond answers as he holds you through your sobs.
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cowboyjen68 · 4 months
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Hi!!
I just wanted to ask some advice from one butch to another.
I recently got my dream job of being a warden on a nature reserve (and i love it!), while interacting with people there I get called a young man very often (i am 18 lol) and it gives me euphoria to know im masculine enough to even pass as a man. I've also had some volunteers ask if I was a man or not (despite my feminine name).
But recently I got called a "lady" outside while out with my mother. It drove me INSANE I cried alot.
Don't get me wrong I do identify as a woman but I hate being seen as a lady.
I've even thought about using he/him pronouns recently and changing my name but i'm too scared to as most people won't understand bc im still a lesbian.
Is this strange?
ps love u and ur blog lots xx
This is an easy answer because I was 18 once and looked enough like a teenage boy that I got "hey sport" and "hey young man" all the time, especially when in my work clothes. I worked for The Mayor's Youth Corp in Iowa City in the summers of my 15th and 16th year. Mom and Dad let me get a work permit AND bought me a used Datsun Pickup so I could drive myself the 20 miles there and back each day.
I was a volunteer with the Corp of Engineers youth from 14 to 16 and Dad knew I was super excited about this job. Mom was not thrilled that I wanted to cut my hair but my "grand mullet" was really hot under the hard hat in the summer heat of Iowa. (in the 1980's boys and girls had the short in front long and permed in back look) We compromised and I cut the sides really short. (photo of my me at 16 in my uniform for reference)
Using "he" would never have occurred to me because "EWWW Boys". This is not to say, however, that I hated being mistaken for a boy, on the contrary, it felt good. When someone thought I was a young man it meant they treated me as such. They didn't talk down to me, I knew they assumed I was capable and willing to get dirty. I knew unconsiously that along with the mistaken identity came many perks. This was nothing I analyzed but little girls see very early on the difference in treatment they recieve from their brothers, male cousins and neighborhood boys. This difference leads us to become negotiators to control our circumstances and not entittled to treatment based on our skills and actual personalies.
When an adult recognized me as a boy, even for a second at first glance, I knew I didn't have to prove myself. They, for an instant, assigned to me words like "strong, capable, demanding etc". No negotations required.
When someone realized I was a girl they literally had a change in their face. They smiled at me, softened their voice. When I was called "young lady" or "Miss" it always seemed to be backed my the worst assumptions (in my mind anyway). Lady is steeped in all kinds of traits I didnt want assigned to me. "quiet, weak, likes to dress pretty"OR "motherly, submissive, meek" Nothing good in my teen brain, that is for sure. Lady felt so OLD, so married to a man and reliant on him for survival, so polyster pants and ugly flats and scratchy blouses with a flower imprint. NONE of these things are inherent to being a woman or even socially forced on us but that is not how things work sometimes. Words that describe people get stereotypes and myths and traits attached to them all the time. Woman and girl are no different.
I can tell you, the best feeling in the world when I was in that job was when my supervisor, who damn well knew I was a young woman, trusted me with all the same tasks as the boys. Who valued my opinions and abilities equally to the young men. He took time to teach me what I didn't know, just like with them and didn't assume I couldn't or didn't want to learn things on the job. He didn't shame ANYONE for not being strong enough or for getting tired or needing a break.
Don't let the assumptions of others force you into another box of conformity. You don't need a boys name or to use any pronouns you don't feel connected to just to please others. In fact, none of that effort will change perceptions of those around you. I can promise that one day being called Lady will just be another word that you can hear and know it does not change your personality or your interests or control the hope you have for your future. What does waste a lot of time and energy is trying to adjust things in your life to fit incorrect or snap assumptions about you as a person. You can never control the thoughts of those around you but what you can do is stop worrying about it and enjoy YOU.
You have a job you love and are sure to thrive in. You are solid in your sexuality and love of women, you are in a unique position to possibly change the perceptions of others when they think of "young women". Your interactions with the public are sure to effect the assumpions of at least some people when they think of young women and their roles in our society.
Congratulations on your new career and I bet you rock that uniform.
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widowmaxff · 1 month
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Hiii WandaNat x daughter reader where R was severely harmed in a mission or got involved.
For example, they Nat or Wands were assigned on a mission to investigate and just so it happens, R was there so when chaos started, R was severely injured and like got a pretty bad brain damage which she will fight through. How will the mother's copee??
