#but it's stupid because my parents were home and he wasn't alone

[fly-sky-high-09]

Fuck now I'm crying about my past cat

Edit: that was a good hard sob snot nosed cry and now I feel both exhausted and like my soul washed through the cozy shower

#he passed away at home but he was not well #and I wasn't home when he passed away and I always guit tripped myself over that fact #that I didn't see him until the end #but it's stupid because my parents were home and he wasn't alone #for some reason i made it my responsibility because he was my cat technically #as if he wasn't a family member to everyone #dont guilt trip yourselves... #you had time spent to show the pets how much you cared for them #that's enough I promise #they knew

[lighteyed]

you and i (back at it again) / steve harrington

summary: steve's left standing alone after starcourt, until you show up for him.

word count: 2.2k

author's note: inspired by this tik tok because i nearly shed a tear also this is my first time posting in awhile be nice pls

He watches his friends reunite with their families, mournful. He stands alone and contemplative by a cop car, the various spots of bruising and swelling on his face beginning to pulse with pain the more his adrenaline began to fade out of his bloodstream. The cops at the station said they'd called his parents house, his house, but no one had picked up. He knew they were home. He kicks a rock near his his foot, shoving his hands in the pockets of the bloody uniform he was still wearing. He wants a shower. He wants to go to bed. He wants to go to bed with the serenity of someone who knew they were loved. He wouldn't be able to do that if he went home. The word home a loose term.

"We can take you home if you need a ride, son," one of the cops says to him. Steve kicks at another rock. Home.

"That's alright," Steve says dismissively, ignoring the tight twist in his chest. "Someone will have gotten in touch with my parents by now. I'm sure they're on their way." The cop looks doubtful. Steve hates that he looks doubtful. Steve hates that he's also doubtful. "Couple more minutes," he swears. He knows he might as well walk his ass home, though.

He leans against the hood of the car, rubbing at his jaw. His hand comes away bloody. He's about to accept the cop's offer for a ride, maybe, he figures, he'll just go to Robin's and sit there for as long as her parents will have him, when a car comes careening into the lot like there's not fifty officers of the law standing around, the tires screeching loudly across the gravel. It's barely at a stop, practically still moving, when you throw the door open and throw your body out of it.

"Steve Harrington, what the fuck?" You leave your car door open, leave it in the middle of the road, still running, to get to him in time. He gazes at you, and it's a stupid look in all honesty, mouth agape, his brown eyes big and tragic looking, his face torn up and swollen. He wasn't expecting you. Why would he have been? You'd been broken up for a few months now and he was still nursing his wounds from it, knowing it was supposed to be for the best; you felt like he was hiding things from you and he knew that he was, hiding all the stuff about the Upside Down, not wanting you involved, wanting you safe. And in a way he was glad for it. He'd gotten through this with you unscathed, and who knows what would have happened if you guys had still been together. When he looks at you, though, when he allows himself to be pulled in closer, your hand coming up to graze his cheek, examining every scrape on his face with softness and worry, he allows himself to want. To miss you.

You tilt his face back, scrutinizing his features. He keeps his eyes on you. You showed up for him. No one else but you. You were here. "The fire is all over the fucking news and I didn't know if you were working tonight so I was sitting by the phone waiting to hear from someone and then your friend Robin called and said you were waiting here for someone to come get you so I just came in case and- and what happened to your face? And where are your parents?"

He shakes himself out of his stupor. "They didn't answer the phone." But you did. You answered and you were here. A wave of pure love rushes through him. He knew a thing or two about being alone, had felt that way for as long as he could remember, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with or how many parties he threw, but you were here, and he wasn't alone. Steve wraps his arms around you in one sudden movement, an outpouring of affection he hadn't realized he'd been reserving for you. Always you.

You stand there for a moment, processing, before you respond, leaning into his touch. The sirens wail around you. Neither of you move. He's safe. You breathe relief into the embrace, holding him tighter to you. He's hardly talking, and usually he's the one talking the absolute most, but he's stunned, both with what's just happened, what he's borne witness to, and with the way you care about him despite everything, more than anyone he's ever met, and the way he cares about you and how could he ever, ever let himself let you go? How could that ever happen? It's all he thinks about as he holds you, feeling safer than he's felt in awhile, the smell of your hair and your skin filling his brain with serotonin.

"Am I taking you home?" You pull away, staring up at him, his ruined face that is still so painfully gorgeous, still so hard to look at. Your hand is remains poised on his cheek. It's warm and welcome.

"No, no, your house, please," he brings his hand up to meet yours.

"I got you, c'mon, honey." He turns and thanks the officers who'd been waiting with him before letting you lead him to your car. He keeps his hand on yours. It tethers him to reality. He's here and he's okay. Or he will be, soon. He's here and he's safe, at the very least. He's not trapped and being tortured. No one's going to hurt him. He's got your soft hand in his and he's okay for right now.

The drive to your house is silent, but it's not awkward. You try to keep your eyes on the road as much as you can but you can't help that they keep finding themselves back on Steve. You've never seen him so reserved. You're sure it was more than a fire that happened back there, and you're sure he won't tell you a thing about it. You drive one-handed the whole way home. You let him need you.

At your house, you get your bathroom set up for him to shower, placing fresh towels on the rack for him, laying out your products on the counter. He would've been able to find them regardless, but you busy yourself with it anyway. When you go into your bedroom to tell him the bathroom is ready, his shoes are off and put into the corner he used to always put them in, and he looks exhausted. "I didn't bring clothes to change," is the first thing he says.

"That's what you're most concerned about?" You give him a funny look. You open your closet and rummage around on the ground for a second before tossing him a pair of his old sweatpants and a t-shirt. He stares at them in his hands. "I didn't know if I should give them back. So I just... didn't." He smiles a little. The first you've seen all night.

"Thanks," he waves them in the air before retreating down the hall. The door shuts and the shower squeaks on.

The way you loved Steve was unconditional, as much as you wish it wasn't sometimes. Even when he was pushing you away, even when he kept things from you, you'd always be there for him. He didn't have anyone in his corner like that. And you wanted to be. It wasn't something you felt obligated to do. You cared about him, and so you went to him. He'd do the same if the roles were reversed. It was unconditional because even when being there for him hurt, you still stayed. You still loved.

When he comes back into your room, his hair dripping but clean, God, he feels clean, his face devoid of dried blood but bruised and wounded, you're waiting for him with a first aid kit and a fresh ice pack. You must've heard the water shut off and gotten everything ready for him. The old sweatpants and t-shirt smell more like you now than they do like him but he's not complaining in the slightest. Something about you keeping them instead of throwing them away or lighting them on fire makes him think maybe there's hope. Not that you had a bad break up to begin with, it was more sad than angry, nothing that warranted a clothes burning, but still. Still, still, still.

He sits down where you indicate, rubbing his towel across his head to soak up the sopping water. His face is flushed from the hot water. You sidle up next to him with the medicine and bandages and try not to get too caught up in him. He places the ice pack on his puffy, blackened eye. He doesn't get it, this gentleness. He doesn't think he deserves it, really. After everything, does he deserve it? Does he get this peace?

"You're fidgeting," you mutter, narrowly missing the spot you were aiming for.

"Oh, sorry," he lifts his chin up a bit more and tries to sit still. You're so patient and kind and it makes him ache a little. You take care of him and it's not for any reason other than you caring about him. He's not used to anyone caring about him. "Are you sure this is alright? You don't wanna... be alone?"

"No, I wanna make sure you're okay," you answer easily, as easy as breathing, swiping medicine across his wounds with the lightest touch you can manage. He hisses in pain, and you wince, feeling it, too.

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

"I want to, Steve, I promise." You pat his cheek, another gentle, affectionate maneuver from you. If he's okay, you're okay. He takes this in. He thinks he really feels his heart expanding.

As you start dabbing at his other wounds, you speak, finally. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can," he replies, blinking up at you with his good eye.

"Was this..." you hesitate. He probably won't answer. "I don't doubt there was a fire but this..." you gesture to his face. "This looks a hell of a lot worse than just escaping a fire, Steve, you look seriously fucked up."

"What, you don't think I look pretty anymore?" He smiles again and you roll your eyes at him, but you smile back all the same.

"You're very pretty, Steve, but you have a black eye and there was blood all over your face and you're all cut up." He swoons just a little when you call him pretty. He's got an ego, what can he say? He continues smiling at you, a little high off painkillers, a little high off being here with you. If he's gotta be tortured he may as well get you back out of it.

"You look pretty, too, y'know," he says softly, his free hand twisting a strand of your hair around.

"Dodging the question I see," you raise your eyebrows at him but say nothing else. It was to be expected.

He takes a deep breath, looking up toward the ceiling, thinking maybe all this time he's just been stupid and silly for not telling you sooner, maybe he could've been with you all this time if he'd just told you, maybe it wouldn't have been the end of the world to have you involved. Maybe it would all be fine. "I wanted to keep you safe from all of it. See what happened to me? It could've been you, if you had been there."

"I would've wanted to be there with you," you insist. "You know I would."

"I do," he nods. "And that's why I don't involve you, babe, if something happens to me it doesn't matter to anyone but if something happens to you-"

"Why would you say that to me? You think I wouldn't care if you died?" You take his face in your hands, and he drops his ice pack. "Steve, are you an idiot? It would matter to those kids you spend all your time with if you died. It would matter to Robin, and to your family even if they take you for granted, and it would matter to me. I love you so much you moron, you can't say it wouldn't matter. I wouldn't be here if it didn't matter. I go out of my mind worrying about you, don't tell me you don't matter."

His head spins, in the best possible way. The pain from his wounds doesn't register. Your hands on his face registers. You words register. Everything else is background noise. "You still love me?"

Oh. Your face warms. It's not like it had been that long since you'd called it off, it should've have been a surprise to him, but hearing you say those words makes him light up. You see him light up. "Yeah, of course I do, it doesn't go away just 'cause you won't tell me anything about your life," you grumble, taking your hands off him.

"Hey," he whispers, grabbing for you before you can tear yourself away from him. He brushes the hair back from your face. He has that look in his eyes that make people fall to their knees. Heavy-lidded and tender. Soft. Loving. "I love you, okay? I do. That's why I try to protect you. I'll tell you anything you want." He knows it now, for real, that he can't lose you again. Not this time. "C'mere, come back." You let him pull you in. "I'll tell you anything, please don't leave me, okay?" You shake your head at him. Never, never. He's pleading, desperate. When he moves to kiss you, the desperation is laced in it, he's lurching forward and he's hungry and yearning and your lips meet soft and fast because he wants to savor it after so long.

The disconnect of your lips sends him reeling, he wants to dive back in for more, for more of everything, but you stop him. "It's me and you, okay, always. But you gotta let me all the way in this time." You tap his heart lightly. "All the way, Steve. Everything."

He leans back. He is hesitant and bruised and bloody, a little bit broken, but mostly he's in love. Mostly he wants to give you the world. So he takes your hands in his. He tethers himself to reality. And he talks.

#trying to convince myself posting is FOR FUN i don't have to want to VOM from nerves every time i go to post... #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things x reader

[exactlyyoungchaos]

Loss of my life.

(ex) husband Simon X f!Reader

Part 2.

CW: divorce, hurt, angst, emotional cheating, trauma. let me know if I missed any, enjoy!!!!

(Don't mind the mistakes.)

If you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary

You and I go from one kiss to gettin married

Still alive, killing time at the cemetery

Nobody prepares you for something like this. What do you do when someone you loved more than your own life, rips apart your soul in pieces? What do you do when the one person you trusted your heart with, leaves you to gather scraps of whatever is left of it?

It's been months since that day. The day you found out that the man you love loved someone else. You moved out the next day, he didn't try and stop you, didn't try to argue or make you stay, he just stood in the corner and watched as you packed up your whole life in a suitcase and left.

When your lawyer served him divorce papers, he didn't hesitate. he signed it immediately as if he was trying to get rid of you, or maybe he was. you don't know, you don't know anything anymore.

When you were young, you were scared to be in relationships because the idea of trusting somebody with everything and giving them the power to hurt you was ridiculous. you always thought love was a sham, just something for romance books and movies.

it was when you met Simon you realized it was all real. the chemical reaction inside your brain that makes you want to stay with someone forever. Laughing at their stupid jokes, waking up next to them, love them was all real. Or maybe it wasn't.

now all you recall, was how you almost had it all. how it all just slipped from your hands without warning.

maybe it was your fault. maybe you weren't enough. maybe you didn't know how to love properly, maybe you were unlovable.

maybe, maybe, maybe.......

Or perhaps it was a sign that a prophecy in your name had already been written. you are not meant for love, you were sent here to be alone, to be betrayed by whoever you trust, to be unworthy. so others would know what not to be.

You sat on the bed of your new apartment, looking at your wedding ring that was still on your finger. you couldn't get yourself to take it off. your heart wasn't ready to accept what your brain already knew.

You couldn't cry anymore, your tears were gone, and all that was left was a deep ache of loss in your chest.

Why? Why did he do this to you? why did he make those vows when he never meant to keep them? you wanted answers, that you knew you'd never get.

If your parents saw you in this state, they would be ashamed of you. you're ashamed of yourself. you can't eat, you can't get out of your bed, because something counterfeits dead.

The house you once called home is haunted by the ghost of lies and deceit. How long has it been going on? how many times did you aly with him in your bed and he wished it was her instead of you?

You were driving yourself crazy. Day by day you were losing your sanity as you combed through your whole life trying to find where it all went wrong.

you've been getting calls from your friends, and messages that you keep ignoring. What were you going to tell them? They bought his lies too.

He said forever and you bought it.

And the worst part is, you miss him. You miss your life, how it used to be filled with laughter, love, and light with him. How he used to hold you when you broke down. How he caressed you when you were in pain, how he made love to you.

Now you're sitting in a cold, dark, and empty apartment on another continent, you don't know who to call and ask for help.

All of your things remind you of him. Do you throw all of the things you built together or keep it? you were tired, mending your gashes on your own. He dealt a final blow and left you to deal with it.

And he doesn't care. He's already with her. he already replaced you. Nothing you two had was real.

