#heart full of wine and fury | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wreckedandpolemic · 28 days

Text

mine - matty healy

(mdni) in which your husband feels the need to remind you exactly to whom you belong. a white and gold future fic. 2713 words.

warnings: problematic age gap, daddy kink, branding, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise, degradation, mild cumplay, dirty sleazy possessive man

You really, truly didn’t mean to find yourself in this situation. Sometimes, you’ll admit, it’s on purpose, playing up the brattiness until Matty snaps, doling out whatever punishment he wants as you cry and promise to be good next time. This time, though, it isn’t your fault. It isn’t. You can’t help it if your husband’s business partners see his young, hot wife and decide they want you for themselves. Besides, Matty’s always telling you to be polite, so you were. Smiling, laughing at their jokes, leaning forward as you listen with interest.

It’s not your fault if some (old, stupid) man takes that as the wrong kind of interest. Matty watches as he stumbles through attempts to flirt with you, pet names tripping clumsily off his tongue. Steam practically curls off your husband, his face hardening in fury as you smile blithely, accepting the affections without encouraging anything; he doesn't take the hint. When he tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear, trailing his hand down in a garish attempt to touch your tit, Matty catches his wrist in a punishing grip. “Keep your fucking hands off my wife, yeah? Unless you wanna get knocked the fuck out.” His usually-subtle accent bleeds over his words, roughens their edges. Everyone suddenly becomes very interested in the silverware and heat prickles under your skin as Matty’s grip tightens on your waist, possessive.

He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep and an obvious performance, a public message: mine. Matty stays tight with anger the whole evening, the tension in his shoulders not loosening until you’re spread out on the bed, your dress crumpled somewhere on your living room floor and your hair haloed out on the pillow as he stares down at you. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say cautiously, and his face softens.

“Oh, baby, I’m not mad at you,” he promises, climbing over you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You accept it eagerly, the bitter taste of red wine lingering on his lips. “Just need to make sure everyone knows whose girl you are, yeah? So pretty, baby. Drives me fuckin’ crazy. You know, every single one of those men wanted to take you home. Can see it in the way they look at you.”

You flush, a note of pride creeping under your skin. “But they can’t,” you say, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

“That’s right. You’re Daddy’s girl, yeah? I’m the only one who gets to take you home, gets to see you all pretty and pleading and spread out for me, yeah? Bet they go home and dream about seeing you like this.” His nails dig into your skin as he grips your hips, snapping the elastic of your panties against your skin.

“Only you, Daddy,” you promise, and Matty presses a kiss between your tits, just over your heart. It thuds faster, calling out for his touch, a wave of love crashing over you as you sigh happily. “All yours,” you say, pouting as he climbs off you and goes to root in a dresser drawer for something.

He comes back to you with an uncapped Sharpie, grinning as you shudder. “Need to make sure everyone knows whose girl you are, yeah?” You nod shakily, Matty kneeling over you and leaning down. The scrape of the pen against your decolletage sends a shiver up your spine, something close to pain but not quite it blooming where the ink stains your skin. Concentration is evident on his face as he writes, the letters bold and clear as he moves down your body. Sitting up to admire his handiwork, Matty plucks at the strap of your bra. “Can you take this off for me, princess? Wanna see your pretty tits.” You obey thoughtlessly, arching your back to slip a hand behind you and unhook your bra, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Naked but for your panties with Matty fully clothed on top of you, you shiver, exposed. There’s something that feels right about it, though, handing Matty all the power like this, and trusting that you’ll only love what he does with it.

“What did you write, Daddy?” you ask, craning your neck to try to read, but the letters are upside down and your skin bends in a way that makes the letters illegible.

Matty pushes you back down gently. “Here, darling. Let me show you.” He slides his phone out from his back pocket and takes a couple of photos before handing it to you. Eagerly, you drink in the sight of yourself, heat in your cheeks and your lips red and kiss-bitten. Then, your eyes track across the words scrawled on your skin. Property of M. Healy. A pulse of heat throbs in your belly so thickly it almost hurts, liquid desire dripping between your legs and pooling in your underwear.

Property. You turn the word over in your mind, savouring the way it traces deliciously up your spine. Matty’s property, his kept girl, his pretty toy, his to do with whatever he wants. The thought makes your head go fuzzy, the idea of being his whenever and wherever he wants melting your insides to goo. “You own me, Daddy,” you murmur, his eyes so wide with lust that they look black.

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he breathes, stripping out of his suit and boxers, his cock thudding against his belly. Eagerly, you slide your panties down your legs and kick them to the floor, watching Matty’s eyes fall to your soaked cunt. “So wet for me, princess. Does it get you off, knowing you’re all mine?” You nod, drool pooling in your mouth as he strokes his cock slowly. “Such a good girl. My good girl. Can see how bad you want it. Bein’ so patient, princess.”

Trembling, it’s a fight to keep still, keep your hands to yourself. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, Matty still just watching. “Please, Daddy,” you whine desperately. “Can do whatever you want to me,” you breathe, and the words finally snare him, his eyes darkening as he falls on top of you.

“Whatever I want, yeah?” he murmurs, a gush of heat flooding between your legs at his words. “C’mon, sweet girl. Legs up for me. Gonna fuckin’ ruin you,” he promises, thumbing over the bold, stark letters on your skin. He dips his head, biting a harsh bruise into your neck, one you know will be luridly purple by the next time he takes you out. You giggle as he takes a greedy handful of one of your tits, grasping possessively. “These pretty tits are mine, yeah?”

“Yours,” you whimper, the heat between your legs unbearable as Matty works his way down your body, repeating it like a litany as he grasps possessively at your skin.

“These hips.” His. “This ass.” His. “These pretty thighs.” His. “This sweet, needy little cunt.”

A strangled moan escapes you as he brushes his fingers featherlight over your clit, teasing. Desperation wells under your skin, your cunt aching with need. “S’all yours, Daddy. ‘M your property,” you moan, rolling your hips up against nothing.

“That’s right,” he grins. “Bein’ such a good girl for Daddy, princess.” A moan of pure lust spills from your lips as Matty licks a broad, flat stripe over your cunt, your hands fisting in the sheets at the wave of pleasure that cascades over you. He laps at you insistently, setting a dizzying rhythm over your swollen clit. You tremble with the effort of keeping still, letting Matty do what he wants while you take it like a good girl. “S’okay, baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make, feel that sweet little cunt grinding on my face,” he murmurs, the words vibrating through your core.

Matty wraps his lips around your clit, the sensation making your body jolt as he sucks on your swollen bundle of nerves. Heat blooms under your skin as Matty tongues at you and moans into your cunt, the vibration rolling gloriously through you. He digs his fingers into your thighs, so hard that you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, further proof he owns you. Mind-melting pleasure winds deliciously through you, Matty plunging his tongue deep inside you, devouring you from the inside out.

He refuses to fall into a rhythm, refuses to let you get complacent, switching between sucking on your clit, licking at your hole and tonguefucking you at a dizzying pace. Whining incoherently, you fist a hand in his curls and grind your hips up against his mouth. Matty’s nose bumps your clit as you writhe, legs kicking in the air. Molten pleasure melts your brain, dripping sticky from your ears and puddling on the mattress. “Are you close, sweet girl?” Matty asks, pulling away to kiss wetly at your thighs. Your hazy, addled mind struggles to latch onto his words, and you gasp as he blows cold air over your clit. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“‘M sorry, Daddy,” you whimper reflexively. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m close,” you whine, tugging on his hair to pull him back to your cunt. Matty’s fingers join his tongue, a bolt of ecstasy striking between your legs at the scrape of his calloused fingers. He works skilfully at your clit, your legs turning to jelly as waves of pleasure pin you to the mattress. “F-fuck, Daddy, m’gonna cum, want it s’bad, please, please, please!” you cry out, babbling incoherent pleas into the air above you.

“Go on, darling. Cum for Daddy.” He pairs the words with a harsh pinch to your clit, your body wracking with shudders as you pitch over the edge. Pleasure drips stickily down your spine, your vision blurring as your orgasm crashes through you. Matty doesn’t let up, sucking insistently on your clit, your cunt still pulsing with the aftershocks.

Pleasure tinged with pain kicks under your skin, overstimulation burning between your thighs. “S’too much, Daddy, I can’t–” you whimper, his free hand pinning your hips down when you try to squirm away.

“‘Whatever you want,’ you said,” Matty reminds you, running a finger through your sensitive folds. “What I want is for you to take it like a good girl, okay?” You nod shakily, swallowing thickly around a whine. “There’s my sweet girl. Colour?”

“‘M green,” you promise, shifting your hips and moaning when Matty’s tongue finds your clit again. You choke on a gasp as he sinks two fingers into you, meeting no resistance at your soaked hole.

“Such a good girl,” Matty murmurs, kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs, marking you as his, the undercurrent of pain glorious weaved through the pleasure licking up your spine. He finger-fucks you hard, your cunt clenching and legs kicking in the air, a second orgasm already building at the base of your spine. “My fucking girl, yeah?” Your hand drifts unconsciously down to where his name is written just below your tits. “All those men today wanted you, princess. Wanted you so badly,” he coos, your mind staticky as his fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace that sends you reeling. “Wanted my gorgeous, sexy, irresistible, perfect fucking wife,” he groans, punctuating every adulation with a quick, deep thrust, moans spilling endlessly from your lips.

“Can’t have me,” you slur out, your mind off-balance against Matty’s unfaltering pace.

“That’s right, princess,” he says, pride colouring his tone. “You’re mine. All mine. That’s my ring on your finger, my name next to yours.” he growls. Maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I should take you out like this, show the whole fuckin’ world how much you love bein’ all fucked-out for me, wearin’ my name, bein’ my property.” You give a helpless, strangled moan, turned on beyond words. “God, you love that, don’t you, baby? Such a good little slut for Daddy. Do you wanna cum, angel?”

“God, yes, please, please, please!” you scream out, writhing and squirming uncontrollably as the tide of pleasure wells up inside of you, threatening to overwhelm.

Matty kisses your clit softly, your cunt fluttering around his fingers at the sensation. “God, you beg so pretty, baby. Go on, darling, cum,” he orders, and your body obeys. Your second orgasm is even more intense than the first, pure pleasure washing over you and wiping your mind clean. Your vision whites out, a scream you’re only dimly aware comes from your own throat ringing out. Euphoria burns from your core, flooding your limbs, hot and intense.

You come back to Earth to Matty’s tongue working insistent and sure over your clit, your body going boneless against the fervid pleasure winding up your spine. “Again?” you whimper.

Matty pinches your hip with his free hand. “Don’t be a brat. How many times have I told you I wanna spend all day with my tongue buried in this sweet cunt? ‘S what I want, princess, like you said. SHould be thankin’ me. Colour?”

“‘M still green, Daddy. Thank you,” you say dopily, letting your eyes slip closed as pure electricity washes over you.

You lose count of how many times Matty makes you cum, skilled fingers and tongue sending you spiralling over and over and over again. Your body feels barely a body; ecstasy in place of organs, pleasure in place of bones. When he’s finally satisfied, pulling away with his lips and chin fucking dripping with your arousal, your cunt feels sore and swollen, and you know you won’t be walking right for weeks. He climbs over you, pulling your jaw open like you’re a fucking doll and spitting the taste of you into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, smiling up at him and showing off your clean tongue.

“Good girl,” Matty coos. “Got you trained up so good, hm? God, I fucking love you, my girl,” he groans, leaning down to kiss you so that the taste of you smears further across your tongue.

“Love you too,” you say, gazing up into his eyes, lust-darkened but still liquid with adoration. “Yours forever,” you promise, lifting your left hand so your wedding ring catches the light.

Matty kneels up to take in the sight of you, fucking wrecked for him, his eyes blowing wide at his name in stark ink on your skin. He unbuckles his belt, freeing his cock, flushed red and drooling. Two fingers swipe through your soaked cunt, and you whimper at the prospect of cumming again. “S’okay, darling, m’not gonna make you go again,” Matty promises, wrapping his wet hand around his cock. “See how hard you make me, angel?” He tips his head back with a groan, slowly pumping his cock. “All for you. M’yours.”

“Made for each other,” you say breathily, eyes glued to the point where his cock disappears into his fist.

Moaning low in his throat, Matty nods. “Made for each other,” he agrees, fucking his fist wildly. You can tell from his face, the way his motions get more erratic with every passing second, that he’s close. With a gasp of your name, he’s cumming, white ropes splashing on your belly and over your tits. His jaw goes slack as he gazes down at you, his cum splattered over the brand of his name driving him wild. “Fuck. Look so fuckin’ gorgeous, darling. God, I wanna keep you like this forever.”

You giggle. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Can I?” he murmurs, awed.

“As many as you like, Daddy,” you smile. “I’m your property, remember? Your little slut. Your pretty cumdump.”

Matty gives a shuddering moan. “For such a princess, you’ve got a filthy fuckin’ mouth,” he chuckles, retrieving his phone from his discarded jacket. He takes at least a dozen pictures, pausing in between each to stare at you, unabashed arousal in his face.

“I learned it from you,” you smirk; you both know that isn’t true, but he likes hearing it. You drag two fingers through the mess on your stomach and suck them clean, grinning proudly up at him.

“Fuck,” Matty groans, cock twitching valiantly as he watches you. “God, drives me fuckin’ crazy when you do that. Makin’ me wanna fuck you properly, baby.”

A thrill skitters up your slime. “Please?”

#this is so filthy im sorry i dont know WHERE this came from #but hey if im going to hell ur all coming with me <3 #matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #white and gold

260 notes · View notes

natalievoncatte · 6 months

Text

Lena didn’t mean to pry, she really didn’t, but Kara had to leave rather briskly to attend to that sinking cargo ship, and Lena didn’t feel like watching one of Kara’s old musicals without Kara herself; Lena probably wouldn’t have watched them at all, but she would watch just about anything to make Kara happy.

Besides, once she had a few glasses of wine, curling up with Kara beneath a blanket on her couch in her loft made it easy to pretend. Snuggling up against her human (alien) space heater made it easy to pretend. The way Kara never objected when Lena rested her head on Kara’s shoulder made it easy to pretend. The way Kara would naturally lean back into her and they’d end up curled around each other made it easy to pretend.

The way their legs tangled made it tough. The way their bodies folded together made it tough. The way Kara’s hand would always end up on Lena’s ribs made it tough, the presence of her lightly caressing thumb just below the bottom curve of Lena’s breast, threatening a lighting touch like a building thunderstorm that never breaks… that made it tough.

It made it tough to pretend.

Lena went to Kara’s kitchen island to open another bottle of a cheap rosé, the kind of drink that Lena was only allowed to like when she was with Kara (when she was herself, when she was just Lena) when she noticed something.

Kara kept a corner of her loft dedicated as a studio for her art. Lena had taken in Kara’s work without comment over the years, stealing a moment here and there to admire without really talking about it. Lena didn’t want to make it A Thing, not because she didn’t want to share things with Kara but because those little stolen moments felt too strangely intimate to give up.

(Like the time that Kara was changing and she was braless and Lena saw the broad, muscular, tanned expanse of her back, muscles bunching and twisting, sweeping curves and planes rising from the low waistband of skinny jeans that clung unmercifully to the most perfect ass imaginable. Times Lena didn’t think about. Not with the lights on.)

Throughout the years, Kara’s artwork had always quietly reflected the world they lived in. The first time Lena noticed a work in progress, it was abstract and hopefully, cheery and inviting. During the Reign crisis, Kara had been working on a landscape; Lena had thought it someplace imaginary, not realizing that Kara’s eerie and moody images depicted the home she’d lost, and the innocence that went with it.

When Lena had come back to her, when she came to confess and beg to come home, she’d seen broken frames and torn canvas, the stretched fabric ripped by the fury of the emotions vented onto it, those pieces that remained intact full of melancholy and loss.

Over time they had brightened again. Kara was working on a light, airy landscape from Krypton, an impressionistic promontory topped by a stirring crystalline temple.

She’d also been sketching. Her sketchbook was open, the quick charcoal half finished.

It was Lena.

Glass of wine in one hand, more than a little drunk, Lena let herself drink in the sketch. It was a figural study of Lena, passed out on Kara’s sofa after too much wine, probably not long ago. Another artist might have made it seem sad or even comedic, but this was a little melancholy, and even reverent. She made Lena something soft and delicate and precious with just a few feathered strokes of a pencil.

Hand trembling, Lena touched the page, dared to turn it. There was another piece, another drawing of her. Swallowing a little too much wine in a single gulp, she thumbed through the open sketchbook.