Thankss!
safe & sound
pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader (platonic)
warnings: angst, bad writing :P, crying, physical violence, hospital, natasha blames herself ;((, lots of love from moms <3
a/n: im really sorry it took me SO long to write this request, ive been having awful weeks and im really trying to write. anyway, i hope you like it and thank you very much for the request luv <333
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When you decided you wanted to follow in the same footsteps as your mothers, they didn't react so well. You always trained with the Avengers, closely watching their next steps for any unforeseen circumstances and how good they were at what they did. And you especially loved seeing Wanda and Natasha fighting, they have been your inspiration since you were little and understand each other. 
You remember when you asked your mother Natasha to start going on missions, even if it was the easier ones that would only take a few hours, and you could swear you saw her eyes light up with regret. Not that she didn't trust you, but both Natasha and Wanda knew that any mission would be dangerous and the last thing they wanted was to leave you hurt or for anything bad to happen to you. So, you started to train even more and show how much you dedicated yourself to going on one of these missions and, as your mothers knew you so well, they knew that you wouldn't give up until you went on one of them.
"Fury allowed you to go on this mission with one of us," Natasha was sitting in front of him next to Wanda in the meeting room. You couldn’t hide the smile on your face, your legs shaking because you were so excited for your first mission. "It's an easy mission where you just have to investigate and collect some important information in an old Hydra base." You nod listening to every detail of what you needed to do.
"Fury assured us that there will be no one and no agent, but for your safety you will carry a weapon, okay?" Wanda, your other mother, spoke this time. She also seemed to be a little worried about your first mission since she remembers very well what it's like to be in the hospital bed after one or see anyone else in it. Just imagining you in that position makes her body shiver.
Your mothers start to tell you some information about what you should know and what would happen. Even though the mission was so easy and simple, Wanda decided that it would be better if Natasha accompanied you, since if she went along she might end up getting so nervous that she would faint. And even though you assured that you would be careful, she made you hug her for at least five minutes, stroking your hair and giving you all the comfort you would need for that mission. "I love you so much my love."
"I love you very much too, Mama." You felt Wanda leave a long kiss on your hair as you laid your head on her shoulder. "I promise everything will be fine."
She laughs and takes a deep breath. "I'm the one who should be saying this. But you're right, my love." You separate from her and see that her eyes were full of tears.
Even though it seemed a little dramatic, you knew that Wanda was very close to you. Whenever your mother missed you because you were only away from home for a few hours, you remember when Natasha told you that when it was your first day of school when you were a toddler, Wanda didn't want to let you go at all. And now several years later, she still reacted the same way.
"Alright, we better go before Wanda makes us give up." Natasha says, making her other mother roll her eyes before walking towards her, leaving a long kiss on her lips.
"Ew, not in front of me." You make a disgusted expression at them, even if it was just a joke. You've always admired how much your mothers are in love with each other and how much they show it on a daily basis. Wanda always preferred physical affection to love Natasha, and Romanoff always preferred acts of service to love Maximoff. And even though they were different things, the two never disliked these acts.
"One day it's going to be you, sweetheart." They giggle before hugging each other as they say 'I love you'. 
[...]
Your hands sounded as you entered the Hydra base. A gun in hand as you looked in every corner of that place. You felt like something was out of position, but you tried not to worry. Maybe it was just your anxious conscious or maybe you were just too nervous. The noise of your heart was too loud and the only thing you heard was the faint footsteps of your boot on the ground. And even though you tried to focus on what was happening there at the moment, it seemed like now all of your mother Wanda's nervous genes were in you.
"I think I found it, Mom." You speak into the device in your ear, Natasha listening on the other side. She praises you, sending a wave of comfort to your mind that seemed to be trying to sabotage you at that moment.
You quickly place the pen drive in the computer and see the percentage of how much was transferred appear on the screen. You hold the gun tightly in your hands as you scan the place, looking at every possible corner. You walk to your right calmly, trying not to make too much noise in your tall black boots. And when you were about to take the next step, a big tud behind you made you turn around quickly, still with the gun pointed forward. "Mom, I just heard a noise-" And before you could finish speaking, the lights in the place went out completely, the energy going out.
"Y/n- need- leave-!" The device in your ear was getting stuck a lot, loud noises disturbing what little you could hear. Natasha tried to say something, but you almost couldn't hear, leaving you alone with your own thoughts.
With all the training you had you tried to stay as calm as possible. Even if you couldn't see if someone or something was with you, your ears tried to capture any sound coming from that space, but with the device in your ears it was almost impossible. You knew that if you took it off it would be a big risk if your mother ever managed to talk to you again. But it would also be a risk not to hear what was around you.