But then why do you feel like dying? Why was it that you can't feel anything anymore? Is this how it will always be? Will you ever be okay enough to want to live?

all of these were very big questions you weren't ready to ask yet, or maybe you never will be.

you needed a distraction and you needed it fast.

you picked up your phone for the first time in the day and went straight to the one person you knew who could give you a reprieve from yourself.

Laswell.

You felt numb as you dialed her number as if a switch had been turned off in your brain. She picked up on the third ring.

"Sparrow,"

She still called you by your code name. Your first team that you were assigned to as a rookie medic gave it to you.

"I need a job," is all you said.

AN: SOOOOO!! DID WE LIKE IT? THOTS? I might have shed a tear or two writing this. don't mind me.

@ssc7514 @rrtxcmt

If you want to be tagged in the next part do tell me.

Until next time sugarplums.

ALI-💋💋💋

#cod fic #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #angst #simon riley angst #ghost cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #kate laswell

[teencopandthesourwolf]

He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do. 

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him. 

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him she was going before she left New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone, because she'd known without a doubt that Derek would only follow her if she'd have said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. The desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't mark graves, or grieve properly. 

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so fucking many. 

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack. 

Now, he remembers that last time. 

“I'm going out.” 

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him. 

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back. 

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no. Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed. 

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's fucking bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away. 

“Then where do you go to all these nights, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're so rarely in your own bed in the mornings.” She hadn't meant it as a dig. She was his sister and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperately trying to find scumbags he could taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back. 

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since. 

Now here he is, standing in his big stupid loft that he bought for his betas—yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping themselves as far around his shoulders as they can reach. 

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it. 

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck. 

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude? 

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less. 

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again. 

.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

#sterek #sterek ficlet #sterek fic #sterek oneshot #POV derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #m/m #queer fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #laura hale #derek and laura #hale pack feels #angst #hurt/comfort #hugs #derek hale deserves nice things #stiles stilinski is a nice thing #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf

[discopaddock]

ROMCOMS - FELIX CATTON

PAIRING: felix catton x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 714

WARNINGS: smoking, no use of y/n

Felix Catton

Felix, Felix, Felix.

Ideal boy, everyone liked him and so he liked everyone.

It felt like there was nothing wrong about him, unless you don't like when people smoke.

He was everywhere. Everyone talked about him. And most times those were good things, but some jealous boys did not always talk about him favourably.

And since everyone talked about him like that, she really wanted to know him. She wanted to know what was so special about him.

She didn't think she had ever met Felix somewhere. She was usually with her friends, who were a total opposite to him and his friends. Of course they were rich, maybe not as much as he was, but still and always got invitations for the parties, but they actually never had gone to them.

The girl's were into books and silly rom coms with happy endings at that point, not partying.

But one night she finally met the famous Felix Catton. He was standing there alone at the schoolyard at almost midnight in glory, looking like some Greek god, Apollo to be more specific.

He waved at her. He had no idea who she was. He came to her in two steps with his long legs and started a conversation. He was a nice guy. He complimented her looks, especially how he liked the freckles on her shoulders, making her frown her brows because of how he was able to see them in the dark.

And then she understood the hype on him. There was something so magnetic in him that she just couldn't stay away from him.

And so she didn't.

On the following day Felix was quick to find her in the library, as she was chatting with her two friends. He asked them if he could steal the girl for a moment and when they said yes, he quickly grabbed her wrist and took her among bookstants.

And there he asked her for a date. He got to the point extra fast, without complimenting her. He said he was in a hurry and had to tell her first, but when she agreed he became normal again and started playing his old game of winning a girl's heart.

Felix really did like her. She was… well, herself. And he liked it. A lot.

“I'll be waiting for you tomorrow at five. Wear some trousers and hoodie and trainers” he said and kissed her cheek as a goodbye and ran to Farleigh with a smile across his face.

“I'm going on a date” the girl announced to her friends softly and sat on her chair. She felt like she was in one of these romcoms she used to watch but she didn't know if it was going to have a happy ending or not.

As Felix said, he did. He was waiting for her at her dorm wearing a green polo shirt, dark jeans and Adidas trainers. He looked good. Devilishly good.

“Felix you look… wow” she said only, looking at him and then she saw that he wasn't wearing his brow piercing. And he looked even better.

“You look wow as well, sweetheart” he giggled, looking at her outfit. The sweater in light pink colour was making her eyes look prettier and went ideally with the jeans and Nike Air Force 1.

The date went well. Really well.

“Come with me to Saltburn, to home” Felix said one night, when they were lying on the floor in his dorm, which he previously started to clean, so it didn't smell terrible.

“What?” she asked, not really thinking he meant it. They were dating for four months now, but she wasn't expecting to get such an invitation.

“You're my girlfriend, I want you to get to know my parents and sister” he answered and handed her a cigarette, forgetting again that she didn't smoke.

“But I'm going to Austria and Germany with dad and-”

“I talked to him already he said yes” Felix smiled, proud of himself.

And there she was two weeks later standing in front of the literal palace and her stupid boyfriend with an even more stupid grin on his face.

“It's gonna be fun, I promise” Felix said only and kissed her, hoping that the whole vacation will go fine.

masterlist

#discopaddock #saltburn #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton fanfic #felix catton fluff #saltburn fanfiction

[vsnyarbll]

A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden

atpiahb masterlist, part1, part2, part3, part4, part5

main masterlist

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader, platonic!Aegon II Targaryen x reader

words: 1.287

summary: Aemond is cheating on his wife with Alys Rivers. y/n finds out.

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of death, mentions of non-consensual sex

a/n: English is not my native language

y/n was sitting on the window bench. Her eyes were puffy and red from days of crying.

She lifted her wine glass to her lips, but it was empty. She reached for the decanter beside her to fill it and knocked it over. The wine spilled on the cushions of the bench and the hem of her dress.

Her hand holding the glass trembled, and she put it on the marble in front of the window.

y/n clenched her trembling hands and tried to calm herself, but her eyes filled, and her vision blurred. She put her hand over her mouth and tried to stifle her sobs.

Aegon got up from his chair. He came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"It will be all right."

"No, Aegon, it won't. He doesn't want me," she said between sobs.

Aegon sat next to her, ignoring the wine on the cushions.

"He had been going to her since the first day of our marriage. He always told me he had a mission that could take weeks.”

Aegon did not comment and averted his eyes.

"How could I have been so stupid," she said.

Two weeks ago, she found out that Aemond had cheated on her. They had been married for two years, and almost every month, he would get on his dragon and be gone for a week or two.

y/n kept reminding herself that he was a prince and had duties. But Aemond was cheating on her with a woman named Alys Rivers, and his affair with her even predated their marriage.

"He married me so he could inherit my father's lands."

Aegon reached out and patted her arm.

Like many in the castle, he had known this for a long time.

The Queen, the King, the lords, and their wives, everyone knew. That was why they had looked at her with pitying eyes at her wedding and when she first moved into the palace.

Even the servants in the castle felt sorry for her.

It was common for high-ranking married men to have affairs with other women. But it was not considered appropriate for them to have a lover.

"I thought he loved me," she said, turning to Aegon.

xxx

In the evening of that day, the wet nurse came to her room, holding Aemond's and y/n's son, born a week earlier.

Aemond was not with her at the birth of their son. He wasn't even in the castle.

Aegon had waited outside the room during the birth.

The queen had come to her room after the birth to hold her grandson.

y/n’s parents lived three weeks away and were unable to come when she went into labor.

She had to deal alone with the thing she feared most in life.

She was all alone.

After giving birth, one of her trusted ladies-in-waiting told her about Aemond's mistress.

y/n took her son in her arms from the wet nurse. And she buried her nose in his head.

He was the son of the man she loved.

Her eyes were full as she rocked him back and forth in her arms.

She could not go back to her family. Her parents, as much as they loved her, could not accept such a thing. She was married and her new home was The Red Keep, next to her husband.

The door to their room opened, and her husband came in.

His hair was disheveled because he had come to the castle with his dragon. Aemond looked at his wife as he closed the door.

When he saw the baby in her arms, his throat tightened. "I didn't know. I found out the moment I arrived at the castle."

He walked toward his wife and reached for the baby in her arms, but y/n pressed him against her chest.

Aemond paused and dropped his hands to his sides. "My mother said you gave birth to a boy."

"Yes, I did."

He nodded.

"All alone," she said.

"I would have come earlier if my mission-

"Your mission?" she laughed nervously. "What was that mission, Aemond, to fuck that witch?"

He didn't answer, but the muscles in his jaw tightened.

"I could have died in childbirth." Then, she paused briefly. "Of course, you'd be happy if I died. Since I gave you a son, it doesn't matter if I live.”

"You've learned."

"Yes, Aemond! I've learned!"

Aemond continued to maintain silence. His silence infuriated her even more.

"You won't say anything? Won't you defend yourself? Don't I deserve even a simple apology?"

"There is nothing to defend," he said and approached her. "She's been in my life since I was 19."

y/n couldn't hold back her tears this time. She couldn't remember how many times she had cried that day.

"Can I hold my son?"

She looked at him incredulously. "If you want to hold him, and if you want to be in his life in the future, you will leave that woman."

Aemond took a deep breath. "I can't, y/n."

"Why? Why can't you?!"

"Because she's pregnant."

y/n didn't know how much more upset and angry she could feel. "So after years of bullying your nephews, you made your Strong bastard?"

At that moment, the baby stirred restlessly in her arms and slowly opened his eyes. y/n started rocking him back to sleep.

"Don't make me choose between you."

"Do you hear yourself?! I'm your wife. You already made that choice by marrying me.”

Her son wouldn't fall asleep and started to cry. The tension in the room had affected him too. Aemond reached for him once more. This time she let Aemond take him. She couldn't bear to hear her baby cry, even though she felt guilty for feeling that way.

He looked down at his son in his arms, smiling. He placed a kiss on his head. With his eyes still on him, he spoke. "Was Aegon not enough to fill my absence?"

y/n's eyes widened. "Do you realize what you are accusing me of? I am not you, Aemond."

"The courtiers are not blind, y/n. As I set foot in the castle, they told me how much Aegon enjoyed spending time in our chambers."

She backed away and sat on the bed.

y/n folded her hands in her lap and began to play with her fingers.

Aegon was another matter.

Nothing inappropriate had happened between them, but she felt safe and at peace around him.

She always felt his gaze on her in crowded places.

His facial expression when he looked at her would sometimes cause her face to warm up.

Aemond came to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "If he comes near you again, I will cut off his hands."

She looked up to lock eyes with Aemond. "You impregnate another woman and then turn around and question my honor." She laughed to herself. "That's so like you."

y/n wanted him to be angry too. She wanted him to hurt even a little, but there was not a trace of emotion on the one-eyed prince's face.

"I'm going to take our son to his wet nurse. It wouldn't be right for him to sleep here tonight. I miss my wife."

"Do you think I'd bed with you after all you've done?"

Aemond spoke as he walked towards the door. "You have to. It's your duty as my wife."

As he opened the door, he turned and spoke for the last time before leaving the room. "Besides, everyone will expect me to have another heir."

As y/n looked at where Aemond had just stood, she remembered what her mother had said on their wedding day.

‘A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden.’

next chapter

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond x you #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader x aegon targaryen

[blingblong55]

This town -Simon "Ghost" Riley

pic credits: @ave661 (middle and right)

Based on a request: (Its a long as so I'll link it so you can read the anons idea) Link here ---- F!Reader, childhood!friends, hidden feelings, angst, friends to strangers ---- A/N: Songs that also fit: Too Young- Louis Tomlinson, This Town- Niall Horan, Back to the Old House- The Smiths, Always you-Louis Tomlinson

It's a story to tell over at the old pub you and he used to hang around on the weekends. But how can a man begin to tell the sorrowful story? How can he explain in his bruised hands he holds the locket you gave him when you two were kids? He will maybe ask if this was a curse, the only curse an old soul like his has. 

It could've been something, it would've been something, it should've been beautiful. 

In this world, it was always he and you. Scraping your knees when jumping off the rocks near his home. Playing tag in the street until the moon greeted you and his mother would call his name. It's the kind of beginning all beautiful loves start with. Friends since childhood, went through life together and by 28, he would have proposed to the girl he had loved his whole life, 40s would be of dropping the kids at school, 50s of early retirement and 60s were for the potential grandkids, 70s would've been the stories shared of their early lives.

Would've...what a shit word that became in his life. 

In the teenage years, after you had some glow-up, you became the girl everyone knew. The pretty, popular and funny girl the school knew of. He was the friend of the popular girl, the one people barely noticed or cared for. Simon was the same kid who always had a scar or bruise on his face, compliments from his father. One thing Simon hated more than the bastard of his father was the guy you were with. Bloke knows nothing but how to wank and fuck any living thing, he recalls.

Why were you with such a guy? It was a must. Like those cheesy movies where the pretty girl stays with the popular guy, all for the status of each other. Your feelings weren't real for that guy. He wasn't funny, wasn't smart and he wasn't Simon. The boy you shared a kiss with at age 7 because of an accidental bump whilst running through the grass. 

It was during a small break between classes that you found him drinking water. You smile. He always did look good, even the stupid bruise on his jaw made him look so good. 

"Y/N," he straightens up. "Simon," you smile cheekily. "Oh no, what's that smile for?" He crosses his arms over his chest and you can't help but get lost in his honey eyes. "Well...I was wondering if maybe we can...talk?" You say, unsure of how to word this confession. "Did my mum put you up to this?" 

"No, this is...me just wanting to talk." 

"Go on," his voice softens. Does he always do this for you?

You hesitate, but what is life without words? You breathe in and say, "I like you...there I said it and... don't stay quiet because you know I get nervous and I will continue to just talk and talk and talk and-"

He cuts you off by saying, "I'm sorry, Y/N, I... don't..think..this..well I just don't feel that way for you. We're friends, nothing more," he ends his part of the conversation, pats your back as he walks away and you are left in the corridor of the school alone. 

As Simon walks to his classroom, his heart and mind fight the words that he had just said to you. Why was that mean? Did I even mean to say them? He thinks. 

Graduation happens. You and he never talked after that day. Not even a congrats or a hug, life went on without him in your life. Throughout those last months in school, he felt a feeling of regret when he'd see you with that guys arm around you. He would occasionally walk around the old park just to see if you would still go on your daily walks. 