It wasn’t all her, but it was mostly her. Lena’s heart beat harder against her ribs as she realized she was looking at a timeline. One of the drawings was her in the Fortress, sorrow and rage twisting her features, but with a soft hint of pleading, the eyes heavy with broken hope. Tears welled in Lena’s eyes, at memory, at the fragile grief in the sketch, as if Kara had been punishing herself in the making of it, ripping her flesh open with graphite the way Kryptonite never could.

The earlier drawings were happier, and Lena dove into them. Her favorite was candid, rendered so lovingly that it bordered on photorealism. Lena sitting on a stool, a look of joy radiant on her face as she must have been seeing Kara arriving to surprise her at Noonan’s.

Lena couldn’t believe someone saw such beauty in her. The person that looked back at her from mirrors and selfies looked older than her years, tired, a frightened girl’s eyes in a jaded woman’s face. The subject of this image was radiant, open and full of joy and so young, lovely with an innocence and softness Lena never thought she had.

Some of them had an air of intimacy. Studies of Lena’s hands took up entire pages, and Kara seemed to be quite fascinated with the way the light fell on her cleavage.

She turned a page and blushed scarlet. This one was purely imaginary, and Kara clearly had a vivid imagination. Lena lay on a bed, open and vulnerable. Kara had added a flash of color with markers. Green for Lena’s eyes, touches of red for her lips and a pink flush on her chest… between her legs.

Wait. Kara has x-ray vision…

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Lena jumped, dropping the wine glass. Kara picked it out of the air without spilling a drop, gently setting it on the work table near her easel. She was still in her suit and she smelled like the sea, and there was salt water in her hair. She was shaking, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“Kara,” Lena breathed.

“I’m sorry,” Kara said, voice thick. “I’m sorry, Lena. I know it’s… if you want to go, I… I understand. I’m so sorry.”

Lena sucked in a sharp breath.

“Leave? Why?”

“I’ve been drawing you without your permission,” said Kara. “I know which one you just saw. I…”

“When did you make this one?” Lena asked, taking the book in her hands.

Kara swallowed. “I think about a month after we met.”

Lena’s heart was racing. She forced her hands to stay still, not to betray her. Her throat felt parched and her knees were weak.

“Do you really see me like this?” said Lena.

Tears glitters in Kara’s eyes, like moonlight scattered on a calm sea. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Why? You made me beautiful.”

Kara flinched, her mouth parting slightly, the tip of her tongue dragging across her lip so quickly that Lena would have missed it had she not been staring.

“I… I only tried to capture what was already there. You’re so lovely that sometimes I just want to stare at you.”

Lena set the book aside, and turned back to Kara. As she stepped closer, she smelled the salt water and diesel oil and her, and felt the heat of Kara’s body under her palms as she set her hands on Kara’s hips.

Kara was stone still, barely breathing. Lena met her gaze.

“I need a shower,” Kara blurted out.

Lena barked a laugh, and it turned into a gale of laughter as she pulled herself into Kara’s arms.

“Lena!” Kara scolded, “you’re getting your clothes all wet.”

Lena looked up at her.

“Go take your shower. Then get your pencils. Don’t worry about my clothes. I won’t be needing them.”

22. Art.

#supercorptober2023 #Supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet

560 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 14 days

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (25)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, tension, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed. I invented the lullaby in this chapter, so if you think it's weird, thank me, lol.

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what he heard, he just vomited, unable to stop the convulsions that were squeezing his stomach, the rapid pounding of his heart or his terrified, ragged breathing. He could feel tears of despair and fear running down his cheeks as he coughed once more, panting heavily over the vessel − he felt like his whole body was twitching.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He felt his stomach twist again in pain at the mere memory – he leaned over the bowl, feeling the gag reflex shake his body once more, but nothing left his throat.

He cried out loudly as if he were a small child, covering his face with his hand, leaning over the table, thinking about how much he needed his wife right now.

How much he wanted to snuggle between her soft, sweet breasts, to feel her smooth, warm hands stroking his hair, her heart beating beneath his cheek.

He drew in a loud breath, reminding himself that he had left her alone and that any moment spent in this disgusting place could have been her last; he reached for the cup of wine, rinsed his mouth a few times and spat the contents into the bowl, washing his face with fresh water, trying to calm himself.

This was part of their game, he thought, feeling his terror slowly begin to be replaced by fury.

He was sure Larys Strong had made her say it because he wanted him to believe that what was to come was destiny, not his and his grandfather's plan.

They wanted to manipulate him, to force him to leave her, to strip her of his protection, to destroy her.

No, he thought.

He was no longer a small child.

He left the fortress feeling that he had again unwittingly become the cold, empty stone he had been for eight years when she had not been with him, recognising that he had to keep a cool head.

He could not allow himself to be weak now.

He knew that if he just looked at her, if he just saw her face again and remembered what that woman had said to him he would simply burst into sobs, so to her disappointment he pretended not to see her.

The journey to the Eyrie, although spent in full sun and short, was unbearable for him and dragged on endlessly; he felt that waves of thoughts, suppositions and versions of events flowed through his mind one after another, causing complete chaos in his head.

What if Rhaenyra did not agree despite his lie?

What if she agrees, but demands the head of his grandfather and mother?

Whoever he was, his grandfather was his kin, his blood; all his life he had fought for them and their rights even if he himself often despised him.

How should he behave in such a situation so as not to let her down?

To fight? Declare war on them? Let her decide for herself once again which side she would stand on this time?

He pressed his forehead to the front of his saddle, clenching his hands on the ropes he held in his fist, feeling that he was descending into madness.

As they landed in the valley below the fortress he slid off his saddle, thinking that he had to share his plan with her, lest she accidentally say something herself that might destroy their credibility.

"− uncle −" She began, walking towards him, her face all pink and sweaty from exertion, unruly strands of her hair clinging to her skin.

His heart pounded harder.

You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He swallowed loudly, feeling that his vision was blank, his hands clenched into fists.

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said coolly, sidestepping her, heading ahead, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible − he heard her draw in a loud breath as she moved immediately after him, terrified, trying to keep up with him.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, clearly terrified by this vision − he pressed his lips together into a thin line, furious that she was making this all even more difficult.

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He growled impatiently and stopped when her silhouette appeared in front of him – her palms slapped against his chest, a fury in her eyes that startled him.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with an irritation in her voice that he didn't like; he felt a cold sweat on his neck at the unbearable thought that she was partly right.

Fuck.

He stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling like he was about to faint, another disturbing thought flashed through his mind.

What had that whore said to her?

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He asked uneasily, wanting to be sure she wasn't trying to manipulate his wife the way she was trying to manipulate him.

His Rheanys blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, as if his question made her uncomfortable − he felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the sight.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She muttered, and he felt his heart stop.

That we should not return to Harrenhal.

That I should watch out for myself and trust no one.

She warned her.

Why?

He felt that he understood absolutely none of this; the woman's behaviour seemed to make no sense to him, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was the thought that perhaps she really believed what she said.

That perhaps she really did see his betrayal and what he would do next in her dream or in the fire.

He stood watching her like a small, frightened child who was afraid to tell a parent that he had stolen and destroyed their favourite book unwillingly, who was afraid to admit his guilt for fear of punishment and what it entailed.

She must have seen what was happening to him in his gaze because she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, her scent, the smell of vanilla reached his nose.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She muttered pleadingly, her voice warm and calm, soothing, as if she understood that he was afraid.

That thought, the realisation that she knew him well enough that he couldn't hide from her what was happening inside him made him feel even worse.

He thought she would loathe him forever.

He swallowed hard as she cupped his cheeks between her hands and closed his eyes, feeling himself tremble all over, focusing only on her closeness.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −" She whispered tenderly making another wave of heat and fear surge through his body at the same time, causing something inside him to crack.

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked coldly, feeling his heart pounding like mad − he felt like he could hear in his ears the fast pumping of blood through his veins.

His wife furrowed her brows, shaking her head as if she did not understand what he had just said to her.

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She said in a trembling, angry, breaking voice from which a shiver ran down his back; he looked at her in disbelief feeling his body filled with guilt and shame.

You are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down.

She was right.

She welcomed him with open arms despite the fact that he hadn't answered her letters for eight years; she didn't show him any kind of resentment, she didn't demand an apology from him, she lavished him with understanding and tenderness when he needed it, wanting to make things right.

It was he who betrayed her when Aegon became King.

It was his mother who forced her to drink the moon tea.

He was the one who made her try to take her own life.

He was the one who kept her locked up like a prisoner.

And yet, it was he who perpetually accused her in his head of the possibility of betrayal, as if he was just waiting for it.

For an excuse to decide that this was never going to succeed.

Despite this, she was now standing in front of him, being on his side, willing to fight alongside him for a future for them.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at this realisation, at the thought that there was never any other way for him than the one that would always lead him to her, to his beloved, to his friend.

To his Rheanys.

He lifted his hand, in some subconscious gesture of tenderness and closeness placing an unruly strand of her dark hair behind her ear, looking at her pretty face, at her bright, shining eyes, at her long lashes, at her swollen, moist lips − everything that belonged to him, that he could take every night.

He felt his manhood twitch in his breeches at the thought.

"Can I kiss you?" He heard her whisper and looked at her, seeing that she was staring at him exactly as she had then, that day when she had come to his chamber as a child, holding a small book clutched to her chest in her hands.

He leaned towards her without a word and closed his eyes, sighing in relief when her plump, soft lips pressed against his in a sweet, sticky kiss; she pulled away from him, stroking his cheeks and hair with her hands, but it wasn't enough for him.

"One more time."

He moaned into her mouth and locked her in the tight, strong embrace of his arms as her lips pressed against his again, this time as if she wanted to devour him, her wet, swollen lips sucking and licking him making him completely hard; he felt the lust, the hot feeling he shared with her shake his body as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears at the thought of what he had heard.

You will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me.

But he wanted her.

He wanted his childhood friend.

His lover, his companion, his joy.

She filled his heart with herself so much that there was no room in it for any Visenya.

"I love you." He muttered helplessly, feeling the words leave his throat without the participation of his free will. "I've always loved you."

He felt her gasp loudly at his words as her body trembled in his arms; his heart squeezed tight with pain as she wept quietly.

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled out looking at him with a hot gaze full of affection from which he felt that nothing mattered anymore, that he couldn't fight himself or what only she could do.

He was completely helpless against her.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He asked in a breaking voice, and she smiled, so sweetly, tenderly, joyfully that his hands clenched tighter on her body.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She whispered softly, and he felt that it was over for him, that whatever he had been thinking about a moment ago, it didn't matter.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out, before his lips pressed greedily into hers, his fingers digging into the material of her leather coat enclosing her in his tight embrace, their tongues colliding with each other, licking with their soft sighs of pleasure.

He thought, panting hard into her throat, caressing her with a loud click of their saliva, that he could take her now, on the grass, in front of everyone, and fuck her so hard that the whole Eyrie would hear.

This, however, did not happen.

The sight of her would-be betrothed was the last thing he wanted to see − Ronnel Arryn seemed to him to be a boastful and self-obsessed man, focused only on the tonnage of his muscles and how he presented himself.

His grin full of mockery which he threw back at him, looking at the left side of his face made him involuntarily think how pleasant it would be to just slit his throat.

He remembered why they were actually there when they walked into the circular chamber where his uncle and half-sister were waiting for them − he pressed his lips into a thin line seeing that his sister-whore dared to wear his father's crown on her head.

He said nothing.

As his wife threw herself into her mother's arms, he glanced at Daemon; his uncle stood back leaning lazily against the wall, his chin lifted slightly in some sort of challenge, a lazy, mocking smirk on his face.

"Let's sit down." He heard his sister's voice at last, but he had no intention of obeying her orders; so he stood, looking at his uncle, who also had not moved from his place, stroking the handle of his Dark Sister thoughtfully.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." Rheanrya began, and he rolled his eyes, feeling frustrated and impatient. His wife threw him a quick, frightened glance − he, however, just looked at her, letting her speak.

He decided that he would trust her.

His niece grunted loudly and looked at her mother, adjusting herself in her seat, tense.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my uncle about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She paused as Rheanyra looked quickly in Daemon's direction − he and his wife exchanged quick, shocked glances between themselves.

He furrowed his brow, feeling discomfort in his pit, wondering what they knew that might have escaped his attention.

Her mother looked at her again, some strange glint in her gaze.

"Mother?"

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said in a trembling voice, as if it was obvious to her.

He felt rage at the thought that their father had shared with his daughter some prophecy, a future that was to befall their lineage, but did not consider them, his sons, worthy of the privilege.

Humiliation, shame and anger surged through his body making his words involuntarily leave his lips.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" He growled, his sister and uncle throwing him quick, warning glances.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen." Daemon reminded him, and he looked at him with rage.

"She is not my Queen." He hissed, his hand sliding down to the hilt of his sword when he saw Daemon's fingers tighten around his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." His wife interjected, startling him as did the rest of those gathered, his heart began to pound like mad.

What?

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" Her mother asked in a trembling tone, clearly not believing what she was suggesting.

Her daughter drew in a loud breath and swallowed hard before answering her.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?"

He looked at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling that his mind was not yet able to comprehend fully what she had actually done.

She continued, however, as if the words were pouring out of her like a river.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth lies, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

He felt a surge of satisfaction and warm affection shake his body at her words, at her proof that she understood him, understood his pain, understood why her brothers could not be heirs to the throne.

How could he ever doubt her?

Her mother and stepfather seemed as shocked as he was, unable to get a word out.

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon, has recognised you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, he recognised you as his child in the eyes of the kingdom." Her mother muttered, clearly heartbroken that her own daughter was challenging her words.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?" She asked in pain, as if she herself could no longer bear what was happening, how far they had gone in pretending what was the truth and what was a lie.

He thought that he himself would not have put into words better what he thought and acknowledged with pride that his wife was a great speaker.

That even he would have hesitated and reconsidered what she had said if he had heard the arguments spoken in this way.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

An awkward silence fell; Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder at her husband, apparently seeking his advice. His uncle stared at her with clenched lips, clearly believing that she should fight for her rights no matter what − even at the cost of war.

His half-sister looked at her daughter again and swallowed hard.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

He stared at her wide-eyed, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his heart pounding like mad as his mind tried to quickly analyse what he had heard.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will only become ruler-regent if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share power in the kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

She wanted the kingdom to be ruled by two kings.

She wanted him and her daughter to have the same title, the same privileges.

He saw his niece look at him, her eyes big with terror, filled with fear of how he would react.

No, he thought.

She was no longer her daughter.

She was no longer a bastard.

She was his wife.

When he had covered her shoulders with the cloak with his family crest she had officially taken his name, and who her father was no longer mattered.

Although he knew that the name her mother had given her was different, to him she was Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

His childhood friend, a woman he trusted, respected, loved, whose opinion and letters he had held deep in his heart for years, whom he would have consulted if he had become king-regent anyway.

The thought that she would stand by his side, that she would help him carry this burden, that she would be like a second, necessary pillar to support the whole crumbling structure that was their family, filled him, to his surprise, not with frustration but relief.

He nodded his head.

His wife sighed quietly, looking at him with hope, turning her gaze to her mother. Rhaenyra's eyes welled with tears of grief and sorrow as she nodded, sealing her decision.

She had agreed.

Gods, she agreed.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same." She said dispassionately and he nodded, feeling his whole body quiver with emotion, his hands clasped behind his back clenched into fists.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my one daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly and he swallowed hard feeling that he had completely frozen.

No.

None of them could stay here.

He couldn't propose that they fly to King's Landing knowing that they would surely disagree, so in desperation he proposed something that shocked everyone, including himself.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

His niece beamed all over, her cheek blushing with happiness, as if she didn't believe his words.

"Do you mean it?" She asked sweetly like a little child to whom he had just given a wonderful surprise.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought.

"Yes." He replied calmly, glancing at his uncle, who was squinting, watching him intently. "As an expression of my goodwill."

Daemon tapped the tip of his tongue against the wall of his cheek and hummed under his breath, a tense silence fell between them.

His wife was right.

He had the feeling that his gaze was piercing him to the core.

He muttered under his breath and looked at his wife − Rhaenyra, like his niece, seemed shocked by his proposal, but also pleased at the prospect of her daughter returning to her family home, if only for a while.

"Well…I see no objection. Daemon?" She asked her husband, who looked at his daughter. Apparently, something in her pleading gaze made him decide to remain silent for the time being, as he merely nodded his head in wordless agreement.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly in relief, feeling a huge stone fall from his heart.

He stepped back, allowing Rhaenyra to leave, just behind her the room left Daemon throwing him one vigilant, mocking look telling him that he knew there was something more behind his words.