You debated with what you should do or not do, but it was too late when two large arms grabbed your body from the ground. You let out a startled scream when you realize what is happening. Your reflexes are quick as you forcefully push your elbow into the stomach of the stranger behind you. He staggers back, making you fall to the ground, but before you can do anything, a kick lands in your belly. You hit your head on the ground, making your vision even blurrier. Your gun was still stuck in your hands, so the first thing you do is aim forward and shoot, when you hear a male scream of pain you know you hit him somewhere. "You bitch!"
You don't realize what's happening when he takes a gun out of his pants and also shoots. You scream in pain when the bullet pierces your arm that was holding the gun, it wasn't very deep, but the pain was too horrible. And even if you tried, you couldn't raise your arm to shoot the guy again. You start to crawl backwards trying to get away from the figure that you still couldn't see in the dark and prayed that he couldn't see you too.
But when you started to hear his heavy footsteps towards you, you knew there was nothing left to do.
[...]
Wanda felt her heart stop when she heard the doctors moving around in the Compound. Someone had been hurt on some mission a few hours after you and Natasha left. Maximoff was shaking as she waited for the injured person's Quinjet to pull up, and even though she asked any of the doctors who the unlucky one was, it seemed like she was invisible to them. It seemed like they didn't want to respond to watch her heart break into a million pieces.
Wanda felt so nervous that she thought maybe she was going to faint. Thinking that the extremely injured person, since the doctors were going almost crazy to get everything they needed, could be you or Natasha, made her want to throw up her entire lunch right there. And when the car appeared in their vision, Wanda moved even closer, continuing to give the doctors space to do their work.
When the big door opened, the first thing your mother saw was Natasha with some bruises on her face along with tears that still fell on her pale face. Romanoff held you in her arms. One of them put pressure on your arm to stop the bleeding, but even so, you seemed to be bleeding from other places as a pool of blood was being spilled by Natasha's suit. Your body was unconscious and heavy in your mother's hands, your face completely scarred with cuts and bruises all over it. And even if your mother tried to look at your fragile and small body, she couldn't.
Maximoff lets out a grunt when she sees that you were the current patient. Seeing how Natasha staggered with you in her arms was one of the worst sights she could have had. You being placed on the stretcher while the doctors took you to surgery as quickly as possible was in her nightmares, and now, she could feel firsthand how horrible that was. Natasha follows the crowd of people, finally coming across her wife there. Romanoff didn't wait a second to throw herself into Wanda's arms as the two allowed the tears to fall. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"
"Shh- it's not your fault, Natasha." Wanda tried to calm her down, even though it was almost impossible since she also needed comfort. "Y/n is going to be fine, it's okay."
"I- I couldn't get there in time. She was in- in a huge pool of blood and this guy was-" Natasha couldn't finish speaking before her eyes started bursting with tears again as she recalled the scene of you barely conscious on the ground while the Hydra agent kicked you mercilessly. Blood smeared everywhere and your face full of tears was what she saw every time she closed her eyes, it was horrible.
It took Wanda a few minutes to get Natasha to calm down. Despite many other occasions being the opposite, Romanoff has always shown how concerned she is about you. But seeing you and having to carry you almost dead in her arms was another thing entirely, and one that will probably haunt her forever. Natasha had the beginning of a panic attack there, with her blood on her suit and on her hands, but Wanda, knowing her wife, managed to make her feel like she was on the floor again.
A few hours had passed since you entered that operating room, and knowing that it would take a long time for the doctors to stabilize you, Wanda took care of Natasha, cleaning her body and putting her in more comfortable clothes to wait for you sitting in the waiting room. Your mother was able to breathe normally now, even though the tears hadn't stopped falling from both of their faces. Natasha felt her body want to sleep, but her mind wouldn't let her, not when you were fighting for your life in the next room.
Wanda runs her hand affectionately through Natasha's red hair that reminded her of your own. Her head on her shoulder as she felt her wife's body relax but then become rigid again, but even if Maximoff tried, she wouldn't be able to make Natasha relax. "Remember that time Y/n fell down the slide and broke her arm? She didn't even cry." Wanda spoke so softly that any outsider who saw it would think she wasn't as nervous as her wife.
"Yeah... she even asked you to break her arm with your magic so she could put a cast on it again so she could draw on it." Natasha laughs remembering when you were seven years old, you were probably the happiest child in the world.
"She's so strong," Wanda murmurs as she presses a kiss to Natasha's red hair and she closes her eyes taking a deep breath. "I know she'll make it out of this."