By the time he was about to leave town, he found himself at the old house. He heard your parents moved to a new part of town, so if this was the last time he heard of you, it better be on his terms. And as he walks through the pavement, he finds himself looking at your window. He leans over a car, lights a cigarette and just waits to see if maybe you or some ghost roamed the home. 

Was it the feeling of losing a friend that hurt or losing his one chance to feel something other than pain and hatred? Maybe it's just nervous, after all, he leaves tomorrow. 

You were both just 16, it was puppy love, nothing would've lasted if he reciprocated those feelings, right?

And if it was, why does he feel some kind of hurt as he packs his bags? Why does he want to run to your new home and call your name? Is there a reason why? It's not love, it can't be love, he thinks. I'm not worthy of that, you've heard my dad, he says out loud. "Simon?" Tommy opens the door. "Tommy, not today," he looks back at his bag. "...Fuck" he whispers. 

It's been a long nineteen years since he last saw you and heard your precious voice laugh at a cheesy joke of his. Nineteen years and the feeling in his chest is still there when he arrives home. Manchester was always home for him, it was the only place he knew best when he came back. 

One day, as he was cleaning his closet, looking for his dog's leash, something fell and hit his head. "What the fu-" he looked down and there it was. 

"Why give me this?" A thirteen-year-old Simon asked you. You smile, "You said you wish you could always be near me so you can feel safe...and since I'm going to my nans for the week, have this locket on you, and I swear I'll be there. Keep it safe, okay?" you kiss his forehead before entering the car. He nods and waves, "Call me, Y/N, please!" he calls out and you nod. "Every day!" you scream out as the car drives further away. 

A smile falls on his silent lips, "...Y/N..." his thumb caresses the design. Once he opens it, he feels as if he is that young again. "Are you still there, Y/N?" He whispers and then, realisation hits. It was never nerves or whatever bullshit he told himself back then, it was love, always has. 

All the dots are connecting. For the past nineteen years, he always had some love or whatever all those hookups and awful relationships were, but never did they stick around. Never did he feel more for them than what he has always felt for you. His cold heart still beating warm when he thinks of you. You are all he has ever known, the smiles, the late-night confessions, stories, the silly inside jokes, the feeling in his chest today. 

He hasn't seen you in years, what if you don't remember him? What if when you see him, your heart doesn't call his name when he screams yours? Will you ever even forgive him? Will you wrap your arms around him and call him home like he has called you? 

He must find you, so he calls and looks for you in every corner of this place. He finds nothing, just more lost hope at every corner he looks into. His heart and mind excited each other at the thought this would be some sappy romance moment. His mind creating a script, all truths, just finding better words to tell you he loves you, loved you the moment you kissed the similar scar on the knee at the park when he cried over the pain. He's loved you from the day he learned to say your name. 

Why does he miss you so much today?

Why must you be the drug his body needs? God does he miss you and your addictive heart. 

He has been around the world, where he could've found a good woman who made him happy but no, his heart has always belonged to one girl. You. 

By the time he gets the street right, he finds you sitting down and as he smiles and nearly runs to you, he stops when he sees this image of you. 

Sitting by the fountain, he sees you and a man. His arms wrap around your body, giving you darling kisses as you chuckle. It was then that Simon Riley knew this was it. He will spend his entire life wandering earth, looking for another soul like yours. You didn't see him of course, your fiance capturing all your attention. Simon was close to not caring and pulling you away from that man, but that would be cruel. And as he tries to make up excuses for this man being near you, he sees the ring. 

Oh...oh you fool, he thinks. 

His heart is near death. It screams your name, trying to find you so it can keep beating but when you don't whisper, Simon nods and lets his heart die. Let it rot, so it can learn its lesson, he thinks. 

It would've never bloomed, Simon and you...right?

It's no use to even go and say hi. The locket that contained your picture was still in his fist. It'll be the last reminder of what was meant to be a life romancing in dark streets through town. 

In his head, the home you dreamed of will forever be just a dream. No four kids, no library, no big kitchen so you and he can dance around at midnight. No you...no him...it'll all be stuck and dead in this town. 

He crossed rivers, mountains, and enemies and survived wounds soldiers like him get, all to come home to you. And all this was for nothing. In his world, he would've married you, given you chubby babies and late Saturday mornings. No gun, no bomb and no other man would've kept him away from you. 

In his mind, he is with you. In his dead heart, he sits by and watches that chubby baby learn to walk. He would've adored seeing you in a white dress, walking to him as he wiped tears away when he d his dream of a perfect life was minutes away from being real. 

What a mess he is as he asks for another drink. A mess he never should have been if he had told you that your name is carved all over his body. 

It was this town that saw him live and it'll be this town that sees him die because if he can't have you, at least he has this place. 

A/N: Remember, I collect tears for potions, so please drop them by for collection, thank you. - The place of tears co.

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #mwii #ghost cod #call of duty #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley call of duty #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost riley #ghost angst #simon riley angst #cod angst #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader angst #simon riley x y/n

[harmshake]

didn't mean to unfollow, just followed back, im stupid lmao.

I was thinking, maybe your Romans ex wife (black reader) and you two aren't exactly on good terms, but you have to pretend for the kids (two boys, 6 and 9) and while your waiting for the boys to get ready, he notices the reader still has her wedding ring on- Can either be smut or fluff, up to you!

Hey, STOP that, you are not stupid. I'M stupid cuz I wrote this and missed the "ex" in "ex-wife," but I hope you still enjoy, my friend. 🥹💗

Because I Love You

Roman Reigns x Fem Black Reader | Angst and fluff | ~2k words

Happy reading! Read my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

If stress had a name, you were pretty sure it would be spelled exactly like yours.

If it wasn't early mornings when your beautiful but rowdy sons were up before the sun and jumping on your bed to wake you up after having only a few hours of productive sleep, it was dragging yourself out of bed to start the day, get your kiddos to school and yourself to work where you sat behind a desk, locked away from sunlight until you were back in your car and home again.

With him.

He was the real catalyst, the true stress factor as your job paid you well and your young sons could be a handful but you'd do anything for them.

And that's why you were still with him.

Being married wasn't the glamorous life you thought it'd be when you were a little girl, watching romance movies where the two protagonists fell head over heels for each other on a whim; couldn't go a day without saying how much they loved one another; and got married with a stunning, white wedding that made your eyes twinkle in awe.

The wife adorned in an elegant dress and a shining ring on her finger. Her loving husband dressed to the nines with a smile on his lips that would only be for her. A lifetime together of living, laughing, and loving.

And for three years, your marriage to Roman was something like that moving picture. He made you feel beautiful. He couldn't get enough of fondling and kissing your brown skin that was soft like cocoa butter and the rich complexion of chocolate. He made you feel special. He'd run his fingers through your deep brown coils as he held you close and told you that you were the only woman in the world to him. He made you feel loved. He wanted to give you a house, a family, the stars, and the moon.

Yet something changed. Roman started going out more, coming back home later. He started traveling for work often, leaving you home alone with the kids for weeks on end. You understood it from the beginning as it was his busy career and it put food on the table. But something changed.

You didn't find out what until several text messages, emails, and arguments later that while Roman loved you, he loved himself more. It wasn't exactly "cheating" as from what you read and what he told you, it was nothing more than conversations. 

However, one conversation with a woman that wasn't you and wasn't about anything that felt appropriate to discuss with a married man was one too many for you.

For the last few months, the conversations between you two had dwindled to a bare minimum. The basics. As long as the bills were paid and the boys were happy, you went to sleep at night in the bed you shared with him. Yet you felt like you were lying next to a stranger.

Roman had to talk you out of leaving the home you both built together. Then he had to talk you out of sleeping in separate beds. And you agreed to both because while you loved him, you loved your children more. You knew what it was like to grow up in a one-parent home, watching your mother struggle to make ends meet all alone while trying to hold you, herself, and everything together. You refused to pass that burden down to your boys. No matter what went wrong for you, you were determined to always make it right for them.

Yet the one thing Roman couldn't convince you to do was keep on the wedding ring. For those last few months, you kept it tucked away in your jewelry box on the dresser. While he still wore his, in your mind, you were no longer truly married to him, but to the situation. You were devoted to your family and committed to creating the most picturesque life you could for them.

Where that left you in the picture, you weren't quite sure. But as those three months passed, you kept the idea of love for your sons to be all the love you needed for yourself.

Until he came home this weekend from work.

"Let's take the boys to the water park today," Roman said softly, as softly as his deep voice could manage as his guilt still weighed down his tone. 

Your tone was just as soft as you agreed with a simple, "Alright," and let the day commence. He noticed for the hundredth time that your wedding ring was missing from your finger. You told him you didn't want to lose it in the pool but he knew the real reason. He knew he was the reason.

Later that night as you lay in bed after tucking in the boys, he came into the bedroom from the bathroom, the steam flooding the room as he approached you with a towel still around his waist and a pathetic look on his face. You felt the lecture coming, another spiel about how much he appreciated and loved you and wished you'd let him back in. You didn't want to waste your breath because you'd tell him your same spiel, too: That you know and you love him, too, but you're not in love with him anymore, and for him to just drop it.

"You work Monday?" Roman asked as he changed into his pajamas, an old pair of gym shorts, and nothing else. You shook your head. It was a holiday. "The boys will be in school and I'm not back on the road until Tuesday. We should go out...if you want."

His voice had that soft, hesitant tone yet again. You looked up at him with curious, tired brown eyes as you were just trying to read your romance novel before bed. Yet he'd piqued your interest enough to lift your eyes from the page to meet his and ask, "Why?"

You and Roman hadn't been out together without the kids in so long that you weren't sure what that would look like anymore. Dinner and a movie? A drink or two at a lounge and dancing? You didn't know if you could even have fun in those kinds of settings with him.

"Because I love you, baby."

You sighed and murmured you'd think about it before you went back to your book. But your heartbeat wouldn't calm down from its slight fluttering as he crawled under the sheets behind you to head to bed, his warmth filling the sheets without his touch because, as usual, you wouldn't allow it. 

Yet your heart pounded at the idea of a date with your estranged husband. 

Because he loved you.

You loved him, too, even if it wasn't in that live, laugh, love way anymore.

But you did love him.

When Monday morning came, you woke up early, getting your boys' school uniforms ironed and lunches packed into bags. Roman was up, as well, cooking them breakfast and reminding them that Dad would be back home later in the week. You could never say he was an unattentive parent as the love he had for your boys was bigger and brighter than the sun. 

Your heartbeat hadn't calmed at the thought that he loved you in the same way. It wasn't something you wanted to give much thought to after he did what he did because how could he love you the same when you would have never done that to him? 

His voice...his quiet, almost scared to bother you with his emotions singing softly in his heart tone still echoed in your thoughts no matter how hard you tried to think it away. "Because I love you, baby."

After dropping off the kids at school, you got ready for brunch with your husband and attempted to will away his tone lingering in your mind as you stood in front of the mirror reflecting your thoughts on your face that held an odd look. Not a frown, not a smile, but something in between, something like where your feelings for your husband lay.

"You look beautiful."

His voice floated into your ears, made your cheeks feel warm, made that strange expression on your face soften after you saw his reflection walk into the room, sit on the bed, and admire you as you put on your earrings, fastened on your necklace, and eyed your wedding ring buried beneath a pile of bracelets.

"Thank you. You, too," you mumbled with a flash of your eyes on him before they fell to the ring again. Roman did look beautiful. He always did. Even in his simple, short-sleeved button-up and slacks. He matched your casual look, a halter-top sundress, even sporting the same powder blue for his shirt.

Suddenly, his huge hands matched the length of your jewelry box as he stood beside you and pulled it towards him, carefully sorting through it until he picked out a gold, diamond tennis bracelet. Your heart fluttered again when his fingers grazed your wedding ring.

"May I?" Roman asked, in that soft, pleading way that made you look up at him with soft, intrigued eyes and nod once as he held your bracelet before you extended your wrist. His big fingers struggled a bit with the tiny clasp yet once he hooked it, those fingers tentatively slid around your wrist, as well, as he spoke. "Looks nice with your necklace...not that you need any more help bein' the most gorgeous woman in the room."

A small, coy laugh escaped you as you thanked him again. The way he coyly studied you with a timid smile wobbling to life on his lips reminded you of your first date all those years ago. Two young, flirty twentysomethings who would blush if they held each other's gaze for too long.

Yet you fell in love so deeply that after a while you couldn't imagine not gazing into his eyes every day. And when he betrayed your trust, he couldn't go a day without trying to make it up to you and restore that twinkle in your eyes.

Because he loved you.

"Maybe this would look nice with it, too," you said under your breath as you took your wedding ring and slid it onto your left ring finger. Roman's eyes filled with that twinkle you recognized as it was the same one steadily growing in yours when your heart raced behind your chest.

"It does. Goes well with mine." His gentle tone again. His fingers gentle, too, when they laced with yours and showed his wedding band the same luminous gold as yours. You weren't certain why your heartbeat wouldn't rest until this moment...until his warm touch soothed it back to a gentle pace.

Months without that touch. Months without that warmth. Months without that belief that there was still something lively, whimsical, and passionate between you.

Yet as Roman held your hand and slowly brought it to his lips with a tender kiss that sent tingles up your arms, you took a step closer to him until your head rested on his chest. You felt him stiffen with surprise, felt his heartbeat jump to that fluttering pace as he delicately placed his arms around you.

Time seemed to stand still, all the times you doubted him, yourself, your marriage, his love, your love, and everything that tied you two together without the security of love...

...But how Roman wouldn't let go of you and how you didn't bother to move made that stress melt off you and shielded you in a truth you were finally ready to accept.

You stayed with him because you loved him. Because you were still in love with him.

"You ready to go, baby?" Roman asked in a hushed tone, his warm breath caressing your coils before his chin did as he nuzzled the top of your head with a hum.

"Not yet...I love you." You matched his tone, even more hushed with your face buried in his chest that he had to uncover with his fingers cupping your chin. Roman's eyes bore into yours like he was searching for the mistake you made to have uttered those words to him unprompted. Words you no longer wanted to withhold from him as you brought your lips to his in a kiss that made you both tremble in each other's arms.

"I love you, too, baby. And I'll do anything you want to hear you say it again."

.

.

.