His wife, however, overwhelmed by excitement and joy, seemed not to notice it − she ran to him and snuggled into him, clasping her hands on his back, his arms immediately enclosing her in a tight, secure embrace.

He hadn't betrayed her.

He would never betray her.

So why did he feel so guilty?

"There are no words in which I can describe my gratitude to you. "She whispered, burying her face in his chest; he sighed heavily, pressing his lips to the top of her head, stroking her soft hair and neck with his fingers.

"I'm proud of you." He said calmly wanting her to know that he admired what she had done, the calmness in which she had presented his side's reasons while showing understanding and respect for her mother's rights and heritage.

He thanked the gods that he knew when to shut his mouth.

She looked at him and smiled shyly, as if his words surprised and embarrassed her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his, and he murmured low, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He should tell her, he thought with pain, but he didn't know how.

He didn't want to spoil this beautiful moment.

So he kept silent, but the guilt, the fact that he was hiding something from her, pressed down on his shoulders like a huge burden, through which he could experience neither relief nor satisfaction that Rhaenyra had agreed to their terms.

He never expected to fly through the skies beside Larax, Caraxes and Syrax, to ever see Dragonstone, to propose a journey there of his own accord.

He felt shame filling him.

As he and his wife stepped inside their fortress, where their children were already waiting for them, an awkward silence ensued. Jace and Luke stood behind a large stone table that resembled the shape of all of Westeros, looking at him in disbelief and horror. He shuddered when he saw that Rhaena was the first to rush ahead, sidestepping him and her father, enclosing his wife in a sincere, tender embrace.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice – his niece stroked her back with a smile.

"Me too." He heard her whisper.

After a moment, Baela joined them, throwing him a cold, warning glance along the way, from which he only rolled his eyes. He looked again at Luke, who swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, clearly unable to bear his presence.

He felt disgusted at the sight of them, two boys with cheeks flushed from shame, who knew full well that they did not and should not have any claim to the throne.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, seeing how pale Jace was, that he understood for certain that their presence meant he would officially cease to be his mother's heir.

Satisfaction as sweet as poison coursed through his veins at the thought.

Jace drew in a breath at the sight of his grimace, his hands clenched into fists as if he felt like lashing out at him − he flinched when Daemon stepped in front of him, standing between them and shook his head.

Jace swallowed hard, furious, lowering his gaze to the stone floor beneath his feet.

None of them came up to greet his niece; only little Joffrey ran up to her and burst into tears screaming that she had left them alone.

They resented her for the side she had chosen in their minds.

She was the only reason they were both still alive, he thought with a sneer.

His half-sister, seeing the look on his face and sensing the tension that reigned around them, decided to take pity on them and suggested that they make themselves comfortable in the chamber that had previously belonged to his wife.

He accepted her words with relief.

As they stepped inside he felt a squeeze in his throat − her quarters were modest, filled with her scent, the windows of her room facing the open sea, the sound of which he could clearly hear. He walked deeper in, looking around her chests of drawers and wardrobes, her wooden bookcases filled to the brim with books, before his gaze finally settled on an ornate oak desk.

He swallowed hard imagining her seated figure bent over parchment.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually, running his fingers over the table top, noticing with a pained heart that it was dusty.

A sign of how long she had not been here.

His niece looked at him surprised and blushed, as if the mere mention embarrassed her.

"− yes −"

He sat down in the chair she sat in every time she wished to convey her thoughts to him, to put them on paper, which then flew all the way to King's Landing to reach his hands. He glanced towards the windows, wondering how many times she had deliberated on choosing the right words while observing exactly the same view.

He thought he was touched.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said softly, her voice trembling with excitement and joy.

She couldn't believe she was home again.

He nodded, not knowing what more he could answer.

He had felt the tension all evening; his wife had shown him various books she had read over the years, which she had told him about in her letters. He tried to listen to her and nod, stroking her arm with the tips of his fingers as she sat beside him, flicking through page after page of one of the volumes, looking for the quote she had mentioned to him. Her question pulled him out of his musings.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −"

He looked at her horrified and swallowed with difficulty − he only grunted, not knowing what he should answer like a child caught in the act.

"I'm tired." He replied acknowledging that this was partly true. She nodded in understanding, he closed his eyelids as her hand gently stroked his cheek.

"Let's go to bed."

He wasn't going to fight her.

He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and get away from Daemon's disturbing gaze.

His wife pressed her lips together, seeing that he had put a dagger under his pillow before he lay down − however, she said nothing, knowing he might trust her, but certainly not her family.

He lay down beside her, sighing heavily, and closed his eyes, figuring that perhaps when he woke up the next day and realised that tragedy had been avoided due to his decision, his conscience would have a little more mercy for him.

He murmured contentedly as he felt her arms embrace him, cuddling his face between her breasts, the warmth of her body, her scent filling his entire lungs. He tightened his hands on her back, trying to focus only on the touch of her hands, on her fingers combing gently through his hair, on the lullaby she hummed softly under her breath, and from which his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

When the moon rises

over the dark sky

When you hear from afar

my bitter cry

Know that I long

When the sun rises

over the bright sky

When you hear from afar

my joyful cry

Know that I'm home

And then sleep fell over him.

His lips clung to her soft, long neck, sweaty from exertion, heavy, drawn-out sighs full of pleasure left his lips as his hips with sure, deep, quick thrusts pounded again and again into her hot, fleshy interior.

"− forgive me − I've missed you − oh, my sweetest −" He breathed out, quickening his pace, sinking his nose into her dark curls, her moans muffled by the pillow she was cuddling her face into. Her body, though different, was just as warm, her scent, though different, was similar to hers.

It didn't matter to him, because she was there for him, because she had forgiven him.

"− I love you − oh fuck, Rhaenys −" He muttered, clenching his eyes, coming inside her at last, experiencing such immense relief that he cursed for another moment, rocking his hips inside her. He swallowed hard, worried that she wasn't saying anything, his fingers took strands of her hair from her face wanting to see her eyes and then he saw it.

Green irises, luscious as grass.

"− is it true? − is she carrying your child? −" He heard her voice as if from afar and suddenly he was standing in front of her in his chamber in King's Landing, feeling his heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down his back.

He felt a strong gag reflex and held it back with the remnants of his strong will.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

What had he done?

"− answer me − is she carrying your child? −" His wife, his Rhaenys muttered in a voice breaking with pain and despair, her cheeks red from tears, her eyebrows arched in rage, in her gaze something he feared most.

Disgust.

"− I − I don't know −" He mumbled, trying to remember what had actually happened, how he could have done it when, after all, he had promised himself it would never, never happen.

He thought about how he hadn't touched her in so long, how he had missed her so much.

When she discovered that he had hidden the truth from her, what his grandfather had planned, that he knew what could have happened to them in the Eyrie but hadn't told her, she hadn't slept in his chamber, hadn't eaten supper with him, hadn't spoken to him or looked at him even though he had tried so hard to please her.

"− don't you know? − don't you know if you put your bastard inside her? −" She mumbled and burst out into a loud, miserable sob, hiding her face in her hands − he looked at her, panting hard, shaking all over, not knowing what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do.

"− HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? −" She almost screamed, falling to her knees as if without strength, whining loudly like some kind of animal, her whole being trembling and twitching in convulsions − he approached her quickly, kneeling beside her, trying to touch her, but she pushed him away.

"− my beloved − please − I was possessed by madness, I swear − I − I thought it was you −" He muttered, not knowing how he could explain such a betrayal, such humiliation she suffered because of him.

"− you thought it was me? − you fucked another woman and thought it was me? − gods, Aemond, don't touch me! − don't touch me −" She howled, her voice at once enraged, full of pain, suffering and grief, her eyes red with tears, her whole body quivering.

He was the reason for this.

He had done this to her.

"− my Prince − my Prince, quickly, your wife! −" He heard someone shout – he shuddered as he sat by the fireplace, gazing in horror at the figure of the guard who had rushed into his chamber.

As he stepped out into the corridor he heard someone's loud sobs and screams tearing at his heart; as he ran inside he froze noticing the figure of Rheaenyra kneeling on the floor, covering her mouth with her hand − his wife, and her daughter, was hanging from a rope tied to the frame of her bed, which was tightened around her neck, her dark hair covering her bowed head, her feet not touching the floor.

He ran to her trying to lift her, trying to pull her down, but he knew, felt, that it was too late, her body cold, numb, empty.

His face sank into her flesh covered only by the material of her nightgown muffling his loud, desperate scream.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!"

He opened his eyes and pulled himself up to sit down, panting heavily, feeling his heart pounding like mad – he could see nothing through the tears that one by one ran down his face, his body twitching all over in convulsions as if it had gone into a state of absolute panic.

"− easy, my love − breathe −" He heard someone's voice beside him, her voice – he looked at her as if he didn't recognise her, her eyes wide in terror, her hand stroking his shoulder reassuringly.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled out like a small child calling out to its mother, bursting into sobs of relief and terror that shook his body − he snuggled into her breast, clasping his fingers on her back so tightly that she hissed in pain – however, she did not push him away and her arms enclosed him in a tight, secure embrace.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She whispered, again and again placing warm, moist kisses on the top of his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

For a moment he merely wept and quivered, unable to catch his breath, trying to calm himself, listening to her whisper, breathing in her scent, enjoying her closeness, the touch of her hand.

It seemed to him that it was hours before he began to breathe normally, before he realised that all he had seen was just a nightmare, that he was lying with his wife in her bed in Dragonstone.

That all was not yet lost.

He swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −"

203 notes · View notes

rogersideup · 3 months

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 2

Wine and Dine

Series masterlist

Previous part: Love You More Next part: Expendable

Word Count: 6,169

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Steve wasn't quite sure he had ever ran so fast in his entire life. Wearing a heather grey henley, jeans, and some nice shoes, he knew he probably looked ridiculous as he zoomed by people in the hallways like a gust of wind.

After being deployed on the emergency mission for almost 3 weeks now, you were just about to land at the compound. From what he understood from the gossip floating around the compound, and confirming by the report notifications that popped up in the corner of his computer, it was a really bad one.

Agents were dropping like flies, if felt like every few hours one was being sent back to the compound due to injury or a psychological break. He tried multiple times to get the Avengers on the mission to help clear it out faster, it was obviously way too big for the agents to be handling alone.

Every time he tried, Fury shot him down because there already was an avenger on the mission. Though he agreed and trusted whole heartedly that you could handle it, he knew that if he was in your position, single handedly being the only reason why anything was actually getting done under exhaustive conditions, he'd appreciate another member of his team being sent to him

Not even a full minute ago you had called him in hysterics. He could barely understand you through your cries but he could tell just by the sounds slipping past your throat that you were in unbearable pain. It made his heart pound out of his chest as he tried to console you to the point of being able to understand what had happened.

When Commander Bennet realized that the wind had been knocked out of you, he gently grabbed the phone from your hands and spoke to Steve.

"Captain Rogers?" He quested after reading 'Steve' at the top of your phone screen.

"Yeah, hi, what's going on?" Steve asked frantically.

"Agent 306 is not in good shape. We had some sort of biological weapon hit us hard. It was a pale blue, powdery substance that was causing extreme irritation and almost burn like reaction on any exposed skin it touched." Bennett explained.

"But her tact suit covers most of her skin-" Steve vocalized his thoughts.

"She tried to stop the attack before it got worse, jumped on the attacker's back to yank the weapon out of his hand but..." He sighed. "Agent 212..."

"What did Harvey do?" Steve started seething.

"To put it simply, 212 got in her way. She had it and was about to put the whole mission to an end. I'm not sure if he thought he was going to beat her to it or if he wanted to help, but he threw her off and crashed right into her. The attacker grabbed hold of the collar of her tact suit from the back of her neck and poured a pretty large amount of the powder all the way down her back."

"Oh man, how bad is it?" Steve got up, already knowing where this was leading.

"She's in excruciating pain." He put simply. "We have lab techs on board studying the substance. They said that the effects are only extreme irritation, burns, and stinging pain for upwards of 5 hours. We already informed medical, they said there's not much they can do other than shower her and try to manage the pain with ibuprofen. She said she'd rather just do that at home, and she's asking for you now. Any way you could meet us on the runway?"

"Absolutely, what's the ETA?" Steve asked, walking down the hall towards the Jet landing runway.

"Touch down in a minute-thirty."

"I'll be there." Steve said simply before hanging up.

From where he was in the building, he knew making it to the runway was a five minute walk, so he made it a one minute and thirty second run instead.

He pushed through the doors to get outside onto the runway just as the jet wheels had touched down on the tarmac. The second it stopped moving, he practically ripped the door open with his own two hands and waited very impatiently for the rush of agents disembarking before he could get to you.

Harvey didn't get a chance to pass by Steve without receiving a glare from the soldier that sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

The very second he could, Steve rushed onto the Jet and you were curled up on the floor with your knees to your chest and your face digging into your knee caps. Commander Bennett was at your side trying to comfort you, but you were rocking back and forth to try and manage the pain, and doing your best to muffle your sobs as to not further inconvenience any of the other agents who had to hear you whaling the entire flight home.

Steve sank onto his knees right next to you, and placed a hand on you arm.

"You got it from here, Captain?" Bennett asked.

"Of course." Steve nodded, understanding he had more work to be done.

"Report back to me when you can?" Steve could see the worry in his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

Your commander got up and off the Jet following the other agents, and Steve's heart was still uncomfortably racing around in his chest.

"Hey, Bug." Steve gently squeezed your arm to try and get you to uncurl from your tiny little ball.

"M'sorry to bother you" You cried while lifting your head. Talking through the pain and shortness of air in your lungs was a struggle, but you took a moment and tried your hardest. "It hurts so bad, didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay, you're not a bother to me." He shook his head and got a good look at you.

Your tact suit was covered in smoke and ash, as well as your face. There was a deep scratch along your left cheek bone accompanied by smeared blood, presumably your own, and you jawline on the right side was bruised.

Steve's pounding heart came to a stand still before completely melting into a puddle when you let your forehead fall onto his collarbone. Instinctively, his hand gently cradled the back of your head.

Immediately, you felt safer and calmer in his hold. Letting someone take over your well-being when you had no control was terrifying, but Steve earned your trust more than anyone else in your life ever did. Around him, you knew everything would be okay regardless of the circumstances.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He questioned calmly.

"Feels like I ca-can't breathe" You hiccuped.

"I know, I'm sorry." Steve pouted. "Having the wind knocked out of you is normal sometimes when you're in that much pain. It's one of the worst feelings in the world but it'll go away. Just keep taking big deep breaths, it'll start to fade."

"S...still powder in my suit." You warned him. "Careful."

"Okay, we should get it off of you as soon as we can then." He thought out loud knowing that as long as it was still making contact with your skin, you would never start to feel better. "I'm going to get you out of here and up to your apartment okay?"

"Hurts so bad- feel like I can't move." You explained the best you could, internally panicking.

"Can I carry you?" Steve questioned, wanting to make sure he had your permission.

"What if it gets on you?" You questioned, not wanting him to feel the same pain you were in.

"I'm wearing long sleeves and long pants, it'll be okay." He reassured you. "I don't want to hurt your back even more, so wrap your arms around my neck and I'll hold onto the bottom of your legs."

You were happy to wrap your arms gently around his neck, and your legs around his waist as he carefully lifted you up. Without as much as a second thought, you nestled your face into the crook of his neck and continued to let the presence of your best friend comfort you while you focused on trying to catch your breath.

Steve was so focused on his personal mission to make you feel better that he didn't let his mind even entertain his personal feelings for you anymore. Meanwhile, you had an opposite technique to reign in some pain management. Steve smelled so good that the deep breathing with your face shoved into his neck was now a pleasant experience, and momentarily took your mind off the unbearable pain you were in.

Unfortunately his incredible taste in cologne wasn't enough to completely stop your mental and physical pain by the time he got you into your apartment and gently set you down on your own two feet. He offered you his forearm to keep a hold on to steady yourself, he could tell your muscles were overworked, exhausted, and tightly tense.

Steve could feel the hand you kept hold of him with was shaking, as were your legs, and chattering jaw that you tried your hardest to clench shut.

Single handedly, he worked diligently to remove your personal defense weapons that lived in your leg holsters. Grabbing the gun and dagger, he reached behind him and quickly put them in the weapon safe by the door.

Then he led you to the couch and had you sit down, helping you on the way down. He quickly sank to his knees and his fingers untied the laces on your boots and pulled them off your feet before he got to work on removing all the black leather straps and buckles of the holsters on your legs.

He looked up at you momentarily just to make sure you didn't seem uncomfortable by how he was touching you, but your eyes were squeezed shut so tightly and your mind was so far away it felt like you weren't even in the room with him anymore.