And when Maximoff stopped talking, one of the doctors who was participating in your surgery enters the room. Natasha was now more than awake, her body jumping up towards the man in the white coat. Wanda doesn't take long to join her either, rambling questions to the doctor over and over again. "Everything went well in the surgery to remove the bullet from Y/n's body, despite the heavy blood loss." Romanoff holds her wife's hand while listening to him talk about your conditions, squeezing it every time she feels like her heart is going to come out of her mouth. "Unfortunately, due to the severe injuries to her head, she was caused a brain injury called a concussion."
"Oh, God. She's going to be okay, isn't she?"
"Don't worry, Mrs. Maximoff. Concussion is a very common thing for people to experience and usually with a few weeks of medical treatment and rest she will feel well again." The two women were finally able to take a deep breath without feeling that nervousness in their chests. "You just need to pay attention to some symptoms she may have, such as headache, mental confusion, sometimes memory loss, nausea, vomiting, excessive fatigue and some other things that you will probably notice. With the treatment I am sure that Y/n will recover much better.”
Despite all these things you might feel, they were relieved that you were okay. And they knew you would recover quickly, your genes coming from Natasha and Wanda weren't just anyone, you were strong and everyone knew it. And even if they thought that way, nothing would prepare them for seeing you lying on the stretcher. Your body was so fragile and small there, your eyes looked so tired despite being closed and the cuts on your face didn't help. The tubes coming out of your body weren't the prettiest, but it was what was helping you survive at that moment.
"My baby girl..." Wanda stroked your hair as she looked at you now slightly pale face. Her comforting touch would make you lean against her even more if you were awake, but that wouldn't be possible at the moment. 
Natasha remained a little distant compared to Maximoff. She was scared, scared that if she made any move you would get hurt again, because in the redhead's mind everything that had happened was her fault. If she had checked to see if the area really was clean, if she had warned you as quickly as possible so you could get out of there, if she had arrived on time. "Nat?" Wanda knew what she was thinking, what she felt was written on the ex-assassin's face, and her wife had been with her for enough years to know what that mind was thinking.
In a few moments, Romanoff's body was enveloped in Wanda's affectionate and comforting embrace, who gently moved from side to side, holding her head against her shoulder while leaving a chaste kiss on her hair. Natasha knew that hug from anywhere, the hug that said everything was okay, that everything would fall into place again. Sometimes it took more than a hug for her to feel that, but sometimes she knew Wanda was right. "I w-want a hug too." Your hoarse voice was present at the scene, making your mothers quickly separate from each other.
"Y/n, my god! You scared me so much, don't ever do that again-"
"Wands, calm down, don't give her any more headaches." You chuckle along with your mother Natasha who was now holding your wife's hand. They walk towards your stretcher seeing that you still seemed to be a little disoriented with everything that happened, but even so you still had a smile on your face for them.
"How are you feeling, my love?" Wanda again made the same affectionate gestures to you as she sat next to you, feeling your body relax at her touch, but this time, you are awake enough to feel it.
"Headache and feeling like I might throw up at any moment."
"Ew." Natasha complains in a funny tone making you want to laugh at that moment, but having a headache would make things even worse. Romanoff still had an apprehensive tone on her face, maybe it was the guilt she felt she had or maybe it was seeing you in that place, with bruises everywhere. 
"You aren't hurt, are you, Mom?" Even though you almost died with a gunshot wound to your body and a brain injury, it was obvious that you would care about others, especially if it was one of your mothers.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about me, sweetheart." Natasha moved a little closer to you, leaving a kiss on your forehead that was welcomed with a smile on your face. "I was so worried about you." She murmurs as Wanda places one of her hands on her wife's thigh, making small circles on it.
"I'm fine now, Mom. Thanks for going to save me." You put a small smile on your face in a funny way, trying to ease the tension of the hospital room.
"You know I'll always be here for whatever you need." Natasha wasn't just referring to helping you save yourself from physical violence, but she was also referring to helping you when you have any problems. Do you need a shoulder to cry on? She will be there. Do you need help completing a task? Don't worry, you know she won't take a minute to come to you. Problems with girls or guys? She will love telling you how she really knew the love of her life. 
In those times when something difficult happened, your mothers knew how to comfort and help you. You had an unbreakable bond and that always warmed your heart. Realizing that you had people who more than cared about you by your side was incredible. Maybe for some other people it was strange to have two mothers, but you didn't care, because for you, it was an indescribable magic.
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