Thanks for reading! ❤️

🫶🏾 Tagging: @wrestlingprincess80 @visionarymode @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @nayys-world @msbigredmachine @purplehairgawdess @mohawkmama @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @seeingstarks @555sage @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @sassginaswanmills @theglamclosetsl @2-muchsauce @empressdede @woahdude9481 @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @twocentuar @claymorexpunisher @alichesmi @eclectic-tee @brwnsugababe @joannasteez @whatdoeseverybodywant @puppetmastermya @carmenreigns

#asks #thank you for the request! #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x female reader #black writers #spilled ink

[ageingfangirl2]

Surprise Me! Mihawk (OPLA)

y/n is a new assassin who catches the eye of Mihawk. She thinks her past is private but the warlord knows a lot about her and wants to talk. Part 2 to Fight Someone Your Own Size.

Part 1

Y/N

After your encounter with the warlord Dracule Mihawk, you decided to skip town. He had an infamous reputation and it wasn't wise to get on his radar for good or bad reasons. You had a past, a bloody past that led you to skip from town to town until you landed in the last town and actually felt safe until those stupid guys had to attack you in the alley. You were a trained killer, a fresh one at that, which is how you garnered a leave me alone kind of reputation. The reason you never settled down was the fear of being hunted down for what you did.

You were an orphan, a scrappy one at that, fast and light-fingered, which is how you gained the attention of your former master. He took you in when you were ten, housed and fed you, training you to kill those who wronged others while giving you an education you wouldn't have gotten on the streets. You owed him everything, but you couldn't give him everything he wanted.

If anyone did come looking for you those men from the alley knew your face, it was a rookie move leaving them alive, you had to go back. They wouldn't sell out Mihawk, no one would believe them but they would throw you under a cart to save their own skin.

You return to town at night, grabbing your knives and scouting each of the men's homes. It was simple after that, breaking in and killing each of them with a single sliced throat. Now you could leave town without fear of being exposed.

However, that was really short-lived as you're stopped in your tracks by a familiar voice that sent shivers down your spine, 'huh...'

You gulp and dare to look up from his bare chest to meet his piercing eyes, '...what?'

He watches you intensely, like a rabbit he had caught in a trap and wasn't sure what to do with it next, 'nothing, I just didn't know you had that in you. You also don't seem like the type to come back to the same town twice y/n.'

This makes you laugh, 'the fact you think you know anything about me at all, is genuinely hilarious.'

You go to step around him but he continues to block your path, 'your real name is y/n l/n, your parents died in a house fire when you were five but it wasn't an accident. Your father abused your mother and she snapped when he forced himself onto you so set the fire. You lived on the streets for five years before being taken in at age ten by a man calling himself David. And for the next eight years, he made you into a killer. But now he's dead and you're all alone again,' he lists off your life story blankly.

Your hand goes for a knife, 'you knew David? Are you going to kill me because I killed him?'

'You think you killed him y/n? What do you remember?' Mihawk asks, intrigued by you.

'Before you saved me in that alley I've seen your face before but I can't remember where. Do I know you?' you answer his question with your own question.

Mihawk inhales loudly, clearly annoyed that you weren't answering him, 'I like people to follow my orders. When I ask you a question you'll answer. But I'll let it slip just this once y/n, now tell me about that night.'

You click your tongue and bow your head, 'not much, it's all a bit of a blur. He tried to come onto me and I must have snapped remembering my father because next thing I know he's dead.'

You shudder, remembering vividly the night David put his hands on you and got angry when you refused. If you didn't submit to him he was going to kill you, so you had to fight back.

MIHAWK

I do the unthinkable and pull y/n into me watching the wheels turn in their head, 'we met briefly when you were eleven, I was curious what David saw in you. We then met for a second time when you were eighteen. I believe men should show honour and respect women, so when I saw him on top of you I killed him, you passed out and I left.'

y/n looks up at me, and through their emotions, I see further, I see hunger and drive, 'what happens now Mihawk?'

'You're still not ready to be out on your own so you're coming with me and I'll finish your training. You don't have any say in the matter because now you owe me your life,' I state, and y/n nods.

y/n then motions around them, 'any more loose ends to tie up?'

I shake my head, 'All taken care of, now let's go.'

I place my hand on y/n's back and guide them into the shadows. They continued to surprise me, and with my training, everyone was going to fear them.

#opla #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagines #one piece live action #one piece live action imagines #anime imagines #anime fanfiction #anime blog #opla mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece live action mihawk #one piece live action fanfiction #one piece mihawk #one piece dracule mihawk #opla mihawk imagines #opla mihawk fanfiction

[leclerc-s]

the blue - part four

masterlist previous next

i think i like him...

congratulations, you're officially the last person to know

HOW COULD ANY OF YOU KNOW WHEN I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW MYSELF??

the way you look at him but don't worry he likes you too

HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?

easy, the way he looks at you

WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN THOMAS??

well, you look at him like he hung the moon and he looks at you like you're the only person in the room who matters to him.

ASK HIM OUT!!!

no! and risk our friendship? no fucking way

it worked out for me didn't it?

yeah, but it's different.

how is it different amelia?

i don't know it just is.

god you're a fucking idiot. no wonder we're related.

okay rude

i'm being an idiot.

do you want to go on a date?

fuck i like you do you like me?

am i fucking 5?

OH SHIT!

FUCK!

I'M SORRY THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT! I DIDN'T MEAN TO SEND IT TO YOU!

so you meant to send it to someone else?

NO! FUCK!

amelia, it's okay. i get it if you meant to send it to someone else. it's fine.

jesus fuck how can i write songs but not get through this one fucking thing?

okay, fuck it. i can do this.

do you want to get lunch with me?

i mean we already have plans for tomorrow, so yes amelia, i do.

NO YOU IDIOT!

okay, that was uncalled for.

ME. YOU. DATE?

oh.

forget i said anything. it's okay. i get it. i hope we can still be friends.

read 13:28

14:04

amelia screamed into the nearest pillow scaring her little brother. she had hoped that oscar had gotten busy and wasn't just ignoring her, she didn't want to ruin her friendship with him, not over some stupid feelings.

"mum! she's doing it again!" paddy shouted. nikki holland walked into the room watching as her daughter continued to scream into a pillow. nikki shooed her youngest son out of the room, which he did without protesting. he did not want to watch his sister cry knowing there was nothing he could do. last time she had sobbed for 45 minutes when they were alone without telling anyone what it was about. to this day paddy suspects it was harrison’s fault, it always seemed to be these days.

nikki sat next to her daughter waiting for her to stop her screaming. when amelia's head popped out from inside the pillow, she smiled at her mom. nikki knew her, she knew it wasn't a genuine smile, something was upsetting her.

"what's wrong?" nikki questioned her daughter. amelia smiled, "i’m fine mum."

"no, you aren't. talk to me, is this about harrison?"

amelia groaned, "did everyone know about that?"

nikki nodded, "we did honey. now what's wrong?"

"am i unlovable? is there something about me that people don't love?"

"what?" nikki questioned, "no, you aren't. you're the most loveable person i know, and i'm not just saying that because i'm your mother. what makes you think that?"

"i asked oscar out on a date. he only said oh. i thought he liked me, tom said he did."

nikki pulled her daughter in for a hug, the girl placing her head on her mum's chest listening to her heartbeat, "i'm sure you caught him off-guard. let him get back to you, don't assume the worst."

amelia opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock at the door. she exchanged looks with her mum before standing up and going towards the front door. she gasped in surprise when she noticed who was at her front door.

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES EARLIER

i need a favor

what happened to hello tom? how are you tom? how's your day going tom?

hi tom, how's your day? how are you? i need a favor.

i'm great oscar, thanks for asking. what favor do you need?

i need your address

excuse me?

well amelia's address

can i ask why?

i fucked up. amelia asked me out on a date and all i said oh. i have to fix this.

and you plan on fixing this how?

by taking her out on a date? and apologizing profusely for fucking up.

at least you're apologizing. i'm still waiting for harrison to apologize to amelia.

don't fuck this up piastri and my sister is staying with my parents right now. she didn't want go home to her empty apartment yet.

i won't, now what's her favorite flower?

tulips, she loves tulips

take care of her oscar

i promise

NOW

amelia gasped in surprise at who was at her front door. oscar smiled at her, holding a bouquet of tulips in his hand. he looked a bit relieved that she had been the one to answer the door. oscar has silently prayed her parents or brother hadn’t been the one to open the door, that would’ve been awkward.

"hi," he greeted, "i was busy so i didn't answer your text. does the offer still stand?"

"of course," she whispered. oscar held the flowers out to her, "these are for you."

amelia grabbed them, "tulips are my favorite, who told you?"

"a little spider," oscar joked. amelia laughed, and oscar felt his heart skip a beat, "so about that date?"

"now?" amelia questioned, "i'm not dressed properly."

oscar took in her appearance, she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. a simple outfit and yet she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, "i think you look beautiful."

amelia blushed, "i have to go put these in water," she told him. oscar nodded, "i'll wait here."

paddy appeared behind his sister, "i'll do it. go. get out of the house for once."

amelia jumped, "when did you get here?"

"i saw a cool car in our driveway, i had to know who it was," paddy explained, "hi oscar. what kind of car is that?”

"hello," oscar greeted, “it’s a mclaren.”

"of course it is,” paddy joked, “i want her back home before midnight," paddy threatened, switching his demeanor from the kind boy he had been moments ago.

"paddy!" amelia scolded. paddy and oscar laughed, "this isn't funny."

"it kind of is," oscar said, "she'll be back before midnight mr. holland."

paddy sweetly smiled, "she comes back in tears or anything less than happy and we will hunt you down. understood?"

"yes sir."

"good," paddy said, handing her a jacket and pushing his sister out of their home, "have fun but not too much fun!"

"paddy!"

the boy giggled maniacally before oscar held a hand out for amelia to take. she took his hand, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach at the cause of that simple action. paddy closed the front door as the two began walking towards his car. he shared a knowing look with his mother and he made his back to his room, she fondly rolled her eyes at her youngest.

amelia quickly realized oscar piastri was nothing if not a gentleman. he had opened the car door for her, shutting it behind her before rounding the car and sitting in the driver's seat. he gave her a bright smile before leaving her family’s driveway. the two talked for what felt like hours but was only a few minutes as oscar parked his car in front of a coffee shop. amelia gasped, it was her favorite shop in her hometown, she turned to look at oscar and he just gave her a bright smile.

"you're brother helped out more than i would like to admit," oscar softly said, "but this was the best i could do on such a short notice, you kinda caught me off guard."

amelia smiled at him, before leaning over the console of his car and hugging him, "it was better than my idea."

oscar pulled away from her, ignoring the closeness of their faces, "what was your idea?"

"attempt to cook lunch for us, fail, and order food," she joked.

oscar laughed at her joke and amelia smiled again, at least someone in her life liked her jokes. her brothers didn't understand her jokes half the time, except for paddy, he always got them. her parents didn't understand them at all and her friends always told her not to underestimate her skills. the truth was amelia was a shite cook, there was no denying that, she was a great baker but cooking was a no go.

oscar gave her a final look before getting out of the car, rushed to her side and opened her door, holding a hand out to her, "shall we?"

amelia laughed, "we shall," she said as she intertwined their hands, oscar gave her another smile before leading her inside the coffee shop.

ameliaholland 'in a world of boys, he's a gentleman'

view all comments

landonorris AMELIA? WHAT IS THIS?

↳ ameliaholland it's an instagram post lando. duh.

↳ landonorris I FUCKING KNOW THAT! WHO IS THAT??

↳ ameliaholland that's a secret i'll never tell.

samholland1996 AMELIA? WHAT THE HELL?

↳ ameliaholland isn't it such a cute post?

↳ samholland1996 NO! WHO IS THAT??

↳ ameliaholland please refer to my earlier comment.

harryholland64 AMELIA GRACE HOLLAND!!!

↳ ameliaholland yes??

↳ harryholland64 ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE!!

↳ ameliaholland can't i'm on a date 🤭

username AMELIA GRACE HOLLAND SOFT LAUNCHING WAS NOT ON MY 2023 BINGO CARD!

oscarpiastri oh?

↳ ameliaholland oh?

↳ username WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???? WHAT DOES PASTRY BOY KNOW??

hazosterfield oh.

↳ username the difference between their comments is hilarious to me

username where are the overbearing and overprotective comments from paddy and tom?

↳ username those two probably knew.

danielricciardo AMELIA?? HUH?

↳ ameliaholland cute post right?

↳ danielricciardo i've joined the list of your brothers, i don't know who he is but i'll break his face if he hurts you like you-know-who

zendaya i'm sorry? why wasn't i told about this??

↳ ameliaholland i'm sorry z! it just happened! i'll text you the details later!

↳ zendaya i'm holding you accountable to that!

oscarpiastri posted a new story

seen by logansargeant, landonorris, ameliaholland and others

¡leclerc-s speaks! they're my babies who just had their first date. they are not dating, not yet. the hard launch is when they start officially dating, i'm working up to that. i also clearly don't know how time works so ignore that plot hole, i'll probably fix that later.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the blue series #formula 1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x female oc #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au

[m3talmunson]

Steve Harrington except his mom comes from old money, his father new. So while Steve's mom took his father's last name (reluctantly. She was doing her best to promise that her son would have a good life ahead of him), she got to choose Steve's first, which just happens not to be Steve.

His name is actually Esteban Eberardo Ortiz Harrington, because by God, Maria Harrington would never let her son have an English name since she had to give up her own to promise her son a decent life.

Somewhere along the way she got lost in it all. She chased Mr. Harrington around to make sure he wasn't sleeping with whatever floozie secretary he had at the moment, and in doing so she forgot to be a mother - as much as somebody can just forget that duty.

So, one day Esteban got dropped off at his grandpa's house and became Steve. Then one day Steve's grandfather died and Steve didn't even see his father at the funeral. His father, the dead man's son, sent Maria with flowers to the funeral. Flowers she didn't have a destination for. So, the moment it was over she dragged Steve and the flowers back to the dust-covered Harrington home. She makes some dinner and has a nice night with her son, but as they curl up on the couch and try to settle for the night, she brings him up.

"Mijo, your father. I have to go back to him tomorrow. I have a plane ride in the morning. I have to go sweetheart." She blinks back the tears in her eyes as she delivers the news.