"Relax your jaw, Buggy." Steve caught your attention with a small squeeze to your calf before going at the holster on your thigh.

"But it's chattering" You cried, relaxing it to prove it was rattling.

"That's okay, just let it happen." He reassured you.

You nodded, eyes still squeezed shut with occasional tears slipping past them.

"Let all your muscles relax, keep taking big breaths." His sweet voice guided you, moving on from your left leg to your right. "Remember that this pain is temporary, this is the worst of it right now and you're taking it like a champ. You're doing a good job."

Letting your eyes open, you watched him shove his phone between his shoulder and head, freeing both his hands to continue removing pieces of your suit. Then he started talking, throwing around commands, asking for necessary assistance to make sure your suit is properly cleaned and the hazardous substance would be responsibly handled.

At some point, your eyes closed again and you started feeling faint. He stood up, still on the phone and walked away for a moment then came back with a glass of water for you in one hand, and medicine in the other hoping it could at least help jumpstart the pain management.

Then, you heard something that made your eyes rip open.

"Hey Buck, yeah she's okay - in a lot of pain but she's going to be fine. Hey- can you do me a favor? Can you go into my apartment and grab me a change of clothes? Just a shirt and some sweatpants please? Thank you so much, I'll leave the door unlocked for you. See you soon."

You took in his appearance and realized you had completely destroyed his outfit. Smoke and soot had smeared all over his light grey shirt and the the top of his jeans. There was blood on his shoulder from your face, and wet spots from your tears.

"I'm so sorry." You cried, genuinely feeling bad about it. "I ruined your clothes!"

"I'm not worried about it" He denied your apology. "You're more important than a shirt."

"I'll buy you a new one." You shook your head.

"You have bigger fish to fry at the moment, Bug." Steve said sweetly. "Let's get you in the shower now. The faster this gets washed off of you the better."

Deep down Steve was really concerned about you, but he internalized it as to not freak you out. You seemed weak and unsteady on your own two feet, and your cries were still sad enough to make him want to cry for you.

"Help me up?" You asked, holding out your hands.

He took them without question and helped you off the couch before guiding you to the bathroom and starting the shower for you. Making sure it was not too cold to be uncomfortable, but not too hot to hurt your burns even more, he finally settled on the perfect temperature.

When Steve turned back around to let you know it was good to go, he was going to walk right out and let you shower in peace. That was until you started crying even harder just by trying to unbutton your pants. Every move you made was increasingly uncomfortable, and in that moment you both knew that showering alone wasn't an option.

The hot shocking pain and trauma of the three week long mission alone made letting Steve see you naked feel like just another drop in the bucket. You couldn't even get yourself to pretend to care, all of the insecurities and fears you'd typically have over this flew out of the window when you could see the genuine worry in his sweet blue eyes.

"Do you need help?"

"Can you please stay?"

Both of you asked almost shyly at the same time.

"Yes please."

"Of course"

You talked over each other once again.

Everything you could've possibly been worried about wasn't even a thought in Steve's mind when you asked him to stay. Although his heart warmed over the sentiment that you felt comfortable enough around him to ask in the first place, he wanted to make sure he maintained that same level of trust.

So he took the same approach he took before any training session he knew you were scared of, or any time he had to touch your body.

A simple one word question that he always expected a completely honest response to, it always went a long way.

So before he even helped you begin undressing, he asked it.

"Trust?" He questioned.

Whenever he asked you this, he wanted a percentage out of 100 to gauge how much trust you felt for him in that very moment. Whether he was about to catch you from two stories high, or send you off to do something new, he wanted to make sure you were confident enough in him as your partner. If you ever answered below a 90, that's when he would put a stop to everything and the two of your would talk it through until you felt comfortable and confident enough to execute the plan.

"100" you answered without question, your shaky hands trying their hardest to unzip your shirt.

Only after you responded did he start to undress you. His hands took over the zipper, and swiped it downward. When he helped you tug off the sleeves he was careful to not touch the inside of your suit to not get any of the substance on himself, but once your top was off, he could tell it was all caked onto your skin and no longer dry. "If that changes or you want me to leave at any point, you tell me, okay?"

"Okay." You nodded, feeling a slight relief as the cold air hit your back.

Piece by piece, he helped you get undressed and into the shower. He stood next to you the whole time, and as the water washed off the dirt and grime, he could see the extent of the damage on your back and he internally cringed.

"You poor thing, this looks so painful." Steve pouted. Though you were quite literally fully naked in front of him, he couldn't stop staring at the plane of your back. It was fire engine red, and your skin was definitely angry at the substance.

"Fury is going to be so mad at me." You sniffled, starting to feel like you could talk in complete sentences again.

"Why?" Steve asked, head tilting slightly.

"I should be at the mission debriefing." You explained.

"You we're injured, there are exceptions." Steve denied. "You know who Fury will actually be mad at? Harvey."

Just the mention of his name had your cry growing sadder by the moment. "Can I tell you something as a friend and not as a boss?"

Steve's face softened, and he nodded.

"He did it on purpose." You claimed with confidence as your fingers scrubbed shampoo into your hair. "The whole mission Harv and his friends were doing things to sabotage me and I kept getting hurt. I felt like I was going crazy, and it was already a really bad mission to be on in the first place. I feel so defeated and defenseless right now."

When you admitted that, his eyes went from your back to a big, black and blue bruise the side of his palm right on your rib cage.

"Harvey will be dealt with whether he did it on purpose or accident. He made a really stupid choice that obstructed the mission and got another agent hurt, the best agent we got." Steve explained. "They'll probably open an investigation and pull any footage they have and talk to some other witnesses to get their side of the story. If it's ruled that it was on purpose his punishment will be much worse than if it was an accident."

"They're just going to come after me even harder." You cried. "I don't know what I did so wrong that they decided that they needed to make my life a living hell. I try to be nice to everyone, I participate when I need to, I help them when they need help, and I even do the dirty work so nobody else has to. Everyone still hates me. Nobody cares if I get hurt."

Steve's broken heart impossibly shattered again. "Do you believe us when we tell you it's jealousy? The men here have tiny little ego's. They're fragile and insecure so when they see how great you are, they just want to knock you down any chance they get. It's not your fault."

"I don't feel like I'm the best one here." You finally denied in a moment of vulnerable weakness. You we're already naked, what damage could admitting your true feelings possibly do? "I don't even feel like I'm good at what I do in general."

"You may feel like that right now, but that's not fact. It's far from the truth." Steve denied your accusations against yourself. "You're meant to be an Avenger, we're all confident in that. That mission should've never been delegated to you guys. It should've gone to the Avengers, and even then it would've been hard for us. But I was watching the updates and statistics come through while you were gone. You single handedly held the operation together and led it to success with nothing but your own guidance. You're incredible, you even outperformed the Avengers."

You shook your head in denial before tipping it back and letting the water wash away the soapy lather in your beautiful silky hair. "I should be debriefing but instead I'm crying in the shower I can't even take by myself without being a hazard."

"They have tormented you so much that you believe crying is a sign of weakness." Undertones of disapproval soaked through his tone. "Their words have you believing that you're not good enough for this, yet I don't see any of them being good enough to do half of what you do."

"I don't know how to get it to stop." You sniffled. "If I don't fight back, they keep going. If I do fight back, they come at me twice as hard. If you don't say anything, they think it's okay. If you do yell at them, it just gets worse."

"Join the team." Steve stated simply, reaching out into the shower to swipe some smoke off your face that you missed.

"I'm tired, Stevie." You admitted with a sad cry. "Right now, I don't even know how I'm going to wake up and get myself to work as an agent tomorrow. I don't know how I can do this anymore, let alone be an Avenger."

"Exactly, you're tired and you're hurting." Steve validated. "Emotionally and physically, you're a human with with needs, none of which have been met in a very long time. You had your heart broken, and with no time to recover you had tosee Harvey every day for three weeks, then he hurt you even more. We'll get you some rest, some food, you'll get some time off work to make sure you heal up and recover. I promise you that you'll feel better."

"I sure hope so." You sniffled, washing the rest of the soap off now that you were squeaky clean. "Because right now, my heart is heavy and i feel defeated."

"Then let's take baby steps towards making you feel better, we'll start by making the heaviness a lot lighter." Steve offered you a hand to help you step out of the shower as you turned the water off. A hint of a smile poked through your pouted lips as he wrapped your fluffy towel around your body as carefully as he could as to not hurt your back anymore than it already did.

"Do you have to go back to work?" You asked sadly, not wanting to have to let go of the comfort he always provided you. "I really missed you while I was away."

"It's okay, I'll take the rest of the day off." Steve denied. "I missed you too, I was worried about you."

There was a small knock on the door before Bucky came in, and before either of you could even acknowledge his presence, both of your feet carried you towards him.

Bucky quickly handed Steve the clothes he brought for him, then all his attention was on you.

"Stay with her for a minute, I'm going to change really fast." Steve squeezed Bucky's shoulder out of gratitude.

You we're still slowly crying from the pain, and wrapped up in the towel like a little human burrito.

No words needed to be exchanged between you and your friend and he very carefully pulled you against his warm body for a long hug.

After Steve changed into the clothes Bucky brought him and walked back out into the living room to the scene of you being comfortably wrapped up in his arms as the two of you exchanged quiet words he could barely hear, he couldn't help the tiny pang of jealousy. He felt like a teenage boy who had no control over his emotions. He knew it was wrong, so he pushed it down just like he did all his other feelings towards you.

When Bucky noticed Steve was back, he mumbled an apology to you about needing to get back to work, and promised he would come by later to check up on you. And just as fast as he arrived, he left.

Steve helped you get dressed again, which was a struggle. But the two of you worked together to find a loose enough shirt to put on as to not hurt your back, super soft shorts, and definitely no bra to dig into your skin. But he already saw your boobs so there was no harm in that decision.

By the time you climbed into your own bed for the first time in weeks, and Steve got in next to you, a bit of relief washed over you. The tears came to an end and now you were nothing but stray sniffles and a little ball of frustration as you tried your hardest to get comfortable without laying on your back.

Steve wasn't quite sure how it happened, but you ended up half on your side-half on your stomach with your head in his lap and one of your legs hiked up. Once you were comfortable, he pulled up the back of your shirt to let the cool air hit the burn and to make sure the fabric wasn't irritating the area even more.

He could tell you were still in pain, so he comforted you by running his fingers through your hair. You soaked up every moment of the pleasant sensation, it gave you something to focus on other than the pain.

Single-handedly, he grabbed his phone and pulled up your profile on the music streaming app you downloaded onto his phone so you could create playlists together and share music. He picked a playlist you curated of all your favorite soothing songs and played it quietly for you.

Steve knew music was important to you, most of the time you had at least one airpod in your ear and you were always showing him new music. He loved listening to the songs you found good enough to share with him, and he loved sharing the experience of listening to music with you all because he knew it made you happy.

"Do you have a comfort movie or show?" Steve asked. "Or anything you do to help you fall asleep?"

"Yeah, I get into your bed." You mumbled out a joke, feeling completely drained. Your eyes didn't need to be open to know he was smiling.

"The faster we can get you to fall asleep, the better." He noted.

"Are you tired of me already?" You questioned, another joke.

"Absolutely not." Steve denied with a giggle. "If you fall asleep, you can get through a big chunk of the pain with no awareness to it."

"I was just on a mission for three weeks barely getting any sleep. Just give me a minute, I'll sleep like the dead."

"Why weren't you getting any sleep?" Steve questioned, continuing to rub your scalp.

"They kept assigning me to sleep next to Harvey no matter how many times I asked them to not do that." You explained. "Completely separate cots and sleeping bags and he still tried to get me to have sex with him every single night we were there. Every time I denied him he'd try to spark an argument then I'd get upset and just lay awake because I couldn't turn my brain off."

"He was trying to sleep with you after a whole day on the battlefield? After he said he could never be with someone like you?" Steve questioned. "Did he not break up with you? Is he not exhausted by the end of the day?"

"You'd think there would be significant logistical issues he would consider before trying to initiate but he didn't let anything get in his way." You agreed with Steve. "I have no plans of ever having sex with him again, and he thinks it's a game. Like I'll crumble and whither away without his dick."

"That sounds like a terrible situation you have to put up with everyday." Steve noted. "If I had to look at any of my ex girlfriends every day at work, let alone be on a mission with them for three weeks I don't think both of us would make it out alive, and they would be the ones surviving every time."

You sleepily giggled at his words. "It is pretty terrible, but I'm hoping he will realize soon that there's better dick to be had elsewhere. I'm horny, but never horny enough to have sex with him ever again."

"Wow, you're so strong." Steve laughed. "That was really philosophical."

"I know right?" Your lazy smile stretched.

"If he's making you lose sleep, that's just more proof he's obstructing agents from reaching the objective." Steve noted.

You hummed in agreement, letting the heaviness in your heart and mind settle and the exhaustion in your body take over.

A few moments of silence passed before Steve broke it, his thoughts becoming too loud to keep to himself. "...I really can't imagine getting it up after a whole 12 hour day of fighting... don't think I could ever do that..."

Your smile reappeared. "That's because you actually do your job and you do it well. Harvey just kind've stands there and pretends to be helping. No person in their right mind would be able to get it up after a real day of battle."

"Wow, so you're finally in the phase of admitting that he's bad at what he does." Steve noted.

"Yeah, well, I'm infuriated that we work ourselves to the point of exhaustion and he's just walking around with the audacity to have a hard dick all the time." You noted. "He deserves a life of erectile disfunction, I deserve the audacity of a post mission stiffy."

"See, this is the kind of fire I've been trying to ignite in you this whole time!" Steve enthused. "Who knew that all it would take was a metaphorical boner?"

"Relax, I'm not hard enough yet to hop over the the Avengers." Your voice was getting raspier and quieter by the second, making Steve melt into a puddle. "Give me a little more time, maybe I'll get there eventually."

"Have you tried viagra?" Steve joked.

"Have you?"

"Is your back feeling any better?"

"Why are you deflecting?" You sleepily smiled.

"Sweet dreams, Bug." He covered your eyes with the palm of his hand. "Hope you feel so much better when you wake up."

You grabbed his wrist and directed his hand to the top of your head before letting it go, and snuggling up in the blankets the very best you could. "Thanks for coming to my rescue, Stevie. I love and appreciate you lots."

"Anytime, I love you more."

You dozed off not to long after, and fell into a sleep so deep that you felt like you had woken up in a whole different world. Your phone was ringing, and there was no longer any light seeping through your bedroom window curtains.

Judging by your door being cracked open with lights pouring through and footsteps walking around, you could tell Steve was still in your apartment. Reaching around blindly for your phone, your hand found it and answered the call.

A smile stretched across Steve's face when he heard your sweet, sleepy voice coming from your room. He could tell you were talking to family, so he waited a while until he could hear the conversation wrapping up to come check on you.

It took about fifteen minutes, but he finally came in and turned the light on as he heard some goodbyes.

"I love you so much, Buddy! I'll come see you this week okay? Maybe in a day or two." Your smile was uncontrollable. "No, I cannot bring iron man with me. Am I not cool enough for you anymore?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at you when you looked up at him with a giggle. You motioned for him to stay quiet, then put it on speaker phone.

A tiny little voice came through, and Steve immediately remembered all of the times you told him about your five year old nephew that lived with your sister not too far from the compound.

“What about Captain America?" He questioned.

"I don't know Captain America!" You denied, looking Steve dead in the eye. You laughed as Steve's jaw dropped in response to your antics.

"Yes you do! Mommy showed me a picture of you and Captain America!" He giggled.

"No, that's not Captain America, that's my friend Steve." You joked.

"That's Captain America's name!" Your nephew defended himself.

"No way, really? That must be a coincidence."

"What is your friend Steve's last name?" He questioned.

"I'm not really sure, I'll have to ask him next time I see him." Steve shook his head at you with a mischievous smile while sitting on the edge of your bed. "What is Captain America's last name?"

"Rogers! How do you not know that!?" The boy laughed over the phone. "Don't you work with these people?!"

"I dunno, maybe you should be an Avenger. You know a lot more about this stuff than I do."

"Okay I'm ending this conversation before my son tries to break into the compound and steal Captain Roger's shield." Your sister took the phone away from the five year old.

"Did you hear that Steve? If your shield goes missing, we have a suspect." You told him.

"Oh god... is Captain Rogers in the room with you right now?" Your sister questioned with a sigh.

"No, she's talking to herself. She's kind've crazy." Steve denied earning a laugh from the other side of the phone.

"Tell me about it! I've had to deal with her all my life!" She laughed. "I'll let you go now, Smalls. I'm glad you're okay, let me know if you need anything. Also feel free to come over whenever you want. You know Luca loves you more than anyone in the world, we would take good care of you if you need it."

"Thank you! And thanks for checking up on me, sorry you got that alert, that must've been scary."

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're alright. Stay safe, I'll see you soon."

"See you soon" you agreed before hanging up.

"You're gaslighting a child?" Steve questioned.

"He knows it's a joke." You denied with a tired giggle. "Luca is obsessed with the Avengers but especially you. If I ever actually admitted to him that were close friends he would lose his mind and never leave us alone."

"But he's so cute! You should bring him to the compound and give him a tour!" He enthused.

"I think he would actually combust." You sat up. "Maybe one day, but my Sister doesn't think he's ready for that yet."

"What's her name?"

"Jane, she's four years older than me." You explained. "She called me in a panic because she's my emergency contact. I think Commander Bennett added an injury report to my file so it sent her an automated phone call that I got hurt in battle. It scared the daylight out of her."

"I don't blame her." Steve shook his head. "Thats one of the worst phone calls to ever receive."

"It really is" you agreed. "What time is it?"

"7:30 pm." He grinned. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better. It just feels like a really bad sunburn now." You explained. "I still feel pretty beat up from the mission though."

Steve nodded his head in understanding. "I got an email from Bennett, you were cleared from the roster for the rest of the week. So you'll start work again on Monday. Oh, also, someone from the hazard team came and picked up your suit to clean it. They reported back to be about an hour ago that it wasn't salvageable so weaponry is making you a new one. Should be done by the time you get back to work on Monday."

"Thank you, Stevie, you're the best." You smiled.

"Ugh, I know right?" He joked, back flopping right next to you.

"I take it back." You laughed, gently flicking his head.

"Fine. Next time, call Bucky." Steve joked.

Your laugh got louder and you shook your head. "Bucky would've left me on the Jet floor to beat the shit out of Harvey."

"Exactly my point." Steve settled with amusement.

"Speaking of Bucky, do we know where he is right now?"

"Probably beating the shit out of Harvey"

"You boys are exhausting." You sign smiled.

"But you love it." Steve pointed out, poking your cheek.

"I do." You admitted.

Comfortable silence fell over the two of you, nothing significant was running through your mind, but you could tell Steve's mind was running around one thought and one thought only.

"... You're hungry aren't you?" You questioned rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

"How could you tell?" He turned his head to look at you with a big beaming smile on his face.

"I know you like the back of my hand, Rogers."

He hummed in agreement. "You're hungry too."

"How could you tell?"

"Because your stomach was growling in your slee- I mean... because I know you so well!"

"Food?"

"Food." He agreed.

"Alright, let's go big guy." You pat his shoulder twice. "You saw me naked today so now I get to wine and dine you."

"Bug!" He barked out a laugh, and his cheeks immediately turned a pretty shake of pink. "Don't you even start with me!"

“Oh, and by the way, if you tell anyone you’ve ever seen me naked, I’ll beat you to a pulp faster than any other agent in the compound gets the chance to call me a whore.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Next part: Expendable

Tag list: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @ynstark @dbnightingale24

224 notes · View notes

mistyresolve · 3 months

Text

| This Isn't Normal - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Reader

Word Count - 560

Summary - Simon Riley believed himself to have moved past the anger issues. He never thought he'd have an outburst again, least of all have it directed towards you.

Tags/Warnings - Trigger Warning! Abuse, untreated anger issues, yelling, established relationships (ending of said relationship), angst, disassociation.

A/N - As some may know Simon canonically had anger management issues and I'd like to think my baby girl version of him would NEVER act like the Simon in this one shot. I would also everyone to know that this type of relationship is not healthy and if you find yourself in a similar situation please seek help. Everyone deserves love and respect.

Masterlist ❤︎

It was nights like these where Simon truly wished he was anyone else, where he could step out of his own skin and turn away from himself. The nights that were made silent by his shouts and outcries of anger. He hated the putrid rage that seeped from his pores, how his fury rushed through his veins like fire. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t control himself. His mouth had grown a mind of its own and words had left his lips before they were a fully formed thought.

At some point, he’d stopped seeing. His vision of blur of colours and shapes. His perception of his surroundings was made skewed by the overwhelming disgust toward himself. He couldn’t remember what even started this fight.

He was sure whatever it was wasn’t deserving of this reaction.

But he couldn’t stop.

You had long since stopped responding. Your eyes glazed over as you stared off into the distance, your mind undoubtedly protecting itself from the onslaught of his anger. You didn’t even try to defend yourself.

He would never understand why you didn’t just get up and walk away from him. He didn’t understand why you didn’t lock the bedroom door behind you and call the cops on him.

He has never and would never hit you. He never got violent like that. Never punched walls or threw glasses but he yelled. He spewed hatred like it was a sport when he was triggered.

He thought he was doing better. It had been nearly a year since his last outburst. Or his first outburst with you, depending on how you wanted to look at it. He had promised you it would never happen again.

A memory flashed before his eyes and he froze, his eyes widening his shock. His father's face, red from yelling at him and his mother, seared into him. The air was sucked out of his lungs and his mouth snapped shut.

The silence in the room was deafening, and his ears rang from it. He backed away from you, biting hard into his fisted hand.

Finally, your eyes shifted to his, emotionless, and his heart shattered. What was he doing to you? He was once again sick with himself.

You took the pause in his attack as your time to leave. You stood from the couch and walked out of the living room.

Several hours later he found you on the back balcony, leaning on the banister with a very full glass beside you.

He opened the door to the balcony, stepped outside and leaned on the banister a few feet beside you.

“I think you should leave me,” He murmured into the cold air, his breath curling in front of him, “I know,” he corrected himself, “I know you should leave me.”

You turned to face him, your cheeks blushed from the cool air. Your eyes searched his face, before looking back out the skyline. You remained silent for a while before saying, “You need to get help…This isn’t normal.”

He nodded, “Yeah. I do,” he had gone to therapy and gotten treatment for his anger before, and had thought he’d moved past this.

“I think you should find a place to stay for the night. Maybe even the week,” you took a sip of your wine.

He bowed his head between his arms, his chest tightening, “I do too.”

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #task force 141 #ghost x reader

177 notes · View notes

margowritesthings · 2 years

Text

you made me

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k words

warnings: 18+, angst, smut, oral (r receiving), orgasm

a/n: I honestly dont know where this came from hehe - Ive been so blocked all week and thought Id bash some angst out and got.... carried away whoops. Hope you enjoy!

tagging: @faye-tale @slut4colinbridgerton

My requests are currently open!

Thomas Dorset’s lips were oh so close to your ear, so much so that his breath brushed your lobe when he told you just how stunning you looked tonight. It tickled, but not in the way you were used to. Not that you expected it to. This was, after all, Thomas Dorset. Nobodys breath tickled hot fire across your skin quite like-

No. Not tonight.

You had promised your mama that tonight was about finding a suitor. You had promised yourself that you would stop breaking your own heart day after day waiting. You couldn’t think of him. Not tonight.

The task seemed near impossible when you felt it: the crackle of electricity against the back of your neck, the fair hair standing to attention and a shiver running down your spine. You felt his eyes- Viscount Anthony Bridgerton’s eyes- staring furiously past his friend Mr. Dorset and right at you, wine glass clutched in gloved hands with a vice-like grip. Even from across the dimly lit ballroom, you could see the tension in his jaw as his teeth clenched. His brother Benedict appeared to be talking with him, but Anthony seemed too engrossed in his fury to have even noticed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, seemingly desperate for escape. You couldn’t blame it, part of you wishing you could be swallowed up by the Bridgertons beautiful wooden dance floor, or perhaps kidnapped by pirates and taken to The Americas. Anything to help subdue the hurt you were feeling right now.

Dorset twirled you around as you attempted to mumble out responses to the small talk he was trying his hardest to harvest. Poor Thomas, you thought, watching an actual bead of sweat produce on his forehead from the excursion of conversation with you, he doesn’t have a clue.

How could he? Nobody did. From the outside, there was no way to know your heart belonged to another, which was exactly the problem. You had been with Anthony for almost a year now, in secret, and he had made it obvious he had no intentions with you. You, on the other hand, had to marry. You had to help provide for your mama, there was no other option. Hence why the University chum of the love of your life was bowing his head to you gratefully as the music died down.

You smiled politely, thanking Thomas for the dance, knowing full well there would absolutely not be a second. Your cheeks ache. Your heart hurts. It always was so much harder to maintain a fake smile than a real one.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You breathed the cool air in deeply, as though emerging from being submerged in water for hours, and glanced around the terrace to ensure you were alone. Glancing at your dance card, you grimaced, knowing Viscount Darby would be waiting on the dance floor for you at this very moment. It was most improper to leave him waiting, but after feeling Anthony’s intense glare on you for the last 10 minutes, you were starting to lose the ability to breathe. He hadn’t approached you. Of course he hadn’t, you thought bitterly, gripping onto the vine entwisted railing until your knuckles were white, as if you could somehow transfer pain from the heart to the hand.

Tears pricked at your eyelashes, threatening to fall and you shook your head furiously, trying in vain to will them out of existence. A stray curl fell from your coiffure right in front of your face and you cursed. Again, most improper, but so was falling in love with a man you had been secretly living in complete and utter ruin and sin with for a year. Maybe you were just improper. Perhaps that was why he wouldn’t marry you or court you or anything of the sort.

Whatever it was, it was done, and you weren’t going to find a husband with dishevelled hair like this.

You had been snuck into the Bridgerton house enough times to know that you were only a hallway away from the nearest washroom. It wasn’t perhaps open to the rest of the guests, but you’d much prefer to stay away from anyone else until you looked less like you’d just been compromised. A harsh laugh escaped your throat as you snuck away back into the house. Compromised. Imagine that.

As suspected, the hallway was empty, but you had actually been snuck out through this very entrance, so knew exactly how to get to the washroom. It was three doors down to the left, you just had to go past Anthony’s stud-

“A word, Miss y/l/n?”

You gasped, every muscle in your body somehow simultaneously frozen and on fire. The most nauseating drop of dread fell into the pit of your stomach.

You turned on your heel to the origin of the voice, seeing Anthony leaning against the doorframe in the entrance to his study.

Longing eyes shared a moment together, before you realised there was absolutely nothing you could say that would dissuade Anthony from having this conversation with you. Wordlessly, you walked past him into the office.

The fire was lit and you once more felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, ready to burn on the spot at any moment. The air was suffocating for a second and then even more so as Anthony’s intoxicating scent was pushed into you after locking the door and stepping towards you. He towered over you, almost backing you into the bookshelf as your wide, defiant eyes blinked up at him. You couldn’t speak, having imagined this conversation so many times over so many tears that the real thing didn't feel real at all. Conviction threatened to collapse just after seeing him, but you swore you wouldn’t break. You had to follow your duty, no matter what he had to say.

Anthony’s eyes were dark and you spotted a muscle in his jaw flutter. You tried not to think of the other times you’ve spotted that muscle, while he grit his teeth to try to last longer inside you and keep your precious time together going as long as possible.

“Dorset is not suitable for you.”

You scoffed, all heartbreak halted for a moment as you attempted to fathom his audacity.

“Jealousy isn't becoming of you, my Lord.” you spat, trying not to notice Anthony wincing at the sudden formality between the two of you.

Anthony’s eyebrows knitted together, sadness creeping across his face and defying his angry demeanour.

“Was that not your intention? To make me jealous? Why else would you be dancing with half of London all night, flaunting yourself in front of me!” It was your turn to wince at the raised volume to which he shouted, his accusations of flaunting painful. Truly you had not intended to make him jealous, but you were on a mission to find someone to care for you and your family. Dancing was rather mandatory at a London ball when in want of a husband.

“I beg your pardon, my Lord-” “Anthony.” “-but I fail to see how who I dance with is any of your concern. I am a Lady and you know full well how improper it would be for me to decline an offer of a dance from a gentleman.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Anthony took a step forward. Your back hit the bookshelf gently and strong arms clad in a velvet jacket encased you in.

“And when, exactly, did you start caring about propriety, little siren?” The nickname he had for you was instantly intoxicating and you felt something inside of you crumble and desire pool deep. You were forced to push it all down, absolutely determined.

His breath tickled your skin- exactly how you liked it- as he spoke, whispering deeply “You think Dorset can give you what you want? You think he will know you as I do? Every trick,-”

His tongue flicked against your ear so gently that you could have screamed.

“-every moment, all those depraved, wicked things you love? Only I know those, little siren. Only I know you like you need to be known…”

It would be easy, so easy, to give in, especially as your Anthony’s lips came closer and closer to your-

“No!” You exclaimed, ducking under one of Anthony’s arms to escape. The confusion on his features was a stab to the heart and a punch to the gut all in one. You had never felt such physical, palpable pain for something so intimate and emotional.

“What is going on, y/n?” He demanded, the fury of earlier in the evening returning to his eyes.

“I cannot do this! I cannot do this anymore, Anthony. The time we shared was…” words failed you, unable to do justice to the sheer weight of the time you and Anthony shared together, “Whatever it was, it isn’t sustainable. I need to be with someone I can marry, someone to provide for my family. You have made it more than clear that you do not desire to state your intentions on me, so this… This cannot continue.“

You could almost see the cogs whirring around in Anthony’s brain before completely falling apart, shattering with a silent crash. The tension fell away from his jaw and if it wasn’t so dark in the study you would have sworn you saw his eyes glisten.

And your entire being broke all over again.

“I… I see.” He managed, swallowing hard. “I… I did not realise you needed to… I see.” He trailed off, suddenly unable to meet your hard gaze. Your eyes dropped to the floor too, knowing each second of that intense eye contact was another moment you weren’t sure you could handle.

“I did not mean to… That is to say, I-” “It is fine, Anthony. There is nothing left to say. I shall take my leave, my lord.” And without meeting his gaze again, you attempted to make your way to the door. A hand grasped around your arm stopped you in your tracks.

“Why do you think that? That I should not wish to marry you?” Your eyes met. It was a mistake, you knew that as soon as you noticed the sadness pooled in Anthony’s face. It was unbearable. If it wasn’t for such a stupidly obtuse question, you may have lost some of your resolve.

“I know what I am to you. We had fun, but you hid me away in the shadows, my lord. A Viscount needs a Viscountess he can show off to the ton, do you not think? Not a ruined woman he is ashamed to be seen with.” The tight grip on your skin loosened but didn’t fully subside, Anthony not yet ready to let go, it seemed.

“Y/n… Do you know why I didn’t announce our courtship?” You blinked, and upon realising that was answer enough, Anthony continued, “I felt guilty. I felt I took liberties with you and the ton can be so unforgiving to ladies such as yourself. If they found out what we did? What we shared? You would be ruined, forced to marry me and spend a miserable life with a husband who compromised you… I… I lo- I care for you too much to allow you to settle because of my actions.”

The revelation split the world in half. Or, at least it felt like it did. Your legs felt like jelly and you wished more than almost anything that there was an aptly named fainting chair around for you to drape upon dramatically. Your skin fizzed under Anthony’s grasp and your hairs once again stood on end. Jaw slack, lips trying to form words that refused to be spoken, you tried to figure out if Anthony was telling you just what he thought he was telling you.

“You… You didn’t ruin me, Anthony. The ton may say otherwise but I don’t see it as ruined, I never did. I don’t regret what we did, I didn’t regret it the first time and I haven’t regretted it since. You didn’t ruin me, you made me and if I could live the rest of my life with you I would. I… I…”

At some point, your arm had slipped from Anthony’s grasp. Tears were welling in your eyes and you were both breathing hard, panting. The silence grew and the room got smaller and in that one moment, it became inevitable.

You became engulfed in Bridgerton blue velvet and pulled against Anthony’s warm body, lips clashing with his violently. Books fell to the floor as you managed to push Anthony into the shelf, your tongues angrily dancing together.It was hot, it was needy, it felt as if your futures together lie in this kiss, as long as you could hold on and never let go.

“Y/n…” Anthony breathed through kisses, a hand reaching to push the stray piece of hair that was responsible for this whole exchange behind your ear. “Y/n, y/n, y/n… my darling…” He was breathless, breaking the intense kiss between the two of you to pepper more down your neck. Everything fell apart from the two of you, leaving two souls alone in the world, about to change their lives forever.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tingles to spread across your silky skin with each kiss like ripples in a pond. When your lashes fluttered open again, you had to look down to see Anthony, who was holding onto your hips and was knelt before you, his head inches away from your belly.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him knelt before you like this, but it was the first time you were clothed. The fire crackled beside the two of you, illuminating Anthony in the most stunning glow as he snaked a hand around to take your hand.