"It's ok mama! I'm 10 now, double digits." He holds out both of his hands, all of his fingers splayed out. "I can take care of things here." He put on his best brave face, something Grandpa Harrington taught him.

"Grandma is going to visit you as much as she can, but she doesn't live near here. You'll be on your own a lot, my sweet sweet boy." She let the tears run at this point, ignoring the musical she had put on the TV to occupy their thoughts.

"Don't cry mama," He curled up into her side. "Wait, Grandma? But she's been gone for longer than Grandpa?"

"No, no, my mama. She'll be up here every so often for you. My brave boy." She kissed the top of Steve's head, peppered a few more against Steve's complaints of tickling.

"Come on mama, Dolly's singing!" He said, and drew his attention back to the TV like it was nothing. They fell asleep on the couch that night. Mr. Harrington never would have approved, but maybe he just didn't need to know.

And that began the life of Steve being alone. At least, most of the time. His grandma did come up every so often. She taught him how to cook, clean, where the stools were, and which ones were tall enough for him to reach the cookie jar. The same cookie jar that stayed in place just incase his parents did come home and happen to give half a shit about it.

When she couldn't be there, over the phone, she taught her little Esteban Spanish. His father never allowed it in the house, but the moment she insisted she be called Abuelita and not Grandma, she piqued Esteban's interest.

He was interested until he got made fun of for the accent. He continued to learn it, but insisted that he be called Steve, the same way she insisted he call her something else. That set the record straight for him.

During high school, she got too frail for him to visit. The Harrington's put money in the bank for Steve, so he began to visit her. He'd fly down to where she was staying, drive once he could. Steve got his license the very first day he could, just to visit her. He planned her funeral when the day came, just a month before Will Byers went missing. That kept him in contact with quite a few of his cousins that way, checked in on everyone and made the rounds while he tried to remain a normal teenager, have a normal girlfriend, live as King Steve, or Steve "The Hair" Harrington. Anything that kept his life nice and neatly in place.

Then, a stupid nail bat was his lifeline. Screw normal, he couldn't trust anyone or anything anymore. Two years later, he got tortured by Russians and then, maybe he could trust someone.

Somewhere between his fall from grace and saving the world for good, he grew to trust a lot of people. Grew to have people at his house all the time, filling that god awful empty house.

He had Eddie over one night when he got a call from his cousin Mariana, she had just finished her freshman year of college in the US, so her English was getting pretty good, but she greeted him in Spanish so he can only return the favor. Steve guessed it was only a matter of time until Eddie and the others found out about him anyways.

So, he responded to Mariana. He had an entire conversation with her, back to the couch that Eddie was sat on. Last he knew Eddie was flipping through movies, but all the noises stopped. At least Steve could assume that maybe he just picked a movie, and maybe get hurt or yelled at or something after the call. He just had to get through this conversation with Mariana.

He heard the crash of tapes falling and had to end it.

"Sorry Mari, I've got to go." He said abruptly in English, and tried his hardest not to slam the phone back into the receiver.

When he turned around, he didn't expect what he saw. Sure, Eddie's jaw was basically on the floor, but he didn't seem angry, not like Steve had expected.

"You- you speak Spanish, Stevie?" Eddie had almost a shocked rasp to his voice, clutching onto the tape in his hand, the one that managed to not fall.

"Yeah, have for about 8 or 9 years now."

"You, Steve Harrington, are fluent in Spanish?"

"Esteban Eberardo Ortiz Harrington, actually. And yeah, my mom is Mexican."

"Est- Esteban???" Eddie laughed out. "Good God Stevie-"

"I know, I know, I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hide it, I just- it's hard walking around Hawkins with a Spanish accent, it's just so-" He interrupted Eddie.

"Steve, Stevie, no." It was Eddie's turn to interrupt. "I'm not mad at you sweetheart. Definitely not mad." Eddie hinted at something else.

"You're not mad? What- I-" Steve raised his eyebrow. "What's that look about then?"

Eddie had been out to Steve for a while, and vice-versa. They hadn't exactly not been flirting, so Eddie didn't feel too crazy saying this next part.

"If I'm being so honest, Stevie," Eddie stepped closer into Steve's personal space, "I wouldn't say completely platonic feelings."

"Oh, that's what does it for you, Munson? Really?" Steve teased. Back with the bravado charm.

"I dunno... want to say some more?"

And, of course, the moment he hears it again -the accent Steve's voice works itself into- he's basically frothing at the mouth. He drops the tape he was holding and swings his arms around Steve's neck, only a little awkward considering the lack of height difference.

"I guess it is, Esteban."

"You don't even know what I said!" Steve pretended to act shocked, or pissed or something, but he really didn't care.

"Tell me later," Eddie cut Steve off with a swift kiss, and maybe Steve would settle for later.

Maybe he'd have a lifetime to tell Eddie that all he said was "I really want to kiss you." He had his wish fulfilled anyway.

#guys i did so much research on the meanings of hispanic names for this bc i needed his names to have meaning. it was so important to me #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steddie blurb #steddie drabble #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #steve harringtons parents #steve harringtons mom #latino steve harrington #bc i said so #pls excuse any typos i am 👍🏻 stupid #theo if u see this i will sob

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 5 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

Masterlist.

Warning: angst, mention of selfharm, arguing.

Summary: After a challenging party and a disagreement with her mother, Y/N finds herself alone, confronted by her darkest thoughts. She hits rock bottom, but something prevents her from taking irreversible actions.

Note: This part will address sensitive subjects such as depression and self-harm. If you're not comfortable with these topics, please do not read. I want to emphasize that my intention is not to romanticize distress or depression. If you're struggling and need help, there are people around you. My DMs are open for anyone who feels the need to talk. You are not alone. 🫶🏻

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

How could I be so stupid, even though my parents warned me about boys like Chris?

Liars, manipulators who can't control their desires and needs.

And I, like the naive and innocent little virgin I was, fell for it.

I fell for it, and I believed it for two years, believed it to the point of tearing my fucking heart out of my chest.

I can't believe I could be so damn foolish.

Is this what being blinded by love is like? Is this what it's supposed to mean?

Is that why they keep lecturing us teenagers that we don't know what real love is?

If he lied to me that night, then it means he lied to me every other night.

If he truly loved me as he claimed, he would never have dared to do such a thing to me.

How could he look me in the eyes and tell me all those bullshit while he was already dating another girl?

I thought he was honest and sincere; he had the same look as the first time he said 'I love you,' and now it all seemed like a fucking lie.

I knew that sleeping with him that night wasn't supposed to mean anything, and since we were supposed to remain friends, it's not the fact that he's with another girl that hurts me.

It's the fact that he lied to me, making me believe I was the only one in his heart.

I was warned about him; Julia told me to be careful, and even my father told me it was better if I went to the other end of the country to cut contact with him.

But I didn't want to believe all that because I was charmed by a few kisses and conversations that I thought were meaningful until now.

I wish it were just a lie, but that night, just before leaving Julia's party, I saw Tess and Chris kissing in the middle of the crowd, and I felt like I was going to die of heartbreak.

He was kissing her right here in front of everyone, which means he didn't even bother hiding it from me anymore.

Was it a way of getting back at me for what i did ?

Why did he make me believe he didn't hold a grudge against me? Why did he play with my fucking heart like that?

I was so ashamed that I didn't even bother explaining the situation to Julia; I went home and locked myself in my room.

Waking up this morning, I saw a ton of missed messages and calls from Julia. Shit, I didn't think to tell her I was leaving; she must have been worried...

In addition to feeling like shit because of Chris, I naturally had to wake up with a hangover.

I'm pathetic, this whole story is ridiculous.

"You came home very late last night; I thought you'd be back today," my mother said, arms crossed, upon seeing me enter the kitchen.

Great, now I'll have to face her, and judging by the expression on her face, I suspect our conversation won't be pleasant. That's just what was missing!

"I didn't feel very well last night; I preferred to come home," I told her, opening the kitchen cupboard to take a mug.

"Did you drink?" she asked, exhaling.

"Mom, I told you it was a party for my return, and-" I barely had time to finish justifying myself; she had already resumed speaking.

"I thought you had changed, that you had improved, but I see it's worse. How do you think your father will react to this, y/n?" she said, distressed.

I sighed before she could speak again. "Seriously, y/n, do you think it's an appropriate way for a young woman like you to behave? Have you thought about what people will think of us seeing you like this?"

"Damn, don't you ever get tired of bringing everything back to you?" I snapped, and she jumped at the sound of my raised voice.

"My whole fucking life, I played the role you wanted me to play, and I never complained!" I said, furious.

"You sent me to the other end of the country without even giving me a choice, forcing me to rebuild my life and leave the people I love!"

"Do you have any idea how challenging it is to be your daughter, Mom? Do you know what it's like to have this kind of education when you grow up around normal parents and teenagers?"

"Yes, I made some mistakes, and you never-" I paused, letting out a fake laugh. "Never failed to remind me!"

"But all the good things I've done, all the good grades, all the people I've helped, everything I've done to please you and help you, you've never commented on that," I said, disgusted.

"You never congratulated me; you never said you were proud of me. And no matter how much effort I put into it, I was never enough for you or Dad!"

"I hid behind this role of the perfect little girl. I hid all my pain and kept my head high, hoping that one day you would be proud. But the truth is, you'll never be because you don't love me. You love the girl I pretend to be, but you hate the girl I am!" I said before leaving the kitchen in tears to lock myself in my room again.

This day couldn't get any more horrible than it already was.

My mother tried knocking on my door, but I stayed there in my bed.

I didn't want to face her anymore; I didn't want to talk to her. It was already hard enough.

Why was my life so chaotic? Why don't I deserve happiness?

Why do things always have to get worse?

What did I do wrong to deserve this?

I didn't even know who I was and what I was supposed to be.

At that moment, I would have given anything to go back to the other end of the country, far from my parents.

But I knew that there, I would have given anything to come back to Boston, close to those I love.

I was lost and alone.

I had no one to share my pain with and no one to hug.

It turns out the only person I might have wanted to embrace was just a liar and an opportunist.

I wrapped myself in my blanket, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights.

I spent the day like that without moving a muscle.

Night came, bringing darkness with it.

Activity on the street outside my house diminished, giving way to silence.

My mother had given up and stopped knocking on my door.

My tears flowed and rested on my face until they turned cold.

I didn't know how long I had stayed like that, but I knew it was a long time.

I kept thinking about all the things I might have done wrong in my life.

I searched for the reason why everything was going so wrong.

Was it because I wasn't grateful enough to have a roof over my head?

Was it because I had been a spoiled child?

Was it because I didn't make enough effort?

Was it because I wasn't a good enough friend? Or a good enough daughter?

Was it because I am a bad person?

Am I a bad person?

Is it legitimate for me to feel this bad?

Am I not exaggerating?

After all, there are worse things in life, right?

People are dying out there, losing their loved ones, and I'm crying because a boy lied to me?

I'm crying because I'm just an unloved child?

A child who only wants to be recognized and appreciated.

What did I do wrong, damn it?

The more my thoughts chained together, the harder it became to breathe.

I had a weight in my chest, and I could feel it deep inside me.

I had cried so much that my sinuses hurt, and my eyes were swollen.

It was hard, so hard. What was I supposed to do?

How was I going to be able to continue living with this weight on my chest?

Dark and obscure thoughts took over my mind.

Thoughts that I was ashamed of, thoughts so awful that I couldn't bring myself to recount them to you.

I wanted to do something bad; I got up and grabbed the blade from my pencil sharpener on my desk.

And before I could reach my bed again, I was interrupted by my window opening.

I turned around in shock, falling face to face with Chris. Damn it, why did he always have to do that?

The blade slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor at that moment.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly bending down to retrieve it.

"What's this?" Chris asked, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at my closed hand.

"Chris, get out of my room right now," I told him sharply.

He scrutinized my face for a moment before speaking again. "Were you crying? Y/n, what's wrong? What are you hiding in your hand?" he asked, concerned.

"It's none of your fucking business. Just leave; I don't want you here!" I said, feeling anger rise again.

"Wow, I haven't done anything. Why are you talking to me like this? Seriously, I'm getting worried. What's going on?" he asked, confused, approaching me.

On reflex, I put the hand holding the blade behind my back when he reached my level, only making him more worried.

"Chris, I'm warning you; I'll call my parents if you don't leave my room now!" I panicked before he grabbed my arm.

"What are you hiding, Y/n? Open your hand!" he said, getting angrier and trying to open my hand.

"Chris, stop – let go of me, stop!" I said, succumbing and crying when he started overpowering me.

I tried to struggle, but he had much more strength than me. It didn't take him long to open my hand and find the blade.

His expression changed; he furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at me.

"What were you doing when I came into your room?" he asked, well aware of what my answer would be.

Tears started flowing again, and this time, I was filled with shame. I couldn't even bring myself to speak, so I just stood there, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Y/n," he said in a fragile voice.

"Why?" he asked, his gaze sad.

"Chris, I want you to leave," I told him amid my sobs.

"No, not until you explain why," he said, shaking his head.

I lifted my head before taking a deep breath to try and stop my tears.

"And why don't you explain your little story with Tess then!" I told him, changing the subject.

"Wait, are you serious, y/n? Don't change the subject," he said, completely confused.

"Chris, what I was about to do is none of your business anymore, not since the moment you lied to my face, making me believe I was special to you," I said, pushing him away.

"But what are you talking about, y/n? I never lied to you," he said, shaking his head.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were with her!" I raised my voice.

"What?" he said, even more confused.

"Chris, I want you to leave; I don't want to deal with this shit right now," I said, turning my back to him.

"Y/n, I'm not fucking dating her. Where did you get that idea?" he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, trying to turn me around.

"Why do you keep lying, Chris? She came to ask me to keep my distance from you, emphasizing that you two are together!" I told him, turning around and brushing his hand off my shoulder.

"Do you really believe that nonsense?" he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I saw you kissing her," I said, clenching my jaw and trying to hold back my tears.

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, taking a step back.

I sighed. "Damn it, Chris, you're such a jerk," I said, shaking my head.

"Y/n, it's not like that. It's really not what you think," he began to try and justify himself before I cut him off again.

"It's not what I think?" I said, raising my voice and eyebrows.