“What are you-”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

He didn’t seem to even blink, gazing at you with enough intensity to make you feel like some sort of masterpiece in a gallery.

“Marry me. Not because I compromised you, not because you must marry to care for your family, not because I am the only one who truly knows you. Marry me because I love you. Marry me because I am a bloody fool who couldn’t see what was right in front of me. Marry me because you, y/n, made me. Marry me because-”

You couldn’t wait.

“Yes! Yes. Anthony, I- my God, Anthony… Of course I’ll marry you. I love you too.”

Tears of pure joy and absolute unadulterated happiness welled in your eyes as Anthony shot up and whisked you into his arms, spinning you around. He kissed every inch of your face and neck, just whispering your name over and over again until it ceased to sound real. God, it better be real.

Both feet firmly back on the ground, your cheeks were squished together by Anthony’s strong hands as he pulled you back close to him for another kiss. He kissed away the tears falling down your cheeks. He kissed your jaw and your nose and he anchored his fingers into your coiffure, fingers sensually scratching the back of your head. You mewled deliciously, teasing a growl out of Anthony’s chest. Closing the gap between you, he reached around to unbutton your dress expertly, more than used to your intricate ball gowns. It wasn’t long before there was a puddle of silk on the office floor and the skin of your back was exposed to the heat of the fire. It no longer suffocated you, instead fuelling your passion. Every sensation felt like ecstasy at that moment.

Your fiancé led you over to his desk, sitting you down on it as he knelt between your legs. He didn’t break eye contact as your underwear was pulled down your leg slowly. Stockings were peeled off your legs. You were now completely bare, practically dripping onto the desk while Anthony bowed below you. Seeing him knelt there, ready to pleasure you might just have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You felt that same tickle of breath between your legs and you fought to stay still.

Torturously slowly, Anthony’s tongue slipped out, licking a line all the way up your slit, dipping into you ever so slightly before flicking over your clit. You cried out, grabbing Anthony’s hand and entangling your fingers with his thick curls.

“Shhh…” He cooed, the vibrations of his hush felt right at your core. Anthony’s hand snaked up your chest, taking care to brush your hardened nipples on the way up as he guided you to lay back onto the papers strewn across his desk. Another long lick bucked your hips into the sky and you tried to muffle your moan by biting onto your arm. He pulled away, never once breaking eye contact with you as his devilishly rakish smirk grew and grew.

After what felt like torturous hours of breath teasing at your exposed, soaked cunt, he finally delved in, kissing and nipping and licking in all the right places. He knew you and he knew just how to reel your coil tighter and tighter until you were grinding against his face chasing release.

“Oh, God, Anthony…” You whined, reaching for the hand that wasn’t holding your chest to the desk so you could hold onto it, feeling as though if you weren’t grounded by Anthony, you might just fly off into the sky.

“Fiancee…” He breathed out, before taking your clit into his mouth and sucking. You couldn’t help but scream his name, damn anyone who may walk past, as you are catapulted over the edge by your Viscount’s expertise. As you came, the sweet suction on your nub pulled and pulled at your centre until tears formed and fell down your cheeks once more. Gentle licks at your dripping juices gently let you back down to Earth as the white hot melting of your mind subsided to a gentle, satisfied fuzziness.

Trying to catch your breath, your lashes fluttered down to between your legs, where Anthony still knelt, looking up at you with all the love and lust in the world. If not for the racing of your heart and rushing of blood in your ears, you would have sworn this was a dream, a fantasy you would wake from. But it wasn’t, emphasised by the slight jolt sent up your spine when Anthony nibbled at your inner thigh .

“So… Do you still wish to marry me? Or shall I return you to your…” Anthony glances down to the floor, picking up the long discarded dance card that must have fallen in your passion, “Mr Bradshaw? Oh, my love… You’re staying here with me, for your toes and sanity if nothing else.” He began peppering kisses over your skin, up your stomach and chest until he was on top of you, catching your lips every time he could manage to get in through the giggles.

“Don’t be cruel!” You blushed as Anthony’s tender kisses moved to your cheeks and nose, “But yes, of course I still wish to marry you. But- oh, God!” You almost shot up, very nearly bashing Anthony in the forehead, “I’ve been gone for so long!! My Mama will-”

“Think you’ve been kidnapped and compromised by a handsome Viscount? Oh, my stars…” Anthony whispered, his eyebrow raised and boyish grin fully formed now your womanhood wasn’t blocking your view. You hit him gently on the chest before pulling him in for another kiss, quite literally in awe of this man and enthralled by how quickly everything had changed.

“And what, pray tell, does this handsome Viscount intend to do with me next?”

“Oh, he intends to absolutely ruin you…”

#anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton smut #MargoFiore

2K notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 10 days

Text

WIP - The Cry of Distress Rings

I haven't written anything worthwhile in longer than I'd like. But here is a little bit of what I managed to work on this morning!

“The rabbit is excellent tonight, I think,” Guilford Wentworth said, taking a sip from his wine glass and then swirling the dark liquid inside. He smiled, and his teeth seemed stained slightly red. Kira fought back the way her stomach flipped and bile seemed to rise in her throat, fighting to find its way out.

Behind him, from the display against the window, there was a whimper half-suppressed.

Kira didn’t dare look.

There was a building fury inside her that she feared would burn the entire house to the ground around her if she raised her eyes and set it free.

Instead, she focused on her plate. She kept her eyes down and forced herself to look at the pale ivory ceramic with its lovely swirling blue, images of men and women with parasols and bowties strolling through a wooded area alongside a stream.

Her fingers kept tingling, as if there were sparks and embers burning just beneath the tips. She kept thinking about the silver melting in her hand before, the singed handprints on the wall of the bedroom she'd been held in.

The siren's soft insistence on wild magic - not something that belonged to the fey creatures and monsters alone, but something a human might wield, too.

Something she might wield.

She didn't look up.

But gods above and below, why did the rabbit have to be covered in a berry-sauce that was so dark and rich and thick and red?

She chose a particular bit of rabbit flesh and stabbed her own fork into it as she would have if she held a knife and Guilford himself was at the other end.

As if he felt the tines, the siren groaned.

She couldn’t help it. She dropped the fork and it clattered against the plate, the sound far too loud in a room where the heavy silence had been broken only by Guilford Wentworth's rambling.

"Make her look," Guilford said, in a low voice.

The siren sang.

His voice was broken by the pain, hushed and cracking, but there was still enough power in it that Kira felt her chin lifting against her will, her eyes moving to meet Areyto's as his pain washed into her and commanded she see.

Strung up like a tormented saint, the siren’s arms were up over his head so his back was arched and his muscles stretched, body lean and long. The length of him was framed by the yellowed evening light coming through the window, making of the siren’s agony a near-silhouette, the suggestion of an endless darkness ringed in a terrible light.

Kira’s fingers tightened around her fork as the siren’s head turned to the side. Heavy cuffs with chains that went up to the beams in the ceiling kept his wrists up above him, spikes on the inside buried deeply into his skin. Kira could see rivulets of blood running downwards, the siren's muscles shifting and twitching as the lines worked through way into the crook of his elbow and towards his shoulder.

The same red droplets ran down his chest thanks to the spikes inside the metal collar he wore now as well. From his ankles, blood dripped onto the ground.

Naked, the markings that kept him in this terrible slavery were on full and total display. Kira’s heart beat faster than the rabbit on her plate had ever been able to run.

Areyto's eyes had gone blank and empty except for the pain. There was no one there, only a statue staring back at her while it bled.

Areyto would bleed and never die from the blood loss. He no longer had the option to die unless his master wanted him to.

What a terrible cruelty.

What a hopeless captivity

Kira’s stomach kept turning. She set the bite of rabbit back down again.

Her fingerprints were burned into the fork she had been holding.

#whump #work in progress #wip #captivity #blood tw #restraints tw #bleeding tw #siren whump #magical whump #nonhuman whumpee #defiant whumpee #kira I love youuuuu #bones in the ocean

38 notes · View notes

lacedupforyou · 1 year

Text

ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔫|Yandere Diluc | Yandere Kaeya

( No Inc!st Obviously. Reader is a knight for mondstat. Reader also has a hydro vision). ( Part 2 to this)

From the start you had always been Hardworking, Crafty, But just as gentle. It was no wonder you had become an official knight of Favonius. Using your vision to help others and becoming quite popular in Mondstat.

You had made many friends in Mondstat, From Wolf boys to outriders. It was like everyone knew you. Of course the calvary captain tried to catch your eye and woo you but you were so hardworking you didn't seem to have any time for small flirts.

You were out with the bard listening to his drunken tunes. When the time came for the bill, Master diluc arguing with the heavily drunk Venti to pay his tab. You told him you would pay for it. Stating you detest violence and arguments. Your kindness and selflessness intriguing master diluc. You introduced yourself to him. "If you ever need my help I'd be happy to help you anywhere you need me!"

Something struck him, Like the electro archon sending her fury to diluc in that instance. Diluc had to excuse himself from how friendly cute you were in the moment. A blush spread over his features complimenting his fiery features.

The next day you were invited to the angel's share with rosaria and kaeya. he had promised to settle your bill and after paying for venti's tab how could you refuse?

Walking in you were greeted with a blank faced stare from diluc. And kaeya and rosaria following behind you into the tavern. All 3 of you had ordered drinks and began talking about simple things, laughing, gossiping, and all.

Diluc had been watching you from afar, Watching your expressions change from laughter, shock, and that same soft smile he found himself frozen in. But the way his brother had his arm around you how close he was with you bothered him. He decided to do something about that.

"Y/N I could use your assistance right now."

"I shall help you Sir Diluc" Rosaria replies getting up from her seat.

"I need the assistance of a true knight thank you." He retorts

"It's no trouble rosaria I can help Master Diluc" You smile and arise from your seat to the back to help him.

You almost missed the glare from kaeya and the smirk diluc had given him. You walked to the back to help him move some crates of wine around (He didn't really need them moved he just needed some excuse to have you so close.) "I appreciate your help Y/n. You seem very well known around mondstat, I find your adventures quite alluring. Perhaps you could write me letters of them." He gathers his courage to speak those words hoping for the best.

"Like Pen-Pals? I'd love to! Send me a letter anytime! I'll tell you tons of stuff!" You smile up at him and he almost loses himself again. You write down your address and walk back to kaeya who seemed to be anticipating your return. The night continued full of laughs and more gossip. Then came your tab.

"It's my treat Y/n, I'm the one taking you out." Kaeya smirks over to diluc and takes out his purse of mora.

"Y/n it's MY treat I'll pay for it, Consider it a gift for becoming MY pen pal." Diluc replies semi-harshly

The words send kaeya to make remarks on diluc's faults for diluc to snap back into a full blown argument. Rosaria sighs take your arm and pulls you outside the tavern. "What a night, I shall be the one to walk you home Y/n, Consider it a treat." She smiles and you happily walk off with her into the night. She waves you off and you sleep happily.

You wake that morning to see a letter from Diluc. Your heart flutters from his gorgeous handwriting and his quick timing to already send you a letter. You open it and it says :

"Dearest Y/n I apologize for the previous night and my immature actions. I hope you got home safely in the night. We have a new product coming in from Sumeru, I'd love you to sample it. - Best Regards, Diluc "

You feel incredible, He wished you well and invited you to freely try some new product! What a lovely invitation! But you had training with kaeya today.. The invitation will have to wait, Your job as a knight comes first!

You had sparred with kaeya for awhile, Practicing your hydro vision and watching his cryo in action.

"You're holding your sword wrong Y/n here let me show you." Kaeya says

He comes behind you gripping your hands and arms moving them slowly with his. The distance between you two non existent. He felt lost in the moment and you could feel yourself freeze up as he guided your fingers along the blade. Your embrace was warm and it felt incredible. You swiftly collected himself you continued to train with him.

You wrote a letter back to diluc and went to bed exhausted that night.

Little did you know The Dark Knight and the Calvary Captain were both watching from afar. Watching your peaceful sleeping face from a safe distance. Watching you undress and fall asleep. They felt infatuated by your grace. They knew they'd have to worry about the other brother. But they will make sure you are there's in the end.

#yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere #diluc x reader #yandere diluc #yandere kaeya #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere writing

260 notes · View notes

abellalu · 4 months

Text

Adventures on a Foreign Planet | Chapter 1

Summary: After narrowly escaping Thanos, Loki is given a chance for a new life. The Avengers allow Loki to live in New Asgard with his brother, Thor. However, The Avengers are not quick to put their trust into Loki. SHIELD Director Nick Fury recruits an Agent who was once said to be one of the most promising SHIELD Agents, to follow Loki and ensure that he has no plans to harm Earth. Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader A/N: Hello! This is a new series I've been working on and I'm excited to finally be publishing it. This is just the first chapter, so I hope you stick around to see the full story. [ Masterlist | AO3 ]

Every Asgardian knew the stories of the land that was now supposed to be their home. Many celebrations that were full of food and wine also included the Allfather Odin reminding them of the battle in a small village on Midgard called Tønsberg. The audience would shiver, their shoulders tense as Odin described the land being frozen over by the Frost Giants and their malicious leader, King Laufey; the monsters with blood red eyes and physiques that tower over Asgardians.

The story was always told the same way, with Odin leading the Asgardian army into battle without fear. The War eventually ended in the Frost Giants own realm Jotunheim. But the Midgardian village that eventually grew into a city was still remembered as years later, Odin would ask for the Asgardian worshippers to protect the Tesseract.

At the end of the story, Odin would yell “Asgard will always prevail,” and the crowds would cheer as loud as they could and some would chant the phrase before filling their drinks once more.

Now, their home that they had for centuries was gone. The prophesized apocalypse, Ragnarok, had happened. The Asgardians had needed refuge and their new King Valkyrie, with the advice from the formerly Crown Prince Thor, decided the city from their stories could be their new home. The Asgardians knew there would be no grand celebrations for a long time.

However, most Asgardians were simply grateful to have a chance to continue their lives. Hela’s takeover of Asgard caused many lives to be lost. But their challenges were not over yet, as Thanos had come for the Tesseract.

Thanos originally went for another infinity stone on a planet called Xander. But decided against it as rumors his daughters Gamora and Nebula knew of his plans stopped him. Little did he know that his daughters and their friends knew of his new plan to go after the Tesseract. The Guardians of the Galaxy, as they referred to themselves as, followed him. With the help of the Nova Corp and some Ravagers, they were able to fight Thanos. The new legend says Nebula performed the final attack, killing The Mad Titan.

Not every Asgardian survived the Thanos attack. Most were able to escape quickly in a smaller ship with Valkyrie and Korg. Some decided to stay behind and fight. To ensure Asgard had a future.

Everyday since the Asgardians arrived on Midgard three months ago and renamed the city of Tønsberg to New Asgard, the younger prince of Asgard wondered if it would be the day he was sent to a different realm or was executed.

Loki's last visit to Midgard resulted in a strange wizard putting him in a strange portal where he fell for thirty minutes while Thor was told to take Loki from Earth. Thor easily agreed that his brother was a threat to Earth. The Battle of New York was far from forgotten.

But, now Thor was telling anyone who would listen that Loki had changed and was a hero for the Asgardians. The Avengers did not trust this supposed change of heart and decided to lock up Loki in the Avengers Compound until they decided what they would do with him. Loki did not put up a fight. What was the point?

Thor attempted to make his brother's living situation as comfortable as possible, requesting that he was not put in a cell but rather an apartment like the ones the other Avengers lived in; Tony Stark's AI FRIDAY, ensuring tight security.

During the months living in the compound, Loki was questioned on a regular basis, mostly by the Avengers but occasionally by military and government officials. But ultimately, everyone agreed that it was up to the Avengers to make the final decision.

“Why are you here Loki? Planning another massacre in an attempt to be some King? I wanna know what tricks you got up your sleeve this time cause the mind stuff was really impressive but you don’t seem like the person to enjoy repeating tricks?” asked Clint Barton, a man Loki remembers well. He was always one of the harshest interviewers and for understandable reasons.

The two men are sitting across from each other at a table in Loki’s temporary apartment. Unlike the others, Loki has not been able to add any personal touches. The walls are plain and all the tabletops bare.

“I do not plan on conquering. My return to your planet is simply because it is where my brother and our people are,” Loki responds. He sounded casual and almost bored, as if this was a phrase he repeated many times.

Most of his life, Asgard gave him no attention except when he was causing tricks on them. Why would they when they could instead idolize Thor, the golden prince. Now he is constantly trying to convince others that he is a part of Asgard. That he is wanted by the Asgardians. Loki knew it was a lie, but the silvertongue always knew how to lie.

“Your people? The people who did not want you to become their king so you decided it would be fun to destroy Earth,” Clint almost laughs.

“Fun is not how I would describe my past experience here.”

The dark haired God never once broke eye contact with Clint as he said “There is much you don’t know about how that attack came to be. I was not the main person who lost that day.”

Clint leaned back in his chair, sighing. The details given by Loki about his side of the Battle of New York always felt incomplete. He needed to hold back. The truth of those events and what he experienced because of that Mad Titan is something the Avengers didn’t need to know about.

Knowing it was a lost cause, Clint decided to move on.

“New Asgard is starting to settle down. People are getting used to the situation, more homes are being built. They are starting work and the children are taking lessons again,” Clint offers.

“So I’ve heard.”

“You helped Asgardians escape Ragnarok, " he leaned against the table, "You think you could create a new life?”

Loki only nodded.

Mission Assignment Update: Report to Nick Fury at Base 018

You groan as you put your phone back on the nightstand. It was only 6am, but of course the bastard Fury didn’t care that you only got to your apartment past midnight after finishing your latest mission.

It wasn’t an exciting one. There was a rumor that a “dangerous group” in New Jersey was developing technology that could hack anyone including Tony Stark himself.

And of course like always it was nothing. Just a group of grad students who got pretentious about some of the programs were developing and exaggerated the truth to some of their friends.

Yet, SHIELD still never wanted to take any risks so you were the ever so lucky agent that had to investigate then write a riveting report about how it was nothing.

The notification didn’t include a meeting time, meaning that Fury wants you to be there as soon as possible and no matter what time you arrive, he will complain about you being late.

Your eyelids still feel heavy as you will yourself to get out of bed. As you slowly gain consciousness you wonder why you even have to go to Fury for your mission assignment. Most of the time you are messaged the directions of the missions and complete it all on your own.

Eventually you manage to get dressed and run out of your apartment to head to the SHIELD base. It wasn’t a very big one, though most of the facilities weren’t anymore. SHIELD didn’t have much now after the Hydra infiltration. Many resources were gone and so were many agents.

This base was hidden in plain sight. It was just another skyscraper in New York full of many businesses that each rented a couple floors. As far as the other workers in the building knew, “Secure and Shield Surveillance” was a small technology company that possibly made security cameras or computer protection software.

No one ever really cared enough to investigate further.

You enter the building and take the elevator to the 8th floor. When the doors open and there you are greeted by the hostile stare of the secretary, Bernadette who has half-moon glasses and dresses as though she is working in the 1950s. Her gray hair is in its usual tight updo that never allows any piece of hair to move from its assigned position.

“Well look who decided to grace us with her presence today.”

Bernadette had been a part of SHIELD longer than anyone else (you didn’t know how long because no one would ever risk asking her age). You sometimes wondered if she was always a secretary or if her past jobs were more like yours.

All you did know was Bernadette believed that SHIELD would be best run if everyone obeyed orders and that she hated you because you always did the exact opposite.

You roll your eyes and respond, “Always nice seeing you too. If I knew you missed me so much I would have visited more often.”

“How generous.” Bernadette returns to her work, attempting to ignore you still being in the room.

“I know, when I die I’ll be treated like a saint,” you smile to yourself, knowing that you probably annoyed her enough that she will be irritated for the rest of the day.

She continues to type on her computer, attempting to maintain a bored face, but you are still pleased because you can see the slight furrow in her brow and her frown deepen. “Director Fury is waiting in his office. A reminder on basic manners dear, don’t leave your boss waiting.”

“Didn’t plan on it Bernadette, I’m always polite.” You are already walking down the hall when you respond, while you attempt to hold your small laugh.

As you enter the office, you see Fury but there was another figure with him. Steve Rogers. You’ve met before many times albeit the encounters were usually very short.

He has been involved with SHIELD for many years and after the infiltration was revealed, it was he who heavily promoted the idea of reforming SHIELD in hopes of maintaining its legacy. However, he was still most committed to the Avengers and most SHIELD operations were handled by others.

But now the two men are standing around Fury’s desk, staring at you while you still stand in the doorway.

“Director, Captain, I hope you plan on explaining to me why we are all here.”

Fury steps forward towards you, his arms crossed, “Agent, I assumed you would know from the dispatch that we need to talk about your new mission.”

“Yes, message that provided no details except to meet you here which we both know is irregular. We both don’t have time for this and I assume your other guest, who was not even mentioned on my invitation, doesn’t either.”

Steve looks apologetic as he says “I apologize that I caught you off guard, that wasn’t my intention.”

“It was absolutely my intention. Why are you complaining so much? I thought you loved surprises and it's really a shame we don’t see each other more often,” Fury interrupts.

You force yourself to laugh, “Not my fault you didn’t wanna go on a coffee date with me,” you close the door behind you, fully entering Fury’s office “Captain, are you willing to finally tell me about this mission?”

Steve sighs and sits down in the chair beside the desk, “As you know Thor has brought the Asgardians here to Earth, they’ve been rebuilding their home in Norway.”

You nod. Asgard’s destruction and refuge wasn’t unknown. You heard about some missions of agents being sent to deliver resources and technology to the Asgardians, in an attempt to help them adapt to their new lifestyle.

But doesn’t explain why Fury and Steve, themselves need to personally explain your mission to you.

Steve continues, “Thor also brought some of his companions with him,” he pauses, “Including his brother Loki.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach and breaths stop.

Loki is back on Earth? It has been years since the attack on New York, but no one has forgotten it. At one moment you are sparring with your fellow SHIELD trainees, placing bets on who was going to get assigned a real mission first, then in the next moment it doesn’t matter. SHIELDs Helicarrier was attacked and the perpetrator had escaped.

Everything you learn about their menacing leader was after the attack. SHIELD was able to collect some footage of the tall dark god. The footage was blurry, but yet you can still see the God enjoying himself. The attack was no accident.

“You let Loki back on Earth? The Asgardians have been on Earth for months, are you trying to tell me you’ve allowed him to be here the whole time. What the fu-”

“Our reasons for allowing him to be here are complicated, Agent. Please try to stay quiet and listen.” Fury starts sounding more and more exhausted, whether by you or the entire situation is debatable.

Steve looks at Fury then back at you, “When we saw Loki had arrived with Thor, we immediately put him in custody. Thor was upset with this decision and tried to explain to us that- well he believes his brother is good now.”

Thor believes his brother is good?

Fury explains, “Loki apparently did some hero shit when they were escaping Asgard and now Thor believes that his little dream of fighting alongside his brother is possible.”

The story they are telling you feels like a dream. Or maybe this is a nightmare. It is too unbelievable to be real.

“Do you believe that? This is ridiculous-”

You are interrupted again by Fury “What did I say about you saying quiet and listening. We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

“We decided to investigate Thor’s claims about his brother. We needed to decide what to do with Loki and we finally came to a conclusion,” Steve stares at me “Loki is moving to New Asgard.”

Steve continues, “New Asgard is where Thor is and maybe eventually after a while, he might even help the Avengers out. This is a dangerous move we know, but it’s one we believe in,” he pauses. “I believe we can give him a second chance.”

Steve Rogers, or Captain America as the world knew he always wanted to do the right thing. To believe there is still good in the world even if it felt like it was all following apart.

And somehow he could even see good in Loki.

You are lost in your thoughts when Fury's voice sneaks into your head. “This is where you come in, Agent.”

Your head whips around to stare at Fury, your mouth slightly agape. During this meeting, you had become so distracted by this absurd story that you forgot the original reason for you being here.

"Thor promises to keep an eye on his brother, but we want to be safe," Steve said, "Fury recommended you for the job.”

You stare at Fury. He was always a calculated man

"Why did you choose me for this mission?"

"Loki annoys the hell out of me and so do you,” Fury shugs.

“Ha, very funny,” you say completely expressionless.

This whole situation was ridiculous.

But, maybe it was time for a challenge. For years now, every mission you’ve received always felt the same and never truly needed a SHIELD agent to handle it.

“So, you’re telling me my new mission is to babysit a God?” They both nod cautiously. You pause, making sure you have made up your mind, “So when do I start?”

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #mcu fanfiction #loki fanfic #enemies to lovers #Loki #Loki Laufeyson

60 notes · View notes

wildwood-faun · 5 months

Text

@thegodwhocums I'm only on night two of my seven nights of Dionysos so far but I've been able to just Sit with this more than I have been with things in quite a long time. Perhaps this is what will bring me back into my groove, perhaps not. I'm feeling relaxed and open minded about it, which is nice.

#adding this step to my more general daily offerings #yesterday was incense and a candle #today just the candle (my sensitive airways can't really do incense on a daily basis or i would)#red candles for now for the simple reason that they are what i have that will fit in that candle holder #keeping things pretty low key over here #oh and some music too. of course. adding that to my routine has been a great reminder of how impactful it can be #seven nights of dionysos #heart full of wine and fury

13 notes · View notes

justalost4girl · 8 months

Text

BETWEEN WORLDS

words: 2.65k

You pick her up at home wearing a tuxedo. She finds it funny and pulls you by the tie for a kiss as you step out of the car to open the door. She's radiant, and you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with this woman. The box in your pocket weighs a little heavier as you close the door behind her.

You get into the car and start driving towards your favorite restaurant. It's a pleasant, starry night, and she tells you how her boss miraculously gave her the day off today. You smile as you listen to her talk about how she missed you; Natalia has always been your source of happiness. Always will be. She puts on her favorite playlist, and you both sing along to the songs as if embarking on a journey towards the sun. It's easy with her, it always has been.

Arriving at the restaurant, she notices it's empty and turns to you in surprise. There are violinists playing her favorite symphony, and there are flowers, lots of flowers, all her favorites, in this life and the next. You propose to her, and she accepts, of course she does. She loves you. Almost as much as you love her. Even if you don't say those three words, she knows.

While you sip wine, she slowly reaches out towards you, revealing a dazzling engagement ring. The sparkle of the central stone captures the candlelight, making it twinkle like a distant star. The pure and radiant diamond is surrounded by smaller diamonds that resemble a halo of stars, symbolizing the love that surrounds them. The delicate band, made of gleaming white gold, seems tailor-made for her finger, adding a touch of elegance and sophistication to this special moment. On the side of the band, there's a tiny red hourglass, her favorite symbol, intricately carved, reminding you that your time together is eternal.

It's a perfect night.

Your hands touch across the table, and there are tears in her eyes. You've given them to her. Tears of happiness.

Always of happiness.

Plans for a beach house, adopted pets, and how to balance your schedules resurface as you wait for your favorite dish. You get lost in her eyes, and all doubts about the resignation letter you sent this morning disappear. You'll give up your multiversal missions for her, and Fury will understand. He has to.

"Baby, are you listening?" She says with that raspy voice you adore.

"Sorry, got lost in your eyes," you say, caressing her hand in yours.

"Silly. I've always loved that absent-minded side of you, but love, I need your full attention. We need to choose our trip." She holds your chin, smiling, and you look into those big eyes again. Tell her what you feel. Tell her she's your soulmate.

You sigh and gather your courage.

"Natalia, I-"

A red laser catches your attention as it reflects behind her. You instinctively turn your head to see what's happening. The tranquil atmosphere of the restaurant is abruptly shattered as an armed group storms in. A tear gas grenade is thrown. Chaos unfolds before your eyes as you pull your fiancée to the ground.

Her eyes widen in terror as events unfold faster than you can process. Your gun is in your bag, but before you can react, dozens of shots ring out in the restaurant. The world around you seems to slow down as you notice guns pointed at you and Natalia. You flip the table to shield her and engage in hand-to-hand combat with the attackers, using your combat knife.

The sound of rolling metal grabs your attention, and time seems to freeze for a terrible moment. Two fragmentation grenades roll toward her.

Your heart races as you know you need to act fast. With all the strength left in you, you throw yourself over your fiancée, covering her with your own body, like a protective barrier. Your eyes squeeze shut, anticipating the imminent impact of the explosions that would change everything.

The air is torn by the deafening sound of the grenades exploding. The force of the impact shakes both of you violently. When the smoke and chaos begin to dissipate, you slowly open your eyes.

You can feel the fragments on your skin, but none of that matters as you look down, realizing the tragedy. Natalia is lifeless, unable to withstand the explosions. Tears mix with dust and smoke as you watch her, unable to believe the devastating loss you've just suffered.

Pain and shock mingle as you helplessly watch, unable to use your healing factor to save her. You feel pain, not just physical, but mental. You feel hatred. You rise with difficulty, killing one member of the tactical group after another. Bullets tear through your skin and lodge on it, but all you feel is Natalia's blood beneath your hands.

Then, you feel nothing.

★

A casket is positioned in the center of the room, and the medications in your system aren't enough to make you ignore the looks of pity your friends direct at you.

You see the quiet Maximoff twins sitting on the stairs, accompanied by their niece, Kate. They don't smile. None of them do.

No one in the room does.

Everyone misses her, you know. She's gone, leaving a void in your chest. Your eyes wander to your own hand, finding the gold ring she gave you as a promise of the future. A future that never came and that the body in the center of the room announces will never come.

Steve comes to you and crouches to meet your eyes. He speaks, but you don't understand. You realize that his eyes have always been similar to hers; she has beautiful eyes. She had beautiful eyes. You need to get used to using the past tense again. You always do.

Steve stops talking and just holds your good hand. Your body has scars from the night of the attack, and even though you're medicated, his touch hurts, even if it's comforting. It's not soft enough. Nothing ever will be. His hands aren't as gentle as hers. Hers, cold from the absence of life. Still, you lean on him as you shed another waterfall of tears.

Steve holds you tighter.

Wanda, your best friend, takes over after a while. You dive into the woman's embrace, knowing all eyes are on you.

The silence in the room is deafening, and you want to scream. You want to scream the pain you feel for having lost the love of your life once again.

"Tragedy will follow you when you allow yourself to love her."

The words echo in your mind, like a dark reminder of a painful past. The curse of love, a prophecy that seems to haunt your existence. You remember the first time you heard it, when an ancient seer looked deep into your eyes and whispered this warning.

You should have believed it.

The urge to scream overwhelms you; you want to break everything. Every picture chosen by her, but instead, you take a deep breath and try to remember something that brings you relief. A memory. Like your Natalia taught you.

☆

You remember how you got here. Nick Fury gave you a mission, and you completed it. You always did, but a stray bullet found its way between your ribs. Hearing your strange breathing made your agents panic, and they brought you unconscious to the medbay.

Even though you had said that was forbidden.

You didn't want to meet her again. That red-haired woman, Natalia, had been assigned to your battalion. You were sure Fury had pulled some strings to make it happen.

"A gift," he said. After completing so many missions successfully, Fury found it interesting to bring her back into your life. Since you started working for him as a multiversal agent, meeting the current version of that woman was something that happened often.

She was your canonical event, the only standard thing that remained independent of your universe at the moment. Sometimes it took a while, and you had to travel to distant lands to find her, other times you could meet her in a cafe. After several encounters in different universes, you stopped searching for answers. Maybe she was your soulmate, but you had lost enough to believe in that.

"Look who finally showed up," a familiar voice interrupts your train of thought. "I was starting to suspect you were just a ghost," Natalia says, raising an eyebrow.

It's the first time you've heard her make that joke, and a smile escapes your lips. It's easy to laugh with her. It always has been. And your smile makes her smile even wider.

"Did you hope I'd get hurt? What kind of doctor are you?" You playfully retort, hiding the pain you felt.

"Don't say that, you silly. Let's see what you've got," she says, cutting your blouse with a half-smile, exposing your skin, which still struggled to recover from the wounds. Courtesy of the bullet that was still lodged in your rib.

"Just pull it out and let it heal; it's not a big deal. I would have done it myself if I hadn't passed out," you say, playing with your fingers. You don't like seeing her worried; it makes you anxious too.

"I read your file, and I know your super-healing won't save you from an infection. I'm going to do this right. Need anesthesia?" She looks at the rest of your body, searching for other places that need attention.

"No, I'm used to the pain," you say, trying to appear brave. It's not entirely a lie. You're used to the pain and prefer the feeling of a foreign object being removed over a needle piercing your skin. You hate needles.

"It shouldn't be like that. No one should get used to pain, not when science created this," Natalia smiles and shows you a syringe. "Local anesthesia. I'll need to locate the bullet inside you; it might take a while, and I don't want you to feel it."

"It's not necessary. I really don't mind the pain," you try to smile and look strong, but Natalia's eyes light up with realization, and you know you've lost.

"Are you afraid of needles?" She looks amused, and you nod with closed eyes.