"Oh, so your tongue wasn't in her mouth?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Y/n, I know it can be misleading, but..." he began to try and explain before I cut him off again with a laugh.

"Misleading?! Chris, seriously?" I said, biting my lip.

"Please, let me explain, y/n," he said, grabbing my hands, but I didn't let him. I pulled back.

"I don't need you to explain, Chris; it's very fucking clear," I said, nodding my head.

"Y/n, please," he said desperately.

"Get out, Chris," I told him sharply.

He looked at me with furrowed eyebrows, not moving.

"For God's sake, just get the fuck out; I want you to leave!" I screamed, pushing him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone when you were about to hurt yourself, y/n. You can be as mad at me as you want, but I won't leave this room until I know you're safe," he said, standing his ground.

"Oh, now you're worried about me?!" I said, laughing.

"You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. I haven't done anything wrong, y/n," he said, looking me in the eyes.

"You'd rather believe some girl you don't even know over me. You won't even give me a chance to explain!" he said, waving his hands.

"Because I don't want to listen to another one of your lies, Chris. I'm too tired for that!" I told him, breaking into tears.

"But I'm not lying to you, y/n. Trust me!" he said, advancing towards me.

"I can't. I can't. I'm not strong enough for that. I don't want to take the risk of sinking even lower!" I confessed.

"Is it because of me that you were going to do that?" he said, pointing to the blade that now rested on my bedside table.

I looked at him, eyes soaked and throat tightened.

"Oh god," he whispered, running his hand over his face.

"I'm so sorry, y/n, if I made you believe I wasn't sincere, but all this is just a mistake. I'm not dating Tess," he said, taking my hands.

"I slept with her for a long time, okay, I won't lie to you. I was sleeping with her before we got together, and when you left, I turned to her right away," he began to explain, and I just listened.

"I was a jerk to her. I made her believe it could work between us to keep her under my control, even though I knew we would never be together," he said, and I could hear the disgust in his voice.

"When I got myself together, I stopped everything with her and tried to apologize, but she kept resenting me. She knew what you meant to me; that's why she didn't waste a second to come and tell you those lies," he said, and I sank down, sitting on my bed.

"Y/n, I'm not proud of what I did. She didn't deserve that, and it's not an excuse, but when you left, I was in such a bad place that I hurt anyone who came near me," he said, sitting next to me.

"I haven't lied to you once," he said, placing his hand on mine.

"I'm sorry, y/n, believe me, I really am. I didn't want you to end up like this. I should have told you that night, but I was too ashamed," he said, looking into my eyes.

"And why did you kiss her then?" I asked, wiping my tears.

"Because she threw herself at me; I was completely wasted. By the time I understood what was happening and detached her from my lips, there might have been enough time for you to see us. She probably waited until you were around to do it," he told me.

I looked at him without answering; I was hesitant. I didn't know if I should trust him or not.

"Y/n, I know it sounds far-fetched, but I swear it's true. You can ask anyone; I never dated her," he said, trying to be as convincing and reassuring as possible.

"Chris," I said, lowering my head, "I don't know if I'm supposed to believe you. I don't know if I should trust you or not."

"It's the truth, y/n, I swear. You can ask anyone. I would never do anything to hurt you," he said, squeezing my hand.

"I need time; I don't know what to think. I don't know if I should believe you or not,"

"I'll give you all the time you need," he said, nodding.

"You should rest; it's late, and you really look tired," he said, getting up.

"I'll take this with me," he said, picking up the blade from my bedside table before heading to my window.

"Chris!" I said before he left my room, and he turned around.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I don't want to be alone," I said, letting a tear fall, "Can you stay with me until I fall asleep, please?"

He took a deep breath, "Y-yeah, of course," he said, moving closer to me.

He grabbed the chair from my desk and placed it next to my bed before sitting down.

I slipped under the sheets of my bed, whispering to him, "Thank you, Chris."

"Don't thank me; it's the least I can do for you," he said with a weak smile.

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before I spoke again.

"It wasn't just because of you, you know?" I said in a weak voice.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, leaning towards me.

"I had a fight with my mom," I told him, and he nodded, signaling me to continue.

"And for the first time, I told her what I really had on my mind," I continued, sitting up against my headboard.

"I said things to her that I had never had the courage to say before, and when I went back to my room, everything hit me," I said, unable to control my voice, which occasionally broke.

"I found myself alone with my thoughts, and I started to wonder why all this was happening to me," I continued, waving my hands.

"I got lost in my own head; grief took over, and I felt this horrible weight on my chest," I said, letting a tear fall and placing my hand on my chest.

"It hurt, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do. My thoughts were screaming awful things at me, and I struggled to breathe; I felt suffocated," I said, shaking my head, and more tears began to stream down my cheeks.

"And for a brief moment, I thought that by inflicting physical pain on myself, it would get rid of all these bad thoughts," I said before biting my lip.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to distract my mind. I didn't want to hurt myself, but it felt like the only solution," I said, trying to wipe away my tears.

"And now, looking back, I realize how stupid and awful it was. I don't know what came over me; it was like it was stronger than me," I added, hitting my mattress with my arm.

"I just wanted it to stop; I wanted to feel better," I said, shaking my head, and he took me into his arms.

I was so carried away by my emotions that I didn't even notice he was also crying.

"It's over now, y/n; I'm here, okay?" he said, holding me tightly.

"I'll chase away all those bad thoughts of your head for you if you want," he continued to say.

"It's going to be okay, I promise you," he said, gently stroking my head.

"I can't figure out what the hell is wrong with me," I told him, crying against his chest.

"I played a role for so long that I don't even know who I'm supposed to be," I said, clinging to his shirt.

"You're allowed to be lost; we all go through that. You'll eventually figure out who you really are; you just need to give yourself time," he reassured me.

"I know who you are, and I assure you that the person you are doesn't deserve to inflict so much pain on themselves," he continued to say.

"I just wanted to please them," I said, crying.

"Your parents?" he asked, and I nodded.

"If your parents don't love you for who you are, then they're really assholes. You deserve better than that," he said. I left his arms, wiping my tears.

"You're an amazing person, y/n, and it breaks my heart to hear you say that because you shouldn't have to beg for your parents' love, and it's just not fair," he said, caressing my cheek.

"In their place, I'd give you all the love in the world; in their place, I'd constantly tell you how proud I am of you because that's what you deserve," he said, looking into my eyes, and I couldn't help but cry.

"Thank you, Chris," I said, lowering my head.

"I'm sorry that life throws so much crap at you. If I could take away all the pain from your heart, believe me, I would," he said.

"But right now, what you need is to rest," he added.

"And I won't leave your room until you fall asleep, I promise. I'm here; you're not alone. I'm watching over you," he said, yawning.

"You're tired too," I said, smiling slightly.

"Yes, but I can wait," he said, returning a smile.

"You can sleep with me if you want," I told him.

"I don't know; won't your parents freak out?" he said, furrowing his brow.

"Not if you leave before they wake up tomorrow," I said, shrugging.

"Please, let me do this at least for you; you need to rest as much as I do," I added.

"Okay, um, do you want us to sleep in the same bed?" he asked timidly.

"You can sleep on the floor if you want, but it wouldn't be the first time you and I share a bed," I said, scratching my neck.

"Yeah, but the other times we shared a bed, y/n, it wasn't for sleeping," he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

"Do you think we wouldn't be able to share a bed without getting intimate?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"No, that's not what I meant. I—," he said, embarrassed, before I cut him off.

"It's okay; I'm joking. Stop being silly; come here," I said, lifting the blanket to signal him to lie down next to me, which he eventually did.

Silence filled the room, and it was a bit awkward. Chris kept tossing and turning, so I eventually spoke up, "Are you going to stop fidgeting around anytime soon?" I chuckled.

"Sorry, it's just really warm," he said, chuckling as well.

"Well, you can take off your sweater," I replied.

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing anything underneath," he said, embarrassed.

"Oh," I responded, "um, it doesn't bother me; you can take it off if you're more comfortable that way," I said, trying to play it cool.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking into my eyes.

"Yeah, and besides, it's nothing new. I've seen you like this before," I said, feeling awkward, and he couldn't help but laugh as he took off his sweater.

"Why are you laughing ?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing; I just find this situation funny," he said, stopping his laughter.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, giving him a punch on the shoulder, and we both burst into laughter.

"I never told you, but I really love your laugh, you know?" he said without thinking, making me blush.

"Ah yeah?" I responded, embarrassed, but this time not for the same reason.

"Yeah, I find it soothing," he said, smiling.

Another silence fell. We were face to face, looking at each other without touching, as if there was a vast space between us, almost like we were afraid to make contact.

"I love your eyes," I said without really knowing where I was going with it.

"Why?" he whispered.

"When I look into them, I feel like I'm the only person on Earth," I replied, letting my heart speak.

"It's because you are the only person who truly exists in my eyes," he replied shyly.

Another silence.

"I love your lips," he said.

"I love your nose," I replied.

"I love your hips," he continued, and I could feel the tension building.

"I love your arms," I responded, quickening my breath.

"I love your hands," he replied, placing his hand on mine.

"I love your back," I said, gradually moving closer to him.

"Y/n..." he whispered, his lips just a few millimeters from mine.

"Chris," I responded, my eyes fixed on his lips.

"I love you entirely," he said in an almost inaudible voice before closing the distance between our lips.

I grabbed his collar, pulling him closer without parting our lips. Our kiss deepened, our breaths mingling, and the room's temperature became unbearable.

"Y/n, we can't," he said, separating our lips, my right hand still on his cheek.

"I know," I whispered.

He laid back next to me.

"I love you entirely too," I said, turning my head toward him, tears in my eyes.

Silence, again.

"Maybe in another universe, we got to have our story," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"I wish we were in another universe," I responded, gazing at the ceiling as well.

"Do you think in the one we are, we'll never get to have our story?" I asked him, and he turned his head to look at me.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "All I know is that in this universe, the girl I love leaves at the end of the vacation," he added.

"I wish things were different," I said.

"I know, me too," he replied.

"Can I fall asleep in your arms?" I asked, letting a tear fall.

He didn't respond, just opened his arms for me to snuggle against his chest, which I did.

"Good night, my angel," he whispered.

"Good night, my love," I replied.

I couldn't help but shed a few tears before closing my eyes and finally managing to find sleep.

Taglist: @chrisloyalgf @christopherscamopants @blahbel668 @thematthewlover @mattsturnioloarchive @carolinalikesthings @bernardsgf @whicked-hazlatwhore @hearts4chris @mattybsbitch @sara2233445

#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo edit #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #teach me

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling the cops (twice, kind of) on someone in a car who swerved at me on the side of the road?

(Disclaimer: I hate cops. But I felt extremely threatened and wasn't going to let this go without something happening.)

I am a high school student and have not yet gotten my license, and therefore cannot drive alone. To get to school I ride an electric scooter, it looks a bit stupid as a high schooler but it is the only way possible for me to get to school on time. (I have a class before school in the morning, and both parents have work.) I've been doing this for over three years and have had no problems until recently.

Two or three weeks ago, I was on my way home from school. I noticed a car approaching from behind, and moved to the very edge of the road as I would normally. I was literally in the gutter on the side of the road, nowhere near where cars would be. This car, however, then sped up rapidly and swerved within 2-3 feet of hitting me. Probably not trying to actually hit me, but clearly trying to scare me or something of the sort. The person in the passenger seat was screaming the whole time.

The car sped off (I should mention that the speed limit on this road is 25 mph, and the car was going at least 50-60 mph) and after standing in shock for a moment I followed them home since they apparently lived in my neighborhood. I caught two teenage boys leaving the car, and asked if they had been in that car and had swerved at me on the road. They denied everything and went inside the house.

I went home and after a short while, came back with my father to back me up. Asshole move from me, I know, but he insisted on going in case the boys decided to get violent. I made him wait a short distance back, then rang the doorbell. Waited for a while, no answer. They were clearly still inside; the car was still parked on the road nearby and I hadn't been gone for long.

When they didn't answer, I then went home and called the police. I gave them the license plate number and the guy's address, and they said there had been reports of him speeding and being reckless before. The cops went to the house and yelled at them, and I thought it was over then. I most certainly did not want to press the issue any further, the shock and adrenaline was wearing off at this point and I just wanted to be done.

But several days later, I was sent screenshots of the driver of that car spreading hate about me on Snapchat for getting him in trouble. Now this is kind of difficult to explain, but I am unfortunately somewhat well known for riding an electric scooter to school. But up until this point, people just were aware of my existence. After the Snapchat posts and messages about me were spread, all of that turned into pure hate. Every time I was seen with that stupid scooter, people would scream that they wished I would fall and stuff like that. None of this had happened before, and I was (and am) miserable and scared. I don't feel safe anywhere around school because this is still ongoing.

I also tried to contact him via Instagram messages, to which he did not respond. That was three times that I attempted to contact him: first by following him as he was getting out of the car, second by ringing the doorbell, and third by messaging him.

Two days ago, I got my mom to pull me out of school early because I was feeling like crap after some particularly bad harassment in the morning. In the office as I was asking to sign out, I started crying in front of the school police officer, and she asked for the full story. I told her about the online posts and the catcalling and harassment I dealt with every day, and she took it very seriously. I didn't want her to do anything really, but she did anyway (I'm not upset about this honestly, it was probably a good thing). She said that the patrol officers usually didn't do much about stuff like this, but she could and would do a lot more.

She pulled the guy out of his class after I had left to go home, and in her words "put the fear of God in that kid"; telling him he should have lost his license and that since he was 18 he could face real consequences and go to jail for stuff like this. He has been told that he has to stay at least three feet away from me at all times.

Since then, he hasn't said anything to me in person, and hasn't posted anything publicly online. I still don't feel safe at school or anywhere in the area, but I've been taking an alternate route to try to avoid being seen and yelled at as much.

Am I the asshole? I honestly think we both might be, but I do feel somewhat justified by the fact that he at least got some sort of consequence for threatening my life like that and causing that level of problem.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[romanoffsbish]

Excavate My Love

Originally titled “Oh Honey… You Should go to Therapy” 😗✌🏼| Hurt/Comfort | WC: 2,384

Warnings: Abusive Parents | Homophobia Referenced / Internal & External | Self-Harm (Punching) | Intense Feelings | Parental Issues / Heavy on Maternal | Nat’s Parentless | Self-Loathing |

Natasha felt a tension in the air as soon as she entered your apartment, it was her home away from home since you were in it; she essentially lived here anyways. It had been only two months as a couple, but you'd known (and loved) each other for years by now. The words might not have left your timid lips yet, but you were feeling every ounce of joy and pain imaginable. The sensation was odd, to feel the conflicting emotions at the same time while also feeling that pure, raw love.

You were trembling with the need to say it to her, but you were petrified and having a nervous breakdown.

——

Natasha saw you pounding a fist into the side of your head as you sobbed and screamed incoherently. The redhead took you down with gentle precision. Her body pressing your thrashing one into the mattress.

"Detka, what's wrong?" Natasha slammed your arms into the bed and pressed your head into the pillow with her own, then she began to hum a soft, raspy lullaby. The thrashing came to an end when you felt her tear trail down your cheek, and mix with your sweaty hair.

You blinked rapidly and your mind came back to you before it escaped again, but now she was out in the open. The deepest of your fears came tumbling out.

"She won't love you back," you mumbled, mimicking your priorly echoing thoughts. "Don't say it dumbass."

Natasha was mortified, had she really not been clear enough? Her heart never stopped aching when she was apart from you, a side effect of the muscle finally being at rest unlike when it races beside yours everyday.

It sadly wasn't anything she did, and the same was to be said for what she could've done. This was inevitable, you were like clay, soft, fragile; destined to crack.

Fate, or more so, your childhood had led you here.

Your mother drowned her liver in booze and offered you tobacco stained cheek kisses as you were ushered out of the house in ill fitting clothes, hair sopping wet in the dead of a New York Winter. The chill froze your childish face, skin stinging as the warmth of your tears began to defrost your chubby cheeks. It was fitting.

Unlike your parents, with each other or parenthood.

Your dad only came around from time to time to see (use) your mother. They'd made your little brother while you played outside, the streets empty of kids as the lights flickered on, but you weren't alone, you had your growing family of broken rocks to talk to. And the neighbors to eat from because your mother gave up the grocery money so your dad could enter the lottery.

At school you'd do stupid things, like eat food off the floor with a shoe print as a dare, because just like every time before he lost, and you paid the ultimate price.

It was a wonder how you even got this far in life. That the ability to love another wasn't missing, but in the pits of the fire you wished it was. It was all too much.

You only learned how to love from shitty television like Grey's Anatomy and corny romcoms. Oddly enough, the contradictions brought you a sense of peace. The hope was vaguely flickering inside of you, but the looming tragedy was always just a breath away. It was oddly comforting to see love at both ultimate extremes.

It softened the blow of your life. Watching Callie and Arizona is what made you realize you loved women. That and while everyone was drooling over the odd McMen, the resident Christina Yang, held your heart in the palm of her hands. Unapologetically herself, with a middle finger up to society, and everything that you found charming in a woman; in your Natasha.

Meredith reminded you too much of yourself, as you too took the worst parts of your parents to make up your personality. Until Natasha, you too found yourself drowning your liver most nights, following in your mother's footsteps, then after you were seeing blobs instead of people, your fathers as you took women home for fun. Breaking their hearts, but unlike him, the rubber was fastened to your waist with efficiency.

You were cold, and downright sadistic. You'd whisper lusty things into their ears, along with the sweet, building up their hopes for something more. Then you'd kick them out, in the dead of winter—your cousins taxi service made loads of money off of you.

You didn't care; love had only ever left you bruised.

That's why you sent the women anonymous apology flowers, because you obviously didn't care. You were as cold as the ice that encased your parent's hearts, or you at least tried to be. Truth be told though, beneath the well polished, stoic surface you were just a fragile little thing in search of a nurturing kind of love.

The love of a mother one would suppose, alas...

You hadn't seen or heard from her in over a decade. Except for when she tried to hustle you out of money the moment they saw you with Natasha online. Up until then they hadn't called you, it was sickening.

Your parents had kicked you out at sixteen when they caught you kissing Lily; they weren't homophobic. That you knew because your mom used to bone your ex-godmother and your father had special toys and modern women ran in the opposite direction of him (his decayed, crooked smile was genuinely off putting).

Your father tossed you out, but your mother slammed the door. After midnight, once your dad had gone to sleep she exited her house with a bag of your things. Flashes of a group home raced through your mind and you felt the tears sting your icy cheeks, a tobacco kiss laid to your skin to be followed by a deafening silence.

Her loss stung more. With him it was expected, but not with her because it wasn't always like this, but when she lost her mind that ability to love unconditionally followed. She didn't need him, yet she let him call the shots, choosing a twisted affair over the everlasting love of a child—her instincts barren. You don't exactly remember everything, some of the memories have been buried deep in your psyche, but the core ones never leave, they haunt you endlessly. You'll never forget the image of your little brother crying, face pressed to his window as he watched you leaving.

Your parents were the nightmare that hid behind the fable that is the American Dream. They were vile and you reckon he's the only reason your heart worked.

Your heart that beat for only a select few people. One of them being the woman restraining you to a bed.

"Y/N," Natasha said your name for the millionth time, "I need you to come back to me now moya lyubov'."

Your lip began to tremble and she could feel the shake of your skin with her forehead pressed to yours. "Oh honey," she'd coo'd, which really only set you back off as you felt entirely too undeserving of her love.

You knew you were deserving of some love though.

"I deserved better," you mumbled and her heart froze as she hadn't heard the phrase clearly. "W-what?" The redhead had been trying not to blame herself but now she wasn't so sure if she heard your words correctly.

She hadn't, and you forcefully pushed her back some to repeat your prior words. "And so do you Nat."

"Y/N," she said in a plea, "You're making no sense."

"I'm not good enough for you Natasha! I am hellish!"

Natasha scoffed, "You are plenty good!"

"No, I'm really not."

"Knock it off!" Natasha was pissed, but not at you. It all was making sense to her now and she couldn't cope with the appearing reality. "I'm damaged goods Natasha, how could you ever want me?" I-If my own parents didn't want me, then neither should you."

Natasha never had parents, so she didn't understand. But as she felt you trying to hit yourself (again), making her—the Black Widow, actually struggle she's not sure she really wanted to. Alexei and Melina, who gave her back to Dreykov seemed better to her now.

"Detka please," the woman pleaded, the croak in her voice bringing you to a sudden stop. In a split second the woman had rolled off of you, which nearly made you whine but your body followed hers. Natasha now sat with her back to the headboard with you between her legs, your head gently cradled to her chest while her other hand cautiously pressed into your back.

The redhead said nothing, partly because she wanted to give you space, but also because she didn't want to scare you off. You'd just voiced your wish to leave, and for her sake nonetheless. Silent tears streamed down her face as she prematurely mourned your love story.

Tragedy was more fitting. Natasha was conditioned not to feel and you went from batches of numb to these moments of total despair that you usually hid well. So well even that Natasha is only just seeing it, there were cracks in your resolve before, but never to this extent. Natasha was rightfully worried, she also understood.

The world was a cruel place, with unfair rules and devious people in charge. You were both outcasts in terms of societal standards, but you shouldn't be because one's past mistakes, or moments of despair shouldn't make up the entire person's story. They deserved better than to be held with such ignorance.

"I never had anything to call my own before you."

You jumped, startled by her voice that was full of fatigue and pain after an hour of eery silence. It had you sitting up, against her push, and facing her more directly. Breaking you even further, if that was even possible, as you saw her unmistakably bloodshot eyes.

"Natasha," you whimpered, hand traveling up to clean her face of tears, she smiled fondly as her lips pressed to your palm before she lifted her head to hold eye contact more fiercely. "What I deserve is you, Y/N."

"I-."

"I deserve to hold you in times like these, and to get the chance to show you how much I love you. Because I do detka, with all of me, and it's okay: our love is safe."

"No love is safe," you chuckled bitterly and she sighed, "Ours is Y/N, because we will work to make it such. I promise you that I will protect you from the worst."

"You can't promise that."

"I can," she cut you off, "I can and I will because the option of you leaving is not one I'll ever align with."

"I'm messed up Nat." The redhead nodded, lips lifting into a pained smile. "I know honey, but that's okay."

"Is it?" Natasha nodded again, and pulled your body even closer, your chests now touching. "For now, yes."

"What about the later?" You brokenly inquired.

"I would be there too, but I hope the later is better," she murmured against your cheek, lips softly kissing your wet skin. "I'll do anything to make sure you are okay detka. You are my main priority, which is why I plan to move in, officially, and take care of you."

"Nat—." Your rebuttal was cut off by a sweet kiss. "None of that detka, just tell me you love me too."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you wondered if she felt the rumble too. If she did, she took no offense as she smiled at you, it was uncharacteristically timid.

You saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes; Natasha needed to hear them just as much as you needed to shout 'em.

Which is why you blurted, "I love you so much it burns, like if I took my shirt off my skin might be torched."

Natasha chuckled, unintentionally, because she knew you'd mistake the affection for mockery. "I love you so much that it feels like I'm without a heart when away. My mission's efficiency rates are so high because of it."

A sigh of relief left her when you chuckled, it was also in relief, she knew that much as your body stopped squirming; you stayed in her lap and pouted instead.

She chuckled, "What is it now lyubov'?" Natasha knew by the glow of your eyes that she could be playful now. You knew she already knew what you wanted, but you leaned up and stole a kiss on principle of being a brat.

"I'm sorry."

"No," Natasha softly scolded you. "I'm sorry detka, for not seeing you were in so much pain and suffering with your feelings. I should have made you feel my love."

"I did feel you Natty, I-I just couldn't believe in it."

"Why not?"

"It's never been true before, every person who's ever made me feel loved was only ever placating me," you solemnly said, "I know they didn't intend to do it, in the beginning they felt something, but it was a selfish fulfillment sorta thing. I have always been the person people go to in search of unconditional love, because I will give it without question, they'd twist it out of me. But you weren't twisting, and it's all so confusing."

"That's not love," Natasha grimaced, "I'm not an expert here Y/N, in fact I'm a late bloomer with the entire feeling, but I know now that I'd never give this up."

"Most days I feel like giving up, my mind is a void and you deserve a partner that doesn't come with that."

"Please stop pushing that," Natasha sighed, exhaustion obvious as she ran her free hand down her face. "I'm not going anywhere, you deserve someone that stays."

You mulled over her words for a long minute, both of you holding your breath, and only ever releasing it as you nuzzled into her warmth and whispered, "Then I'm glad it's you, my fiercest protector, my love, my Natty."

"My precious love," Natasha followed, "My beautiful, strong, resilient as one can be, detka—my Y/N."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff hurt comfort #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

[flowerandblood]

Robbed and gifted (2/6)

[ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex and cheating, fluff ]

[description: (Anon Request) She and Aemond are faced with a situation, where they must form a fictitious marriage. They are complete strangers to each other, who cannot find themselves in a new reality. When his wife stands up for him at a family dinner, something changes between them. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond woke up feeling more guilty than ever. He cheated on his longtime partner. He wanted to justify himself with alcohol, but he knew that he wasn't drunk then. No matter how he looked at it, he wasn't seduced either.

He put his hand in between her thighs, he literally threw himself on her like an animal and even though he assured her that he would stop, he didn't.

The truth was he'd been frustrated ever since he'd seen her at the Registry Office. He hoped to see an empty, defiantly painted, stupid girl who only wanted his money and his family's company.

When he saw her he thought painfully, that she looked surprisingly normal. She was pretty, had a soft face and large eyes, with a pleasant figure. She looked pale and ashamed, just like him.

When she came to his apartment to ruin his life, he felt like he was going to lose his mind. He was a loner, his apartment was his sanctuary and cave, even Alys he brought there reluctantly, preferring to meet at her house.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a stranger entered his private space, took one of his rooms, making him no longer feel at home. The first nights he went to Alys because he couldn't stand it.

"What is she like?" Alys asked, looking at him with a slight, rakish smile, seeing his frustration as she took a swig from her glass. He rolled his eye, frustrated that he was bringing up the subject again.

"I don't know. We don't talk." He said coolly, toying with his glass in his hand. Alys giggled, running her long fingers along his arm.

"Should I be worried about her?" She asked softly, almost in a whisper, sensually. He swallowed harder at the sound of her voice, feeling the desire.

"Don't be silly." He murmured as slid his hand into her hair, pulling her firmly against him, pressing his lips against hers.

After a few days, however, he needed to work in peace, and being in Alys's apartment he couldn't concentrate. He went back to his apartment, resigned.

He agreed to all this only for his father. Because his father asked him for something for the first time in his life. Before, Aemond had felt like he might not exist to him.

Of course he talked to him, but just like to everyone else. He didn't understand when other parents said, that their children were special to them. He didn't know what that meant.

If he was special to anyone, it was Alys.

When he got up and saw her in the kitchen, he wanted to back out. He decided he couldn't be that oversensitive, and he wanted a cup of coffee anyway.

He walked over to her, pretending not to see her and the pile of sandwiches that she had prepared for them. He knew that she was already thinking something up in her head, and he didn't like it. However, it was the remark about her college that unnerved him.

As was his habit, he blurted out his words faster than he thought. He locked himself in his office, sat down in front of his desk, and ran his hand over his face.

He knew full well that he was taking it out on her. Even if she did it for money, no one forced him either - he could refuse.

He immediately felt remorse.

He even considered standing up and apologizing her for the outburst, pointing out that any warming of relations between them was not real for him.

However, she herself made his task easier by closing herself completely, disappearing from his line of sight. He felt like he was living alone again.

He tried to pretend to be content and indifferent, but he knew that he was treating her like an unwanted dog that he had locked in one of the rooms and pretended, that she wasn't there. He knew that she didn't deserve it, but he didn't do anything about it.

When his father invited them to dinner, he knew he couldn't refuse. He wanted to vomit at the thought that they both had to pretend, or worse, that something might come out. There was nothing he could do.

They went there together.

He didn't know what possessed him to put his hand on her thigh. He decided that since he hardly said anything to her or looked at her, he had to at least physically pretend that there was any closeness between them. He tried not to think about how warm and soft her skin felt under his fingers, how close his hand was to her panties.