"The feeling of something piercing my skin hurts, but the needle hurts me. As it goes in, my skin tries to heal, and that hurts. I don't like the sensation. I'd rather take ten bullets than have something stuck in my skin," you admit, looking at her. Her eyes are beautiful, you realize. They always have been.

"What's your happiest memory?" She says after a few seconds. You think she got lost in your eyes too. "Can you think about it for a minute for me?"

You nod and close your eyes, thinking of a beach afternoon you had with a green-eyed woman when the world was still simple, and you were good. You met her in a bookstore and invited her for coffee. The day ended up at the beach for some reason, with both of you barefoot, shouting at the sea.

"Ready. Injection applied," Natalia says, smiling, proud. And you can't believe her. She always surprises you, so you decide to give her a chance and say your name to her.

"Fury talked about you. Impressive healing factor and honor in missions. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Natalia Romanov," she says with a smile, still focused on removing the bullet from inside you.

You smile as you feel her fingers touching your bones, but it's gentle and tickles. You offer to buy lunch. ☆

"We need to take her," Wanda whispers softly in your ear.

You nod and wipe away the tears. Approaching the casket, you observe her lifeless form, a peaceful expression on her face, and you hold her hand. The stiffness hurts, but you know this is your last chance to touch the woman you love in this universe. Your Natalia. The sweet and gentle woman you've loved since that morning.

You kiss her cold forehead and step away with teary eyes. The casket is closed, and you hate yourself for not having died with her that night.

☆

When Fury comes, two days later, you are sitting on the bed. Knowing he was coming, you organized your belongings and wrote in your journal. The room is quiet, the pain still overwhelming, but your determination remains unwavering.

Nick Fury enters the room, with his characteristically serious gaze and an envelope in hand. He observes you for a moment, understanding the magnitude of what you've just been through. With a silent nod, he approaches and hands you the envelope.

"I have a new mission for you," he says, with a mix of respect and regret in his voice.

You accept the envelope firmly, even though your heart is heavy. Inside it, you find detailed information about the next mission and the new universe you will be sent to.

"You don't have to do this," Fury adds, watching you fill a notebook.

But you look into his eyes and reply with determination, "I will do it. I will ensure that the next person to take my position has all the necessary information."

With that, you continue writing in your journal, sharing details, secrets, and strategies that only you know, and you wonder if you will ever be able to break this curse, to find the happiness that seems so elusive. A new you will replace you by morning, with a copy of all your memories, but you want her to be perfect. The twins deserve a godmother who remembers their favorite ice cream. Kate, a guardian. This universe, a sweet companion.

You leave the journal on the bed next to your wedding ring. Saying goodbye to the room one last time, you put your sketchbooks into a backpack and tie Natalia's ring on a cord around your neck. You will always remember her, you always do. It's your curse. The new mission represents an opportunity to get lost in a new universe, but deep down, you know a part of you will always be with your fiancée, in the memory of a love that couldn't be erased.

A portal opens, and you look at yourself in the mirror one last time.

And follow Fury through the portal.

☆

The SHIELD headquarters building is impressive, with its imposing architecture reaching towards the sky. It's your first time in this universe, but you are still in mourning, carrying the memory of the tragedy you left behind. This universe is destined for defeat in a few years, and you must prevent it.

As you walk through the well-maintained gardens surrounding the building, your legs moving almost automatically, you find yourself lost in thought. The green trees provide a glimpse of nature amid the rigidity of the concrete structure. You wonder what it will be like to work in a place like this, in a world so different from your own.

Suddenly, a soft voice interrupts your thoughts. "Hey, you're the new recruit?" It's a feminine voice, intriguing and confident. You turn to find an elegant woman with red hair and eyes that seem to capture all the depth of the universe.

"Yes, that's me," you reply, your voice slightly trembling with surprise at being approached so abruptly by the woman you buried a few days ago.

The red-haired woman smiles, an enigmatic smile that reveals only a small part of what she must know. "Welcome to SHIELD. I'm Natasha Romanoff. I'll show you how things work around here."

Even as she speaks, you can't help but feel that something is wrong in this universe. You take a deep breath and follow Natasha, determined not to repeat the same mistakes of the past.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff deserved better #black widow x reader #i will never recover #im back from the dead

94 notes · View notes

csigeoblue · 9 months

Text

Double Date Part 1 - Roy Kent x Platonic!Reader (Ted Lasso Fic)

A/N: Roy Kent is your sour bestie and hates your mean boyfriend.

"Oh come on Roy! Y/N has been asking us to double date with their boyfriend for a month now. They're gonna think you don't like them anymore if you keep dodging 'em babe." As much as it pissed Roy off that Keeley was right, he knew he had to make an appearance especially since Luke is letting you show your face in public for the first time in a while. He'd always been skeptical of the guy when you first started dating but he didn't want to get in the way of your happiness as you'd been so helpful in getting him off his ass to win Keeley back.

"Oi! Fine. We'll fucking go on this stupid double date to check on Y/N." Keely squealed in excitement. She knew you'd be so happy to see your best friend. Roy looked down at his phone to text you back in your chat with Keeley.

RK: Let's meet at your favorite restaurant, Y/N/N.

YN: Luke made reservations for us at Pearl's. xD

RK: But you fucking hate that place.

YN: It's grown on me :3 ... Besides you and Keels love going there!

RK: If you're sure.

Only a fucking arsehole would take their partner to a place they absolutely hate. Roy tried to shrug off the weirdness of your texts and focus on the Tesco trip he had planned with Keeley. ___________________

At dinner, Roy's concern only grew. You came at him like you normally would for an overly aggressive hug but the look in Luke's eyes as he witnessed it was not at all jokingly annoyed even though his words were meant to be. Keeley hugged you with the same energy - having missed you the last few weeks.

"C'mon Darling, don't make a show with me right here."

"Sorry love, you know Roy's my best mate from my time at Chelsea."

"Why don't we get our table then? Thanks for making the rezzie Luke!" Keeley, bless her heart, attempted to diffuse the situation by deflecting attention towards the restaurant you all were meeting at.

You tried to get Luke and Roy to engage in conversation but it seemed Luke only cared about Keeley today.

"Honey, why don't you tell Roy about your new promotion at work?"

"Yes Luke, tell me about fucking work." Keeley rolled her eyes at Roy's sarcasm before hopping in. "Congratulations Luke! What is it you're doing nowadays?"

"Well Keeley, I am now a senior financial analyst at a big firm in London. Taking on more responsibilities and training new idiots."

"They're not idiots babe - they just need your guidance to know what to do. It's not easy being the new kid on the job." The wicked smile Luke gave you at your response made you freeze. Keeley might have missed it because she piped up adding onto your stance but Roy's all knowing gaze caught the slight tremor in your hand as you reached for your wine.

Luke chose that same moment to make a big gesture with his arms pushing back on Keeley a bit and happened to bump your wine allover your shirt as you went to sip. Roy stood up in fury as you did in shock. Luke had the audacity to laugh.

"Oi! Fucking hell, what was that?" Roy breathed heavily as Keeley put a hand on his arm to let him know she was there.

"Sorry Darling, guess you should be more careful of what's happening around you." You took a deep breathe to calm your nerves although now you were full on shaking. You nodded along mumbling an apology to the group.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Hey Y/N/N, it's not your fucking fault. It's this twat sitting next to you's fault."

Luke threw his napkin on the table as Roy sat down and you were wiping your top. "Alright that's it. Y/N, we are leaving. I'm sick of his shit."

Keeley spoke up concerned at how you've completely shut down.

"Y/N/N, babe, you can stay with us for dinner if you want. I've got a spare top you can borrow in the car. It'll only take a second." You shook your head while gathering your things. Luke had already started walking away from your group.

"No that's okay Keeley. I don't want to make things any worse than I have. You both have a good meal. Roy, you be better be good to this one." You pointed to Keeley with a small smile on your face.

Part 2

#ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso #tw abuse #roy kent fanfic #roy kent x reader #roy kent fic #keeley jones #roy kent fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

haeseolar · 5 months

Text

wrap me in a colour brighter than gold

royalty omegaverse au - kinnporsche / alpha!kinn, omega!porsche

rated T, 1.7k words

read on twitter

----

Porsche has never felt so free in his life.

The music thrums through him, making his skin feel like it’s vibrating and alive, his feet dancing across the marble floor as he sways through the crowd, the bangles around his ankles jingling with each step. He’s not sure how he can even hear them considering the noise in the hall, but he can, as if it’s ringing directly in his ears.

His robes flow freely behind him like a breeze continuously follows him. The material is light and thin, barely covering anything as it leaves his chest bare and the sides of his legs open, the only thing keeping it together is the thick golden sash around his waist cinching him in. It’d been a gift from Kinn, and despite his fury at such an obscenely expensive courting gift, he’s grateful now to have it.

Everyone who he passes turns their heads to watch him until everyone but the man he wants is looking. His hands are lifted above his head, preciously holding a full wine glass in one and the other empty, his fingers stretched up towards the heavens. No gods hear him anymore, he realised, but the man sitting on the ornate golden throne before him does.

Porsche moves closer, desperate for attention, to be looked at and simultaneously hidden away at the same time, yearning for the familiar smell of musky vanilla and spice. He cuts through the crowd, not caring if his drink spills over the lip, trailing deep burgundy down his arms, staining the sleeves of his robes.

As he approaches the throne, he locks onto the dominating figure overseeing the court. Kinn lounges back, thighs spread wide, his dark eyes instantly finding Porsche. His blood simmers low in his stomach at the gaze, hot and heavy, weighted with each second that passes when Kinn takes in his appearance.

Kinn’s eyes start briefly at his face, skittering around the makeup and jewels adorning his throat, before moving further down. Each inch he takes in, lower and lower, leaves burning invisible marks against his skin. The alpha’s eyebrows furrow, his posture changing, morphing into something more alert. He no longer looks bored, but he doesn’t look happy, either.

As Kinn’s eyes reach the golden sash around his waist, there as nothing more than an accessory, not acceptance for his courting, his facial expression slackens. He looks charmingly young, eyes wide and lips parted as if he can’t quite believe that Porsche is wearing his gift. It makes Porsche’s heart thump louder in his chest, and as he comes to a stop at the bottom of the steps in front of the throne, all the noise in the room fades out.

Vanilla hits him, calming and inviting, making him want to crawl on all fours up the steps to reach Kinn’s lap, to drape himself over like an expensive rug, but Porsche holds himself back. He must first be invited up to the throne, as they are not yet wedded.

Kinn’s nostrils flare, clearly smelling Porsche’s heightened scent. “What is it, omega?”

Shivers work their way down Porsche’s spine, his knees threatening to give out at being addressed so dismissively. He’s not sure what’s in this wine, or what’s in the air tonight, but he wants.

“May I approach, alpha?” Porsche replies demurely, yet he never looks away, meeting Kinn’s gaze head-on.

Kinn pauses as if considering, despite Porsche smelling every single atom of need radiating off the alpha. It’s nothing more than keeping up appearances for the court, as every single important person in the kingdom has gathered tonight.

“You may,” Kinn finally acquiesces, gesturing to the empty space in front of him.

Porsche bends, at first looking as if he’s curtseying in front of the alpha king, before making it clear that he’s merely putting his glass down on the floor. Kinn’s eyes narrow on him at the blatant disrespect, but he doesn’t call him out on it as he climbs the steps, the red satin rug sinking between his toes.

Once he’s close enough that only people who can hear them talking are themselves, Porsche speaks:

“May I sit, alpha?”

Kinn seems confused, first glancing down at the floor, before looking back up again. There is only a single throne in this court, situated on top of a platform.

“Where -”

Porsche grins, his eyes curving and lips stretching languidly across his face as he spins around, flopping down on Kinn’s lap. The motion makes his robes catch underneath him, exposing the entirety of his legs and thighs, all the way up to his hip bones.

Porsche leans fully into Kinn’s strong frame, cushioning himself on his muscles, fitting his back against his chest and making sure his thighs match up perfectly with Kinn’s.

“Porsche!” Kinn splutters, every ounce of royalty gone, especially when his hands immediately come up to his waist, gripping tightly around to keep him still.

It doesn’t work as he wriggles, worming his way even farther back onto Kinn’s lap. The hold on his waist becomes bruising, painfully so, but the wine dims down his senses, all but the ones that are motivating him right now. He wants to be wrapped up in Kinn, held close, the only thing he can see and smell is the alpha. He wants everyone in the hall to leave, allowing them to be alone on the throne.

“What are you doing?” Kinn hisses in his ear.

Porsche giggles, arms coming up behind him to drape around Kinn’s neck. It’s not the comfiest of positions, and it makes his spine arch and chest push out, but it brings their faces closer. His fingers tangle in the small hairs at the nape of Kinn’s neck, resting his head on his shoulder.

“I wanted to see you,” Porsche replies coyly, his words slurring.

“You’re drunk,” Kinn accuses, but he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t shove Porsche off his lap, doesn’t cast him back to the throngs of people in the hall who are all watching them.

Porsche’s eyelids flutter at the phantom attention. He hopes they all see that he can take what he wants from the alpha king, can do as he wishes and be as free as a bird, all while Kinn - their most savage and yet respected king - sits there and allows it.

“I can leave if you wish,” Porsche says simply, dangling the offer in front of Kinn.

“No,” Kinn barely lets Porsche finish, “You can stay.”

Porsche hums, nosing at the underside of Kinn’s jaw, inhaling deeply, “You smell good.”

“Porsche,” Kinn grits out.

The air between them becomes thick and cloying, shrouding them in a dense fog that only they can see. Porsche’s breath hitches, his lungs contracting and begging for air, to breathe in the alpha’s scent, his instincts screaming at him to bare his neck and offer himself up. Just with one word, his name, Kinn has Porsche pliant and fighting every urge in him to give in.

He won’t, and Kinn knows he won’t, but that’s what makes the game of cat and mouse between them so much more fun. It’s what makes Porsche’s mouth water, his navel tug, his senses light on fire and the world narrow down to just them. It doesn’t matter if hundreds of people watch him, want him, lust after him and wish that they could bed Porsche because none of them is Kinn. None of them are worth a dime, or worth a second of Porsche’s time, because the only one that matters is Kinn.

Kinn, his alpha, his king, who he can feel getting hard beneath him from nothing at all, merely just sitting on his lap. Power and arousal make him dizzy at that thought, that he’s barely done anything at all, and he’s got Kinn like this.

Porsche shifts, the soft material grazing against his sensitive skin, making him jolt and a whine almost leave his lips. It gets trapped in his throat, quiet enough that only he and Kinn can hear, but it’s enough.

“Are you trying to seduce me, omega?” Kinn questions, his whole body tense. His thighs feel like concrete beneath Porsche from how strained they are.

Porsche looks up at Kinn through his eyelashes, arms dropping down to his side, placing his palms over Kinn’s still on his waist. He presses them in harder, wanting to imprint the design of the sash into their skin, marking them both up for claim.

“I don’t need to try and do that, Kinn,” Porsche whispers, grinning smugly. They both know it’s true.

Their scents are completely entwined, mingling and swirling in the air, liquid hot and burning. If anyone wasn’t looking before, they definitely are now, fixated and entranced by the sight before them.

Their King and future Queen, wrapped around each other so brazenly, so openly, for all to see.

“Who allowed you to wear this?”

Porsche shivers, knowing that wearing such an outfit would be a risk. It was one he was willing to take - one that would entice people to look, but that he knew Kinn would adore and abhor at the same time.

“I picked it myself,” Porsche replies, glancing down at himself, glad that the folds of the material cover his hard cock. The outfit already leaves little to the imagination, but that’s one thing that he’d rather the population not see. “Do you like it?”

He feels more than hears Kinn’s sharp inhale, his chest withdrawing as quickly as it returns, “I want you to take it off and -”

“And what, alpha?” Porsche sits up, sliding off Kinn’s lap. The air away from him feels frigid and unbidden, alone and daunting, but he persists. The material drapes over his body once more, shifting back into place, “Get changed into something more appropriate, or…” Porsche smirks, his tongue coming out to dampen his dry bottom lip. He basks in the attention lavished on him by Kinn at such a simple act as if he’s in a trance.

Porsche leans forward, the robes gaping, letting Kinn have a clear look at his whole chest and stomach. “Or would you like to take it off me yourself?” Porsche asks quietly.

He doesn’t wait for the answer, turning on the balls of his feet to make his way back down the steps, leaving Kinn behind him, speechless and reeling.

Porsche bites his lip to stifle the laugh as he hears Kinn order everyone to get out and makes his way back to their bed chambers.

#kinnporsche #my writing #kinnporsche fic #kinnporsche the series #kpts

44 notes · View notes