For some reason she was wearing a dress without wearing a bra, which immediately caught his attention. She looked pretty and girlish, the complete opposite of his gloomy and mutilated appearance. He thought that in normal life she would never look at him, and the thought made his lips tighten.

When his father said out loud, in front of the whole family, that he wasn't dedicating himself to the company as much as he should have, he wanted to burst out laughing.

Something inside him snapped then, and he was on the verge of doing or saying something very, very bad. When his wife spoke suddenly with a certainty and directness that he had never seen before, he was completely stunned.

Alys, though so faithful and devoted to him, would never speak to his father that way, because she would lose her job.

She wouldn't risk her good position for him.

He told himself that he didn't blame her, that she was older than him and had a right to stability, not wanting to take a risk. For some reason he felt pain, that the only person who had publicly defended him from his father was a complete stranger. The thought broke him.

He thought about it all the way back to the apartment. He thought that maybe she was right. Maybe he demonized her too much, wanting to personalize her as the source of all his problems when, in fact, it had always been his father.

He decided that at least he would try to treat her more gently, like a colleague from work who rented a room with him.

That at least he owes her that much.

When she told him about her mother, how she'd pretended that she didn't exist, something snapped inside him once again that evening. He felt that he had to touch her.

That he had feel her.

He fucked her so greedily that he couldn't breathe and she moaned so sweetly, her body tightening around him so wonderfully, that he just came inside her. He forgot about Alys, about his father, about everything.

Then he realized what he had done and locked himself in his bedroom again. He got into bed and just lay there, staring at the ceiling. He wondered how he could do this to Alys.

He had never cheated on her before, never even thought about it. Although they often went to business banquets where there were plenty of pretty, rich girls, he was never tempted by them, feeling their vanity.

He couldn't get the smell of her hair out of his nose, her sweat, her sweet perfume that she had to use before leaving for dinner.

He couldn't forget how hot her thighs and insides felt as he slid inside her, how tight her fleshy walls pressed against him, how fervently she responded to his every thrust. He felt despairingly as his cock throbbed painfully hard in his pants.

He wanted to cry.

In the morning he heard her softly open the door and go into the kitchen. He heard the sound of the fridge opening. He wondered if she would try to talk him into having breakfast with him again. He knew he would not agree.

But she didn't do anything like that. He heard her silently shut herself back into her room a few minutes later. He decided that he had to get up now if he didn't want to be late for work.

This time he went out, took a quick shower and made himself some coffee. He found himself glancing at her room door from the middle of the living room, but she didn't come out to talk to him. He wondered if she was as devastated by what had happened between them as he was.

Resigned, he drove to the office feeling terrible. He thought that he had to tell Alys everything or he would go crazy. He decided that she knew him well enough to see immediately that something was wrong.

He thought of himself so far that he was a good partner and a man. That although he was good at it. It turned out, that he was also crippled in this regard.

He entered the bank's office building, tapping his card, the automatic door beeping open for him. Aegon greeted him inside, hungover as usual, pressing a cold bottle from the vending machine to his forehead. When he saw him, he smiled at him.

“Oh, this is our lucky newlywed. Although your wife has balls in this relationship." He said with a smile as he sat up with a hiss, clutching his head.

"Fuck, my head is about to burst." He spoke low, but Aemond said nothing at all to his words.

He opened his laptop and sighed as he saw ten new e-mails. He was annoyed to see that some of them were Aegon customers, who had been unable to reach him.

"Would you mind finally doing your job, instead of drinking yourself to death every night?" He hissed as he sat down at his desk, going through the papers that his assistant had just laid out for him moments earlier. Aegon rolled his eyes at his words.

"Once you talk to them, once I talk to them, it's teamwork." He said lightly, and Aemond looked him up and down.

He opened his mouth to tell him what he thought of him, but saw Alys through the glass wall walking down the hall. She smiled at him and waved at him. He felt a tightness in his pit. Aegon spoke up, amused.

"Does your wife know that you're fucking her? Or do you do triangles? You'd invite your brother, wouldn't you?" He asked, but Aemond just got up and walked past him, following her out.

He caught up with Alys, and she looked at him, surprised. They determined that they behaved professionally in the office and tried not to talk to each other, with small exceptions for sex in the toilet.

"I want to talk to you. In private." He said low, his jaw clenched. Alys frowned at his tension.

"Something happened?" She asked, looking around.

Aemond took her by the arm, and they both entered one of the storerooms. He closed the door behind him, leaned against a metal bookcase and ran his hands over his face, sighing heavily. Alys looked at him expectantly. He thought it was pathetic, but he wanted to cry.

"I slept with her." He whispered without looking at her, his face still buried in his hands. He heard her inhale sharply. She stopped with her arms folded, he heard her breathing differently.

"She seduced you?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly. He swallowed loudly. He couldn't get the words out that were burning in his throat.

“No.”

There was a long, awkward silence between them. He glanced quickly at Alys and saw that her full, lightly colored lips were twitching slightly.

He couldn't bear to see her suffer.

He knew that he had hurt her.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" She asked and laughed under her breath, but it was laughter through tears. He looked at her with pain.

"I don't know what possessed me." He said, but immediately heard how pathetic it sounded. She shook her head at his words.

"Something possessed you? A demon entered you and suddenly when you regained consciousness, you fucked her?” She asked in pain, trying not to cry, covering her mouth with her hand.

She ran a finger through her lashes, not wanting her makeup to smear. Her entire body was trembling. He didn't dare touch her.

"Why? Because she's younger and prettier?" She asked, and he squeezed his eye shut, feeling that he was about to cry himself.

"No." He whispered weakly, exhaling loudly, feeling he was out of breath. She stared at him in disbelief.

"Can you promise me that this will never happen again? Will you divorce her and it will be as it used to be?" She asked, standing with her arms folded. He cleared his throat, running his hand over his chin.

“In two years this marriage will no longer exist. I promise." He whispered, looking pleadingly at her. Alys pursed her lips.

"Are you kidding me?" She asked in a trembling voice. "Aren't you going to divorce her now?"

Aemond stared at her wide-eyed, completely stunned. He closed and opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.

"You know … you know, what I agreed with my father." He mumbled.

"And what have you agreed with me? It doesn't mean anything anymore? You promised!" She said covering her face.

She shook her head, walked past him and left the room, leaving him alone. He squeezed his eye shut, leaning the back of his head against the bookshelf, trying his best not to start sobbing like a baby.

After work, he returned home. Alys didn't answer his calls, he knew, that she didn't want to see him. The truth was he didn't even have the strength to apologize to her or fight for her forgiveness. He thought it was pathetic, but he decided to leave it like that for now.

When he entered the apartment, he saw that the light was on in the kitchen. He shuddered at the thought that she was there, that they would look at each other for the first time since the thankless night of yesterday.

He walked slowly into the living room, glancing towards the kitchen. He saw her big, frightened eyes, her pursed lips and pale face. She was wearing a crop top and shorts, her hair loose and slightly damp, as if she had just taken a shower. He thought that she'd taken a bath before he got home, so she wouldn't run into him.

"You came back early." She spoke softly, her voice trembling slightly. She sounded like she was explaining why he'd seen her at all.

"I'm going to finish making dinner and go to my room in a minute. It's cauliflower soup, if you feel like it, help yourself." She said, swallowing hard as she turned back to the pot.

He looked at her impassively. Her long, shapely legs, soft, shiny hair. He smelled her shampoo again in his nose, the same smell that he had felt yesterday when he fucked her. He felt his manhood pulse again in his pants.

He thought that he was distraught and desperate.

He had no strength left.

He approached her slowly, saying nothing. She looked at him in surprise over her shoulder, he saw her purse her lips and blush slightly, embarrassed, dropping her gaze. He knew that she was embarrassed by what had happened between them. She couldn't even look at him.

He felt her draw in a sharp breath and jump in place as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing his face against her hair. He felt the warmth of her body, her ass against his hard cock, the scent of her hair and her skin filling his chest again.

He wondered what he was doing, but decided that he just wanted affection. He knew for some reason that she could give him what he needed, and he flocked to her like a moth to a light.

"It's been a terrible, terrible day." He whispered softly, tired and resigned.

He felt her body tremble before him, her breathing ragged. He knew that she felt how hard he was. He heard her swallow loudly. He felt a pleasant shiver as she placed her small hand on his, stroking it gently.

"I know." She whispered just as softly, and for some reason that two words, that warmth that came from her lips, her understanding of his condition made him cry.

He began to sob quietly, unable to stop himself, squeezing his eye tightly. He felt her flinch, all scared. She wanted to turn to him but he wouldn't let her.

He buried his face in her hair, hugging her so tightly, that he felt as if he would strangle her. She wrapped her arms around his, stroking them soothingly.

"Shhh. I know." She said, her voice breaking on the last word.

Only when he heard her quiet sobs did he let her turn towards him, all red with tears, snuggle into his chest. She hugged him so tight that he was out of breath. He threaded his hands into her hair, her fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt. He pressed his face against her neck, letting his disappointment and tension flow for the first time in many years.

He cried, because he realized that despite having made such a great sacrifice, he had not earned his father's love and respect. His father tricked him by waving it in his face.

He cried, because he had hurt Alys, but he knew,that it wasn't the betrayal that hurt her the most. He couldn't assure her that it wouldn't happen again, because he wasn't sure what was going on between them.

He could imagine the next day with her, but not their old age together. Not their children. He put off getting engaged until he married a total stranger and made her watch.

He cried, because he was overloaded with work and couldn't keep up anymore. He wanted someone to help him, but neither Aegon nor Helaena could do that for him.

Helaena was even mentally weaker than him, and Aegon was totally fucked. Jace and Luke were triumphant, but only because Daemon was putting things under their noses. They never worked for anything on their own, like he did.

He grabbed her by the hips and slowly carried her towards his bedroom. She wrapped her legs around his waist, sniffling loudly, and looked around the room in shock. She couldn't see much from crying, everything was blurry.

Aemond placed her on his bed and lay down next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, burying his nose in her hair, stroking her head reassuringly.

He knew that she was crying now too, for her own reasons. He knew that he was one of them. He kissed her forehead, pressing her body tighter against him, wanting to feel her as much as possible.

"Sleep with me tonight."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13

Others: @thedamewithabook @godrakin @snh96 @statixcane @toodlesxcuddles

#aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond x you #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #aemond one eye #aemond fluff #aemond x original female character #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #modern aemond x reader #modern aemond smut #modern aemond targaryen #modern aemond #modern!aemond #ewan mitchell smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond smut #dark aemond angst #modern aemond angst #aemond targeryen angst #hotd angst #aemond angst

[rayzay]

A lot of spelling mistakes, the plot is all over the place ngl.

Keep in mind English is not my first language!

Danny was immortal, he couldn't die. Well, he couldn't die by old age. His human form won't die naturally and it won't age either.

So, when all of his family, friends and just quite everyone he knew died, he was left alone. But his family and his two best friends still haven't moved on, Danny was their unfinished business. So, like a good normal family, they decided to haunt Danny! Which is cute, but also can be seen as something horrifying if you don't know the context.

So, 85 years later, Danny still changes last name everytime he needs to (so about every 4 years), jumping from foster family to foster family. He moved to state to state, never staying in the same state for too long.

And in 85 years, a lot has happened.

Here's what changed with the world :

Superheroes and metahumans/non-humans are way way more accepted in society.

A lot of big city appeared such as, Gotham and Blüdhaven in Jersey, Central City in Missouri, Metropolis in Illinois, Amnesty Bay in Maine, Blue Valley in Nevada, Coast City in California, Dakota City in well...Dakota. Fawcett City, Star City..etc..etc..

All of these have also something particular, they're home to a hero and said hero works for the JL, known as the Justice League.

Danny wasn't really interested in hero-ing anymore, after all, there was people literally paid by the government to do that, so why would he do charity work? Of course he'll help if there's a catastrophe, but he'll just help the civilians get to safety, that's all.

Life kind of sucked for Danny. He couldn't get attached by people too much because he'll know he's going to outlive all of them, so why even bother trying?

Danny needed to find a new place to stay, preferably a big city, and in a state he didn't appear this year.

Danny decides to pick Metropolis, it's one of the safest option after all, Superman does his work pretty well, and casualties and crimes rate are really really low there..plus, Sam kept pestering him asking him to meet Lois Lane. (Danny needed to do an essay about journalism for some reason, and he stumbled across Lois Lane Wikipedia page, she was quite the character.)

Sam instantly took a liking to her, she's everything she aspires to be.

Tucker, him, seemed interested in Lex corp, not in a “Oh, I'm so so fan of him!” kind of way, but more in a “His technology is one of the best in the world, he could easily rival against WE.” kind of way.

His parents and Jazz were guiding him, telling him what to not do, and what to do, sometimes they argue, sometimes they stay quiet, sometimes Danny tune them out, can't blame him honestly, if a psychologist was always nagging me, telling me what to say, and doing some unnecessary rant about whoever's is talking to Danny body language I would want to tune them out too.

But they're mostly trying their best..and Danny can't blame them for that.

His parents always did a “ability checkup test ” and it's basically Danny just flying around, shooting his blasts, doing a ectoplasm shield, duplicating...just testing all of his powers to see if they're all okay.

Which, they always are but his parents keep pushing him to do it, and he always agree just to make them shut up.

Danny found a new ability, something he deemed impossible to do, he can fly, he has his strength, his speed, his stamina and his reflexes but, with his human form.

But everything else that works with ectoplasm or his ghost core he didn't have.

So he was basically a less powerful version of him, which, sucks, but it's kinda cool.

His family were ecstatic and so was he! Plain old Danny could be more..but no, he has to stay low. Otherwise he's going to get found by Vlad, or worse.

Danny does something, extremely stupid, but fun for him.

He decides to fly in Metropolis, but just high enough so no one could see him! Even though Danny has the same powers when he's Danny Phantom, it's different, it's weird, he has his core to help him concentrate, hearing the frost in there soothe his nerves, and help him get focused.

But, it's different, he has his slow beating of his heart, which is quiet, really really quiet, it's drowning against the noises of the city

He can't focus he can't focus he can't-

Danny starts falling, which is okay because he can just turn into Danny Phantom and easily get out of this shitty situation, but noo, Danny had, and still has the shittiest luck ever.

Superman catch him, of fucking course.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic